396: Chapter 396 Rebel Invasion, Great Battle Imminent

The night wind was still blowing, but it was no longer the wind from the Martial Arts Arena that carried the smell of rust and the residual warmth of psionic energy.

This wind blew from the border of the Eastern Wasteland, carrying grit and withered grass roots, hitting the face like tiny knives.

The clouds hung extremely low, rolling in a dark mass, as if the entire firmament was gasping for breath.

The ground beneath the city walls began to vibrate, initially faint, like a giant beast turning over deep underground, then becoming clearer and clearer—

Those were tens of thousands of footsteps, treading over the parched soil, crushing stones, and flattening ravines, surging toward the Chen family territory.

Chen Wuwang stood on this oldest section of the city wall.

Beneath his feet was the black stone wall Foundation built by the Chen family ancestors with their flesh and blood three hundred years ago; it was now reinforced with spirit patterns, its surface flowing with the light of pale green talismans.

He wore no battle armor and had not summoned a mecha; he simply stood there with his hands behind his back, his long silvery-white hair fluttering slightly in the wind, his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye on the left automatically adjusting to long-range scanning mode, as dense red dots appeared in his field of vision, advancing like a tide.

"They're here," he whispered, his voice not loud but as steady as a stake driven into stone.

Below the city, the rebel army had finished lining up.

It was a dark, dense mass, with banners standing tall and sabers and spears like a forest.

They shouted no slogans and beat no drums, merely pressing forward in silence, their footsteps frighteningly orderly.

Dust rose several dozen feet high, obscuring half the sky.

Warhorses neighed, armor clanked, and spiritual power fluctuations wove into a net in the air, causing the runes on the city wall to tremble slightly.

Suddenly, a lone rider charged out from the central army.

It was a pitch-black variant warhorse, its four hooves treading on fire, leaving scorched marks with every step.

The rider was clad in heavy armor with a full-face helmet, revealing only a pair of eyes gleaming with blood-red light.

He held a three-meter-long Mountain-Cleaving Saber, its edge pointing toward the sky and its spine engraved with cursed runes that emitted a low hum with his movements.

He galloped to a hundred paces from the city wall and pulled the reins to a stop.

The warhorse reared up, its front hooves pawing the air twice, letting out a deafening roar.

"Chen Wuwang!" the man bellowed, his voice like exploding thunder, surging straight toward the city wall after being infused with spiritual power. "You've been hiding for thirty years; do you still dare to stand there playing the fool?!"

The sound rolled away, shaking dust from the city walls and causing the needles of several old pines in the distance to flutter down.

Chen Wuwang still did not move.

He didn't even blink an eyelid.

He only slowly raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the night mist to land on the mounted general.

The data stream of the Mechanical Prosthetic Eye refreshed rapidly: Spiritual Power Intensity—Nascent Soul Peak; Weapon Material—Fusion of demon bone and meteoric iron;

Mount—Inferno Steed, lifespan less than three years, forcibly matured for combat.

"Oh?" He chuckled softly, the corners of his mouth slowly curling up. "So it's you."

The laughter was very soft, yet it caused the cavalry below to collectively falter.

The rebel leader clearly hadn't expected to be recognized; he froze for a moment, then burst into wild laughter:

"Hahaha! Indeed! It's me! Do you still remember this face? When you burned my entire family's ancestral hall in Liuye Village all those years ago, you weren't this calm!"

Chen Wuwang shook his head. "I don't remember your family, but I remember the wind was very strong that day, and the flames leaped higher than a man. You said you wanted revenge, and I said you could try."

"And now?" The man pointed the tip of his saber at him. "Do you still dare to say those words now? Look at my army! Look at this black tide on the ground!

Of the Thirteen Tribes of the Eastern Wasteland, seven have already sided with me! Your Chen family is nothing more than upstarts, fooling people with some cheap tricks; are you even worthy of calling yourselves kings and overlords?"

Chen Wuwang finally moved.

He lightly raised his hand and made a flicking motion in the air.

A semi-transparent holographic projection appeared, which was exactly the enemy deployment map captured by the Mechanical Prosthetic Eye just now.

Twelve main phalanxes, three mobile scout camps, and a modified Psionic Cannon carriage hidden in the central army, its energy readings slowly climbing.

He looked at the map and said calmly, "You brought 5,623 people, 3,000 of whom are Loose Cultivators recruited temporarily, with varying combat capabilities.

You placed your elites on the left and right flanks, intending to outflank and pincer me when I open the city to fight.

That cannon in the central army takes seven minutes to charge; there are five minutes and forty-two seconds left."

The rebel leader's face changed drastically. "You... how could you possibly—"

"You forgot." Chen Wuwang put away the projection, his gaze turning cold. "I am not a Cultivator who relies on Bloodline. I am Chen Wuwang."

He paused, his voice not high, yet every word was like a hammer: "You say I rely on cheap tricks? Then tell me—is that Inferno Steed between your legs a piece of smuggled goods bought from the West Star Merchant Alliance?

That burly man holding a shield on your left, didn't he work part-time in my Artifact Refining Workshop for three months last year?

The core parts of that cannon in your central army, aren't they engraved with 'Chen Family Serial Number CJ-7'?"

The rebel leader's breath hitched.

Chen Wuwang sneered, "You curse me as a heretic with your mouths, but behind my back, you use nothing but my things. Want to overthrow me? Fine. But don't use 'orthodoxy' as a fig leaf; you people are soaked with Chen family technology down to the gaps in your bones."

"Shut up!" the man roared, swinging his blade down. The Saber Qi exploded violently, splitting a deep trench in the ground that rushed straight for the city wall's Foundation.

The rune array responded instantly with a flash of green light, deflecting the impact.

Chen Wuwang stood his ground, not moving an inch.

He only slowly drew the Titanium Alloy Dagger from his waist, gently stroking the rune grooves on it.

Nanofibers traveled beneath his skin, the battle armor System entered level-one standby mode, and armor plates quietly unfolded within his body, adhering to his muscles.

"You want me to come down?" he asked.

"You deserve to die!" the man roared. "You are not worthy of standing at the Peak of the Eastern Wasteland!"

Chen Wuwang laughed.

It wasn't a sneer or a mocking laugh, but a wild laugh bordering on madness that rolled out from deep in his throat, making the city walls tremble.

"Hahahahahaha—!"

The laughter stopped abruptly.

He stared at the other man, a blood-red spirit pattern flashing and vanishing in his eyes.

"I stand here not because of how strong I am," he whispered. "It's because thirty years ago, I watched my clansmen die under the mouthparts of the Zerg, watched children have their Spiritual Qi sucked dry while alive.

No one saved us then. No one cared if we were 'orthodox' or not.

So I swore—as long as I live another day, no one is allowed to trample on the Chen family's land."

He stepped onto the edge of the city wall, the wind whipping his clothes.

"You say you brought an army? Fine." He gripped the dagger, his knuckles turning white. "Then come. I'm not coming down. I'll wait right here.

If you dare to attack, I'll let you know—what a true leader of the Eastern Wasteland Alliance is."

Below was dead silence.

Even the wind stopped.

The rebel leader stared at him intently, his teeth grinding audibly.

"You... you think I don't dare?!"

"Of course you dare," Chen Wuwang said indifferently. "But you don't dare to face what comes after you win."

The man was stunned.

"You think that by killing me, you can sit in this position?"

Chen Wuwang scoffed. "You don't even know how I've arranged the defenses, nor do you know how much hidden power I have.

What makes you think you can control the Eastern Wasteland? You're nothing more than a pawn being used by others."

"Shut up!" the man roared, raising his long saber.

In an instant, Killing Intent soared to the heavens.

Over five thousand people shouted in unison, the sound waves like a tide, making the earth tremble.

Chen Wuwang stood atop the city wall, a solitary figure, facing the tide-like enemy army without retreating a single step.

He slowly raised his right hand, fingers spread wide, then suddenly clenched it into a fist.

"I've waited so long..." he whispered to himself, Battle Intent boiling in his eyes. "It's finally here."

Below the city, the rebel army marched forward in formation, sabers and spears drawn, spiritual power rising.

The great war was just a breath away.