Su Ming's alertness shot up to maximum in an instant.

He didn't walk over directly. Instead, he first carefully extended his divine sense to survey the area, confirming there were no ambushes nearby before retrieving a hard, dry flatbread from the hidden compartment in the carriage.

He walked up to the old soldier and handed the flatbread over.

The old soldier's hollow gaze shifted with difficulty, landing on the piece of flatbread.

He was stunned for a moment, as if unable to believe that in this world where men devoured men, someone would still share food with a cripple on the verge of death.

The next second, the instinct to survive conquered everything.

The old soldier's remaining right hand lunged for the flatbread, not even bothering to wipe off the dust before shoving it into his mouth and biting down fiercely.

The rough, coarse flatbread scraped a trail of bloody rawness down his parched throat, yet he swallowed desperately, his eyes rolling back as he choked.

Su Ming casually handed him a waterskin.

The old soldier downed half the skin, finally managing to force the bite down. He gasped heavily, and the deathly grey of his face finally showed a glimmer of life.

"Thank you... little brother." The old soldier's voice was as hoarse as two pieces of sandpaper grinding together.

Seizing the moment, Su Ming sat down on a broken stone two steps away from the old soldier and asked calmly, "Were you a soldier in the Great Xing army? With those injuries, were you pulled back from the northern front lines?"

Hearing the words "northern front lines," the old soldier's body gave a violent jolt.

The trace of vitality that had just returned to his eyes was instantly swallowed by an indescribable, utterly hopeless terror.

"The front lines... That's not the front lines... That's hell..."

The old soldier gripped the half-eaten flatbread so tightly his knuckles went white.

"Those iron cavalry of the Northern Barbarians... They aren't even human!"

The old soldier's breathing grew rapid, his voice trembling with barely suppressed terror.

"They ride black warhorses, and both the men and horses are covered in those weird red scribbles! Our blades couldn't even break their skin! Our arrows shot into their eye sockets, and they didn't even flinch, just kept swinging their blades and killing!"

"Impenetrable to blades and arrows... Feeling no fatigue... They're monsters! Demons crawling out of hell!"

The more the old soldier spoke, the more agitated he became, as if he had returned to that battlefield where blood and flesh flew everywhere.

"The court brought in Taoist priests to break the deadlock! Several old priests with white beards, they could breathe fire and summon thunder. We watched from behind, thinking we were saved."

The old soldier swallowed hard, his terror reaching its peak.

"But... it was useless! Those iron cavalry charged through, chopped the priests' heads off, and hung them from their horses' necks! Even the Taoists died! Even the living gods died! Great Xing is finished... It's all over..."

The old soldier covered his face, weeping in agony.

Su Ming listened quietly, his expression growing heavier and heavier.

After hearing the old soldier's account, Su Ming said nothing.

He stood up and walked back to the carriage, pretending to adjust the harness while rapidly running simulations in his mind.

The old soldier had provided four key pieces of information.

First: "Impenetrable to blades and arrows, feeling no fatigue."

No mortal martial art could achieve this. But if it were the power of a "formation," it would make perfect sense—by inscribing a variant of the "Solidify" rune onto the cavalry, their defense could be boosted several times over. However, this type of formation line required continuous consumption of spiritual energy, and a mortal body simply couldn't provide a source of spiritual power. Unless...

Su Ming's pupils contracted slightly.

Unless they weren't "living people" at all.

Second: "The red scribbles."

Su Ming had seen the "Solidify" rune and the "Control" rune, but the spiritual energy flow in those runes was always a dark blue or light gold. Red... that was a sign of blood sacrifice.

While organizing discarded archives in the Repair Hall, he had once stumbled upon a dusty case file—a fragment of *Records of Southern Border Wonders: Chapter on Evil Entities*. It recorded a lost heretical art: carving runes onto the skin of living people and then using a secret method to nourish them with human blood. This could unleash power far exceeding ordinary runes, but at the cost of... the person inscribed would gradually lose their mind, becoming a "corpse marionette" that knew only slaughter.

Third: "Even the Taoists died."

The Taoists the old soldier mentioned were most likely wandering cultivators. Although wandering cultivators were low in cultivation and had crude techniques, they were still cultivators. For a group of mortal cavalry to kill a cultivator, there were only two possibilities:

Either the cavalry was numerous enough to bury the cultivator in a sea of bodies...

Or... behind this cavalry stood another cultivator.

A cultivator of at least the Foundation Establishment stage was manipulating the entire battlefield.

Fourth, and most importantly—the old soldier had survived.

If this iron cavalry was truly unstoppable, why would a one-armed old soldier escape from the front lines?

Either the Northern Barbarians deliberately let him go to spread fear...

Or...

Su Ming suddenly recalled a pattern he had discovered while studying the nearly broken formations at Iron Wall Pass: the more powerful a formation line was, the more terrifying its consumption of spiritual energy, and the more it needed regular replenishment.

This iron cavalry had to return to a fixed location at regular intervals for its controller to re-inject spiritual energy.

Otherwise, those red scribbles would lose their power.

And they let the old soldier go to make the Great Xing army believe the iron cavalry was "unconquerable," preventing them from launching a counterattack and buying time for the cavalry to replenish its spiritual energy.

Su Ming's eyes narrowed slightly.

These four pieces of information pieced together a complete picture in his mind:

Someone behind the Northern Barbarians was using a lost heretical formation technique to cultivate a "corpse marionette cavalry."

This cavalry was not invincible. Its weakness lay in the "hub" that supplied its spiritual energy.

As long as he found that hub...

Inside the carriage, Elder Qingquan's snoring had already stopped.

"Master."

Su Ming stood outside the carriage, his voice low and clear.

"There's something strange about the Northern Barbarian iron cavalry. I suspect a heretical formation master is involved, and their methods are quite sophisticated. These are by no means ordinary mortals."

There was a moment of silence from inside the carriage.

Then, the extremely calm sound of a liquor gourd's stopper being pulled out was heard.

"Mhm."

Elder Qingquan's voice was unhurried.

"Your guess is correct. This is exactly why the sect sent this old man down the mountain."

"Go, feed the horse. We'll pick up the pace tomorrow. Let's go meet these things that are playing at being gods and ghosts."