Since something had to be done, there was no doubt—end this war.

  But the key was—how to do it?

  Or rather, who should make the concession? The besieging side or the defenders?

  Elo didn’t want to rashly pick a side because doing so could easily make him an accomplice to war crimes.

  So, he had to figure out the reasons behind the war first, to understand why both sides were fighting.

  He needed information, he needed to figure out—

  Which side in this war truly aligned with his sense of justice?

  What was the simplest way to find the answer?

  Elo's gaze narrowed slightly as his eyes turned toward the besieging side's camp.

  The answer was simple—go find the leaders of both sides, and ask them directly.

  Elo's mind shifted, activating "Invisibility Mode."

  This was not simple optical invisibility, but a form of [Perception Interference].

  It not only disrupted the sensory perception of the body but also directly interfered with transcendent perception abilities.

  —He hadn’t truly disappeared; he had simply been completely erased from everyone’s perception.

  No matter who it was, they couldn’t access any information that said "he exists here at this moment."

  Transcendent perception spread slowly like a tide, and every detail of the battlefield emerged in his mind—

  The broken flags fluttered in the wind, the faint sound of their rustling like a whisper;

  Collapsed ruins occasionally dropped debris, iron scraps rolled, and the sound of impact echoed sharply in the silence;

  Not far away, unknown dead lay in quiet repose, as if the world had long forgotten their existence.

  Death's silence enveloped this wasteland like thick fog, and he walked quietly within it.

  And Elo—walking through this canvas painted by death,

  His expression calm, yet there was a faint hint of lingering vexation in his eyes, as if troubled by something.

  But he still walked straight toward the military camp, his steps steady, yet carrying a hint of helplessness.

  In this state, he could "openly and justly" walk into the military camp without obstruction.

  If needed, he could even smile and chat with the soldiers, casually asking for directions or inquiring about news.

  And those soldiers would surely respond without hesitation, kindly, as if they were conversing with a close friend.

  This was not about controlling their will, but rather interfering with their perception, causing them to form incorrect cognition.

  Thus, he didn’t need to worry about any conflict—

  —Since he didn’t wish to be an enemy to anyone, naturally, no one would view him as one.

  Although Elo never liked conflict with others, he actually enjoyed that feeling of adrenaline and excitement.

  The kind of thrilling adventures that only existed in dreams had made him fantasize countless times.

  Action movies, heroic epics, and even all kinds of exaggerated, unrealistic battle anime and comics—he had always liked them.

  Those worlds full of strength and heroism always ignited his endless imagination.

  He had fantasized countless times about being like the heroes in those stories, stepping up to protect others.

  However, reality was far less romantic.

  From birth until now, he had never even killed a single fish.

  —The last time he had fought with someone was back in middle school.

  At that time, he had witnessed a group of punks bullying a classmate, and his sense of justice surged.

  Without hesitation, he stepped up, imagining that he could protect the weak like the heroes in the anime.

  But reality quickly gave him a harsh blow.

  That group of punks beat him black and blue, and from that day on, not only did he fail to become a hero, but he also became their new target.

  Fortunately, Vian discovered everything in time.

  She “communicated” with those punks in some “friendly” way, and after that, Elo never saw them again.

  It was as if, from that day onward, they had completely disappeared from the world.

  Since then, Elo's life had known no real violence.

  Occasionally, he and Vian would bicker or have a little playful scuffle, but sibling squabbles were always resolved within three days, and everything would go back to normal.

  After reaching adulthood, he remained gentle, never arguing with anyone.

  Although he held many grievances against society, they never turned him into a cynic.

  — He understood very well: at the root of it all, those grievances stemmed from his own incompetence.

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  — If he had the ability, he could live a good life—so what would there be to complain about?

  And so, his world was peaceful, even so quiet that it was almost without any ripples.

  Violence, this word, had long since disappeared from his life—until today.

  It was utterly unrealistic to expect the besieging side and the defending side to obey a slave's orders.

  Only by showing them the power of this slave with their own eyes would they possibly lower their heads and obey.

  Suddenly, a system window quietly popped up:

  [Warning: Special target detected nearby]

  Elo's steps momentarily slowed, and his brow furrowed slightly—he didn’t understand why the system had specifically given this reminder.

  Even if there was indeed a "special target" nearby, with his perception, he could have sensed it without the prompt.

  So, the only answer was: the system wanted him to pay attention to these people.

  With this thought, Elo looked up and calmly "gazed" into the distance.

  Under the night sky, five men and two women moved swiftly, like flying.

  Each step seemed to tread upon the night wind, light and silent, so precise it bordered on the uncanny.

  As they leapt, their figures were like night owls spreading their wings, gliding over broken walls and ruins;

  When they landed, there was not a trace of dust, as if they had never touched the ground.

  In the span of their leaps, they covered a distance of over twenty meters in the blink of an eye.

  moving like shadows, blending into the night, rapidly closing in.

  They wore black stealth suits made from light yet durable fabric, tailored to fit close to the skin, allowing for both flexibility and reduced resistance in battle.

  The collars and cuffs were tightly fastened, the hem slightly short, designed specifically for quick sprints and leaps, with no drag or sound as they moved.

  Their faces were covered by black cloths, revealing only a pair of calm and sharp eyes, as if they could pierce through the darkness at any moment.

  The five men had [Ring-Pommel Saber ] hanging at their waists, their scabbards pitch black and seamless with their outfits, the only gleam of light coming from the occasional flash of the knife handles.

  The two women accompanying them moved with light, cold precision, their waists adorned with long swords and carrying [Black Wooden Boxes] on their backs.

  The wooden boxes were ancient and heavy, with sharp corners, their lacquered surface as dark as the night, silently attached to their backs, their size far exceeding that of ordinary weapons, exuding an indescribable sense of oppression.

  As they ran, the wooden boxes remained steady as if fused to their backs, not swaying in the slightest.

  Yet their movements, postures, and even that unique aura they carried—

  —undoubtedly, the genuine bearing of a true "Xia."

  Seeing this, Elo froze in place, as if someone had hit the pause button on him—his brain completely crashed for two full seconds.

  And in those short two seconds, several words popped into his head, one after another:

  — Martial arts? Qinggong?

  — Nightwalker outfits??

  — Wuxia heroes???

  — What the hell?!

  He instinctively rubbed his eyes, half-suspecting he was hallucinating.

  But when he looked up again, those black-clad figures were still gliding gracefully across the broken ruins like owls in the night—

  — So fluid it felt unreal, as if they might take off into the skies at any moment.

  Sure, Elo already knew that this world had something called a [Xian Dao Bloc] ...

  But when scenes that only existed in movies, anime, or novels suddenly played out vividly in front of him,

  he was still completely stunned—

  That jarring absurdity when fantasy smashes headfirst into reality.

  — You’ve got to be kidding me.

  — Is this not a movie set?!

  Yet their movement, their posture, even that distinct aura—

  — it was unmistakably the real deal, the true style of a wuxia hero.

  Of course, Elo had never actually seen a real "Xia" in his life.

  Everything he knew about "Xia" was merely a patchwork of images from novels, movies, and anime—a fantasy pieced together from fiction.

  In those stories, Jianghu DaXia leaped across rooftops and walls, their skills extraordinary and unmatched.

  They honored every promise, fulfilling their word even if mountains crumbled and rivers dried, never betraying an oath.

  Some carried blood feuds, vowing to seek justice.

  Some shouldered the fate of the world, willing to sacrifice themselves for righteousness.

  Some rose for revenge, only to learn forgiveness on their journey.

  They wandered without a trace, drifting freely through the vast world.

  Drinking fierce wine, befriending kindred spirits,

  Riding through stormy nights, listening to ancient temple bells.

  They led wild horses, crossed misty bridges,

  Journeying through rivers and mountains, resting deep within snowy forests.

  Leaning on high peaks, watching tides of clouds,

  Hearing the wind stir pine waves, gazing at the moon lighting their solitary shadows.

  Beside frozen rivers, facing the bright moon,

  They raised their cups to the heavens, drunk and lost among the clouds.

  Under the dying sun, he stepped beyond the fortress walls,

  Sword on his back, eyes set upon the boundless yellow sands,

  Alone, he counted the grudges of a lifetime.

  With long swords in hand and old scabbards on their backs,

  They walked a thousand rugged roads, laughing away all worldly sorrows.

  They repaid kindness and avenged wrongs,

  Clear in their debts and loyalties,

  Respecting those with honor, scorning traitors without mercy.

  Even when walking the line between light and darkness,

  They never betrayed the code within their hearts.

  They left behind their legends in the Jianghu—

  Some famous across the land in a blaze of blades and swords,

  Others vanishing quietly in storm and shadow.

  Whether remembered or forgotten, they had once walked that Jianghu.

  With their lives, they wrote their own chapters.

  And now, those Da Xia—who had existed only in his imagination—

  stood alive before his eyes.

  Elo stared at them, as if struck by something deep within,

  and without realizing it, he began to follow.

  He wanted to see their faces clearly, to know where they came from and where they were going.

  He even—wanted to become one of them.

  That thought, like a wildfire, suddenly ignited his heart.

  That yearning burned stronger than anything he had felt since arriving in this world.

  Seven figures moved swiftly through the ruins, their steps light as the wind.

  They moved with incredible speed, yet still retained the natural reliance on gravity that humans possess;

  like graceful birds gliding over the dust, leaving behind a smooth rhythm in their wake.

  And right behind them—Elo.

  If the movements of those seven were the ultimate expression of body technique—

  then Elo’s movements had almost transcended the bounds of "human" altogether.

  Silent, imperceptible, he floated above the ground like a ghost—his form seemed to merge seamlessly with the night.

  His steps never truly touched the ground, his presence so light that it felt as though the world had forgotten he existed.

  — If he wished, he could even fly like this without being noticed by anyone.

  But watching the Da Xia ahead, dancing through the air like performers, Elo suddenly felt an inexplicable awkwardness—

  as if he had stumbled into a dance he could never join, floating aimlessly in mid-air.

  Watching them move in rhythm with the world, he found himself unable to find the beat.

  He looked down, glancing at his almost "weightless" movements, and sighed silently:

  —Perhaps it’s time to land.

  In the next instant, he reined in his power and landed back on the ground.

  Gravity returned, bringing a long-missed sense of stability and reality.

  But with it came another issue—Elo didn’t know Qing Gong.

  It wasn’t that he lacked the skill—

  it was that the system had never provided that option in the first place.

  Because the system had given him "flight skills," which were sufficient to replace Qing Gong.

  So he had no choice but to grit his teeth and mimic the movements of the Da Xia ahead.

  He pushed off lightly with his toes and leapt forward—

  but misjudged the force, and his whole body shot out over twenty meters, nearly crashing into the ruins!

  Elo hurriedly steadied himself, took a deep breath, and tried again.

  A step, a light leap, then borrowing force midair...

  Bit by bit, he groped his way forward, trying to rediscover the rhythm between his body and the ground.

  As he adjusted and practiced more, his movements gradually became less stiff and more natural.

  He began to learn how to apply force, find footing, and launch himself with lightness.

  His figure was no longer clumsy and sluggish, but gradually took on a hint of a Da Xia’s grace.

  Elo gently exhaled.

  His gaze shifted along the figure of the Da Xia moving ahead, and a self-mocking thought, tinged with a smile, surfaced in his mind:

  — Finally, looks like a person.