Chapter 627: The Meaning of an Opponent

Without shells, can one still wage war? Wei Yuan naturally did not think so. He personally led the Long Yi cavalry in relentless pursuit, repeatedly annihilating the rear-guard units Lei Dong left behind, then pressing forward again.

Three thousand cavalry had driven tens of thousands of troops into panicked flight.

Several generals of the Lei Ze tribe could no longer bear it and begged for battle: "My lord, counterattack!"

"My lord, this is too humiliating!"

"My lord, turn around and fight him to the death!"

Yet despite their willingness to die, Lei Dong cared only for escape. Had he been allowed to act alone, he would have returned to his ancestral lands long ago.

Lei Dong faintly sensed his own fortune beginning to drain, often seized by inexplicable heart-pounding dread. Given his arrogant and violent nature, he should have already fought Wei Yuan to the death. But now, whenever he thought of Wei Yuan, he remembered that birdcall—and all his battle lust vanished.

The Demon Blade remained utterly silent, lifeless as a corpse—this only strengthened Lei Dong's resolve to flee.

He coldly declared: "If you generals wish to kill the enemy, good! I'll give each of you two thousand warriors. Hold the enemy for half an hour. That's all."

The generals exchanged glances. Though willing to die in battle, this was clearly a death sentence—nothing like true combat.

Wei Yuan wiped out another three-thousand-man rear-guard unit and pressed forward, only to see hundreds of Lei Ze warriors standing ahead, their expressions numb, surrounding a general at the center. The general's eyes blazed with fury—but he had already taken his own life.

Seeing these warriors had lost all will to resist, Wei Yuan reined in his horse and learned the full story. The general, unable to bear the shame and utterly despondent, had volunteered to hold the rear—and then killed himself.

Wei Yuan felt a pang within him. This was the fate of serving the wrong master. Even if fortune briefly favored you and elevated you to high rank, if your virtue did not match your position, how could you ever sit comfortably? One day, someone would rise up and cry: "Does the Creator Immortal truly have bloodline?"

Wei Yuan startled, snapping his wandering thoughts back, then realized his Dao heart had indeed grown unstable lately. He decided he must read more history after returning—study how past dynasties crushed rebellions. This part, he would not bother inputting into the human world.

After pointing out the direction for surrender to the Lei Ze warriors, Wei Yuan continued his pursuit, indifferent to whether they would actually surrender.

Thus, Wei Yuan chased relentlessly for five hundred li. Lei Dong's central army appeared several times within reach, yet Wei Yuan did not rush to charge. He merely watched leisurely as Lei Dong sent out rear-guard units one after another.

If Lei Dong sent no one, Wei Yuan's killing intent would immediately surge and lock onto him. Only when Lei Dong dispatched a rear-guard did Wei Yuan withdraw his murderous aura.

Thus, Wei Yuan annihilated over a dozen of Lei Dong's rear-guard units—totaling thirty to forty thousand warriors—leaving Lei Dong with fewer than thirty thousand troops. Wei Yuan aimed to force Lei Dong to send men to their deaths; each time he did, his fortune drained a little more.

In the end, Lei Dong had to execute a shaman to instill fear and coerce a new batch of warriors—but these men surrendered the moment they faced Wei Yuan.

At five hundred li, Wei Yuan finally halted his pursuit and shouted: "Boy, remember how I chased you five hundred li like a rabbit? With your character, how dare you claim Hong Ye's realm? Get lost!"

Lei Dong, humiliated and furious, had nowhere to vent—suddenly he slashed his two attendant shamanesses to death with the Demon Blade.

He suddenly noticed the strange glances from the surrounding shaman generals. His heart tightened, he finally calmed down, and feared Wei Yuan might change his mind—he hastily led his troops away.

Wei Yuan sat atop the mountain, watching the Lei Ze army flee like cattle and sheep, and ordered: "Find a few Lei Ze soldiers who surrendered. Have them deliver a message to that boy: hand over the Demon Blade, and I'll let him remain Lord of Lei Ze. Otherwise, my army will level his ancestral lands."

Tian Yu asked beside him: "How could he possibly hand over the Demon Blade?"

Wei Yuan smiled: "I said that for the Demon Blade's ears—and for the other Lei Ze figures qualified to inherit the throne." "What if he really does hand it over?"

Wei Yuan chuckled: "Then I'll let him remain Lord of Lei Ze. Not only that—I'll help him hold onto his position. That's your job."

Tian Yu was baffled: "I'd be happy just not killing him—now you want me to let him stay Lord of Lei Ze?"

Wei Yuan patiently explained: "After being chased five hundred li, over half his fortune has already drained. He has no real talent, yet rose suddenly to power—a petty shaman drunk on authority—destined to be arrogant and cruel, inwardly terrified he'll be overthrown any day."

As long as he remains in power, Lei Ze will never grow strong. Tell me: would you rather face such an opponent—or a wise and formidable enemy?"

Tian Yu thought carefully, then said: "I'd rather face a wise and formidable enemy. Only with such an opponent does the life of a shaman have meaning."

Wei Yuan fell silent.

Had Tian Yu not thought it through, it might have passed. But this was his deliberate answer. Clearly, the Fang Zu tribe's past stagnation had reasons—and its future looked bleak.

It seemed expertise lay in specialization: muscle could never outmatch the mind, though the Lord of Mingwang Palace would surely disagree.

Tian Yu had followed Wei Yuan all the way through the five-hundred-li pursuit, yet remained energetic, showing no sign of fatigue. Only the six fully perfected Li Wu were worn out.

Xu Xu Wenwu was drenched in sweat, his hands too weak to lift. Had the cannons not run out of shells, he wouldn't have had time to breathe. Yet though his body was exhausted, a faint spiritual glow shimmered over him—his Primordial Spirit was unusually active, his cultivation base visibly strengthened, his Dao foundation nearly solidified.

!

This progress far outpaced Wei Yuan's, leaving him deeply astonished.

Later, when the war carts ran out of shells, the projectiles fired were all manifested by Xu Xu Wenwu. Tian Yu, with no shells of his own, merely directed targets for Xu Xu Wenwu and served as "meat armor."

Xu Xu Wenwu thoroughly enjoyed the battle. His cannon fire grew smoother with each volley; every time he slaughtered a group of shamans, his Dao heart advanced, his Dao foundation stabilized—everything felt like those university days hiding in his dormitory to skip class.

The only regret was the battle ended too quickly—he couldn't get off the vehicle to loot corpses. Otherwise, he wouldn't have missed a single pocket.

Lei Dong's fortune had now drained by seven or eight tenths, yet what remained was still troublesome—carelessness might let him slip away.

Wei Yuan now deeply understood fortune: the fastest, most abundant way to gain it was through war—a great victory could visibly elevate a nation's destiny.

The second path was improving people's livelihood and gathering human destiny. This route was stable and gradual; once population reached scale, fortune became substantial. But it was also the hardest path—history recorded far more famed generals than wise rulers.

Just as fortune could be gained thus, so too could it be lost.

In contrast, if Lei Dong fled across thousands of li, his fortune would drain far less—Wei Yuan might chase him for years without result. History was full of examples where great organizations pursued destiny-blessed figures for centuries without success, only for those very figures to return, cultivated and powerful, and eradicate the entire organization.

Thus, Wei Yuan must keep Lei Dong anchored to the position of Lord of Lei Ze. As long as he remained in power, whether defeated or with a ruined populace, his fortune would continuously drain.

There was another reason Wei Yuan did not say: Tian Yu disliked such an opponent, but Wei Yuan adored him. Wei Yuan had no desire to gather heroes from across the world—he wished everyone but himself thought with their buttocks, so he could effortlessly win.

The term "effortlessly win," he'd learned from Xu Xu Wenwu—perfectly apt.

(End of Chapter)