Crippled Joe asked, puzzled, "What is it?"
Quinn Shepherd stroked his chin, plucked a robustly growing beard hair, and said, "I think the method in this book might be the formula to reconnect the Divine Bridge Treasury."
Crippled Joe didn’t catch that: "Which bridge?"
"Divine Bridge Treasury."
Quinn continued measuring with his head down, saying, "Because the Divine Treasuries aren’t like the meridians and vessels of the human body. Human meridians are fixed; you can try to activate a technique just by looking at a diagram. But the Divine Treasuries are a vast, empty space, and yuanqi runs through shifting spatial dimensions—every tiny shift has a different spatial coordinate. So you have to measure the exact dimensions; coordinates in space are hard to pin down, and a tiny slip could mean disaster."
Crippled Joe’s expression went blank, his mind wandering as he stared at Quinn changing the scales and continuing to measure the diagrams on the Golden Scripture.
Quinn grabbed paper and brush to jot down his measurements, not even looking up as he said, "A mistake in spatial dimensions—even a tiny blur—means you’ll miss by a thousand miles. I have to be precise, down to the last decimal. Plus, the size of the body in the diagram isn’t the same as a real person’s, and the Divine Treasury inside the diagram differs from that in a living person. So I’ll calculate a set of base values first. Everyone’s Divine Bridge Treasury is different, but with the base values, you can scale the pattern to your own space and cultivate accordingly. That way you can master the Magpie Bridge Art…"
Crippled Joe blinked: "Which bridge?"
Quinn found it odd and chuckled, "Magpie Bridge, of course. Grandpa Joe, you seem a bit distracted. I’ll stop explaining—this measuring is a pain, and the calculations are tough. It’ll take ages…"
Suddenly, Village Chief’s head poked out from the carriage, excitedly asking, "Which bridge?"
Quinn was even more puzzled inside: "Village Chief, you’re spacing out too? Magpie Bridge!"
"No, that’s not it!"
The Imperial Preceptor of the Everpeace Empire twisted his head around and said quickly, "No! Before Magpie Bridge, you clearly said Divine Bridge Treasury!"
"That’s right!"
Crippled Joe hurriedly said, "I heard Divine Bridge Treasury too!"
Village Chief nodded repeatedly, "Divine Bridge Treasury!"
Quinn suddenly understood and laughed, "The Divine Bridge Treasury in the diagram is broken, and the technique in the picture is called Magpie Bridge Art—it’s meant to repair the Divine Bridge Treasury. I was just calculating the math needed for Magpie Bridge Art. It’s really hard to cultivate—there’s so much to measure…"
"A technique to repair the Divine Bridge Treasury!"
The three people on the carriage suddenly surged with power—the flying Jewel Incense Carriage shattered in an instant under their combined aura, then was pulverized to dust!
Quinn quickly floated up, clutching the Golden Scripture Scroll and his calculation notes to his chest, his clothes a mess of ink stains.
Nearly at the same instant, the Imperial Preceptor, Village Chief, and Crippled Joe all reached for the Golden Scripture Scroll—only to freeze when they saw Quinn Shepherd clutch it tightly to his chest. Each withdrew their hands, faces alive with barely contained excitement.
Quinn grumbled, "Good thing this is the Golden Scripture—ink can't ruin it. Otherwise, you three would have a lot to answer for."
Village Chief quickly said, "Let's get down to the ground first!"
The four of them landed amid heaps of corpses, scattered fires flickering in the thick smoke—remnants of fire-element divine arts. Ahead, the battered Wild Di army was desperately smashing against Helan Pass, while the defenders stubbornly refused to open the gates, afraid Everpeace’s forces would burst in and take the fortress.
The routed soldiers had gone mad, attacking Helan Pass itself. The massive walls shook as powerhouses battered them, chunks of stone flying everywhere. Luckily, the outer wall was broad enough—the attackers had only smashed the outer layer, leaving the inner wall intact. The defenders unleashed divine arts and spirit weapons indiscriminately at the crowds outside and below, slaughtering friend and foe alike. The curses and screams below were crude and ugly, the carnage so horrific that corpses piled up like hills.
Outside Helan Pass, Sword Hall Master Trevor Jensen and Evan Yu’s fleet waited sixty li away, not advancing, while their true-essence cannons fired ceaselessly, blasting apart towers and gates.
In an instant, countless fleeing soldiers surged into the city like a flood.
Inside the city, Ben Coates felt his hands go cold.
With the gates breached and the defeated army pouring in, Helan Pass could no longer resist the enemy assault. The routed soldiers crashed into the defenders, shattering their formations and sparking chaos. Enemy troops swarmed in, methodically slaughtering as they went—the grasslands were doomed to utter defeat.
"Get me out of here—now!"
Ben Coates steeled himself and barked at the Witch King beside him, "Abandon the city—pull out of Helan Pass!"
The Witch King rushed to carry him away, flying out of Helan Pass. Ben Coates shouted, "Order all Golden Palace disciples to retreat from the battlefield!"
The Witch King shuddered and stammered, "Grand Venerable, if our Golden Palace disciples withdraw, the grassland tribes’ armies will have no chance of survival!"
"But Golden Palace will survive," Ben replied coolly.
He was utterly calm. "If we keep resisting, all our disciples will die here. We must preserve Golden Palace’s strength. The real battlefield is the open grassland. Golden Palace’s reputation wasn’t built on flattery or handouts. If the Imperial Preceptor wants to conquer the steppe, he’ll have to pay dearly for it!"
The Witch King immediately gathered his yuanqi, amplifying his voice into a thunderous shout that echoed across the battlefield: all Golden Palace disciples were to retreat at once.
His order threw the field into even greater chaos. Discipline collapsed; everyone scrambled to escape, trampling and crushing each other in their rush for the rear gate. Those with flight arts tried to soar above—only to be shot from the sky by true-essence cannon fire.
Evan Yu controlled the skies, preventing Wild Di cultivators from escaping overhead, while Sword Hall Master Trevor Jensen dominated the ground—deliberately leaving a corridor behind the pass so enemies would flee outside, where Everpeace’s ground troops waited to clean up.
Below the skyships, Everpeace’s army surged forward, sweeping the battlefield for survivors.
Ben Coates glanced back—Helan Pass was collapsing, flames and thick smoke billowing skyward. Wild Di soldiers who’d managed to escape were scattering in panic, while those trapped inside scrambled up Helan Mountain, only to tumble down and splatter on the rocks below.
Several Witch Kings and Grand Witches flew over, gathering around Ben Coates. Their faces were etched with terror and despair, but Ben only grew colder and more composed. He ordered, "Scatter immediately. Poison every water source on the steppe with Soul-Witch Poison. If Everpeace’s army invades the grasslands, let them die with nowhere to bury their bones!"
"Grand Venerable!"
The Witch Kings were shaken. One choked out, "But the steppe tribes will be poisoned too!"
Ben said flatly, "The steppe is vast. As long as you avoid the major cities, some tribes will survive."
"But most of the steppe is dotted with those tiny nomad clans..."
Ben’s expression didn’t change. "Those are just lowly people. If they die alongside Everpeace’s cultivators, it’s worth it. Go—spread the poison, don’t delay. Otherwise, when Everpeace’s army hits the steppe, Golden Palace will be their first target!"
The Witch Kings scattered, dazed and numb.
Ben Coates gazed at Helan Pass, now shrouded in war and smoke, then turned and walked toward Golden Palace. He muttered, "So many years... seven or eight thousand, maybe? My heart’s been dead for ages, never a ripple. But now, for the first time, I feel that old fighting spirit from my first life... Everpeace, Imperial Preceptor, Heavenly Demon Cult Master—you’ve made me remember how to fight again!"
On the battlefield, Quinn Shepherd moved aside a few corpses and opened the Golden Scripture Scroll for the Imperial Preceptor, Village Chief, and Crippled Joe to read.
The three elders pressed their heads together, poring over the sparse words and diagrams, frantically memorizing and calculating every detail.
"Ingenious! How did the people of Carefree Haven come up with such a clever way to connect the Divine Bridge?"
"The calculations must be enormous—how did they plot such precise trajectories and turn them into a cultivation method?"
The three were full of praise. The Imperial Preceptor said, "May I turn the page? This Magpie Bridge Art can’t fully connect the Divine Bridge yet—there must be another method on the next page! But the calculations will be even more complex, building on the results of the Magpie Bridge Art."
Quinn turned the page of the Golden Scripture. Once again, the elders gasped in wonder.
"Just as expected—the next method is built atop the Magpie Bridge Art. The Mysterious Guidance Art is incredible, almost like building a pavilion in midair! To reach this level, the calculations must be godlike!"
"No single person could calculate this. It must have taken the combined wisdom of all Carefree Haven to deduce the second step!"
"Hurry, hurry, turn the page... What are you looking at me for? I don’t have hands!"
...
After a long while, a distant roar and cheers broke their concentration. Quinn looked up, coughed, and said, "Gentlemen, Helan Pass has fallen."
The three elders were still engrossed in the Golden Scripture, muttering, "There’s more, there’s more..."