Published: March 2, 2025
What was meant to come eventually arrived.
As the number of soul puppets at the current outpost base suddenly increased, Wen Yu knew that everything was beyond redemption.
In the third month since Yu arrived at the outpost base, one night, a mutiny broke out in the military.
Wen Yu didn't want to delve into where the mutiny started or what role the soul puppets played in it. He simply stayed in the camp, watching everything with a cold gaze.
The commotion grew louder, and the imperial guard had long since assembled, ten men lined up in front of Yu's tent, while Yan stood beside Wen Yu.
Inside the tent, Yu remained silent. After a brief hesitation, Yan finally dove into the tent.
Voices came from within.
“Sister Yu, shouldn’t we go out? Even a show of force would be good?”
“Don’t act yet; it will all be resolved soon.”
“Milord, I have a bad feeling about this.”
“There's nothing wrong; it's just your illusion.”
Yan felt anxious, while Yu leisurely sipped her hot tea, as if everything was under control.
These dialogues did not escape Wen Yu's ears, as he stood at the tent entrance, listening to the exchange between the two women. In the end, he could only sigh.
Wen Yu believed that this matter had much to do with Yu—with her skill set, even if she couldn't decipher the soul creation technique, discovering it shouldn’t be a problem.
What was strange was that Yu seemed completely oblivious to the sudden increase in soul puppets.
Or rather, her ambitions were glaringly obvious!
She was just waiting, waiting for the waters to become murky, to fish in troubled waters.
Thinking of Yu's identity as a reborn person, combined with the endless turmoil among the various forces in the Mossley Great World, and the rampant ambitions of others, Wen Yu could only sneer inwardly.
This was the difference in perspective—while they were stirring up the Mossley Great World for their own desires, they never considered what they would amount to without it...
And Yu was merely one of the ambitious individuals assimilated by this sad world.
The so-called Sequence One was often just a stroke of good fortune.
...
That day, just as dawn began to break, the mutiny reached its peak.
The two main combat legions in the city erupted into battle, with blades clashing; had it not been for the powerful runic restrictions within the outpost base, these two main legions alone could have torn the entire base apart.
And over here, it was like a solitary paradise, with Wen Yu and the other nine surrounding the tent in silence, completely disconnected from the chaos outside.
Until the sky suddenly brightened, a figure stepped onto the newly risen sun, arriving at the most chaotic battlefield of the two warring armies.
“Stop!”
A deep voice echoed in all directions. However, the soldiers, already blinded by rage, would not cease simply because Ji had appeared.
Though being Sequence One, Ji's prestige was truly not that high...
“Three!”
The countdown began in midair.
“Two!”
The voice grew clearer.
“One!”
The chaos on the ground showed no signs of stopping.
“Boom!”
A powerful fist mark surged through, crashing into the disarrayed army, instantly claiming the lives of over a hundred of the fiercest fighters.
The entire outpost base fell silent.
Until the wailing cries began to resonate.
“Brother! Brother!”
In the midst of the chaos, a soldier stumbled to the vicinity of the fist mark, kneeling on the ground, looking at the shapeless mass of flesh and blood ahead, letting out a heart-wrenching wail.
“Damn it, I’ll kill you!”
Amidst the crowd, someone roared in fury, and then a fiery ball shot up into the sky, directly smashing into Ji's face.
The fireball, of course, returned without any effect, but under the instigation of the “undercover,” Ji, who had already intimidated the legion, suddenly found countless murderous eyes sweeping toward him.
Shocking the crowd was not a simple task.
To achieve the best effect, two points were essential.
One was prestige, and the other was absolute strength.