The setting sun bathed the entire land in a hazy crimson, and from a distance, a black line was visible, rising above the horizon. As I drew nearer, it sharpened into view: a city wall, thick and towering.

The city wall, a gigantic crimson banner snapped and whipped in the wind. This was Cicheng, but now it was occupied territory, held by the Demon Sealing Empire. Naturally, I couldn't swagger in through the main gate. I had no choice but to utilize the cover of the surrounding jungle, observing the situation around the gate from afar.

Through the wide-open main gate, I could see into the city nearby. Dense formations of Demon Sealing soldiers were bustling back and forth, moving something with great industry. Their massive steel blades, staves, and other weaponry were leaned against their backs. Their bare hands ceaselessly hauled enormous wooden crates. Though I couldn't know the contents, the bulging muscles on the arms of those burly warriors, strained with effort, revealed the crates were evidently incredibly heavy. Whatever was inside must have considerable weight.

While curiosity gnawed at me to know what was in those boxes, this was clearly not the time to indulge it. These colossal crates were being loaded onto immense carriages—carriages so large I swear I had never seen their like. Nearly ten meters wide, thirty meters long, and standing perhaps six meters high, the carriages were packed tight with wooden boxes. Hauling them were three gargantuan Furnace Warhorses at the front. I doubted any lesser steeds, save for these exceptionally strong warhorses, could manage such custom-oversized vehicles.

Besides the ceaseless labor of the Demon Sealing soldiers moving the massive crates, I could also spot over a dozen magic cavalry riders galloping back and forth, shouting orders loudly. Even from this distance, I couldn't discern their words, but they clearly seemed to be hurrying the laborers along.

And among the magic cavalry, there were figures I had never seen before. Their attire was completely unlike the standard Daoist, Warrior, or Mage archetypes found across the continent; I couldn't begin to place their origins.

However, their demeanor suggested they were personages of high status, evidenced by the respectful deference shown by the busy soldiers. Looking closely, these individuals were entirely shrouded in large, crimson cloaks, wrapping them head to toe so completely that their underlying garments were invisible. Only the one walking in the very center seemed to be cradling a crystal orb, roughly the size of a basketball.

This reminded me of the sorcerers from fantasy novels of my previous life. Yet, on the Mafa Continent, there was no Sorcerer class. Could they be priests? In an instant, I recalled the entries in the Ranger's Handbook concerning the Moruo Priests.

In the Moruo Faith, priests were divided into several ranks: Black, Blue, Green, Purple, Red, and Gold, with the Pope ranking above all as the highest authority.

The figures near the city gate were all uniformly dressed in red—clearly, they were High Red Priests of the Moruo Faith.

A chill ran down my spine at my own deduction. In the Moruo Faith, the status of a High Red Priest was exceptionally revered; by the standards of the Ranger world, they were equivalent to beings of the terrifying Heavenly Demon Warrior tier.

Had I hit the jackpot? Anxiety spiked within me. If they were High Red Priests, their power level must be considerable. With this thought, I hastily withdrew my scrutinizing gaze.

Priests excelled in magic and spiritual energy, granting them extraordinarily keen sensory perception of their surroundings. It would be difficult to conceal even the slightest disturbance from them. I dared not drop my guard for an instant.

I needed to leave this spot quickly. I would find a way to scale the wall and infiltrate after nightfall.

Having made up my mind, I retreated cautiously, putting significant distance between myself and the wall.

Finding a large tree, I temporarily concealed myself within its branches, gnawing on dry rations while awaiting the arrival of darkness.

The crescent moon hung high, once again casting the land in a soft, diffused silver light. I pulled out the magic clock from my pouch; it read a little past 1:00 AM. It seemed time to infiltrate Cicheng.

After carefully stowing my gear, I drifted softly down to the ground.

Returning near the city gate, I found the scene still alight with frantic activity. Bright torches illuminated the area around the gate as if it were midday, forcing me to abandon any thought of climbing over the nearby section of the wall.

Out of options, I crept stealthily toward the left flank of the gate, exploring in a southeasterly direction. Cicheng was a textbook strategic fortress; thus, within two hundred meters of the walls, there was almost no cover—no trees or brush to conceal one’s form.

Fortunately, the moonlight tonight was dim and hazy, making clear visual identification difficult even from a hundred meters away. The patrolling soldiers on the wall failed to notice my presence, but I dared not approach closer, lest I be discovered.

I followed the wall eastward for a full five hundred meters before spotting a section that appeared to have lighter guard coverage, though I remained cautious.

I then activated my Eye of Deathly Desire, carefully probing the surrounding situation. Soon, several faint ripples registered clearly in my sensory field.

Sentries! These bastards were truly insidious. If I hadn't possessed the Eye of Deathly Desire, they would have tricked me. But now that I knew their locations, the rest became much simpler.

Within the sensory world of the Eye of Deathly Desire, I easily located the gaps and blind spots between the various hidden sentries. Moving carefully through these spaces, I finally managed to slip into a relatively dark corner right at the base of the wall.

Unfurling my movement technique, I launched into a sprint, rapidly ascending the wall. Then, I carefully flattened myself against the inner surface of the parapet.

Step! Step! The steady, measured rhythm of footsteps on the rampart clearly painted an accurate sensory image in my mind. Finally, as two patrol teams crossed paths once more, they left a brief open window behind them.

I immediately launched myself over the crenellations, slipping past the wall and drifting toward the inner side.

Thud! Upon landing, I crouched low until I was certain no one had noticed me, then slowly, cautiously, I straightened up to survey the area.

Running parallel to the base of the wall were two wide military avenues. To the west lay the direction of the main gate; to the north, I was unsure. But if I kept moving south, I would eventually reach the South Gate of Cicheng, the direction of the Cihang Port.

Making my decision, I carefully crossed the avenue. Opposite the avenue stood rows of neat barracks. Silence reigned within; it seemed the soldiers inside were asleep.

In the dark recesses cast by the barracks walls and nearby trees, I silently crept south. After slipping through several narrow alleys, I reached a three-way junction. Before me lay three wide roads: one leading due north, another due south, and the third heading east.

Clatter-clatter-thump! Just then, the rapid sound of hooves approached swiftly, accompanied by a slight tremor in the ground and the grating noise of carriage wheels, as a massive carriage sped toward me along the wartime passage.

I quickly ducked into a nearby shadow!

Heavens! What a colossal carriage, and its decoration was incredibly ostentatious—a golden carriage body, clearly cast from bronze and plated with gold. The five Furnace Warhorses pulling it were magnificent and spirited beasts.

It seemed someone of great importance must be inside.

Hiding in the shadow of the corner of the barracks, I felt a flicker of confusion. Why was this person so strange, perhaps enjoying a midnight sightseeing tour? As I thought this, I subconsciously activated the Eye of Deathly Desire to probe the situation inside the carriage.

But whether it was my imagination or not, I felt the energy signatures inside the carriage were faint, almost undetectable without intense focus. Under the influence of the Eye of Deathly Desire, however, I clearly sensed three rich, gentle magical fluctuations. Such prolonged and subtle energy, coupled with deep magical power, was only typically found in vastly powerful cultivators. In my memory, only the Sect Master of the Moon Sect had ever given me a similar impression. In an instant, I confirmed there were three occupants: two of them possessing staggeringly powerful, supreme mage capabilities, and the third, if I hadn't been exceedingly careful in my probe, I might have missed entirely.

This discovery greatly startled me. At almost the same moment, I felt a subtle ripple pass through the gentle magical energy emanating from the carriage—the occupants seemed to have sensed something.

I immediately retracted the Eye of Deathly Desire and swiftly regulated my own aura. Mages, especially those who had reached the pinnacle of cultivation, were incredibly sensitive to environmental changes. If I continued to probe them with the Eye of Deathly Desire, there was no guarantee I wouldn't be discovered.

Judging by the reaction, the people in that carriage were definitely not ordinary. Curiosity tugged at me—should I follow them?

However, after careful consideration, I abandoned the idea. This was not the time for indulging my curiosity. I needed to reach the South Gate quickly. Still, the immense power displayed by the three mages in the carriage left me wary. Only after the carriage had disappeared into the distance did I cautiously follow the path south.

At Cicheng, outside the towering Marshal's Estate, Moruo Aotian paced anxiously back and forth with his civil and military officials of the Aotian Legion, frequently glancing toward the distant road.

They were clearly awaiting someone, and judging by the gravity of the scene, the awaited person must hold a noble status. The surrounding elite soldiers and fierce generals were all visibly excited and impatient. Who could command such a grand reception from the Aotian Legion, one of the four major armies of the Demon Sealing forces?

Among those present, only a few figures clad in red robes maintained an expression of perfect calm, offering composed smiles toward the agitated Aotian generals. They were clearly pleased with the solemnity of the reception, for the imminent arrival was the peerlessly honored High Priest Lanling of the Moruo Church. Within the Moruo Church hierarchy, there were six High Gold Priests, and High Priest Lanling was one of them.

On the Demon Sealing Continent, the status of a High Gold Priest was almost equivalent to that of the Demon Sealing Empress herself. Successive High Gold Priests were often candidates for the next Pope's succession. The Pope, in all the Moruo Church's tribal alliances, served as the ultimate representative of divine authority; in terms of status and position, even surpassing the Demon Sealing Empress. Every Demon Sealing Empress had to receive the Pope’s rite of baptism and investiture to formally ascend the throne.

Only with the Pope's recognition could the Demon Sealing Empress legitimately become the ruler of the Demon Sealing Continent.

Thump-thump-thump! The swiftly approaching carriage halted smoothly in the open space before the Marshal's Estate.

"Ah! They're here!" Moruo Aotian led his subordinates forward to greet them.

The carriage door opened, revealing a face of cold indifference. His bright crimson Archmage Cloak and the Archmage set he wore instantly marked him as a powerful Archmage of the Rainbow Tier.

After he disembarked, another female Archmage, clad in Neon Feather Garments, slowly stepped down. She appeared to be around forty years old.

After stepping onto the ground, she carefully pulled the carriage door open and extended her hand, respectfully guiding out a middle-aged man draped in a sweeping gold robe. He looked about fifty, his features unremarkable, save for a pair of eyes as clear as autumn water and as still as a cold pool, betraying his extraordinary nature.

"Commander of the Aotian Legion, Moruo Aotian, respectfully welcomes High Priest Lanling," Moruo Aotian stated with deep reverence, his officers behind him bowing low and holding their heads respectfully.

"Hah! Marshal Aotian, you are too kind," Lanling replied with a placid smile. In that instant, everyone present felt a sensation like bathing in spring breezes. "We are old friends; spare me these formalities."

"Hahaha, old friends!" Moruo Aotian chuckled with genuine delight. "But you are an Archpriest of the Church; these formalities must be observed. Otherwise, if your priests from the Church start dragging their feet, I'll be in dire straits."

"Heh, still the same as ever," Lanling remarked with a trace of nostalgia.

"I haven't changed, but you, my brother, have changed immensely," Moruo Aotian sighed. "I remember you hated trouble and disliked fighting. You were forced onto the battlefield back then." Moruo Aotian glanced toward Lanling subconsciously. "To be honest, when I heard the accompanying priest for this campaign was you, I thought I must have misheard."

"I haven't changed," Lanling stated. "If this expedition to the Demon Dragon Continent wasn't being led by you, Moruo Aotian, I wouldn't have bothered coming."

"So you came specifically to aid me?" Moruo Aotian sounded visibly excited.

"Aid you?" Lanling shook his head slightly. "I am here to repay a debt." At this, Lanling’s expression softened with emotion. "Forty years ago, on this very Demon Dragon Continent, you and I fought side-by-side and were surrounded. If you hadn't desperately taken the brunt of the Blazing Sword Qi from the Nine Luminaries Yang Sun for me, I would have been nothing but ash long ago, never knowing this glory. That's why I specifically requested the Pope send me to assist you."

"You still hold onto such a small matter," Moruo Aotian said sentimentally. "We are comrades in arms; we should share life and death. What is there to save or not save?"

"Haha, well said," Lanling agreed with emotion. "Forty years later, let us join hands again and fight side-by-side. This time, I must save you once and settle this favor."

"Save me once?" Moruo Aotian stared at Lanling in utter shock. After a long moment, he moved forward excitedly. "Old man, are you cursing me!"

"Hahahaha." Lanling was momentarily stunned, then erupted into hearty laughter. "Alright, enough nonsense. Besides repaying my debt, I also intend to avenge the single arrow that defeated me at the hands of Nine Luminaries Moon Shade." As he spoke, Lanling's usually mild face instantly hardened with killing intent. "I imagine that is the fundamental reason you, Moruo Aotian, have returned to the Demon Dragon Continent as well."

"The same to you," Moruo Aotian stated gravely. "Back then, you fell to Nine Luminaries Moon Shade, and I was nearly annihilated by Gold Light. If I cannot personally wash away that shame, I will never rest easy in this life."

"If we defeat Nine Luminaries Moon Shade and Gold Light, then my life as Lanling will be complete, without regret," Lanling stated solemnly.

"Indeed," Moruo Aotian agreed. "Now, we both stand to achieve what we wished. I have become a famous Marshal, and you have become a High Priest of the Church. The grand ambitions of our youth are now realized. The only stain left is having been defeated by those two."

"Only by utterly conquering Yuncheng will our lives truly be without regret."

For old friends meeting after a long separation, there was much emotion and recollection, while the generals and priests nearby were utterly astonished. Who would have thought that the renowned Marshal Aotian and the highly honored Moruo High Gold Priest were actually comrades who fought side-by-side in their youth, sharing a deep bond?

It seemed now that the Church and the Imperial Court had deliberately paired these two as partners, perhaps aiming to bridge the gap between the Church and the military, fostering an unexpected closeness.

The atmosphere soon became intensely warm.

Surrounded by his retinue, Lanling and the High Red Priests accompanying him entered the main hall of the Marshal's Estate.

Only then did Lanling's expression turn grave. He pulled out a fiery red, round disk-like jade pot from his spatial pouch and spoke seriously, "The Heart of the Fire Dragon has arrived. When do we initiate the general offensive?"

"Ah! Is this the Heart of the Fire Dragon?" Moruo Aotian stared at the ancient-looking, red-and-white jade pot with astonishment.