The Yellow Turban Uprising! Spirit Realm No.: 82 Difficulty Level: D Type: Multiplayer (Non-Death) Main Objective: Assassinate the Yellow Turban Army Commander One of the thirty-six Channel Commanders of the army is named "Zhuang Liu," according to the intelligence gathered by Xiahou Aotian, who seems to be a spring deity. Based on the difficulty level of the quest, he is likely a level-7 early-stage spring deity. Facing him, Xiahou Aotian, dressed in simple robes and holding a long spear, idly remarked, "Rather dull. Why haven't they rotated the watch shifts yet?" They had just arrived at the quest and were immediately assigned as junior soldiers in the military camp. Zhang Yuanqing intended to wait until the shift changed, then investigate whether the commander, Zhuang Liu, possessed knowledge of spirits and deities, and subsequently seize the alchemical supplies to test Xiahou Aotian's plan. Before identifying the star officials within the camp, he didn't want to create unnecessary complications—should the commander Zhuang Liu take notice, a battle would surely ensue. Zhang Yuanqing certainly wasn't afraid of fighting; he was afraid of accidentally killing Commander Zhuang Liu. Once the quest concludes, he would return directly. After finally enduring until noon, Zhang Yuanqing and Xiahou Aotian were relieved by two junior soldiers and The so-called kitchen was simply an open space, with dozens of triangular wooden frames supporting iron pots, the bottom flames gently licking the pots and steam rising from within. Soldiers lined up in long queues in front of the pots, receiving a bowl of meat broth and two coarse-grain buns from the kitchen staff. "The food's quite good—there's even meat broth!" Zhang Yuanqing remarked, marveling. Behind him, Xiahou Aotian chuckled. "I'd advise you not to drink it," he said. Zhang Yuanqing turned to look at him. "Why?" "The Yellow Turban forces were ordinary peasants, driven to revolt by hunger and cold. They themselves were often undernourished—how could they have meat?" Xiahou Aotian's expression revealed a touch of complexity. "In times of turmoil, what kind of meat is most common?" ... Zhang Yuanqing silently turned back, falling silent. Soon, both of them received their coarse-grain buns and meat broth. Holding the broth in one hand and biting into the buns, Zhang Yuanqing glanced around, then approached a group of the most talkative soldiers and asked, "Lads, I'd like to ask you something." "Among our troops, is there anyone who can foresee the future, someone with mastery over the mysteries of spirits and gods?" He subtly guided the mood of the soldiers, stirring their desire to speak. "I know, I know..." "You're talking about the military strategist, aren't you?" "The strategist is a disciple of the Heavenly General. He can burn incense to heal the sick, even bring the dead back to life, and he can also predict the future." Several sturdy soldiers quickly stepped forward, eager to respond. After asking the strategist's tent location and name, Zhang Yuancheng took Xiahou Aotian and departed. Along the way, he engaged in pleasant conversations with several soldiers, eventually pinpointing the strategist's tent. The sentries outside paid no attention to their arrival. Zhang Yuancheng lifted the thick curtain, and inside the spacious tent, he saw a middle-aged man in a Taoist robe preparing medicine at his desk. When he noticed the two silently entering without being detected, the man's expression changed instantly—just as he was about to speak, his eyes grew blank, and he fell into a trance. Zhang Yuancheng then produced his little red hat and seized the strategist. Half an hour later, the two of them appeared on an open field far from the camp, beginning to prepare the elixir. Zhang Yuanqing held a brush, its tip stained with golden-red ink, half-crouched at the mouth of the furnace, carefully drawing the spiritual script array. Xiahou Aotian took out various bottles and jars, pouring them into the military advisor's mouth. "Wheeeewww..." the advisor shook his head in alarm. "You're being devoured, and yet you're devouring others—this is the natural cycle of the heavens, and the retribution is fulfilled," Xiahou Aotian gently tapped the advisor's brow, activating the medicine's effects: "Sleep!" The advisor's head tilted to one side, and he fainted. The preparation of the Sancai Elixir was highly intricate, requiring not only the primary ingredients but also sixteen auxiliary herbs. These auxiliary herbs helped the primary ones achieve inner calm, mental clarity, and balanced vital energy. The anesthetic and hallucinogenic herbs were the most numerous. Once Zhang Yuanqing completed the spiritual script, Xiahou Aotian lifted the advisor and placed him into the elixir furnace, summoning the Samadhi True Fire Then, he stepped his foot to extend the array down to the base of the bronze cauldron, causing the array to rotate slowly—sometimes reversing, sometimes flowing in the opposite direction—while the threefold true fire beneath the cauldron alternated between intense and gentle. Throughout the process, he opened the cauldron several times, adding herbs and a small amount of purified water. The bronze cauldron shimmered with golden light, glowing and fading in rhythm. Half an hour later, blood mist erupted from the air holes of the cauldron. Seeing this, Xue Hou Ao Tian promptly extinguished the threefold true fire and, through the array, transferred the cauldron to the spiritual scroll array that Zhang Yuanqing had inscribed several dozen meters away. Zhang Yuanqing immediately used the power of the Sun to ignite the scroll and "burn" the bronze cauldron, purifying the residual spiritual consciousness within the medicine. The golden flames burned steadily for a full ten minutes before finally fading. Both of them rushed eagerly to the cauldron, where Xue Hou Ao Tian lifted the lid, and at once, a rich, savory aroma filled the air. Deposited within the inner chamber was a layer of muddy residue, and embedded within Feeling the spiritual energy contained within the pill, Xiahou Aotian exclaimed with delight, "It's successful! I truly am a prodigy at pharmaceutical crafting." Zhang Yuanqing picked up the pill, placed it into the porcelain bottle, and said, "The medicine is ready—let's hurry and clear this quest." He even didn't wait for Xiahou Aotian's response before dissolving into starlight. Producing consumables is manageable with a high success rate, but crafting items often results in failure—failure rates are exceptionally high. Meanwhile, upon hearing the spiritual realm's prompt sound at his ear, Zhang Yuanqing immediately retrieved the pill and waited for the mark on his forehead to glow. After a few seconds, his forehead warmed, the mark appeared, and a subtle, nearly imperceptible power of the Sun God flowed into his body—only 0.01% experience points, negligible indeed! Zhang Yuanqing swallowed the pill whole. The pill dissolved instantly upon contact, transforming into powers of the Moon and the Stars. Though the influx was faint, Zhang Yuanqing was astonished to find that his cells absorbed this energy, increasing their total spiritual power and solidifying it. This sensation was familiar—he had experienced it repeatedly upon completing dungeons, each time his experience points increased, raising his overall strength and capacity. Xia Hou Aotian's plan had succeeded. They successfully exploited a bug in the spiritual realm's mechanism, developing a method that allows them to rapidly advance without being restricted by character cards or entering the dungeons. "If this approach were to be made public, Xiaohou Aotian's academic achievement would indeed astonish the world," Zhang Yuanqing murmured. The countdown ended, and he departed the spiritual realm. ... In the smoky, ruined city, Zhai Cai, clad in silver armor, leapt into the air and delivered a resplendent surge of yellow copper light that could not be contained. The distorted monsters along his path shattered under the light, their limbs and bodies falling in crisp 'plinks,' spreading black and crimson blood across the ground. At that moment, he raised his knight's sword before him, activating the protective barrier. The next instant, a deluge of attacks—petrifying beams, poisoned arrows formed from mist, wind blades, and lightning spears—rained down upon him. The thick yellow copper wall remained unshaken. Suddenly, a stream of poison mist seemed to find a weakness, gently seeping through the walls and drifting toward Zhai Cai. His face instantly turned ashen, his eyes bloodshot, and the edges of Zhai Cai's mouth twitched slightly as he struggled to suppress the agony brought by the toxic vapor. He raised his voice firmly, declaring, "By the honor of a knight, I hereby establish the rules of this match: no underestimating the opponent—no fewer blows for more." Then, he lifted his knight's sword and declared solemnly, "Any who violate these rules shall be judged!" The straight blade plunged down, splitting into dozens of golden-copper beams of light, and cries of pain erupted throughout the darkness. At that moment, the toxins within Zhai Cai's body were completely broken down and expelled as purple droplets of sweat. With the sword in hand, Zhai Cai charged into the enemy ranks, leaping and maneuvering through the ruins, moving with the agility of a street performer, striking with precision. He attacked isolated rulers and fled when faced with a group of them encircling him. Though the knight's attack methods were simple, their extraordinary ascension as ascetic monks had forged a body of exceptional endurance and resilience to suffering—like a relentless machine of war. The stains on the silver armor were washed away by blood, only It wasn't clear how long it had been before, when his arm muscles spasmed and gradually lost their grip on the sword, the army of distortions finally withdrew. He stood on the ruins, holding the sword, breathing heavily, steam rising from the seams of his armor. Zhai Cai scanned the surroundings and spotted several knights in silver armor, standing proudly scattered across the battlefield. The knights of the order had dwindled to fewer than ten. "Your growth is most encouraging," a deep voice came from afar. Zhai Cai turned to see a man in golden armor, wielding a heavy sword, in his forties or fifties, with blue eyes and a thick beard. He was Simon Rodney, the leader of the knights, one of the three half-divine saints of the Church. Zhai Cai steadied his breath and bowed slightly, "It is your guidance that has made it possible." Over the course of one month, Zhai Cai's combat strength had surged dramatically—his physical condition and close-combat skills had greatly improved, and his abilities in establishing rules, making judgments, and forming protective barriers had also seen a qualitative leap. Now, with a body rank of seven, his combat power approached that of a level eight. All of this is due to the codex gifted by the Chairman. Of course, receiving the codex was just the beginning—the most crucial factor is Zhai Cai's spirit of sharing. He has passed on the codex to every knight in the knightly order, including the holy knights. He calls it: "Shared destiny, shared resources." The holy knights, naturally, don't need such a codex, yet they deeply admire Zhai Cai's knightly spirit and have been offering him continuous guidance over the past few days. The knights who have received the codex, in turn, have gained insights through practical experience, and each time Zhai Cai returns from battle, he gathers the knights to discuss and share his reflections. He is fully dedicating himself to his duties. With so many elite knights sharing their insights, Zhai Cai's own cultivation has advanced rapidly, and he has finally weathered the final day. "It's time you went," the holy knight said firmly. "No matter the outcome of this battle, someone must leave—the tradition of the knights must never be broken. You are the most gifted among all of them." Zhai Cai should have been happy, yet he couldn't help turning back, glancing at his comrades-in-arms who had fought side by side with him for a full month, at the battlefield where they had repeatedly faced life-and-death struggles. A profound, indescribable sense of solemnity and tragedy surged within him. "Sacrifice is the destiny of a knight," he said, voicing his long-held motto as he looked at the Holy Knight. The Holy Knight replied solemnly: "To sacrifice here is our destiny, but not yours! Go now, preserve the legacy of the knights—you will find your own battlefield. There, you will fight. There, you will sacrifice!" Zhai Cai remained silent for a while, then turned quietly and departed without a word. His figure receded into the distance, eventually fading into the horizon as though he had never been there at all. He had returned.