Star Martial Era: From Mortal to Emperor

Chapter 159 The Beast Tide Recedes

Three days after the beast tide receded, the walls of the Blackrock Mountain defense line finally saw a new face. The Martial Arts Alliance reinforcements arrived at noon; five thousand elite warriors, clad in uniform black armor, wound their way up the mountain path, their ranks stretching for miles like a black dragon. They brought large quantities of provisions, elixirs, and weapons. The supply wagons rolled one after another, their wheels creaking over the gravel road. The elixir chests, wrapped in oilcloth and stacked on the backs of pack animals, each sealed with a red seal bearing the Martial Arts Alliance's stamp. The weapons were opened chest after chest; spears, swords, and crossbows gleamed coldly, neatly arranged like rows of soldiers awaiting inspection.

The reinforcements took over the defenses calmly. There was no handover ceremony, no empty words. The garrisoned soldiers silently retreated from the walls, and the reinforcements silently filled their positions. Shield bearers crouched behind the battlements, spearmen stood behind them, and archers took their positions in the watchtowers—everything proceeded smoothly, as if it were a rehearsed task. The new soldiers were young, their faces much fairer than those of the veterans who had stood guard on the walls for seven days and seven nights. Their clothes were clean, and their weapons gleamed. But their eyes were different—not the clouded, battle-weary eyes of the veterans, but clear, untouched by the battlefield, still carrying a light. But it didn't matter. Blackrock Mountain would teach them.

Li Kuangdao stood atop the highest point of the city wall, watching the reinforcements take their positions, watching the young faces, watching the fresh provisions and ammunition being carried into the warehouse. His sword was stuck in the stone slab before him, the iron rings on the blade no longer clanging. He gripped the hilt, his knuckles white. The reinforcements had arrived, the defenses were secure, his mission was complete. The tension he had been holding onto snapped at that moment. Without warning, without a sound, it just snapped. His body swayed, as if gently blown by a breeze, and then he fell straight down. His adjutant, quick as a flash, caught him, but his body was too heavy, and the adjutant stumbled, both falling to the ground. His eyes were closed, his face showed no pain, even the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, as if he were smiling, or perhaps saying, "Finally, I can rest for a while." He was carried off the city wall, into the barracks, and placed on a straw-covered door plank. The plank wasn't long enough, and his legs dangled out, unnoticed by anyone.

Lin Chen stood at the barracks gate, watching Li Kuangdao being carried away. He didn't follow. He was too exhausted, too tired to even go after him. His body leaned against the doorframe, his shoulder pressed against it, his entire weight resting on that side. His school uniform was stained with blood, sweat, mud, and the secretions of Gu worms—a mixture of various stains, their colors indistinguishable. A cut on his face, inflicted by gravel, had scabbed over; the scab was black, mixed with lingering ash, resembling a smudged ink stain. Several days of intense fighting had depleted most of his Star Qi; his meridians felt like wrung-out towels, aching and throbbing. The Star Martial Core in his dantian spun very slowly, like an overused engine, panting with every rotation.

The five men found a clean barracks. It wasn't large, with four single beds, a table, and a few chairs. The walls were made of wooden planks with large gaps, allowing light to see through. The floor was paved with blue bricks, the cracks of which were covered in moss, making it slippery. They ignored the surroundings, tossed their backpacks on the ground, each found a bed, and fell asleep immediately. No one said, "I'll wash first," no one said, "I can't sleep," and no one tossed and turned. They all fell asleep instantly, like five stones thrown into water, sinking to the bottom without a sound. Su Ling'er hadn't taken off her shoes, Leng Feng hadn't removed his battle sword, Chu Fan hadn't taken off his glasses, Su Muyue hadn't put away her battle flags, and Lin Chen still held his Star Sword in his hand, the scabbard against the edge of the bed, the hilt against his palm. Even in their sleep, they maintained a fighting posture—not out of habit, but out of instinct.

Lin Chen was awakened by the sunlight. He opened his eyes and saw a beam of orange-red light squeezing through the cracks in the wooden wall, falling on his pillow, on his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, and on his face. The light wasn't dazzling; it was warm, like a warm hand pressed against his cheek. He was stunned for a moment before realizing it was the setting sun. Not the morning sun, but the evening sun. He slept until the evening of the next day.

Su Ling'er carried in steaming hot food, the aroma of which preceded her arrival. She had changed into clean clothes, her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her face was clean; the trace of the medicine ash was gone. She carried two large trays, on which were placed bowls, plates, and chopsticks. The bowls and plates were coarse porcelain, chipped at the edges, but impeccably clean. She walked carefully, afraid of spilling anything, calling out as she went, "Get up and eat! The kitchen specially made braised pork for us, saying it's a reward for our heroes!" She placed the trays on the table, the bowls and plates clinking together. A little bit of braised pork juice splattered onto the rim of a plate; she wiped it with her finger, sucked on it, and nodded with narrowed eyes.

Five people sat around the table. The table wasn't big, and the five of them squeezed together, elbow to elbow, but no one complained. The braised pork was stewed until very tender, fatty but not greasy, melting in their mouths. Even Su Muyue, who didn't like fatty meat, took a couple more pieces. The vegetables were stir-fried, not too oily or salty, but very fresh; you could taste the natural sweetness of the vegetables with every bite. The soup was bone broth, simmered for a long time, milky white in color, with a few goji berries floating on top; one sip warmed them from their throats to their stomachs. They ate slowly, not because it wasn't delicious, but because it was so delicious that they couldn't bear to finish it. Su Ling'er put her piece of braised pork into Leng Feng's bowl, and Leng Feng didn't refuse, eating it with his head down. Chu Fan put some vegetables from his bowl into Su Ling'er's bowl, but Su Ling'er didn't see it, and Chu Fan didn't point it out. The vegetables just lay at the bottom of her bowl, and by the time she ate them, they were cold, but she ate them anyway.

No one said "thank you." There was no need. Those who stood shoulder to shoulder on the Blackrock Mountain defense line didn't need to say thank you.