Sun Yi decided to initiate infiltration protocols. He needed to audit the situation in Water Source City before committing to a hostile takeover. If the Black Wind Stockade’s personnel were too high-spec, he would have to execute an emergency exit strategy.
At the city center, a massive stone platform dominated the square. Ten cultivators stood atop it, looking down at the masses like executives observing a factory floor.
The project lead was a middle-aged man with a hooked nose and a complexion that suggested serious liver failure. His aura, however, was robust—Foundation Establishment Late-Stage.
Surrounding him were four mid-stage and two early-stage associates, along with three Qi Refining interns.
“Status report,” the hooked-nose cultivator said, his voice devoid of warmth. “What is the current yield?”
A mid-stage subordinate bowed low. “Reporting to Senior Brother Mo. User acquisition is at one hundred and sixty thousand. The intake gates are still experiencing high traffic.”
A cold glint flashed in Mo’s eyes. He waved a hand dismissively. “We cannot wait for peak capacity. Launch the program immediately.”
“Senior Brother Mo,” the subordinate hesitated. “If we delay by a few hours, we could easily break two hundred thousand units…”
Mo glared at him. “The Board of Elders has sent the directive. Do you wish to file a complaint with them?”
The subordinate paled and shook his head frantically. “This subordinate wouldn’t dare! I will initiate the sequence at once.”
“Efficiency is key,” Mo sneered.
The subordinate scrambled down the platform. Moments later, just as a fresh wave of civilians was pouring through the city gates, four pillars of blood-red light erupted from the city’s corners.
The pillars shot hundreds of feet into the sky, weaving together to form an impenetrable crimson dome. Water Source City was now a sealed container.
The commoners trapped outside the barrier hammered on the light, confused and desperate.
“What is happening? We haven’t entered yet!”
“Immortals, show mercy! Let us in!”
“We beg for the Immortal’s grace! We wish to hear the Dharma too!”
Sun Yi, trapped inside the dome, watched the display with a grim expression.
Hypothesis confirmed, he thought. This isn’t a seminar. It’s a liquidation event.
The Black Wind Stockade intended to convert the city’s population into raw cultivation resources. And the process was already initializing.
He engaged his Wind Thunder Step, blurring toward the central square.
Inside the city, the user experience was disturbingly positive. The civilians looked up at the bloody barrier not with fear, but with religious ecstasy.
“The Immortals are manifesting their power!”
“A miracle! A miracle!”
Thousands dropped to their knees, kowtowing to the sky, thanking the butchers for the slaughter to come.
On the platform, Senior Brother Mo retrieved a small, blood-red flag. It was only three feet long but pulsed with a visceral, gory light.
Mo infused his True Qi into the artifact. The flag expanded instantly, growing into a ten-meter-tall banner that snapped in a phantom wind. He thrust the staff into the stone altar.
Thrum.
The ground vibrated. A complex, blood-colored circuit board—a formation—lit up across the platform’s surface. Centered on the flag, a faint pink mist began to roll out, expanding rapidly across the square.
The mist washed over the front rows of the kneeling crowd.
There was no scream. The civilians simply collapsed, like puppets with their strings cut. Tiny threads of blood drifted from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths, defying gravity to merge with the mist.
“What is happening?”
The people behind them watched in confusion, their brains unable to process the data before the mist swallowed them too.
Sun Yi, observing from a distance, felt the blood in his own veins heat up, agitating as if trying to breach his skin.
Warning: Environmental hazard detected.
“This algorithm is aggressive,” Sun Yi noted, suppressing his boiling blood with a cycle of True Qi. “It’s attempting to root-access the circulatory system of every biological unit in range.”
If a cultivator like him was feeling the pressure, the mortals didn’t stand a chance. He had to terminate the program immediately, or the entire city would be formatted within minutes.
He scanned the platform. The support staff had dispersed to secure the perimeter, leaving only Senior Brother Mo guarding the server—the Blood Flag.
Sun Yi calculated the odds. Mo was Foundation Establishment Late-Stage. In a fair fight, Sun Yi’s hardware specs were insufficient.
Solution: Unfair fight.
Sun Yi’s eyes narrowed. He launched himself toward the altar.
At two hundred meters out, Mo’s Divine Sense pinged him.
“Oh? A stray cultivator?” Mo scanned Sun Yi, noting the Qi Refining signature. A sneer curled his lips.
“Stop!” Sun Yi roared, feigning the righteous indignation of a hero. “Shut down the formation immediately!”
He sprinted toward the altar, closing the distance rapidly.
“Hmph,” Mo scoffed, looking down from his high ground. “Where did this bug come from? Daring to audit the Black Wind Stockade’s operations? Since you’re here, you can be processed along with the livestock.”
“In your dreams!”
Sun Yi simulated a rage state. He flicked his left hand, sending a spread of offensive talismans shooting toward the Blood Flag.
Simultaneously, he charged straight at Mo.
Mo didn’t even draw a weapon. He waved a sleeve, conjuring a True Qi shield that casually absorbed the talisman bombardment.
“Weak,” Mo muttered.
But in the next frame, a golden streak erupted from Sun Yi’s inventory. The Dragon Roar Sword—a Rank 1, Grade 9 artifact—slashed toward the flag with impressive speed.
“A high-grade artifact?” Mo raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised that a Qi Refining scrub had such premium gear. “Decent capital, but your user permissions are too low.”
He flicked a finger. A burst of kinetic energy struck the flying sword mid-air.
Clang!
The Dragon Roar Sword was swatted aside like a fly, clattering onto the stone near the flag, its light dimming.
“Guh!”
Sun Yi sold the impact perfectly. He stumbled, spitting a mouthful of blood, his face pale with shock and fear.
But beneath the performance, his internal processor was running a countdown.
Distance to target: Twenty meters.
“Die!” Sun Yi screamed, throwing a desperate handful of talismans. This batch was mixed—half of them were Rank 2 explosives.
Mo saw the incoming barrage and frowned. Rank 2? This kid has deep pockets.
He reinforced his shield, bracing for impact.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions rocked the platform. The shield shimmered and dimmed under the assault, obscuring Mo’s vision with smoke and fire.
“Hmph! Brat, I will tear you to pieces!” Mo roared, his arrogance turning to annoyance.
But as the smoke cleared, he realized the “bug” was no longer where he used to be.
A figure flickered through the flames.
Sun Yi had activated the Wind Thunder Step.
Twenty meters was nothing to a speed hack. Sun Yi appeared directly inside Mo’s guard, his expression transforming from feigned fear to cold, mechanical precision.
“System error,” Sun Yi whispered.
He channeled every ounce of his enhanced physical strength and Gold Gate energy into his right fist, launching a strike aimed directly at Mo’s center mass.
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