Chapter Sixty-Three: Capturing Prisoners

Just as Lan Yi had foreseen, the decisive battle for the unification of the Starhan North and South ended in a resounding victory for the martial artists. Aside from a handful of unlucky souls who were killed instantly by stray bullets piercing their brains, the tough and resilient warriors suffered barely any casualties. Like a pack of wolves on the hunt, they struck with precision—after a few probing charges, Xiongtian General Zhao Jian led the charge directly into the fray. Ten thousand men divided into several waves, with the peak of each formed by perfected Qi practitioners and the crest by spiritual cultivators, braving the hail of bullets as they swept through the enemy, shattering their lines in a feat of unstoppable might.

The true headache for the martial artists came after the battle, when it was time to capture prisoners. Even with the aid of Daoist arts to control the field, the fleeing soldiers scattered in panic, running wildly under the haze of blood mist and the terror debuff, vanishing from sight the moment the warriors let their guard down. Most martial artists showed mercy; faced with enemies who had cast aside their armor and weapons, they did not resort to killing a handful to instill fear, nor did they behead them to cow the rest into submission. Instead, they chased them down one by one, tying them up and tossing them onto the muddy, blood-soaked ground.

It was Xiao Hongzhuan, retching from disgust, who came up with an effective solution. He ordered the Daoist boys to bring the Golden Men forward. Each five meters tall, exuding a chilling metallic aura, the Golden Men stood as unshakable totems amidst the shattered ranks. With twelve Golden Men looming over them, the prisoners ceased their frantic attempts to escape and knelt in abject fear, worshipping both the Golden Men and the martial artists.

In their eyes, the Golden Men were statues of gods, and the invulnerable martial artists were the agents of those gods. And Lan Yi the Immortal Master? When Lan Yi brushed aside the blood mist to reveal a straight path, letting the golden rays of sunset pour down from the sky and bathe him in crimson light, he appeared to all as a living deity. Many prisoners, at that moment, realized the absurdity of their actions—they had actually tried to oppose the Immortal Master. With what? On what grounds?

Thus, the spirit and morale of the hundred-thousand-strong army were crushed beyond repair.

The Regent was captured. He, along with a host of grandmasters and shamanic priests, was presented to Lan Yi by Zhao Jian as a tribute.

“Immortal Master Lan Yi…” The Regent, bloodied and battered, had planned to flip the table and die together with them. Yet, when brought before Lan Yi, who hovered beside the Golden Men, his madness faded, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

"In return for lightening my mood, he’ll make it swift," Lan Yi remarked from above, having noticed the Regent’s exchange with Yuan Peng. The bizarre mindset of this servant, who believed he must lose, struck Lan Yi as a kind of dark humor—truly human, indeed. The Regent’s reckless actions had, in truth, saved Lan Yi some time.

"Thank you, Immortal Master." The Regent suddenly felt at peace. He was about to die, but after his death, many more in the North—even foreigners—would perish, and their deaths would be even more tragic. Lan Yi would not stop, and the thought brought him a strange comfort.

"Any last words?" Lan Yi encouraged him to speak.

"None—"

Swish!

Zhao Jian’s hand, shaped like a blade, swept across, and the Regent’s head flew off, only to be caught before it had traveled two meters by a muscular giant, whose rugged face was turned to Lan Yi in a sheepish grin.

Lan Yi hesitated. Perhaps the Regent did have some final words, but it mattered little.

"Immortal Master, what about these grandmasters?" Zhao Jian asked respectfully. The grandmasters who could take to the field were no ordinary figures; most had participated in the curses against Lan Yi, or in the search for his ancestral tombs. Now, each protested their innocence, claiming to be mere charlatans with no real abilities, insisting they never dared offend the Immortal Master.

Lan Yi’s solution for these men was eminently practical. With the spread of martial arts and Daoist techniques, some frauds had begun to exploit their names, though their tricks fooled no warriors. Yet as these disciplines grew popular, the opportunities for deception multiplied, and there would always be fools eager to be duped. Breaking feudal superstition was essential. These grandmasters were perfect teaching materials.

Zhao Jian immediately understood—Lan Yi had no interest in killing these fakes, nor did he intend to let them go. They were the parasites of grand temples and Daoist halls, wielding power and exploiting others. Their fate would be frequent public humiliation, paraded and flogged for all to see.

With the prisoners dealt with, Lan Yi continued issuing orders.

"Arrange a team to take over Xuzhou City."

"Li Baiyuan and Guo Decheng have advanced to spiritual cultivation. Once the Xuzhou matter is settled, they will remain, while the other spiritual practitioners continue north, bringing their retinues to take control of cities along the railway."

"The city power plants must remain intact. We cannot delay the planting of the Thunder Pool Immortal Lotus."

A handful of spiritual cultivators, accompanied by hundreds of perfected Qi practitioners, would head north. The North had no soldiers left to fight, no people to resist, no strength to muster, no unity to gather. Breaking through what remained—a paper tiger—was no challenge for the spiritual cultivators. Across the Starhan, nothing could stop the martial artists from achieving unification and founding an empire with a radically different martial ethos.

"At your command, Immortal Master!" Zhao Jian bowed respectfully, then ventured a guess. "And you, Immortal Master?"

"I intend to head east. There is one person there who must be dealt with. If his fate is left unchecked, he could still pose a trouble."

Lan Yi’s first phase goal was nearly complete—only a minor loose end remained. Dongyang was that last loose end.

He needed a Starhan Empire where spiritual energy flourished and martial arts thrived. This empire would, in the future, provide a steady anchor for the main world, and its martial artists and Daoists would fundamentally alter the underlying logic of the artificial divine realm. As the ultimate architect of this revival, Lan Yi, according to the judgment of the higher-dimensional computer, would be fully qualified to take control of the artificial divine realm.

It was not enough to simply open a passage and conquer by force; true control lay in the permissions of the artificial divine realm. That was the most important aspect, and the foundation upon which Lan Yi would compete with the main world.

High risk, high reward. Maximizing the benefits of the first artificial divine realm meant that, for spiritual cultivators, they could ignore the old order collapsing in the main world, while the main world would come crawling, begging for cooperation.

"Immortal Master, you’re going to Dongyang alone?"

"Shouldn’t we bring Commander Zhao along? He’s quite handy for errands."

Zhao Jian’s deep voice offered a cautious suggestion. Commander Zhao was Lan Yi’s shadow; even if Lan Yi unleashed carnage in Dongyang, slaughtering nine out of ten, Commander Zhao would not utter a word of protest.

Don’t ask—if you do, the answer is always 'natural disaster!'

Before the words of Xiongtian General faded, a tangible shadow suddenly swept over his eyes and throat.