"I didn't ask you to come with me—just retreat as usual." The second team commander, "Liangshan Water Army," picked up the pistol of a fallen civilian officer, firing with both guns simultaneously, maintaining suppressive fire while speaking softly, "I'll delay the enemy long enough so the steward can hold on a bit longer. Maybe we'll make it until reinforcements arrive." Seeing several enemy soldiers who had been aiming at him retreat behind cover under the pressure of his fire, he bent low, ready to surge forward—when suddenly Xiao Wang from behind tackled him to the ground. "What's this nonsense? What are you talking about?" Xiao Wang's forehead was furiously flushed with rage. "There's no rescue coming. You yourself said our division has no saints—when the saint from Honglin City arrives, everything will be too late. Don't think I don't know what you're thinking. You're a fool—right from the start, you just want to die, to become a sacrificial pawn so the steward can be saved." "Liángshuǐ, the water master, growled angrily, repeatedly knocking his elbow against Xiao Wang's chest, trying to push him aside, 'Just one captain lost? Headquarters can send someone over in the shortest time. But if one Level-5 steward dies—well, that's no ordinary matter. A saint isn't something you can just pick up off the shelf. New stewards often stay for a long time, and even then, they may not want to stay. How important is a steady, long-term steward, you don't know?' This man, though weakened by poison, was suddenly bursting with strength—Liángshuǐ couldn't even push him aside with several blows. He's a disgrace to your family—everyone mentions him with contempt, and at one point you even wanted to kill him before he turned eighteen, with a sword in hand." Wang Xia'er paused, then erupted in anger: "Don't talk about that guy anymore—those are old stories, settled matters. You're trying to rile me up, aren't you? Yes, you've succeeded. Damn it!" As he spoke, he raised his arm and fired several shots randomly toward the pig farm. "Your cousin is a disgrace, but have you ever thought—he himself doesn't want to be one?..." The Liangshan water master's voice suddenly softened. "You know how drugs have evolved—more sophisticated, more terrifying. Once someone's addicted, they can't quit, not even when they're dying. Compared to today's drugs, opium and marijuana are just throat lozenges—nothing special. There are countless people like your cousin—many more along the border. How many have become family disgrace? How many children have been sold? Our work is like managing a water system—we plug the leaks wherever they occur. But once the custodians pass away, the dam breaks, and the flood will engulf the entire Nanzheng City, the entire Ba Gui Province, and eventually spread nationwide. People like your cousin—such poor performers—will keep multiplying. Wang Xiao'er stood speechless. The gunfire never ceased, the enemy's fire pouring in relentlessly, and the Liangshan Water Masters speaking faster and faster: "Last year, you finished third in the combat competition at the Qinghe branch, reaching the Extraordinary Stage. The custodian asked you if you wanted to move to another city—did you decline? Why? Because this is your hometown. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to stay and remain here. But this place—damn it—is also my home!" Wang Xiao'er's eyes were glistening, yet his hands loosened. "Once you choose this path, don't fear death. When you reach a higher level, even if it's your turn to die, you must die. And if you ever dare to leave Nanzheng, I’ll make sure to haunt you even after I’m gone. I haven’t returned home in Liangshan's water spirit kicked him hard and shot off like an arrow. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" The gunfire rang out one after another, sending dust spiraling up from beside his feet—grit lifted by the bullets. Soon, water splashed up from his own body as well. Bullets struck him. Yet Liangshan paid no heed, pressing on with determined strides toward the east, through the darkness. As a water spirit, he was immune to ordinary physical attacks. "Cover the队长!" Wang Xiao'er shouted, his eyes glistening with emotion, his head half emerging, both hands gripping his rifle, firing continuously. He knew well the water spirit's passive defense—it had limits, just like breathing. You had to take breaths; once the attacks kept coming, the spirit would be vulnerable during those moments of respiration. And the队长 was now afflicted with a venomous illness, his body no longer at peak condition. "Boom!" A deep, resonant sound, louder than the pistol fire, echoed through the night. A sniper's shot! Wang Xia'er, familiar with firearms, felt his heart sink suddenly, then heard the sounds of flesh tearing apart and bodies falling from the darkness in the distance. His expression changed instantly; he spun around to see Liangshan's water master lying in a pool of blood, his knees torn open by high-velocity bullets, only held together by a thin layer of skin. There was a sniper at the pig farm whose marksmanship didn't fall short of his own. The sniper had remained motionless, letting the two sides fight fiercely, only to detect the precise moment when the team leader took a breath, and then strike with precision. This was a fallen scout. Wang Xia'er sensed the sniper's intent—his mission was to keep everyone pinned at the fighting site, ensuring the spiritual healers of the spiritual gathering could successfully eliminate the officers. "Save them! Save them!" Wang Xia'er roared, his face contorted with fury, and charged out without hesitation, stumbling through the chaos. The hidden sniper smiled coldly, his aim fixed firmly on Wang Xia'er. He didn't kill the water spirit—he was setting up a siege and drawing out reinforcements, confident that the official, orderly sentries would save their teammates. Morality, friendship, and justice were always their fatal weaknesses. Wang Xiao'er was only a second-tier scout. In the darkness, he couldn't see the exact position of the sniper or determine the trajectory of the shot. Yet even with the sniper's speed, and assuming he could predict the trajectory, Wang Xiao'er's physical condition—already somewhat weak and stiff—wouldn't be able to dodge the bullet. And now, he was even more vulnerable. Still, Wang Xiao'er calmly accepted his fate—he came out to be the living target. He didn't wave to his teammates behind him, nor did he exchange a single glance. Yet he believed, at the very moment he was struck, his teammates would rescue the Liangshan water master. Moreover, only by being hit could he determine the enemy's position through the trajectory. As he died, he would return a shot—hopefully killing the sniper; if not, at least forcing him to retreat, buying time for the teammates to reach safety. "Bang!" The gun's long, sleek muzzle erupted in flame, high-velocity bullets spinning rapidly as they exited the barrel. At the very instant the gunfire rang out, Wang Xia'er, staggering yet desperately maneuvering, went rigid—his scout's keen senses foretold his imminent death. Then, without warning, a hand emerged from behind his shoulder, palm forward, gently pushing. The spinning bullets seemed to encounter an invisible, yielding barrier of air, exerting all their force in rotation but unable to penetrate it. The sudden shift left everyone stunned. Wang Xia'er stared, motionless, at the scene. The two official monks who had been racing toward Liangshan's water monks also froze, unsure whether to advance or retreat. "Don't stand there—fight!" a calm voice came from behind. Moments later, Wang Xia'er saw the wrist of that hand rotate, and with a gentle flick of his fingers, the hand released a precise thrust. The bullet shot forth, piercing the darkness and vanishing into the pig farm, where instantly a sound of "pffft" echoed—the body collapsing to the ground. Wang Xiao'er's pupils contracted sharply, his nerves tensing one by one, as if he had unexpectedly encountered a tiger deep in the forest. The surge of adrenaline flooding his system left him with a tingling sensation in his scalp. What an extraordinary power! To single-handedly intercept a sniper's bullet and dispatch a concealed scout with a mere gesture—something even the pursuers' officers found difficult to achieve. "Don't be afraid, reinforcements are coming!" The voice from behind soothed Wang Xiao'er, then snapped his fingers with a light chuckle, saying, "Eliminate them!" As the words fell, a figure surged from the grassy path outside the pig farm, wielding a crimson long blade, charging steadily toward the farm, leaping over the road barrier formed by the black sedan. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" The drug traffickers stationed outside the pig farm unleashed a furious barrage of gunfire. Amid the growing chaos at the border, the grassroots fighters primarily relied on firearms. Though they could use their skills or agility to dodge bullets, the criminal forces also included formidable adversaries—those who would quickly perish if they charged headlong before depleting the local ammunition supply. Moreover, larger criminal syndicates often possessed mortar shells and even single-soldier rocket launchers. In such a setting, survival first came down to endurance—enduring until one could breathe, only then could one carry out law enforcement duties. Yet this unexpected hero, arriving midstream, charged with sheer, unreasoning force, like a wild ox. The next moment, a scene that left everyone on site stunned unfolded: a relentless storm of bullets struck a figure wielding a knife, who neither dodged nor shielded, producing only the dull thud of a stick hitting a sandbag. The defense failed to break. That figure bore the full weight of the gunfire, charging straight into the pig farm. Immediately, a piercing, agonizing cry of pain erupted, interwoven with intense gunfire—before, within moments, even the gunfire faded away. Silence reigned within the pig farm. The security officers and official delegates stationed at the vehicle's head exchanged glances. After a few seconds, a Level-2 Fire Master finally could bear it, lifting his gun with both hands, pointing the barrel downward, and slowly advancing toward the pig farm. When he reached within five meters of the narrow entrance, he cast a fire ball inside. The glowing flame illuminated the simple pig stalls, revealing scattered remains—limbs and bodies scattered across the uneven cement floor, their thick blood seeping out and spreading in pools, with not a single intact one. "Everyone... everyone's... gone," the Fire Master murmured. "Then... the reinforcements? Were they... reinforcements?" someone asked, hesitating carefully. The Fire Master cast another fire ball inside, then scanned the scene and called out, "They're gone!" Gone... Wang Xiao'er turned around, only to find his companion behind him also missing. The night had grown thick and heavy; the voices he had just heard seemed like a mere illusion. Suddenly, his gaze sharpened. He noticed a slender, pale golden syringe lying beside the broken leg of the Liangshan Water Master. Life Source Fluid? Wang Xiao'er was both astonished and delighted, exclaiming, "It's reinforcements! Official reinforcements!" Only someone from the official ranks would preserve such a precious life-source liquid. This mysterious master—of the civilian order organizations and the Qinghe clan—was not only a reinforcement, but a major figure, one who genuinely cared for the common foot soldiers. "It truly is reinforcements..." The surviving official foot soldiers and security officers breathed a collective sigh of relief, their blood-streaked and sweat-soaked faces reflecting both the joy of having escaped death and the profound sense of ease and relief. Wang Xiao'er smiled warmly and said, "You're nearly dead yet so steady—have you seen the captain? Who came to rescue him?" Liangshan's water master shook his head, "Facing away from me, I didn't see." "Then how did he vanish?" "...I was momentarily disoriented; I couldn't make it out. Maybe he lost too much blood?" "But where did the reinforcements come from?" Wang Xiao'er calmed down. "We don't have anyone of this stature in our city. Could it have been from Xini Branch? But it's too late for that." Xini Branch is the largest branch in Baigu Province (excluding Qinghe Clan), with two senior elders on duty, yet over four hundred kilometers away. The elders couldn't arrive in the short time available. The two fell silent. "Let go of things you can't understand. After all, the steward is safe. Everything will become clear once the operation concludes," said Liangshan's water master. Wang Xiao'er nodded firmly. Suddenly, the water master added, "Those earlier remarks sounded a bit forced. Forget them. I don't want to hear anyone mention them at the branch tomorrow." "Don't worry, I'm not Yuan Ting from the Taiguan Sect." ... To the east of the pig farm lay vast stretches of wild land, overgrown with grass and muddy, damp. The pursuer was a swordsman in his thirties, with dark, sun-weathered skin—his face was actually quite handsome, though years of exposure to wind and sun had made it rough, blunting his youthful charm. Aside from his dark complexion and textured skin, the only distinctive feature on his face was a broken brow: only half of his left eyebrow remained. At this moment, he wore a vine-scale armor that shimmered with a soft, deep green glow, wielding a long, gleaming silver sword, engaged in a fierce struggle with a humanoid cockroach. The cockroach stood three and a half meters tall, broad-shouldered yet agile, with two sharp, one-meter-long chitinous horns growing from its wrists—using them to jab, slash, or pierce—fending off the swordsman with equal intensity. While the spiritualist was no match for the swordsman in close combat, the potent, pungent venom released into the air seeped into the swordsman's body with each breath, gradually eroding Fortunately, as a Level 5 steward, he still had some resources—two items from the Saint phase: the Wood Spirit Armor, which could restore vitality, detoxify, and enhance defense, and the sword artifact, a masterwork capable of slicing through steel, easily cleaving through the hard exoskeleton of the cockroach-like beings. Yet the Pursuer of the Toxin still faced a near-fatal struggle. Besides the cockroach beings, there was another spirit-medium standing beside him—small in stature, resembling a mouse, with short, sturdy claws gripping a black bamboo tube about half a foot long. With the "Fate-Weakening" aura arrows raining down in a steady stream, "puffing" like a gentle rain, the Pursuer had to simultaneously deflect attacks from the cockroach beings and guard against the stealthy arrows, balancing like a tightrope walker—any lapse and he would fall. Even so, exhaustion would inevitably come. The two spirit-mediums employed a particularly insidious strategy: one attacked directly while the other provided support, the latter—the mouse—only striking from a distance, never closing in. Once the Pursuer attempted to retreat, the supporting mouse would immediately block his path. When the two engaged in close combat "Hehe, Pursuer of the Poison—your intelligence is actually correct. We do have a large shipment coming in, just not today, but tomorrow." The Rat spewed two poisoned darts, his smile sly. "By killing you, the poison will spread rapidly throughout Nanzheng City, reaching every corner of Baigu Province in the shortest possible time, and then cascading nationwide. By then, it will be difficult to stop this wave." The Pursuer frowned. "You won't succeed." The Cockroach warrior drove his twin blades forward, roaring with fury. "Stubborn as a dead duck! You're already on the wane—your strength is fading. Who can save you now? The gunfire from the pig farm has ceased; your men have all fallen. Soon, it will be your turn." The Pursuer's face flickered with sorrow, his jaw muscles tightening as he bit down, yet his sword movements remained steady and his steps fluid. A warrior of steel resolve—his spirit and determination never falter. "Crack!" A sudden, sharp crack of fractured bones echoed, and the battling cockroach-type and the pursuer instinctively stepped back, exchanging glances with their peripheral vision. That single glance sent the cockroach-type into a state of panic. At the side of the mole, a young man of ordinary appearance had appeared without any prior notice, holding a dripping, blood-soaked head still attached to a half-section of cervical vertebrae. One by one, the crimson droplets fell steadily. The mole's body, now lifeless, lay lifeless and disheveled at the side, its neck severed with a gushing, warm flow of blood. A mysterious powerhouse had effortlessly slain a Level 5 spirit-attuned master—without either party realizing when or how the stranger had approached. The cockroach-type retreated in a flurry, his face filled with growing terror, roaring in disbelief: "Who are you? Who are you?" As a native of the Eight-Valley Province and a key member of the Spirit Energy Association, he was intimately familiar with the saints of Qinghe Branch. Given the strength of this mysterious figure, he could only assume he was at the very least a Level 6 master. Such a person is rare even across the entire province—there are only a few. Yet he had never seen this one before. "I am merely a fire master from Songhai, with a spiritual realm ID of the Three Pure Ones," Zhang Yuanqing's body burst into a roaring flame, illuminating the darkness. Flames surged from his palms, coalescing into a long blade. The very next moment, he surged forward as a straight stream of flame, colliding directly with the cockroach-like being. The cockroach-being had just begun to dodge, when his pupils suddenly diffused, forming a deep vortex. He had been struck by the Star Illusion Technique. "Poof!" The flame passed close by, the head with appendages rolling and flipping into the air, then landing with a soft thud. The lifeless body collapsed with a thunderous sound, its neck severed and blackened, with small streams of blood seeping steadily. "Are you… a colleague from the Songhai branch?" the pursuer, holding his long sword, remained vigilant. Zhang Yuanqing nodded, and in front of the sword-master, openly removed his Yin-Yang robe. Yet in the pursuer's eyes, — Though the swordsman possesses the insight to perceive illusions, under the pressure of rank, the pursuer of toxins still fell for it. Zhang Yuanqing could not openly deploy the Night-Wanderer's abilities; at the Songhai branch, there was only one Night-Wanderer, the Yuan-Shi Tian-Zun. "Yet you don't seem at all like a fire-master," said the pursuer firmly—something a swordsman still retained. "Experience is limited, so I've made inquiries," Zhang Yuanqing replied calmly. "The Songhai branch has two disgraces in fire-mastering: one is the unification of the realm under the fire, and the other is myself." Then he turned to look behind, saying, "Your people have arrived." The pursuer raised his gaze and saw indeed the large group of Liangshan fire-masters approaching, their faces lighting up with relief upon seeing the steward unharmed. The pursuer immediately stepped forward, his first words: "How many brothers have fallen?" "Four of our own brothers have fallen; six from the police department," said the Liangshan fire-master, his expression somber. The pursuer's jaw muscles tightened noticeably. "如果不是 this steward..." Wang Xiao'er looked gratefully at Zhang Yuancheng, "we might have all died." Liangshan's water master bowed deeply, "Thank you for your life essence. Our branch will... I'll save up and repay you. Which branch are you from?" "Songhai Branch, under the Third Clear Dao Master." The pursuer stepped forward, finally relaxing his guard, and gazed deeply at the young man, whom he had long regarded as a disgrace to the fire masters. "How did you come to our remote, humble village?" Though he still maintained a stiff expression, his eyes clearly brimmed with gratitude. "This is no remote village—this is a revered battlefield," Zhang Yuancheng said, extending his hand with a smile. "I came to pursue a fugitive, just arrived at the Nanming Branch. I heard from Captain Xuehai Wuyi that you were ambushed—so I came to see for myself." Ah, now it all makes sense! The official messengers from Nanming Branch suddenly understood, their final doubts resolved, and their smiles warmed with genuine enthusiasm. Fortunately, this senior steward came to handle business; otherwise, the Nanming branch would have faced total devastation tonight. Then, quietly pondering, who is the Three Pure Ones? The Songhai branch has only heard of Yuan Shi Tian Zun—do people in the metropolitan areas name things so assertively? At that moment, the liaison Wang Xiao'er's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and said, "It's a call from Xue Hai Wu Ya." They had already collected the signal-blocking artifacts while clearing the battlefield, and communication has now been restored. The Pursuer took the phone and said, "Pass it to me." Meanwhile, a faint shadow moved in, settling upon Zhang Yuanqing's back, whispering softly into his ear: "Master, there's another evil profession nearby—seems like... someone you know."