A towering figure descended through the night sky, three-headed and eight-armed, wielding swords, spears, halberds, and glaives. His dark golden skin shimmered with a metallic luster, and his sinewy muscles, intricately defined, bore the elegance of master craftsmanship, radiating a strong sense of mechanical harmony. The three heads bore eyes like bronze bells, broad mouths, and prominent noses, their expressions fierce and imposing—resembling the wrathful deities carved into temple facades. Without a word, the generals and soldiers engaged in battle on the field halted, gazing in awe at this divine and mythical presence. This was Tao Bao Guanghe, the foremost warrior of the Northern Frontier. As soon as he appeared, the very roar of the battlefield fell silent. From his lofty vantage point, he surveyed the scattered battlefield and turned his gaze toward Fu Qingyang atop the city walls, his voice resonant and commanding: "Yang Ce, it is indeed surprising that such a swordsman emerges from the Southern Dynasty. Though you are a junior, I have never before treated the younger with arrogance. How about this: I will accept three of your sword strikes. Should you manage to wound me, then I shall withdraw my forces "The Mage-Eyed Emperor chuckled, 'Why waste words? Let's fight then, Old Tao. How about I join you for a game of wits?' He immediately sensed Tao Guanghe's underhanded intentions—by making a grand entrance to impress the Southern Dynasty troops, then proposing a wager. If Fu Qingyang refused, it would signal weakness. The already shaken defenders, seeing their commander hesitate, would suffer a sharp drop in morale. In the ensuing siege, the Northern forces would gain a decisive advantage. Should Fu Qingyang accept, it would exactly suit Tao Guanghe's strategy. The ancient war hero, renowned for his unyielding strength and invulnerability, with his superior rank, could easily withstand the three strikes of the Eighth Yanshi. After all, Yanshi's strength lies not in one-on-one duels, but in commanding troops and puppet soldiers. The Mage-Eyed Emperor was subtly signaling that Fu Qingyang would refuse. Within ten minutes, he would decisively defeat, and even eliminate, Yan Guabian. With his three masters now united, defeating Tao Guanghe would become a manageable task." Fu Qingyang's gaze swept over the soldiers on the city walls, then down to the enemy troops below—those eyes, filled with either hope or challenge, now all focused upon him. Standing proudly atop the ramparts, he pressed the hilt of his sword and said, "Excellent!" The expressions of Mo-Eye Tian Wang, Zhao Chenghuang, and Tian Xiang Gui Huo all shifted. Ling Jun sighed. Tuoba Guang He smiled gently, "I won't run!" "Nor will you be able to," Fu Qingyang replied coldly. A rustling sound—his black cloak, embroidered with golden threads, hung behind the young marshal, billowing in the wind. The aura of the eighth-tier initial Yanshi surged suddenly, like a sharp, newly unsealed sword, piercing the eyes of both armies. The soldiers on either side felt a sharp stinging sensation, as though invisible fine needles were pricking their eyes, their vision blurring, tears streaming down their faces, and instinctively shifting their gaze. With the cloak's power now active, Fu Qingyang opened his inventory and summoned his true sword—the renowned Cold-Iron Jade Dragon, a master-level blade. To the soldiers of the Southern Dynasty, the master's skill of effortlessly capturing objects with his hands seemed miraculous, instantly boosting their confidence. Tao Bao Guang He smiled warmly and said, "Indeed, such a magical artifact exists. From now on, it shall be my prize." Fu Qingyang stepped forward from the city rampart, moving gracefully like a swan, his cloak fluttering in the wind. Amidst the gaze of over a hundred thousand troops, he soared upward, reaching Tao Bao Guang He and raising his long sword high. As the sword, gleaming with cold light, was lifted, the soldiers from both nations, watching the scene, unexpectedly felt a wave of despair—this sword seemed to be cutting directly toward them, and they deeply believed they could not escape it. Remarkably, his technique now reached even the spectators; his skill had advanced further, approaching the level of the Way. Fu Qingyang, like Yuan Shi, was truly extraordinary—just in a different sense of the word. Ling Jun's hands trembled, and he murmured quietly to himself. The Jade Dragon descended, and the sword's aura arced like a rainbow. Yet, facing such a sharp and powerful strike, Xuebo Guanghe merely gently folded his eight arms, forming a shield wall composed of spears, halberds, swords, and lances. "Boom!" The Yu Long sword of Fu Qingyang struck against the steel shield wall, producing not the sharp clashing sound of metal on metal, but a thunderous, explosive roar—clear evidence of the immense force behind the blow. Xuebo Guanghe, like a ball struck by a giant, crashed down in a comet-like trajectory, plunging into the northern dynasty's ranks and causing a wave of casualties, dust swirling violently. Both armies watched intently, their eyes fixed on the swirling haze of dust. "Excellent swordplay! Among the two dynasties, across the northern and southern realms, your Yang Ce's sword technique stands supreme—first among all, unmatched anywhere!" Xuebo Guanghe's booming laughter echoed as he surged upward from the dust, unharmed. The northern soldiers breathed a collective sigh of relief, cheering enthusiastically. Someone suddenly shouted, "The Jueque Divine Army is invincible; Xuebo with eight arms rules the world!" Instantly, the calls surged into a deafening The southern dynasty garrison looked deeply disappointed. Fu Qingyang paid no attention to the clamor surrounding him, opened his inventory, and retrieved the storage box for the bronze soldiers purchased from the Sword Pavilion elder. The tall, heavy bronze box landed with a resounding clang. As the lid lifted, Fu Qingyang inserted the Jade Dragon Sword before him and swiftly moved his fingers, causing one after another black silhouettes to leap out of the box. Amidst the clinking of bronze, over a hundred bronze soldiers appeared on the city walls, their heads and limbs bowed, their bodies trembling and wavering, like puppet figures on strings. With a subtle flick of his fingers, Fu Qingyang made the soldiers raise their heads, their rigid, lifeless faces now fixed upon Tuoba Guanghe. Then, with a simple gesture, the bronze soldiers surged upward in a synchronized, crisp sound of clashing bronze, rising like locusts and a rain of arrows, encircling Tuoba Guanghe in the air. Fu Qingyang pressed both palms together, and the soldiers now holding their bronze swords high in the sky surged forward in a powerful wave, launching a hundred swords simultaneously. Each sword carried abundant vitality, each one approaching the realm of perfection. A hundred swords Tuoba Guanghe finally revealed a serious expression. He released the eight arms holding swords, spears, halberds, and lances, which formed four sacred mantras before him. A majestic, serene Buddha form, entirely black, solidified behind him, causing the air around it to subtly warp and form a closed spherical enclosure. The bronze figures launched their strikes. "Clang, clang, clang..." The bronze swords shattered, their embedded sword qi either rebounded by the protective dome or dispersed as the swords broke, shooting out in all directions. Some of the sword qi struck the city walls, carving deep craters and sending stones cascading down like rain, forcing the defenders to clutch their heads and take cover. Others reached the city's lower ranks, where many northern soldiers had no time to react and were pierced through, falling in pools of blood. When the storm of impacts finally subsided, both armies finally dared to raise their heads and stop fleeing, eager to look toward Tuoba Guanghe. In that single glance, their attitudes reversed completely—southern soldiers' faces instantly dimmed, while northern soldiers erupted in joyful cheers. Tuoba Guanghe remained unharmed. "Unbeatable!" "Unbeatable!" The roaring cheers surged like thunder and tidal waves, uniting the morale of the Northern Dynasty troops into a single, resolute force—like a rainbow stretching across the sky. Witnessing this, the senior officers of the Southern Dynasty grew serious. According to military doctrine: attacking a city is a secondary objective; winning the hearts of the defenders is the supreme strategy. Tuoba Guanghe had proposed the wager not merely to display his martial prowess, but precisely to achieve this. By withstanding only two attacks, he had already shattered the defenders' morale and galvanized his own troops' spirit. Once he successfully defended the third attack, he would issue the command for a full-scale assault—victory would then be assured. This premier warrior of the northern frontier was not only a man of extraordinary strength but also an outstanding commander. On the city walls, the Mage-Eye leapt onto the parapet and strode toward Fu Qingyang, determined to dissuade him from the wager. Fu Qingyang’s actions, in effect, had personally broken the morale of his own forces. He could not understand how, with Fu Qing Lingjun blocked the Magi-Eye Emperor: "Don't disturb the Marshal." The Magi-Eye Emperor coldly replied: "A mere Saint—you have no idea how terrifying a Nine-Rank Ancient War God truly is." Even when he had convinced the Magi-Eye to his highest degree, he still fell under the onslaught of a Nine-Rank Ancient War God, with his spiritual energy violently disrupted, yet unable to break through the opponent's defenses. Lingjun sighed: "I know he has no chance. But you'd better not stop him." "Why not?" asked the Magi-Eye Emperor, frowning. "When you encounter corrupt officials or malevolent villains who bully men and dominate women, do we stop you? Can we really hold them back?" Lingjun countered. "Then you're setting yourselves to die." "That's exactly what I'm saying," Lingjun said, shrugging. "Everyone has personality flaws. When facing the flaws of one's companions, one can only accept them." Lingjun looked at Fu Qingyang standing at the city's ramparts, expression neutral, and recalled his friend's past. As the direct descendant of the spiritual realm family and the only son of the family head, Fu Qingyang's youth was nothing short of tragic. In his childhood, he was dull and unremarkable, with modest talents—still manageable. However, as he entered adolescence, his swordsmanship, combat skills, and physical constitution all fell short, making him a true "three-in-nothing" product of the Fu family. With such poor aptitudes in swordsmanship and combat, he might even fail to secure a character card. Aside from his attractive appearance, he was otherwise unremarkable. How could the family head, renowned for his exceptional talents, have produced such a mediocre son? The elders within the family remained utterly puzzled and deeply regretful. Since adults' attitudes and comments often shape children's self-perception, the peers began to mock him. Seeing that the family head's son was never reprimanded and that the elders remained indifferent, the ridicule intensified. It evolved from mockery to insults, then to outright bullying. Until one day, the resolute young man, wielding a wooden sword, broke the bones of every peer who had once bullied him. Standing alone, he fought to the very end—unyielding! This is Fu Qingyang's character flaw, also the essence of his unwavering ideals through the dark period. He did not withdraw his invaluable warrior figures, watching them fall like rain, scattered across the city below. The northern dynasty troops' cheers were sharp and piercing, echoing exactly like the ridicule and scorn he had once endured as a youth. A flash of cold light pierced the heavens, filling the universe with sword energy. That flash instantly passed through Tao Bao Guang He, through his body, so swift that even this northern realm's foremost master hadn't time to react. He stared in shock, gazing at the steady stream of blood pouring from his chest. All noise ceased—on the city walls and below, the entire realm fell into silence. "...Your Majesty, I came too late to attend to your safety. Please forgive me," said Wan Mei, kneeling on the ground. Zhang Yuanqing staggered to a seat at the desk, then waved a hand, "It's all right." He studied Wan Mei, moved by her presence, and remarked, "I never thought my imperial harem would be so full of talent. Zheng Longtu, though reliant on his family background, is quite capable in his cultivation—yet even one move from Wan Mei proved beyond him. To have her serve as a consort is truly a great disappointment. How about you take over as commander instead?" The skill of "Water Deprivation" is only mastered by a 6th-level God of Plague. In other words, this graceful woman, whose arms can carry a horse, The graceful lady spoke in a wavering, resonant tone: "Your Majesty, as a mere woman, I am unworthy to serve as commander. All I wish to do is serve you within the palace and protect you." With your bearing and presence, you're more than capable of facing battle—let alone commanding an army... Zhang Yuanqing silently thought. After a brief pause, the graceful lady whispered, "I cannot conceal this from Your Majesty. In truth, in truth, I am a sworn guard trained by the Empress Dowager, whose duty is to protect Your Majesty within the imperial court." A sworn guard trained by the Empress Dowager? That explains the subtle hints in the game! Zhang Yuanqing raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. Thus, it appears the Empress Dowager recognizes her son's stubbornness and his difficulty in becoming a truly capable ruler, and has therefore appointed both the Elder Attendant and the graceful lady as her personal protectors—one visible, one hidden—always ready to safeguard Zhao Shun. These two figures will be my steadfast support until my true identity is revealed and I have the chance to meet and recognize my teammates! Well, indeed. Without a trusted bodyguard, with my strength sealed, my teammates turning against me, and the Grand Commander of the Imperial Palace harboring ill intentions—my chances of survival were nearly nil. Zhang Yuanqing exclaimed with delight, "Loyal beyond measure, loyal beyond measure! Such a person of unwavering loyalty, and yet I have forgotten your name altogether." Wan Meiren was deeply flattered and surprised. "My name is Wan Diao," she said. "I shall be honored to serve as a Consort," Zhang Yuanqing declared, setting lofty expectations. After all, in the end, it would still be Zhao Shun who bore the brunt of the blame—nothing to do with his status as the Prime Origin Deity. As Wan Meiren, the future Consort Wan, expressed her gratitude with heartfelt thanks, Zhang Yuanqing instructed, "You must now immediately enter the imperial quarters, seize the three consorts, detain them in a secluded location, and await my further orders." Wan Meiren nodded, her form flowing like a stream, slipping through the black tile seams. Zhang Yuanqing waited a few more seconds, then rushed desperately toward the door, shouting, "There are assassins! There are assassins! Come and rescue the Emperor!" The imperial guards, engaged in fierce combat with the insect-like parasites, were startled and quickly gathered around, holding their torches. Under the protection of the firemaster, one of the military commanders approached and said, "Your Majesty, I come to rescue you. Where are the assassins?" Zhang Yuanqing pointed behind him, still pale with alarm, "Hurry! Go save Zheng, who is still fighting the assassins inside the hall!" The commander quickly turned to look inside the hall, his expression instantly stiffening. Zhang Yuan清 continued shouting, "What are you waiting for? Go save Zheng right now!" The commander's face grew grim: "Your Majesty, look back—Zheng has already fallen in duty." At that moment, the grand hall doors, blazing with fire, suddenly gave way, and a surge of people—like a river—carried three beautiful ladies, soaring through the air, rushing toward the imperial garden. The swarms of parasites, fluttering in the wind, swiftly pursued. A portion of the imperial guards trailed behind the insects and the "river" to continue the pursuit, while another group remained to protect the emperor or direct the eunuchs and palace maids in extinguishing the fires. Li Changshi emerged from the flames, bloodied all over, scanning the scene with a slightly anxious gaze; upon seeing the emperor alive, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.