No one who hasn't been to the battlefield can truly imagine how brutal, magnificent, and tragic war can be. Rachel Luo thought she’d been through enough already—the razor’s edge of life and death when masters duel in the martial world, the desperate struggle of being ambushed while guarding a caravan. She’d survived all that. She thought she could keep her cool no matter what. But today, standing in the midst of this colossal battlefield, she found herself lost and bewildered.
Everywhere she looked, people.
Everywhere she looked, monsters.
Howls, roars, people dying, people killing—everywhere. This wasn’t some calculated martial arts challenge, nor the elegant duels in a bamboo grove. The thick, wild scent of battle soared skyward, stirring the two magical fields above into a rolling, chaotic storm.
This was a battlefield gone mad.
“Aaaahhh—!” The Dwarven Springboard Maneuver was in full swing, with spiderfiends launching themselves onto the city walls, unleashing a bloody storm up top. The infantry rushed to intercept, spears and swords flashing as they desperately tried to push the monsters back.
Meanwhile, the web matrons below began spinning silk. The strands twisted into cables, woven into nets, and were hurled like giant crossbows up onto the walls.
With a crackling sound, the webs stuck to the parapets. Groups of spiderfiends hauled them taut, forming slanted ropes. Instantly, eight-legged monsters swarmed up the silk, like strings of black, nasty, murderous dumplings rolling up into the sky.
“Cut the webs! Clear those nets!”
The soldiers charged, hacking away—but after a few swings, someone screamed in terror: “These things are way too tough!” “They’re hard to cut, and they stick to our weapons!” “Where are the Peerless Grandmasters? Only they can slice through!”
For a moment, there just weren’t enough defenders on the walls.
Lost in the chaos of battle, Rachel Luo felt adrift.
What can I do with this little bit of power? What difference could I possibly make?
Ding! The Frostbell Sword rang out, snapping her back to reality. At the same instant—whoosh—a tungsten steel spear jabbed at her from the side. With no time to spare, Rachel twisted her body like a willow branch, spinning as her sword flashed from its sheath.
A cold gleam, a quick stab—the sword slid through the monster’s helmet visor, and filthy blood and brain matter sprayed out. The spiderfiend died without a sound. Rachel yanked out her blade, flicked off the gore, and snatched up the enemy’s spear with her left hand. Thanks to her Neo Titan Spirit Method, she hurled the spear with surprising force, skewering a spiderfiend that had just popped its head over the wall.
The spiderfiend shrieked and tumbled off the wall.
Right. What am I even lost about? I just need to do what I can.
Rachel charged forward, sword flashing and weaving through the chaos. With Bright Jade Technique infusing her strikes, a faint sword aura danced along the blade. The webs snapped and recoiled like broken rubber bands, sending spiderfiends flying and crashing into their own ranks. The ones tugging on the webs below were thrown into total disarray.
Yang Qi always tailored his teaching, but his students inevitably picked up his style. Built on Chinese martial arts, blending wuxia moves and all kinds of techniques, Master Yang’s fighting was stripped of all frills. Against the strong, he could duel with masters; against the weak, he could slaughter on the battlefield. Simple, direct, sharp, deadly—every disciple inherited that style.
Rachel Luo was the standout among them. Thanks to her efforts, this stretch of wall was sealed tight. Meanwhile, beams of light lit up the battlements—Jasper Xiao, Paladins, and other chosen heroes and local masters, all showing their true skills.
The Paladins’ holy light was a game-changer. Not only were they powerful warriors, but magical healers, too. If you were badly wounded, a touch of holy light wouldn’t cure you instantly, but it’d keep you alive. Comrades rushed to carry the injured to safety, giving them a shot at recovery. Thanks to the Paladins, morale soared.
But this wild battlefield couldn’t be decided by a single moment or a single fight. A thousand-mile levee collapses from an ant’s nest—the enemy surged like a flood, overwhelming and relentless. They didn’t know fear, didn’t retreat, didn’t tire. That’s the worst kind of enemy.
"No way, we can’t let them get on the walls! Take out those spider-dwarves first!" Bang bang bang—machine guns spat bullets like crazy. For the chosen ones, the machine gun was the best defense. But suddenly—click!—it jammed.
"Son of a—!" The gun jammed at the worst possible moment. The chosen one yanked the bolt, but it wouldn’t budge, and he was hopping mad. A gust of wind—his comrade screamed. Instinct took over; he raised his gun just in time to block a sword strike. If the gun’s busted, use a blade! He grabbed a knife and swung back: "I’ll butcher you freaks with my bare hands if I have to!"
Bullets aren’t infinite. After a wild barrage, the ammo started running out. With guns breaking down, the hail of bullets thinned.
Boom—! In the heat of battle, everyone on the wall felt the ground quake. The Mountain Giant was getting closer. From this distance, soldiers on the first wall had to crane their necks at a forty-five degree angle just to see its face. No time to panic—the commander was screaming, “Quick, shoot those Spider-Orcs! They’re going for the gate!”
Heavy footsteps thundered as Spider-Orcs in full armor charged straight for the gate. The elves gritted their teeth and nocked Magicbreaker Arrows, but as they fired, sheets of web smashed down like cannonballs, blanketing the archers. The webs didn’t hurt, but they trapped the archers tight, throwing the whole ranged squad into chaos.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The Spider-Orcs, crazed and reckless, slammed into the gate again and again, shaking it with each blow. The defenders rushed to block it from inside, piling in to brace the door. "Hold the line! Hold the line!" "Prop it up with logs!"
Up on the wall, the commander shouted, "Pour the oil!"
Sizzle—scalding hot oil poured down, making the Spider-Orcs howl in pain below.
"Light it up!"
Meanwhile, Jasper Xiao, having just sliced a monster in two, suddenly whipped around, eyes narrowed. Something felt off. He watched closely, and with his superhuman vision, spotted the problem: "Nope, something’s fishy. They’re just baiting us to waste our attacks!"
"Huh?" The commander heard him, but couldn’t make sense of Jasper Xiao’s internet slang in the heat of battle and didn’t stop his men from tossing the torches.
Boom! Flames erupted, a wall of fire engulfing the gate. Some Spider-Orcs with broken legs couldn’t escape and were burned alive, screaming. The commander grinned, half-crazed, wishing every last monster would burn in hell. But then—hissing sounds—nearby spiderfiends opened their mouths and sprayed icy poison. The cold mist rolled in, snuffing out the flames.
"Damn it!" The defenders cursed, pounding their fists. "Whatever, let 'em try to bust through the White City gates. They’re delusional! They’ll never get in. Just keep fighting!"
But the next moment, a second wave of Spider-Orcs surged forward. This time, they weren’t ramming the gate with their bodies—they were hauling some weird, squishy thing.
A battering ram?
Doesn’t look like it. It's all floppy and sticky—if they smash it against the gate, it’ll just splat everywhere. What’s the point… Wait, sticky? Spider?
The commander’s gaze swept over the sticky cables on the battlements, his mind racing. A chill ran down his spine—he’d figured it out, but it was already too late. SMACK! The weird blob splattered across the gate, sticking everywhere. Looking closer, it was a tangled mass of webs, layer upon layer stacked together.
And right in the center of that blob was an insanely thick spider silk cable.
"Aaaahhh!"
Hundreds of monsters screamed and bolted backward. Each one hauled a spider cable as thick as a tug-of-war rope, split off from that monstrous main cord. Eight sharp legs stabbed into the ground, channeling massive strength. BOOM—the White City gate shuddered, dust raining down from the frame.
The gate commander was utterly baffled. He’d never imagined anyone could break a city gate like this. All their reinforcements were braced from the inside, meant to stop attackers from ramming the gate in. But now the enemy wasn’t pushing in—they were pulling out. How do you defend against that? How do you brace for that?
"Aaaahhh!"
Hundreds, thousands of monsters yanked again. BOOM—the gate frame shook violently, chunks of stone flying, the sturdy hinges groaned under the strain, and the wood cracked and splintered.
"Oil—pour the oil and burn it!" Spider silk was almost impossible to deal with; fire was the best bet. But the oil barrels were empty—they’d just dumped everything they had. No way to get enough oil in time for a big blaze.
The commander finally understood what Jasper Xiao meant by "baiting us to waste our attacks."
But it was already too late.
"Aaaahhh!"
BOOM—CRACK! The White City gate split open in multiple places. With one last heave from the spiderfiends, the whole thing exploded, flying off its hinges.