On the spell formation outside the imperial capital, the smell of blood and gore surrounded the army. It was incredibly strong, having permeated their armor, their skin, their flesh, and even their souls. So strong it was that the sky turned dark and strong winds blew. Lightning crackled, and thunder boomed. Bells tolled in the capital, their sound penetrating the minds of everyone present.2

The weakest members of this army had Nascent Soul cultivation bases. None were ordinary people, and all had slaughtered countless opponents in the years they spent patrolling the border lands and defending humankind. They had led different lives than most cultivators in the capital. Most of them had been away for a full sixty-year-cycle. Their years of campaigning had made them apathetic to death, and as a result, hardly any emotion could be seen on their faces. And yet, the more apathetic they were, the more astonishing their killing intent became, until it was an instinct they couldn’t suppress even standing right outside the capital.3

From the look of it... not even imperial authority was important to them. The only thing that could stir their hearts... were the war banners flapping at the front of their...11