With the Blade

Until Wu Zhao’s forces pressed to the gates of Yellow Sand City, Du Chengfeng couldn’t comprehend why Wu Zhao would attack.

It’s unreasonable; such things are completely unreasonable. They both clearly came out of Forget Sorrow Village, both harboring the desire to leave this place. By any consideration, they ought to be united in spirit, they needed to join forces to confront this unfamiliar world, and to find the path that would allow them to leave.

Instead, they were now at war with each other.

"The main thing is, can you really win?"

Faced with an army at his doorstep, Du Chengfeng chose to directly soar out of the city, arriving at the opposing central military tent.

"Really, do you think that with more people you can defeat me? This really makes no sense."

This is the part Du Chengfeng finds most confusing. At their level of power, should they truly fight, it would transcend the realm of conventional warfare. A mere army of regular people, no matter the number, is meaningless to them; these people could not harm them at all and could instead become the resource for accumulating Evil Qi.

"Or do you think that by killing all the people you’ve brought, you can start a battle with me?"

Du Chengfeng began scratching his head.

Indeed, Wu Zhao’s forces were not few, including the laborers transporting supplies, they could be called an army of a hundred thousand—yet Du Chengfeng still felt the numbers were lacking. Even if Wu Zhao slaughtered the entire hundred thousand, he still might not be able to defeat Du Chengfeng.

This was not underestimating the enemy, but rather absolute confidence in his own strength after evaluating their respective combat powers.

"Even if the three of you attacked together, it wouldn’t work."

Du Chengfeng looked at the two men and one dog before him.

"You may think that dividing into three makes you stronger, but I haven’t remained static during this time."

Saying this, Du Chengfeng’s hand was already reaching for the saber hilt on his back.

Coincidentally, he also wanted to test his cultivation results during this period.

However, as a pacifist, he was still prepared to give Wu Zhao another chance.

Give Wu Zhao a chance to stop.

"Why stop?"

The two men and one dog shook their heads in unison.

"There’s no need to stop; this is the way for us to return."

"This can bring us back?"

Du Chengfeng was increasingly baffled.

He felt Wu Zhao had either come to some realization or simply gone mad.

Did they think fighting would find a way back?

"In fact, the way back has always been before us."

Wu Zhao on the left spoke.

"Didn’t you mention before? The stories of those foreigners, originally slaves, who fled from a brutal king under the guidance of a Saint... the Saint parted the sea for them, and they found a way to leave."

"So this is your idea? Since you can’t find the brutal king, you’ll become one yourself?"

Du Chengfeng somewhat understood Wu Zhao’s point.

"Then I’m responsible for being the Saint, to pave the way for them?"

"No, you’ve misunderstood."

Wu Zhao on the right shook his head.

"It’s simply not enough; it can’t make them truly imagine that nonexistent world... for that to happen, you need to die here."

As the yellow dog Wu Zhao spoke.

"They will remember your goodness upon your death, continually recalling the world of your existence until it appears."

And so, all three Wu Zhao’s simultaneously looked at Du Chengfeng.

"Only I can leave; you cannot. This is destiny’s arrangement, an objective fact... Why did the staff and sling fall into your hands? For the arrival of this day."

"You’re destined to stay here as the Saint."

...

Du Chengfeng’s face was expressionless.

"Is this your understanding?"

With a sigh, Du Chengfeng pulled out the sling and the staff.

"Indeed, no wonder those foreigners were so compelled to seek the Promised Land. According to you, this should be some ancestral teaching... Maybe it is truly as you say, I can’t leave, perhaps I’ll grow old and die here; it’s predetermined destiny, an objective fact..."

Saying this, Du Chengfeng casually tossed the staff and sling aside.

"However, such matters are meaningless."

It was indeed meaningless to him; he never acknowledged these things as facts. Having wielded Idealist power for so long, he had long grasped the true essence of this power.

That is, if he doesn’t acknowledge something, then the so-called fact is not a fact.

As long as he doesn’t acknowledge it, as long as he refuses to succumb, reality’s gravity won’t tether him. As long as he firmly believes in his thoughts, he walks his own path, and all so-called destiny must yield to him.

After all, once you’ve embraced Idealism, disbelief in fate is fundamental.

His destiny can only be written by himself; no one else can intervene in his future.

"I will take control of my fate."

With these words, Du Chengfeng looked at the two men and one dog before him.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

"Then there’s no discussion."

The human-like Wu Zhao’s hands transformed into Yue Sabers, while the yellow dog Wu Zhao bared a mouthful of steel teeth.

As for Du Chengfeng, he had already gripped the saber hilt on his back.

"Ha."

At this moment, Du Chengfeng suddenly had an epiphany.

Once upon a time, Du Chengfeng failed to understand why, in that uncanny Idealist World, the most utilized concept was blade and Evil Qi. Logically speaking, since imagination could become reality, its applications were vast, and weaponry was but a minuscule portion.

Yet why did those from Southern Chen fail to utilize other aspects but only wield Evil Qi?

Once upon a time, he was puzzled by this.

But now, he understood.

Indeed, only blades are effective.

When reasoning fails, when perspectives are utterly irreconcilable, when solutions fall short, only blades can meet, only by physically defeating the opponent can the core issues be resolved.

Just like now.

When Wu Zhao had already decided to exchange life for a chance to leave, when he himself refused any manipulation of fate.

The Wu Zhaos chose the simplest and direct method.

And he himself had already drawn his saber.