In the pitch-dark room, Marshal Silver stood motionless before his desk, head bowed and eyes tightly shut.
He knew all too well that the decision he had just made might very well push both himself and the entire Milky Way navy into the abyss.
But what difference did it make?
He had no other, better choice.
Those five lost years had given the demons a rare chance to catch their breath. He had already made one mistake; he could not afford to make another.
A cool breeze slipped through the window lattice, teasing the hair that hung over his forehead and flipping the scrolls on his desk—becoming the room’s only monotonous sound.
General Ward approached from outside. At the doorway, he paused for a moment, surprised by the scene within.
A Skyward Legionnaire standing guard nearby was about to speak, but General Ward waved him silent, and he caught on, closing his mouth.
Lifting his leg, General Ward stepped over the threshold.
"Is he gone?" Marshal Silver asked in a low voice.
"He’s gone." General Ward walked step by step to Marshal Silver’s side and said quietly, "No swords were drawn. General Curtain asked me to urge the Marshal to think twice before acting."
"Think twice?" Marshal Silver let out a sardonic laugh.
After those brief words, silence fell once more—endless and heavy.
After a long while, Marshal Silver spoke softly, "If you have anything you want to ask, ask."
General Ward hesitated for a moment as he gazed at Marshal Silver, then bowed his head and replied, "I have nothing to ask."
Marshal Silver smiled, "Thank you."
"This is what I ought to do, Marshal. There’s no need to thank me," General Ward replied, clasping his hands in salute.
Gazing blankly at the simple patterns left on the desk by the faint light streaming through the window lattice, Marshal Silver said, "Now that he’s returned, I fear we’ll not only be unable to call for reinforcements, but even supplies will be cut off. A hungry tiger ahead, no retreat behind. I’m putting the entire army in danger—do you think it’s worth it?"
"If the Marshal thinks it’s worth it, then I think it’s worth it," General Ward replied.
A cool breeze swept in from outside, reaching every corner of the room.
Marshal Silver pulled his cloak a little tighter, still standing in a daze. After a long while, he gave a faint smile: "Thank you. Thank you all. But I’ve let you down. Ninety thousand troops defeated at Blossom Mountain, General Skyler dead in agony. In the end, the entire Milky Way navy lost its bearings. If I hadn’t insisted on attacking Blossom Mountain, perhaps... things wouldn’t have come to this."
"A warrior’s death on the battlefield is an honor—there should be no complaints, nor can there be," General Ward said softly. "Didn’t you once say: ‘We are paid by the Heavenly Court, blessed by mortal incense. If we can wear this armor, we must be worthy of that banner. We must never think only of saving ourselves.’ Every soldier in the army holds those words as their creed. Others may live for themselves and seek safety—that’s their business. But we are soldiers; we must uphold our duty, defend the Three Realms, protect the Heavenly Court, and never retreat even half a step."
Marshal Silver’s eyes widened slightly as he gazed quietly at General Ward.
"If the Marshal accepts the imperial order and goes to the High Sky Throne Hall, things may not turn out as badly as we fear. But the campaign against Blossom Mountain will surely be delayed. Blossom Mountain has reached its current strength in just ten years—if we give them a few more years..."
"You are a Marshal, and you’re willing to risk being branded a traitor for this. How could we, your officers, ever question you? That’s why I have no questions, and I believe no one in the army does either."
At this, General Ward dropped to one knee and declared loudly, "The Marshal’s burdens are beyond me, but I can believe in you. Even if you ordered me to lead troops against the High Sky Throne Hall itself, I would not hesitate! Please, Marshal, cast off your doubts."
With that, he struck his breastplate with a heavy fist.
The clang of iron armor echoed through the small room.
The moon, drifting among the clouds, finally revealed its full brilliance. A gentle breeze swept by, making the green leaves on the branches outside sway.
In the pitch-black room, the faint moonlight from outside illuminated Marshal Silver’s bloodshot eyes and General Ward’s deeply wrinkled face.
After a very long time... Marshal Silver pressed his lips together, gritted his teeth, and finally managed a faint smile. He sighed, "Ward, am I a fool?"
"You’re not a fool, Marshal. It’s just that the world has changed. Too many people think themselves clever, so truly wise men end up looking like fools," Ward replied.
At this moment, in the central Southern Lands—
A small creek wound its way through the endless mountains.
The massive King Bullhorn knelt by the stream, scooping up clear water with his four-fingered hand and gulping it down, then splashing the rest over his face.
Wiping his face, he lifted his head and stared blankly at the drifting clouds.
"In the end, it’s always running and hiding..."
Not far away, on a patch of open ground, countless demons in tattered armor lay sprawled in exhaustion.
These two thousand or so demons were all that remained of the Frost‑Rain Mountain forces.
Before long, a figure shot down from the clouds and landed steadily in front of King Bullhorn.
"How is it?" King Bullhorn asked urgently.
King Macaque licked his dry lips and said, "The Heavenly Fleet is heading this way. Looks like we'll have to relocate again."
"We have to move again?" King Roc, who was leaning under a nearby tree, shot upright in shock. He seemed to have accidentally torn his wounds, and his features twisted in pain.
Lord Jiao, who was sitting upright, let out a long sigh, slowly stood up, shook out his robe, and said expressionlessly, "At this rate, after a few more relocations, there won't be anyone left to move."
"What do you mean by that?" King Roc tilted his head and glanced at Lord Jiao.
"See for yourself." Lord Jiao casually pointed at the ordinary demons not far away, grinning slyly. "When we left Frost-Rain Mountain, we had five thousand demon troops. Since then, we haven't fought a single battle, and after just a few days, how many are left? Heh, we really shouldn't have missed the chance to attack the Heavenly Fleet back then. Who would've thought they'd recover and not only stay, but keep pressing the offensive..."
The other demon kings were stunned by his smile.
Is this guy crazy? Is this something to be happy about?
"You!" King Roc exploded in anger, clenching his fists and roaring, "You agreed to give up attacking the Heavenly Fleet back then too! Now you want to change your tune and dredge up old grievances?"