CHAPTER 159: CH-159: BLACK SPEAR GENERAL

The night wind tore across the mountain ridges, howling like wolves hunting prey. Clouds gathered once more, though this time they bore no lightning—only a suffocating heaviness, as if heaven itself waited to see what Tian Shen would do next.

He stood at the eastern cliff until the stars began to fade. Below, the valleys crawled with torches—camps spreading, watchfires flickering like malignant stars across the land. The Dominion had not hidden their advance. They wanted the Feilun Sect to see, to tremble, to yield before the storm even struck.

But Tian Shen did not tremble. He turned his back on the camps and descended the cliff path. His footsteps were steady, each one echoing in the hollows of his mind.

...

By dawn, he stood before the Sect’s inner gates, where the elders and division leaders had gathered.

Sect Master Liang’s robes were darker than night, his expression grave. To his right, Elder Su bore her talisman box; to his left, Elder Hua leaned on her jade staff, lips pressed thin. Behind them, dozens of division commanders, their qi burning like torches, awaited words that might seal their futures.

"Tian Shen," Liang said, voice carrying easily. "The council has debated. Some argue you should remain here, shielded, for the Sect cannot afford to risk its spearhead. Others claim your presence alone would draw the Dominion’s blade away from our walls."

"And you, Sect Master?" Tian Shen asked quietly.

Liang’s eyes flickered. "I think heaven has already marked you as bait for calamity. Better we wield calamity than cower before it."

A ripple of unease spread among the gathered leaders. Feng Yin, standing at the edge, clenched her fists. She wanted to speak, but the weight of the hall pressed her into silence.

Elder Su broke it instead. "If he goes, he cannot go alone. The Dominion does not duel with honor. They will send assassins, hunters, poisoners."

Tian Shen’s gaze hardened. "I did not intend to take anyone with me."

But a new voice rose, sharp as a blade.

"You will take me."

Feng Yin stepped forward, her crimson robes stirring with qi. "If the Dominion thinks to break you, they will not hesitate to strike from shadows. I will guard your back."

Gasps rippled through the chamber. Feng Yin, daughter of the Feng Clan, one of Feilun’s strongest allies—if she left, the Sect’s political balance would shift.

Liang studied her in silence, then chuckled without mirth. "Boldness must be a contagion. Very well. Go, if you wish. But know that the Dominion’s fangs will not dull themselves because of your bloodline."

"I am not afraid," she said.

Tian Shen frowned, but said nothing.

Liang’s gaze swept back to him. "Go south, then. Bear the Sect’s will. Show the Dominion that Feilun does not bend easily. But if you die, know that you die as both shield and spark. Your path is no longer your own."

Tian Shen inclined his head. "Understood."

Three nights later, under veils of fog, Tian Shen departed.

The Sect’s gates opened silently, lanterns extinguished, disciples kneeling in rows as he passed. No drums, no banners, no farewells—only silence, heavier than stone. Beside him rode Feng Yin, her sword strapped across her back, eyes alight with determination.

Drowsy padded behind them, massive paws stirring dust. Ji Luan, reckless as ever, had slipped through the gates before dawn and now whistled a mocking tune, earning glares from guards who dared not drag him back. And Little Mei clung to the saddle of a borrowed mare, cheeks flushed with stubborn resolve.

"You shouldn’t have come," Tian Shen said without turning.

Little Mei’s voice trembled, but did not break. "And leave you to face armies alone? I’d rather die beside you than hide behind walls."

Tian Shen exhaled, but said no more. He knew the Dominion would not wait for him to choose.

The southern valleys sprawled wide, dotted with black pines and jagged cliffs. Days of travel brought them to the first signs of the Dominion’s hand—villages stripped bare, fields burned, rivers fouled with corpses. Refugees stumbled northward, their eyes hollow, their tongues too dry to speak.

Ji Luan’s tune grew quieter with each mile. Little Mei stopped smiling altogether.

One night, they made camp in the shadow of a ruined watchtower. The moon was a pale smear above the fog, and the air carried the metallic taste of blood.

Feng Yin knelt by the fire, sharpening her blade. Sparks leapt with each stroke. "They’re not just advancing," she murmured. "They’re scouring. Cleansing the land before they settle."

"They want to erase roots," Tian Shen said. "So that when their banners plant, nothing remains to resist."

Ji Luan spat into the dirt. "Bastards. They think conquest is cultivation."

Drowsy rumbled low, ears twitching toward the south. Something moved in the fog.

Tian Shen rose at once, spear in hand. "Scouts," he whispered.

The fog parted, revealing shadows that slithered unnaturally. Not men—beasts, their bodies stitched from corpses, eyes glowing with Dominion brands.

Necro-beasts. War tools of the Dominion’s forbidden sects.

The first lunged, maw splitting too wide, teeth snapping like blades. Tian Shen met it mid-air, his spear punching through its skull in a burst of golden qi. Bone shattered, flesh sizzled, but more came—dozens, skittering and hissing, claws glinting with poison.

Feng Yin’s sword sang, arcs of crimson flame slicing beasts apart. Ji Luan darted like a fox, knives flashing, laughter sharp with adrenaline. Drowsy tore through the creatures with savage growls, his fur sparking with qi.

Little Mei stood back, trembling, but her hands flew in seals. Threads of spiritual silk burst from her fingers, tangling beasts mid-leap, holding them long enough for Tian Shen’s spear to end them.

The battle raged beneath the ruined tower. Stone cracked, blood spattered, the air reeked of rot and smoke.

When at last the final beast fell twitching, silence returned.

Feng Yin’s blade dripped black ichor. She wiped it clean with deliberate calm, though her breath came sharp. "Scouts," she repeated. "But not ordinary ones. They meant for us to be torn apart before reaching their camps."

"They underestimated us," Ji Luan said, grinning through bloodied teeth.

Tian Shen said nothing. His spear pulsed faintly in his hand, resonating with the Utopian Core. The warning within his chest had grown louder. The Dominion knew he was coming.

...

Days blurred. Clashes multiplied. Small squads of Dominion riders shadowed their path, striking from ridges, ambushing in canyons. Each time, Tian Shen and his companions broke through, but the strain grew.

By the twelfth day, their supplies dwindled, their mounts weary.

And then, at last, the Dominion’s main camp spread before them.

Tents sprawled like a sea of crimson, banners snapping in the wind. Black iron spikes rose from the ground, each bearing skulls of beasts and men. At the camp’s heart loomed a fortress of dark stone, half-built yet already radiating oppression.

And in the center, Tian Shen saw him.

Commander Zhen, serpent-helmed once more, overseeing drills with cold efficiency.

But this time, he was not alone.

A dozen figures stood near him, their auras sharp, oppressive—cultivators, each at the Core Reinforcement Realm or higher. Among them, one presence burned brighter, darker than the rest. A man in black armor, helm shaped like a dragon, aura suffused with killing intent.

Feng Yin’s face paled.

"That’s no commander."

Tian Shen’s eyes narrowed.

"A general."

As if sensing their gaze, the armored man turned. Even at that distance, Tian Shen felt the weight of his eyes, heavy as chains.

The Dominion had not merely sent a legion. They had sent a warlord.

That night, they did not sleep. The five companions camped on a ridge overlooking the valley, firelight dimmed, voices hushed.

"They’ll expect us to flee," Feng Yin whispered.

Ji Luan chuckled darkly. "Then let’s not disappoint them by being predictable."

Tian Shen stared into the valley, where thousands of fires burned. His spear lay across his knees, the Utopian Core thrumming within. Each beat whispered louder: fight, fight, fight.

But he also felt the other pull—the faint, elusive thread that had stirred since his breakthrough. A call beyond battle.

What was it? A path? A warning? A promise?

He did not know.

Yet dawn would not wait for answers.

At sunrise, drums thundered from the Dominion camp. Warhorns howled, and crimson banners surged forward. Lines of riders spilled into the valley, blades gleaming, warhorses screaming with bloodlust.

The storm had begun.

Tian Shen rose, spear gleaming with golden light, his companions at his side.

The Feilun Sect’s fate, the Dominion’s challenge, heaven’s watchful eye—everything converged in that single heartbeat.

He whispered, so softly only the wind heard:

"So be it."

The black-spear general sneered, his voice carrying like thunder. "Show me this so-called Feilun prodigy."

Tian Shen answered with silence, only his spear humming as arcs of suppressed lightning danced along its edge. The gate creaked open. He walked alone, every step shaking dust from the ancient stones.

And then they charged towards each other.