Soul of the Revered Banner
Chapter 90: Primordial Spirit

Buzz-

The instant the Luo River embankment was breached.

Wen Yue collapsed to the ground, unable to hold himself steady.

The 150,000-strong army of Northern Wei had been entirely swallowed by the floodwaters of the Luo River.

With the weather as it was, even if they didn’t drown, they would surely freeze to death.

The killing aura within Feihong Stream surged skyward in that moment.

Though they stood at a great distance, unable to see the details, the rolling grey mist had already engulfed the entire valley.

Within the soul banner, Tu Shanjun forcibly quelled the trembling in his heart. This was also the first time he had witnessed such a massive eruption of baleful qi.

Although the qi born from worldly folk was not of high quality, the sheer quantity of it was sufficient to foster powerful ghostly beings.

It was a difficult-to-describe tension, like something had gripped his throat, choking the breath from his lungs.

His chest felt swollen, suffocating him.

Trembling, Wen Yue clutched the soul banner tightly. Its chilling touch cooled his fevered mind and calmed his jittery nerves.

Tu Shanjun knew this battle would make Wen Yue a legend.

A nighttime raid across two hundred li, a thousand heads taken, breaching the Luo River to drown an army of 150,000.

This battle, be it for fame or infamy, Wen Yue had reversed the dire situation in the northern territories of Great Liang.

“Teacher… was I right to do this?” Wen Yue unfurled the soul banner and murmured softly.

Two characters appeared upon the banner: “Regret?”

Wen Yue shook his head. “I do not regret it.”

He didn’t know why he trembled so, why he was overwhelmed with fear and could not stop shivering.

Yet at the same time, he was elated.

Tu Shanjun understood.

This was reverence for life, born of human instinct.

But that was all.

Wen Yue had not wavered. Instead, his resolve had only deepened.

Why had he come to the war-torn northern front?

It was for the countless citizens of Great Liang behind him.

To cower in the Marquis’s estate and save a few scattered families, how could that compare to saving a nation?

At this moment, Wen Yue had changed.

He had transformed.

Mounting his horse once more, he gazed into the distance, calmly surveying all before him.

There was no longer any need for Liang soldiers to slaughter.

Most of the Northern Wei troops had already been swept away by the Luo River.

Once the cotton armor soaked through, its weight increased dramatically, those caught in the waters could not climb out.

It was too far away to see clearly.

Only the roar of the raging Luo River could be heard, like a furious dragon in full charge.

This act had altered the course of the river.

Feihong Stream had now become the Luo River’s new main artery.

As for the plan to wait for rising waters to sail warships downriver and sever Tong Pass’s supply lines, it was now but a dream washed away by the flood.

A great victory.

A historically unprecedented triumph.

Three thousand cavalrymen had shattered an elite force of 150,000.

When word of the victory reached them, Tong Pass erupted in celebration.

The citizens ran through the streets, cheering with unbridled joy.

Within the command hall, Geng Lie collapsed into his seat, stunned and speechless.

They had truly taken the risk and actually won.

If the scout’s report was not falsified, then Tuoba Hong and his entire army had been utterly destroyed.

Shocked by the military dispatch, Geng Lie sat in a daze, staring blankly toward the entrance of the command estate.

Such a colossal military feat and he had missed it.

Now, it was too late for regret.

Tossing and turning, Geng Lie refused to believe it had been his fault.

Surely Wen Yue hadn’t explained himself clearly enough.

And the Annan Marquis had failed to properly advise him.

They must’ve thought him ignorant of warfare and plotted to seize the glory for themselves.

“Master, you need not worry over this matter,” said a steward at his side.

“Oh? And why is that?” Geng Lie looked over.

The steward cupped his hands, smiling. “The official battle report will still bear your seal, my lord. Even if the overseers or vice-commanders have something to say, with a stroke of your brush, the lion’s share of the credit will be yours.”

As for writing imperial reports, no one knew how better than scholar-officials.

Geng Lie hesitated. As the commanding general, he would receive a portion of the merit no matter what. But if he wanted more, he would have to clash with the titled nobles like the Jing'an Marquis.

Yet this was a heaven-sent opportunity worthy of marquisate, ministerial rank, and pillar of the state.

If he simply watched the chance slip by and accepted only what was his by default, he would never be satisfied.

He wanted more.

Such merit could bring titles and eternal glory, even if it meant offending the Jing'an Marquis and the Annan Marquis, so be it.

After all, among their younger generation, only Wen Yue had proven capable. The rest were all useless.

If anyone needed dealing with, it was only Wen Yue.

“Bring brush and ink! I must draft a memorial to the Emperor!”

…

Seven days later.

Wen Yue appeared once more at Feihong Stream, clad in black, face veiled.

The snow-covered land barely hid the floating corpses.

On both banks, corpses lay strewn about, and the entire valley was saturated with baleful qi.

That day, as he drowned the enemy army, Wen Yue had already planted magic stones to gather the valley’s killing aura.

He hadn’t collected it immediately, waiting instead for more time to pass so that even stronger ghosts would form.

The soul banner had too much empty space. If it were filled only with ordinary ghosts, it would do little to enhance Tu Shanjun’s power.

Not to mention how many had actually died, at the very least, 60–70% of the 150,000 were gone, maybe more. The lingering qi was so thick that even without spirit-sight, one could see the black mist taking form.

With such overwhelming energy, if fully absorbed it might even elevate the soul banner to a new level.

Though the magic stones held the aura in place, its descent underground was faster than normal. The issue likely stemmed from more than just terrain and feng shui.

Unfortunately, Tu Shanjun didn’t know the Earth Burrowing Art, or he’d have eagerly gone underground to investigate.

“Gather the baleful qi.”

The soul banner flew from Wen Yue’s arms and unfurled with a blast of spiritual power, stretching to over ten feet long.

Black fabric tinged red, it fluttered through the air and hung suspended from a jade-black staff.

Ferocious ghostly faces rippled across its surface, blood-red eyes flashing as though alive.

The moment the banner emerged, the surrounding baleful qi surged as though it had found a place to pour into, flooding toward it in torrents.

Dark light coiled around the cloth, while crimson patterns danced like dragons and serpents across its face.

The staff’s dull, mottled surface seemed to shed its outer layers, compacting into shining granules.

The ghostly face became more refined, more lifelike.

Within the banner, mist churned violently. The other ghosts sealed inside were stirred as well.

Wen Yue was not idle. As wandering spirits still roamed the field, he gathered them up with spiritual force and hurled them into the banner.

True ranked spirits were rare. Most were robust soldiers formed from the killing aura.

If he could not triumph through quality, then he would through quantity. With three hundred such ghost-soldiers, Tu Shanjun’s strength would rise once again.

“You damned thief!”

“You dare steal from this place!”

A figure descended upon a flying sword, landing with fury in his eyes as he glared at Wen Yue.

Wen Yue frowned slightly and cupped his hands. “Fellow Daoist, those are heavy accusations.”

Within the banner, Tu Shanjun also turned to look at the one who shouted.

The young man stepped forward boldly, robed in flowing garments, sword in his arms, face uncovered. “Who is your fellow? A thief of the demonic path like you is no peer of mine.”

“A few days ago, the ghostly aura under Tong Pass’s walls, you stole that too, didn’t you?”

“A soul banner?”

“A thief from the Blood Fiend Sect!”

The youth glanced at the ghost-faced banner suspended above Feihong Stream, then turned back to Wen Yue.

Even after being exposed, Wen Yue showed no panic. Instead, he asked calmly, “May I ask who you are?”

“Then listen well,

“I am Zhu Lin, disciple of the Primordial Spirit Sect. By order of my sect, I am stationed at the Mount Nanyue battlefield to purge killing aura and eliminate ghosts and demons.”

Zhu Lin swept his gaze over Wen Yue with arrogant disdain.

The feng shui patterns of Mount Nanyue caused baleful qi to sink underground rapidly, which meant the battlefield yielded few ghosts and fewer powerful ones.

With his strength, cleaning up a field of a hundred thousand dead was easy.

Though Zhu Lin couldn’t tell Wen Yue’s exact cultivation level, he could see the crude control over spiritual power. Clearly, this man wasn’t strong.

But that spinning soul banner… that seemed extraordinary, not a common artifact.

Tu Shanjun grew grim. Though the newcomer looked young, his spiritual radiance was powerful, stronger even than Zhou Liang, whom he had once devoured.

“Qi Refining fifth layer? Or sixth?”

(Chapter End)