Four soldiers escorted them through a series of gray-brick, black-tiled barracks, soon arriving at the training ground, where they spotted a figure bathed in blood at a distance. He wore a tattered armor, his hair disheveled, his hands and feet chained; the chains were deeply embedded into the compacted earth beneath him, and wooden pegs were driven through various joints of his body, piercing his ribcage with two jade hooks. An officer was whipping him with a lash, shouting, "Be quiet! Damn it! He's been shrieking all day—does he really want to go to the afterlife now? Wait until the Break-Magic Sickle arrives tomorrow, and I'll personally behead you!" The armored soldiers, armed with weapons, stood tense and vigilant around him, as if hunters circling a charging tiger, trembling constantly, ready to flee at any moment. "Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack…" The officer swung his arm, the lash flashing in the air, each strike sending up dust that shimmered clearly in the sunlight. The captive, hair wild and covered in grime, struggled fiercely, roaring skyward with unwavering determination, completely unmoved by the lashes striking his body. From a distance, also covered in grime and with wild hair, Fu Qingyang could not make out the man's face, but from his gestures, it seemed the captive was somewhat anxious. His roaring appeared to be an outpouring of emotion—yet it was actually a call for something. Was he calling for reinforcements from the enemy forces outside the city? Fu Qingyang stepped past the leading soldiers and approached with his three teammates. As they drew closer, they finally made out the captive's general facial features. "Whoa!" Ling Jun exclaimed. Zhao Chenghuang and Tianxia Guihuo were equally stunned—this was the captive…the Magi-Eye Emperor! Fu Qingyang paused, his surprise giving way to a look of "So it is." At that moment, the Magi-Eye Emperor also spotted his four teammates and immediately ceased his roaring, clearing his throat. "Huh?" The officer immediately gave him a sharp lash, cursing, "Dogged barbarian from the Northern Dynasties! You're not satisfied with just being whipped, are you? Then I'll feed you some dung later!" He thought the prisoner was mocking the whip's weakness. "Halt!" Fu Qingyang commanded coldly. The officer seemed to have just noticed them, pursed his lips, withdrew his long whip, and hurried forward. "General!" Fu Qingyang nodded slightly, probing gently, "Is the prisoner still well-behaved?" "As usual—he screams like a madman every morning, noon, and evening. He'll be delivered to the Break-Magic Slicer tomorrow. Then, I'll behead him myself, and General, you won't have to endure any more disturbances." The officer replied. Fu Qingyang asked, "The Break-Magic Slicer?" After uttering these words, he saw disdain and contempt in the officer's subtle facial expressions, and then heard the officer reply: "This foe is impervious to blades and arrows; even when wooden pins pierce his heart, he remains alive and active. We have tried countless methods, yet still unable to fell him. The military strategist proposed a plan—to use the nation's most sacred relic, the Divine Magic Slicer from the treasury, which might finally be able to strike him down." "How could the Marshal have forgotten the Divine Magic Slicer? Ah, I understand—under such dire circumstances, the Marshal is preoccupied and overthinking; it's quite natural that he has forgotten." Ling Jun sneered, "You're being insincere and patronizing. Should you dare to make another subtle remark against the Marshal, I shall personally cut you down without mercy." The officer, though inwardly dissatisfied, bowed respectfully and said, "The officer dares not!" Fu Qingyang spoke calmly, "Retreat thirty paces." The officer paused, asked cautiously, "Marshal, what would you like me to do? Though this foe is weary and bound, we must not grow careless—after all, you..." Fu Qingyang replied coldly, He naturally exuded a force that made others submit—officers were startled and instinctively afraid, hurriedly retreating with more than a dozen sharp-soldiers behind them. "How is he?" Fu Qingyang approached the Magi-Eye Emperor. "Tired, hungry, sleepy, in pain..." the Magi-Eye Emperor sat cross-legged on the ground, sighing, "Why are you all generals or marshals, while I'm a nearly dying prisoner?" When he entered the Spiritual Realm, the first thing he saw was Dai Dou, a serving soldier who slapped him. The Magi-Eye Emperor was instantly sent on a journey to the next life. That's why he was beaten earlier. His physical condition was extremely poor—his inventory was sealed, wooden pins driven into his joints throughout his body, his vertebral column pierced, and only a fraction of his cultivation remained. Fortunately, his resilient, sturdy constitution could not be sealed. From limited exchanges—mostly scathing remarks—he learned his situation and identity. Knowing that upon the arrival of the Divine Slicer tomorrow, his fate would be sealed, he urgently unleashed a roar like that of a wrathful dragon, hoping to attract his teammates. Whether it was Fu Qingyang or Yuan Shǐ Tianzūn, the Demon Eye firmly believed their combined strength could surely save him. And indeed, Fu Qingyang arrived promptly. Observing the disheveled Demon Eye, Fu Qingyang remarked with a smirk, "Because you're an evil-class character." "I'm a freelancer," the Demon Eye corrected, "Don't lump me in with those mediocrity-driven, underachieving ones." "My point is, as an evil-class character seeking reintegration, you're expected to follow the path of 'abandoning darkness for light'—which is precisely why you've been captured." Fu Qingyang explained. "Perfect," he added, "My own character challenge lies in lacking prestige and thus struggling to command troops. Shortly, I'll free you. Then, before the officers and soldiers, you'll publicly pledge your loyalty to me." The money-son proved himself quick-witted and had successfully devised a solution to his character But the Mago's eyes flatly refused: "I pledge my loyalty to the Sovereign of the Sun." "The Sovereign of the Sun should not be within the camp," Fu Qingyang said calmly. "What is your role here?" "I am the Man from the Yuan Dynasty who slew the enemy, the Left Commander of the Juie Army. Ten days ago, during the siege, I was captured by the military strategist of the Southern Dynasty." "How does the Man from the Yuan Dynasty, who now serves me, relate to you, the Mago of the Heavenly Eye?" "That makes sense!" Fu Qingyang drew his sword from his waist, and with a sharp flash of swordlight, the clinks of metal rang out as the handcuffs and leg irons on the Mago's eyes snapped one after another. Then, he twisted his wrist and struck two jade hooks with the hilt of his sword. Pfft! The jade hooks shot out from behind the Mago's back, tearing away a patch of rotten flesh. The Mago of the Heavenly Eye was delighted, his muscles rippling as he pushed out the wooden pins embedded in various joints. "Sound the drums! Sound the drums!" "The officer at a distance was stunned," said the commander. "The Marshal has released the Jurchen general, immediately raised the drums to notify the entire army to prepare for battle—hurry and summon the military strategist..." A soldier, panicking, rushed toward the war drums, grabbed the drumstick, and struck it with determination. Thud, thud, thud... With the drumbeats, soldiers poured out of the barracks, quickly gathering in a bustling crowd. When they saw the scene on the parade ground and realized that the northern general who had nearly captured the city was now free and unbound, they were astonished. "Form ranks! Form ranks!" two senior officers shouted. Amid the clinking of armor, the first hundreds of soldiers who arrived quickly formed a square formation, holding their long spears aimed directly at the distant Jurchen general, ready to charge at the command of their superiors. Fu Qingyang stood motionless, giving a slight nod to the King of the Mystic Eye—indicating that it was now his turn to begin. "Honestly, this is rather frustrating," the King of the Mystic Eye chuckled, then knelt on one knee and declared solemnly, "The Jurchen general, the general of the J A surge of sound roared like thunder, crashing into the ears of the soldiers, turning their stern faces into stillness and melting the warlike fervor in their eyes. Fu Qingyang remained calm and composed, neither surprised nor delighted: "Agreed!" Instantly, the entire camp fell silent. ... Inside the general's quarters, the King of the Mystic Eye sat at a square table, eagerly devouring white rice, while the table was laden with dishes of chicken, duck, fish, and lamb—now mostly reduced to bones and cold scraps. The kitchen stewards, in turn, brought the meals in line by line, carefully glancing at the fierce Wanyan commander before placing the food down and quickly retreating. Outside the quarters, a large gathering of soldiers and mid-ranking officers had assembled, still bewildered, unable to comprehend how the renowned Wanyan commander, famed for his formidable reputation, had come to pledge loyalty and serve under General Yang. It was well known that General Yang had ascended to the rank of Imperial Cavalry General primarily through his family background, and had become commander-in-chief thanks to his distinguished, regal sister. At heart, he was no more than a slightly better-than-average member of the How could someone so capable win over the Wanyan warriors who were renowned for their ferocity? If the Wanyan warriors hadn't truly pledged their loyalty, they would have had ample time to escape back then—since the army hadn't yet fully assembled, and no one could have stopped them. Their decision to stay signifies that their loyalty is now firm. The soldiers of the army, for the first time, began to feel curious and impressed by the young commander, gathering around his tent and reluctant to leave. "Probably he's been favored by the emperor at the palace," Ling Jun said. "Hmph! How can this man, once he entered the realm, still sleep with women? Is he the emperor's illegitimate son?" Zhao Chenghuang explained: "We suspect he is the fallen sovereign." He looked at Ling Jun, frowning. "This realm is the one that has fallen. If Yuan Shi truly becomes the ruler of the Southern Dynasty, then he is the most dangerous one." The Mage-Eyed King hurried to add: "Retreat to the capital!" Fu Qingyang shook his head slightly. "Retreating to the capital means we lose our strategic depth. Linxia is well-defended, with ample food supplies—enough to repel the enemy. Even if Linxia falls, we can still wear down the invaders. To abandon the city now, we'll be leaving behind most of our supplies, effectively aiding the enemy, and our chances of victory will vanish." At that moment, a soldier hurried in: "General, the military strategist requests an audience." The military strategist? Everyone stared at one another in quiet astonishment. The King of the Mystic Eye murmured, "In my character profile, your southern dynasty's military strategist is exceptionally outstanding—he is precisely the one who captured me. Perhaps that strategist is indeed the Yuan Shi Tian Zun." Ling Jun quickly said, "Please, hurry and invite the strategist." The soldiers turned and departed. Moments later, a handsome man with a noble bearing entered the tent. He held his head high, sniffing out the gathered guests, and expressed surprise, "Hm, why only you all?" The man was none other than the protagonist, Xia Hou Ao Tian. "Could I be captured by such people? Does the Ling Realm truly look down upon me?" said the King of the Mystic Eye, his eyes half-lidded. "Indeed, the Yuan Shi is a dull ruler," thought Fu Qingyang, his heart sinking. Upon seeing it was Xia Hou Ao Tian, not the Yuan Shi Tian Zun, both Tian Du Huo and Zhao Chenguang looked deeply disappointed. Then, their expressions changed instantly. "Oh no—everyone with intelligence has gathered here." "It's bad—everyone with real strength has come here as well." At the imperial capital... ... "Your Majesty! Zhang Yuanqing was woken by the loud, resonant calls. Opening his eyes, he saw the golden silk curtains gently drooping. He was lying in bed, the mattress exceptionally soft. The girl in his arms was even softer. He held a young girl of about fifteen or sixteen, delicate and tender like a lamb. He could feel the fine, warm texture of her body beneath the quilt, her face showing the fresh fatigue of someone just beginning to experience life's first romances. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" the calls continued. Zhang Yuanqing turned his head and saw a tall, stately eunuch in purple robes standing outside the palace entrance, arms folded, loudly calling out. "Are you calling on my ancestors?" Zhang Yuanqing murmured, still half-asleep, and instinctively scolded, "Step aside!" The eunuch turned and walked away. Zhang Yuanqing sighed softly, feeling sharp pains throughout his body, a tightness in his chest, shortness of breath, and discomfort in his stomach—his body seemed to be unwell. Unwell? He was startled at once. Could the very sovereign of the sun, the one who traveled through the day, be falling ill? Zhang Yuanqing sat up suddenly, then felt a scorching heat at the center of his forehead, as the sun disc on his brow began to glow, bringing forth a fragmented memory.