I fabricated myths to guide the revival of spiritual energy.

Kunlun University, Sword Cultivation Department, First Lecture Hall.

Half an hour had passed since Gu Qing announced the start of the "Global Hunting Era" and issued the "Guardian Order" at the Martial Arts Square.

According to the rules, before descending the mountain, everyone has one hour to return to their respective dormitories and monasteries, pack their belongings, and... say goodbye to this sacred mountain where they have lived for most of the year.

"Squeak—"

The heavy rosewood door was pushed open by a pair of hands stained with dried blood.

Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the door, casting golden beams of light in which tiny dust particles danced. The classroom was filled with the faint scent of sandalwood, a unique characteristic of Kunlun, and the blackboard still bore the chalk drawing from two days prior, depicting the force analysis of "Flying Sword Aerodynamics and Spiritual Qi Fluidity."

The several pots of jade bamboo on the windowsill are growing well, swaying gently in the mountain breeze.

Everything seemed so peaceful and serene.

It seemed that as soon as the bell rang, the group of college students, dressed in neat blue robes and always complaining that the 8 a.m. formation class was too hard to endure, would rush in from the corridor, laughing and joking, to grab seats in the back row.

But today, a group of "evil spirits" crawled out from a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood.

Chu Tian walked at the front. He didn't change his clothes; the Taoist robe he was wearing, tattered from being scorched by Leviathan's void energy, was soaked in green and red blood, dried, and turned into a dark red hard shell.

The dozens of sword cultivator disciples following behind him remained silent as well.

There was no conversation, no commotion.

Only heavy footsteps and the cold, metallic clang of clashing magical artifacts could be heard.

Everyone tacitly walked towards their usual futons and desks.

sit down.

Then, the entire classroom fell into a deathly silence.

Chu Tian slowly turned his head and looked at the seat to his right.

There was no one there.

Not only on the right side, but looking around, this large Class A classroom, which originally had thousands of people, now has many empty seats scattered around.

Gu Qing's "Dead Tree Comes Back to Life" was indeed a miracle. As long as there was still a breath left, even if all the meridians were broken, he could be pulled back from the brink of death.

But... what if you can't even leave behind a complete corpse on the battlefield?

Before Chu Tian unleashed that sword strike—the "Myriad Spirits Slash," a strike imbued with the lifeblood of all Kunlun disciples—the sect had already paid a heavy price. Countless fellow disciples had perished in the direct battles against Leviathan and the Void.

Chu Tian quietly looked at the empty drawer on his right.

That's where "Fatty" Li Wei is.

I still clearly remember that chubby guy who always wore his loose school uniform tightly, secretly stuffing two bags of spicy strips into his desk drawer, and winking at Chu Tian with a cheeky grin: "Brother Chu, when our classes are a bit less demanding, let's go to the back mountain tonight to roast saber-toothed rabbit. I've even prepared the cumin, all I need is your fire magic to start a fire."

The spicy strips are still lying quietly in the drawer, their red packaging bags reflecting the sunlight.

But the fat man who always claimed he wanted to lose weight but ate three bowls of rice at every meal remained forever at the bottom of the cold East China Sea, unable to bring back even a handful of his ashes.

"Waaah..."

In the quiet classroom, someone finally couldn't hold back anymore and covered their face, sobbing softly.

It started with one girl who looked at the small makeup mirror on her best friend's desk in front of her, which hadn't been put away yet, and tears streamed down her face. Then came the second, and the third.

Suppressed sobs echoed in the empty classroom, like a desperate resonance, tearing at everyone's nerves.

Only at this moment, looking at these empty seats that will never have an owner again, did this group truly realize a cruel truth—

Cultivating immortality is never the romantic fantasy of flowing white robes and riding the wind on a sword, as depicted in novels.

This is a cold and ruthless meat grinder.

It will bleed, it will hurt, it will kill.

"What are you crying about!"

A hoarse yet resounding shout abruptly interrupted the sobbing in the classroom.

Chu Tian stood up.

His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, but his gaze was as cold and hard as a piece of quenched iron.

He strode over to Fatty Li Gang's seat, reached into the drawer, took out the two packets of spicy strips, and carefully stuffed them into his storage bag. Then, he picked up a peach wood sword that Fatty usually used to practice drawing talismans, which was crookedly drawn, and tied it tightly to his waist with a strip of cloth.

"Tears can't save the dead, nor can they kill monsters."

Chu Tian's gaze swept over every disciple in the class who was still weeping. His voice was like the clash of swords, carrying a chilling aura:

"Old Zhao turned eighty years old to save me, and only had five years to live!"

"The fat guy had half his body bitten off by the monster while trying to maintain formation!"

"Nearly five hundred comrades gave their lives in the East China Sea, just so we could sit here and cry?!"

The entire class fell silent.

The sobbing disciples bit their lips hard, even until they bled, forcibly suppressing their cries, letting their tears wash over their blood-stained faces, leaving two pale streaks.

"Clean your swords thoroughly!"

Chu Tian gripped his already dulled longsword in the back of his hand and slammed it into the thousand-year-old lightning-struck wood desk in front of him, sending wood chips flying everywhere.

"Make sure you see all the empty seats!"

"Remember their names, remember their faces, remember how they died!"

"Once we get down the mountain, if we encounter any of those scum from the void, we'll slaughter them all, including their share!"

"Yes, Senior Brother!"

A boy suddenly stood up, forcefully wiped away the tears on his face, and roared loudly with red eyes.

"Come back and fight!"

"Come back and fight our way back!!!"

Dozens of disciples stood up at the same time, and a surge of killing intent and spiritual power roared through the classroom, even causing the specially made glass on the windows to hum under the strain.

They walked to the empty seats, carefully collecting the notes, fragments of magical artifacts, and even half an eraser left behind by their deceased companions, and placing them close to their bodies.

This is a spiritual rebirth.

Before those rows of empty seats, they buried their past weakness and naivety with their own hands, forging a cold, steadfast heart truly belonging to the warriors of the apocalypse.

……

Meanwhile, atop Kunlun Mountain, in the Lingxiao Palace.

Gu Qing stood with his hands behind his back in front of a huge Xuan Guang Mirror.

The mirror was divided into dozens of images, displaying scenes from various classrooms and dormitories in real time.

He coldly watched the students' grief, anger, and awakening; watched them carefully put away the belongings of their fallen comrades; watched them grip their sword hilts again, their eyes filled with pure killing intent.

[Ding! A drastic change in group sentiment has been detected.]

[In progress on the information collection system analysis...]

[Target group: Surviving disciples of Kunlun.]

[Emotional Tags: Desperate measures lead to victory, extreme killing intent, thirst for revenge.]

[System Assessment: This group's mental model has transitioned from "peaceful residents" to "zealots." It is projected that their efficiency in clearing out void creatures will increase by 300% after descending the mountain.]

The system's mechanical voice echoed coldly in my mind.

"This is the most perfect weapon."

Gu Qing's lips curled slightly upwards, forming a cold, emotionless arc. In his deep eyes, there was no pity for the young lives lost, only precise calculations of the grand scheme of things.

He wasn't afraid of the dead; he was only afraid that the living weren't sharp enough.

"How can one learn to revere life without experiencing true death? How can one frantically squeeze out the last bit of potential from their bones without being forced into a life-or-death situation?"

[Warning: The host's level of human dehumanization continues to increase]

Gu Qing completely ignored the red warning message.

With a wave of his sleeve, the Mystic Mirror transformed into specks of spiritual light and dissipated into the air. He turned and walked towards the majestic white jade steps of the main hall.

On the martial arts training ground, amidst the churning clouds, more than a thousand "remnant soldiers" resembling demons had once again assembled.

With their packs on their backs and weapons in hand, they stood like silent volcanoes in the biting mountain wind, awaiting the final order to descend.

Gu Qing's figure slowly rose up, hovering in mid-air, looking down at his believers like a true god.

Next, he will give this group of children, who are about to be thrown into the global meat grinder, a final lesson.

A brutal speech titled "Weakness is Original Sin".