The Rich Cultivator-Chapter 338. Confronting the Emperor and the Army

Reverse Fate Country - a nation nestled in the center of the continent, home to more than 50 million people, over half of whom were mortals. It had long been known for its tranquil landscapes, ancient traditions, and mysterious legends. Among these legends was one spoken in hushed tones by kings and sages alike: "Those who march against Reverse Fate Country shall have their destinies twisted, their fates reversed."

But Emperor Chang Shengzun stood tall aboard his floating chariot, his expression cold and indifferent as he gazed down at the peaceful lands below.

"Hmph," he sneered. "So this is the famed Reverse Fate Country? Let’s see if it can reverse my fate."

He turned toward his commander and raised his hand. "Activate the formation."

The skies darkened instantly.

From the heavens, strange and ominous symbols began to materialize, glowing across the clouds like divine script. They spiraled and expanded, forming a vast net of runes that blanketed the entire country. A loud, resonating hum followed—like the groan of heaven itself. Within seconds, a massive Isolation and Confinement Formation locked the nation from the rest of the world.

Panic erupted.

In every corner of the land, people looked up in confusion and fear. The skies had turned eerie, heavy with a pressure that pressed upon their chests like an invisible mountain. Those trying to flee toward the borders found themselves repelled by an unseen wall, their escape routes sealed off.

"We... we can’t leave!" one man cried, slamming his fists against the invisible barrier.

Children cried. Mothers clutched their babies. Cultivators who had once believed they could escape this purge were now trapped alongside the mortals.

"Heh... like mice in a trap," Emperor Chang Shengzun smirked. His voice echoed through the air like thunder. "Let’s begin the Purge. Let’s see if this land can really reverse my fate."

Raising his sword high into the sky, he shouted with chilling fervor: "For the Heavens!"

"FOR THE HEAVENS!" the 10,000 cultivators roared in unison. Their war cries shook the air, reverberating across the mountains and plains. The sky itself seemed to tremble at the declaration.

And then came the slaughter.

The army descended upon the first city—Brightfall City, a prosperous trade hub with nearly a million citizens. With no warning, the cultivators rained down from the sky, swords blazing, spells erupting like firestorms.

Civilians screamed as homes were reduced to rubble. Buildings crumbled, rivers ran red with blood, and desperate parents shielded their children from incoming attacks. Cultivators who tried to resist were cut down mercilessly, their corpses thrown into the streets.

In Willowshade Town, the next target, resistance sects tried to form a barrier to protect the people. But the moment they activated their defenses, a Golden Core cultivator from the Emperor’s side shattered it with a single wave of his palm, turning all defenders into dust.

Village after village fell. Sects were eradicated, their libraries burned, their disciples slaughtered. Even children training in beginner cultivation stages were not spared.

Despair settled upon the hearts of the people like a heavy fog.

"We’re doomed... There’s no one left to stop them..." a sect elder whispered before being struck down.

The Emperor’s forces showed no remorse, no restraint. Their so-called crusade for the heavens had become an apocalyptic march of blood and fire.

As the army approached the next city—Moonveil, the capital of Reverse Fate Country—the citizens prepared for death. The city gates had been sealed, not to defend, but to prevent chaos within. People wept in silence, lighting incense and praying to the heavens one last time.

Suddenly, just as the soldiers began charging, shouting "FOR THE HEAVENS!", a voice cut through the despair like a blade.

"Hmph... For the heavens? How laughable."

It was soft, feminine—but somehow it echoed in every corner of the city, as if heaven itself paused to listen.

The charging army froze mid-step. Confusion rippled through the ranks.

The commander, a Half-Step Nascent Soul expert, frowned. "Who told you to stop?! Keep marching!"

But just as they began moving again, the front row of soldiers collapsed.

One by one, cultivators dropped where they stood—lifeless.

A wave of unease swept over the formation. Those behind stumbled back in shock, eyes wide with horror. Their comrades hadn’t been cut or burned—they had simply died, as if something invisible had severed their connection to life.

"Who... who’s there?! Who dares use cowardly poison?" the commander bellowed, his voice laced with fear.

Suddenly, from the skies, a crimson flying boat descended, elegant and radiant.

On top of it stood Mathilda, Mana, Astrid, and Yuehua—their robes fluttering in the wind, their expressions calm yet imposing.

"You call poison cowardly, yet you use your cultivation to supress and slaughter the mortals." Mathilda said coldly, her tone enough to make hearts tremble. Though she is Filarious all the times, she was from Demonic Sect after all.

The soldiers below trembled in confusion and dread.

Astrid narrowed her eyes, studying the formation in the sky. "This isn’t just an isolation formation... It’s an Absorption Formation. Every time someone is killed, their blood and soul are fed into it."

Yuehua’s face darkened. "He’s using the entire Continent as a blood sacrifice..."

"Sacrificing for what?" Mana looked confused.

"Who art thou?" A dignified voice shouted.

Emperor Chang Shengzun had arrived.

His golden robes fluttered in the wind, inscribed with divine runes, and his presence alone made even the bravest cultivators kneel in reverence. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, reacting to the sheer force of his spiritual pressure.

The soldiers below let out a collective sigh of relief. The presence of the four mysterious women had shaken them to their core. Though none of them could clearly sense their cultivation realms, their very presence instilled an instinctive fear, as if something ancient and untouchable stood before them.

"Who are these women...?" some murmured, afraid to even look up.

But Mathilda didn’t even spare the Emperor a respectful glance.

Her eyes were fixed on the bloody runes in the sky, pulsing rhythmically with a strange, sinister energy.

"Absorbing blood and soul into a formation?" she muttered, frowning deeply. "Are you trying to revive some ancient spirit or something?"

Her tone was casual, even mocking—but the sharpness in her gaze was undeniable.

Emperor Chang Shengzun’s expression shifted ever so slightly, his pupils contracting. That single moment of hesitation confirmed what Mathilda had just guessed.

A sly smirk formed on her lips. "I see. So I was right."

He tried to regain his composure. "The mortals who cannot cultivate are beings rejected by the heavens. By cleansing them from this world, I am performing a divine duty. I am doing it all... FOR THE HEAVENS."

His voice rang out with conviction, and many soldiers roared in agreement. But it only made the silence from the four women more chilling.

Mathilda replied coldly, "Resurrecting an Evil Spirit requires millions of departed souls, if not more. How many innocent lives have you taken, yet you dare talk about doing this for the heavens?"

Chang Shengzun scoffed and laughed, "Since ancient times, those who have achieved great things have all ascended over a mountain of bones. As long as we succeed and then bring prosperity to future generations, posterity will still sing our praises and may even deify us. Histories are written by the winners. Losers are just bad guys in the history. As long as I win, I will write the history however I wanted."

His words sent a chill down the spine of even his own troops.

But Mathilda didn’t falter. She gazed calmly at the Emperor, unfazed by his ambition or grandeur.

"So you admit it now," she said softly. "You’re not a savior. You’re just another tyrant wrapped in delusion. Fine then—let’s see the power of so-called Nascent Soul of a lower world."

Her voice hadn’t even finished echoing before Mana vanished from the red flying boat in a flicker of light.

Down below, the Half-Step Nascent Soul Realm Commander suddenly gasped. His body jerked, eyes wide in shock. Before anyone could react, he suddenly turned and raised his sword—then began slaughtering his own soldiers.

"W-What’s happening?!"

"Commander?!"

He swung his blade in a frenzy, his face twitching, caught between confusion and terror. Blood sprayed everywhere as he cut down three soldiers in a single stroke.

"STOP HIM!" someone cried out, but the soldiers couldn’t even get close—his movements were erratic, unpredictable... possessed.

The emperor vanished in a flash and reappeared beside the commander, delivering a powerful punch to his chest. Mana was forcefully expelled, her figure flying out of the commander’s body.

"Tsk... No fun," she said with a sigh, stretching lazily in mid-air. "His attacks even contain soul force... how troublesome." With a shrug, she ceased her possession technique.

Without wasting another moment, the emperor unsheathed his sword and disappeared again.

In the next instant, he reappeared above the red flying boat, his sword already slashing downward. A violent wave of sword qi, brimming with spiritual energy and killing intent, surged toward the boat like a crashing tsunami.

However, just as the strike was about to land, an invisible barrier shimmered into existence and deflected the attack effortlessly.

The emperor’s pupils trembled in shock. But he didn’t retreat. Gritting his teeth, he continued his relentless assault, unleashing strike after strike against the mysterious barrier—determined to break through.