Chapter Five: Intent

Somewhere in Africa, a majestic temple rose from the earth. Though imposing, its grandeur was marred by signs of decay—walls cracked at the edges, fissures clearly visible. On the open ground before the temple, the neighing of warhorses, the sharp tearing of arrows slicing through the air, and the thunderous roar of thousands in battle combined to strike terror into the heart.

Atop the temple, a woman wrapped in heavy garments sat swinging her legs. Squinting, she gazed down at the battle below, a scene conjured by someone’s imagination, until suddenly her expression changed drastically. She sprang to her feet, her long legs—neither thin nor stout—bending slightly, and with a resounding boom, she shot skyward, leaving behind a deep footprint and scattered debris tumbling down.

She dove earthward like a cannonball, the thirty-meter height seeming trivial to her, and landed with another tremendous crash. The earth trembled ever so slightly. Without any rolling or protective maneuver, she stood firmly amid the ink-wash battlefield, her heavy armor clattering as it automatically detached from her body, revealing a peerless beauty in an instant.

Oblivious to the tide of soldiers and horses rushing past her, she arched her phoenix-like brows and raised her hand toward the front, her voice gentle: “Majie, do you mean to kill even me?”

Her words seemed to freeze time. The armies charging ahead were halted in an instant. Ripples spread through the air, and the vast battlefield fractured like glass, cracks radiating outward until, with a shattering sound, it broke apart, fragments swirling like petals and drifting away on the wind.

The temple remained, but the vast battlefield vanished. In front of the temple, two men faced each other from a distance, while a woman stood between them, like a lone boat adrift on a great river, bereft and isolated.

“Majie, put away the brush!” she commanded, frowning at the man holding a paintbrush, seeing the tension still simmering between the two.

Majie’s body shook violently, his head jerking a couple of times before he calmed, replying gently, “Yes.”

She watched as the brush in Majie’s hand sank into his palm, finally able to relax. Turning, her eyes flashed with a hint of allure as she smiled at the other man, her manner full of charm. “Binglong, why must you oppose Majie?”

Binglong? The very Binglong whom Fantianhua had claimed was unreachable!

Binglong stood bare-chested, his long hair draped casually over his shoulders, a trace of mockery at the corner of his mouth. “Su Daji, since I’ve learned to guard against you, don’t waste your nine-tailed powers on me—it’s useless.”

He spoke slowly, wiping away the blood from his mouth, likely from a recent fight. Glancing at Majie’s vacant gaze, Binglong shook his head with regret. “The prodigy ranked fifth on the Black List truly possesses extraordinary talent. Even with my origin power, defeat is inevitable. But his spirit is entranced by you. His fifth-grade abilities are rigid and lack vitality—one could call him methodical, but honestly, he’s little more than a corpse, repeating mechanical actions with no instinct for combat.”

“The word ‘entrance’ seems ill-chosen. I sincerely hope you’ll call it love next time,” Su Daji replied with a careless smile. “Besides, Majie is famously stubborn. If I hadn’t charmed him, do you think he’d listen to me? He’d have reported everything here long ago, bringing a swarm of old-timers. That’s something we couldn’t possibly handle.”

Binglong sighed, sitting cross-legged, his weariness evident. Closing his eyes, a crimson phantom emerged from his back, swirling above his head.

“Is it right or wrong?” he murmured.

Su Daji gazed up at the cloudless blue sky. “In times of great turmoil, if one wishes not to become a skeleton in rouge nor lie beneath the yellow earth, even if I cannot fight, I must fight! I fear the Dao Seed is nearly upon us!”

…

The Dao Seed—the very Dao Seed spoken of by the two masters—was at that moment causing Zhang Shufang’s face to darken, shattering her icy demeanor. She glared angrily at Su Xiaoxiao, voicing her dissatisfaction: “Is this the shortcut you spoke of?”

Su Xiaoxiao regarded the four people beside her with earnest solemnity. “Only by enduring hardship can one rise above others. Besides, who knew that all these heroes would be so powerful yet utterly lacking in wilderness survival skills?”

Unable to suppress her delight any longer, she burst into laughter.

Chen Hongxu and Fan Caobao exchanged helpless glances, surveying their own bedraggled state. What else could they do but smile bitterly? As for Bear, with his simple-minded nature, he had done nothing but grin the whole way; Chen Hongxu had never seen any other expression from him.

The story began when the five arrived in Africa. Knowing time was short, they hurried toward their mission’s destination. Though they had a rough idea of the location, searching for it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

By chance, after killing numerous suspicious natives, Su Xiaoxiao announced she would lead the way, claiming prior experience in the area, and the group agreed.

But unexpectedly, she led them straight into the primitive jungle, promising a shortcut. The others believed her, unconcerned, since all five possessed formidable strength and cared little for wild beasts or snakes.

True, they could ignore beasts and serpents, but Su Xiaoxiao seemed determined to make things difficult, deliberately choosing the most unpleasant paths. The bizarre terrain put everyone through hardship—ground that appeared solid would swallow a person whole with a single misstep. Since speed was of the essence, they couldn’t afford to keep themselves constantly shielded, making it impossible to prevent the mud from splattering at any moment.

Though none suffered injury, their clothes and hair were in utter disarray.

The men—Chen Hongxu and the others—accepted it, but Zhang Shufang was at her wit’s end. Proud as she was, she remained a woman, not immune to vanity.

Her hair was streaked with dried mud, her clothes stained with grass and filth, painted in colors like a canvas, making her fury easy to imagine.

She stared intently at Su Xiaoxiao, who squinted back, smiling, but with a glint of icy murderous intent in her eyes.

After a moment, Zhang Shufang exhaled, regaining her composure, and muttered to herself, “If we quarrel now, I could kill three of your men, while you might only wound me severely. So let’s not waste time on such nonsense. The mission comes first. There’s something I meant to keep to myself, but lest you hold a grudge—the reason I was late that day was to summon the Peach Talisman behind me, to ensure our mission’s safety. Nothing more.”

Su Xiaoxiao ignored the latter part of Zhang Shufang’s words, pressing her point: “You’re certain you could kill three of our men if it came to a fight?”

As she spoke, Su Xiaoxiao cast a meaningful glance at Chen Hongxu, inviting him to weigh in.

“I can sense the mission’s location now. Whether we fight is up to you—I’ll accept whatever comes,” Zhang Shufang declared, turning away with unassailable pride.

Su Xiaoxiao made a face at Zhang Shufang’s retreating back, then looked to Chen Hongxu, as if seeking his opinion.

Chen Hongxu shook his head and shot her a glare. Su Xiaoxiao shrugged indifferently, and the four set off in pursuit of Zhang Shufang, who was already striding ahead.