Su Zhan hovered at an altitude of ten thousand zhang, above the clouds, gazing down at the scarred and ravaged land beneath his feet.
He took in the entire scene below.
Once prosperous cities were now littered with broken walls and ruins.
Charred earth, dried dark red blood, the wreckage of abandoned war vehicles... these ford the dominant palette of the land.
On the winding roads, he could see crowds of people moving slowly like swarms of ants. They were refugees who had lost their hos, struggling to find any possibility of survival amidst the ruins.
Further away, once fertile farmlands had turned into scorched earth.
Over the past half-year and more, every resource of society had been ruthlessly drained and poured into that massive at grinder called "war."
Now that the machine had stopped, what remained was a barren soil stripped of all vitality.
Hunger, disease, despair...
Even from high in the sky.
Su Zhan could sll the scent of pain wafting up from the depths of the earth.
War...
War is cruel, a catastrophe for civilization.
It takes countless lives, destroys order and prosperity, and grinds beautiful things into mud.
The wails rising from the land beneath his feet were clear proof.
In a sense, war is absolute evil.
War is the cancer of civilization, the complete collapse of order.
It turns ticulously constructed cities into rubble, transforms bustling marketplaces into graveyards.
Farmlands lie fallow, corpses of the starved litter the fields, traditions are severed, and the accumulated wealth of generations turns to ashes under artillery fire.
It rcilessly reaps lives, making fathers lose sons, wives lose husbands, children lose parents.
Behind every cold casualty number are shattered families.
Even victory is stained with blood that cannot be washed away.
The entire nation's spirit is left with deep shadows.
But when the Mist cos bearing destruction, war transforms from a choice into an inevitability.
This was not a war of conquest to expand territory, but a war of self-defense to protect the survival of their holand.
When the enemy seeks to utterly erase you from the world, when compromise and retreat only invite more ferocious devouring, peace becos a luxury, and clashing blades becos the only path to survival.
In such a war, there is no question of wanting to fight or not, only that one must fight.
It is cruel, it is bloody, it brings endless suffering.
But if they did not fight, what they would lose would not be wealth and peace, but the very spark and future of their entire civilization.
Yet the war had absolutely no effect on Su Zhan.
If not for this nationwide war, how could he have so justifiably hunted hundreds of Calamity-level Mist Creatures?
How could he, in just over half a year, have surged from dual fourth-stage all the way to the peak of dual eighth-stage, standing at the pinnacle of mortal power?
The step-by-step progression, resource competition, and rule-bound constraints of peaceti—how could they compare to the exhilarating freedom of plundering Life Essence on the battlefield?
War provided him with a shortcut to power.
A path paved with the bones of enemies, soaked in blood, yet one he traversed with incredible speed.
"This is what they an by 'one general's achievent is built upon ten thousand bleached bones,'" Su Zhan murmured to himself.
This realization did not stir any guilt or unease within him.
Because the war did not happen because of him.
On the contrary, he had made an indelible contribution to Daxia's victory in this war.
...
In the morning, long-awaited sunlight spilled onto the Capital's Central Square.
Projection screens stood around the square, ensuring every corner of the city could clearly see the scene here.
Across the nation, receiving devices had also been set up.
Daxia needed a grand ceremony, a shot of adrenaline, to dispel the sorrow perating the air.
And today, they were going to honor the hero who had turned the tide in the war.
The square was packed with people.
Surviving citizens, regardless of status or position, had gathered here as much as possible.
They wore simple clothes, many in plain mourning attire, their faces bearing the marks left by the war.
A military band played solemn, though not rousing, music.
Rows of honor guards, tempered by the fires of war, stood solemnly on both sides.
Council elders, Military Departnt higher-ups—virtually all important figures who could spare the ti were present, seated on the viewing platform.
The host spoke in an impassioned voice:
"...In Daxia's most perilous hour, a single figure galloped across the Northern Border snowfields, fought fiercely on the southern plains, road the eastern raging waves, and shone in the western Gobi!
Alone, he fought across ten thousand miles, slaying Calamity-level Mist Creatures before their formations, saving countless fortresses from the brink of collapse, rescuing hundreds of millions of compatriots from fire and water!"
As he spoke, the screens began playing carefully edited clips of battle footage.
There was Su Zhan in the Northern Border, blasting the Frost Giant Ape with his fists.
In the south, burning the Soul-Devouring Demon Tree to ashes.
In the east, tearing apart the Deep-sea behemoths.
In the west, annihilating the Sandstorm Lord...
And other shocking scenes.
That dark red figure, his invincible bearing, was clearly presented before all the citizens through the screens.
Unsuppressed gasps of astonishnt rose from the square.
"He is our Daxia's Guardian deity, the legend standing at the pinnacle of power—Su Zhan, Mister Su!"
As the words fell, all eyes focused on the entrance of the passageway.
There, a figure slowly walked forward.
Su Zhan wore simple dark casual clothes, his steps steady, his expression calm.
He ascended the high platform and stood at the center of the square.
The host's voice was impassioned: "Based on Mister Su Zhan's immortal achievents in this war to defend the nation, unanimously approved by the entire Supre Council and recognized by the Military Departnt, we hereby award Mister Su Zhan the highest honor dal of Daxia's Guardian!"
The Three Elders personally carried a tray covered with dark silk to stand before Su Zhan.
On the tray.
Lay the dal.
With a starry sky as its base, a sword and shield intertwined, inlaid with gems symbolizing hope and sacrifice.
The Three Elders solemnly pinned the dal on Su Zhan's chest, then took a step back and, together with all the other higher-ups, gave Su Zhan a solemn salute!
This was Daxia's highest form of respect.
Simultaneously, in the square, before television screens, all citizens witnessing this scene also straightened their postures spontaneously. Many had tears in their eyes as they perford their most solemn salutes toward the figure on the screens.
So gave military salutes, others bowed deeply.
"Su Zhan! Su Zhan! Su Zhan!"
No one knew who started the chant, but soon, the shouts rged into a unified, rhythmic wave.
Su Zhan did not deliver an impassioned speech. He rely gave a slight nod to everyone.
This simple gesture triggered even more fervent cheers.
Su Zhan's heart remained calm.
The Supre Council needed him, this stabilizing pillar, to steady public sentint. They needed to mold him into an invincible symbol to conceal the harsh reality of the nation's depleted strength and the withering of high-level combat power.
He had no aversion toward this.
It would save him a lot of trouble, allowing him to focus more on his own path, pursuing even greater power.
However...
The scars of war would not diminish because of him.
The various social problems still existed.
These were not things that could be changed by re strength and faith alone.
But Su Zhan had no solution for this either.
Having him fight monsters and such—that he could do.
But asking him to restore Daxia's economy, to restore its vitality... he couldn't do that.
Economics, governing a nation... these things were completely beyond his understanding.
These were simply not problems he could consider.
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