At dawn, a gentle breeze stirred as pear blossoms drifted, one by one, past the window.
In the study of Cloudrealm Sky Harbor, the Heavenly Fleet’s main base, Marshal Silver buried himself in a mountain of paperwork, carefully annotating each dossier.
The campaigns in the Western Ox Continent and Northern Jambu Continent had concluded. Though the formal reports had yet to reach the High Sky Throne Hall—and preparations were underway to join the suppression of Blossom Mountain—the internal commendations and promotions were already set to begin.
On top of that, unfinished business from earlier battles and the ongoing rounds of training and restructuring had left the paperwork piled high.
Thus, even though no new orders had come down from the High Sky Throne Hall, Marshal Silver was anything but idle.
In truth, he could have easily delegated the work to his staff officers. Few matters truly required his marshal’s seal—most were trivial, routine affairs.
Yet after a thousand years, Marshal Silver had long grown accustomed to this diligent way of working. Not only did he handle every case sent to his desk, but if time allowed, he would even glance over matters that didn’t strictly require his attention.
With such a workaholic for a commander, it was no wonder that every officer beneath him became a workaholic too. Here, anyone who didn’t take their duties seriously simply couldn’t survive.
Fortunately, in all of Heaven, he was the only one who led this way.
He had been the commanding officer since the Heavenly Fleet was just a small river patrol. To this day, after a millennium, he could name every warship—whether newly commissioned, retired, or destroyed—and had personally helped craft every regulation, knowing every cause and effect by heart.
Given all this, it was no exaggeration to say that the Heavenly Fleet was his own creation.
Whatever level of dossier landed on his desk, a glance or two was enough for him to piece together most of its story. Nothing could escape his scrutiny.
As the hours passed, guards came and went, delivering the annotated files to their proper destinations as he ordered. Amidst this bustle, the morning quickly slipped away.
By afternoon, General Ward appeared at the open doorway, finding Marshal Silver absorbed at his desk. He knocked softly on the door.
"Come in," Marshal Silver said offhandedly.
Stepping into the study, General Ward knelt on one knee and saluted, "General Ward reporting to the Marshal."
At this, Marshal Silver paused his work and looked up slightly. "The battle report has arrived?" he asked.
"It has," Ward replied, rising and drawing a bamboo slip from his sleeve, handing it over with both hands. "The plan went smoothly, but the results weren’t as good as we expected."
Taking the bamboo slip, Marshal Silver opened it and read carefully from start to finish. He paused, surprised. "The Azurewave Dragon King and Princess Marina called rain to fight the fire? So, the Nine-Headed Wyrm and those six demon kings are at Blossom Mountain too?"
After a moment’s hesitation, Ward replied, "I’ve just learned through other channels that the six demon kings are now recruiting and rebuilding in the Southern Lands. As for the Nine-Headed Wyrm, his whereabouts are unclear, but I suspect he’s at Blossom Mountain."
"The Nine-Headed Wyrm..." Marshal Silver gripped the bamboo slip, slowly tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling, lost in thought.
The Nine-Headed Wyrm was a rarity among great demons.
His name had been on the wanted list since Marshal Silver first took command of the Heavenly Fleet.
Though his cultivation was exceptionally high for a demon, he never crossed major lines, so the bounty was low and his ranking never rose. He was never a top priority. On top of that, he always acted alone, making pursuit especially troublesome. The Heavenly Fleet even once mobilized the Twenty-Eight Constellations and its own Polar Nine for a full-scale encirclement, only to come up empty-handed.
Fortunately, a demon who kept to himself like that posed little real threat. Over time, he was simply set aside.
As for the Handsome Monkey King of Blossom Mountain, current estimates suggested his cultivation was no less than the Nine-Headed Wyrm’s.
Yet one was a mountain king, the other a solitary demon—how did these two ever end up allied? That didn’t fit the Nine-Headed Wyrm’s character at all.
Marshal Silver pondered for a long time, but couldn’t make sense of it.
Sometimes, incomplete intelligence makes speculation futile.
For instance, if not for this ‘test stone’ strike prompting the Azurewave Dragon King and Princess Marina to call rain, the Heavenly Fleet might not have known the Nine-Headed Wyrm was at Blossom Mountain until battle lines were drawn.
A demon at the Celestial Sage level may not decide a large-scale war, but their presence can profoundly shape the outcome. Especially in surprise attacks or covert operations, when such a figure suddenly appears on the battlefield, the results can be devastating.
After a long silence, Marshal Silver leaned back in his chair and said, "If the Nine-Headed Wyrm and Azurewave Dragon King are both present, then even if the six demon kings aren’t at Blossom Mountain, they must be in contact. This is truly unprecedentedly troublesome."
He paused, then continued, "Any news from the High Sky Throne Hall?"
"They’re still debating whether to deploy our forces in the siege of Blossom Mountain. Many immortals now lean toward approving it, but Grandmaster White is fiercely opposed, so it hasn’t passed yet. Looks like we’ll have to wait a bit longer."
Marshal Silver lightly traced the characters on the bamboo slip and smiled ruefully. "Even the Nine-Headed Wyrm has entered Blossom Mountain. If we don’t strike before their wings fully spread, they’ll become a real threat. Report this to the Heavenly Marshal Corps."
"Yes, sir!"
Marshal Silver opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped himself before the words came out.
Seeing this, General Ward didn’t press further. He bowed and said, "Marshal, I have one more matter to report."
"Speak."
Ward produced another bamboo slip from his sleeve and handed it over: "South Heaven Gate has sent a letter requesting a written explanation from the Heavenly Fleet regarding this incident."
"Who signed it?" Marshal Silver asked.
"King Virūḍhaka."
"King Virūḍhaka," Marshal Silver repeated, mouthing the name several times before pressing his lips together. After a moment, he replied, "Just tell him: 'This was purely an accident. It will not happen again.'"
"Is that... really wise?" Ward asked.
A warship loaded with firebombs veering off course for tens of thousands of miles and crashing—such a blunder wouldn’t happen even in the loosest South Heaven Gate Fleet. Let alone that it happened to hit Blossom Mountain precisely.
Calling it an accident—even we wouldn’t believe that.
Ward hesitated, but Marshal Silver was unconcerned. "Just send that reply. He’ll understand."
"As you command, sir."
"Also, have Nate stay put for now. Tell him to remain quietly with the South Heaven Gate Fleet."
"Stay put?" Ward was taken aback. "Marshal, is this...?"
"It’s for his own safety," Marshal Silver said.