The sun was high in the sky, its rays beating down on the desolate landscape beneath it, casting shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly over the chaos taking place below it. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Although the outcome had already been decided, faint sounds of struggling fighters reached across the battlefield, where a few isolated pockets of resistance still clung to life, unwilling to admit defeat.


    The bright sunlight glinted off the shattered blades of swords and spears, their gleaming edges now dulled by the grime of death. Broken banners, at least those which were still standing, fluttered weakly in the breeze, while casting long grotesque shadows across the field of battle. The bodies of fallen soldiers lay crumpled and broken below them, their limbs bent at unnatural angles, that is, if they were fortunate enough to still have any. It was a war zone devoid of honor, with nothing left but shattered pride and the quiet groans of whoever was lucky, or unlucky, enough to still be alive.


    The air itself was thick, heavy with the stench of blood and sweat. Flies hovered over the fallen, circling their grotesque feast, undisturbed by the distant sounds of combat still taking place. The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the carnage, casting harsh light on whoever was still left standing, making the scene feel even more surreal, as if the heavens themselves were looking down upon the carnage.


    Among the carnage stood Master Qiang Wei, renowned across the realm as the Steel Tempest. His breath came in ragged gasps, and crimson blood stained his once-pristine robes. His forces had shattered against the enemy’s relentless tide, and despite cleaving through more foes than he could possibly count, even he could not turn the tide of battle.


    His body was a canvas of agony. A deep gash stretched across his abdomen, the brutal parting gift from the enemy vice leader he had slain moments before. His left arm hung heavy and stiff from a shattered shoulder, and his ribs ached with each shallow breath, likely cracked from a crushing blow he had barely blocked. Jagged cuts marred his legs, and bruises darkened his flesh where his clothes had parted. His left eye was ruined, a brutal slash had carved across his brow and cheek, leaving the eye itself a milky ruin veiled by congealed blood.


    In the moment of rest the death of his latest enemy had given him, he looked around, taking in the battlefield surrounding him.


    He had seen corpses many times in his past, he had created quite a few himself, but never had he seen this many, and never before had the deaths of others felt so... horrible.


    Brains, blood, bones, organs, fluids…


    Headless corpses.


    Bloody chunks too disfigured to identify what or who they were.


    What he was looking at didn’t even feel human.


    It was just meat.


    He shook his head, forcing himself awake despite the crushing fatigue. Summoning the last dregs of his ki, he infused his voice with power and roared, "Retreat!" His command echoed across the battlefield, cutting through the haze of fear and pain. His surviving soldiers stirred, their broken forms dragging themselves away from the slaughter.


    The retreat had been desperate, a frantic scramble through smoke and chaos. Blood streamed from the Steel Tempest''s wounds, soaking his torn tunic even more, by now it was impossible to tell what color it had been before; all one could see was crimson.


    His soldiers fell back in disarray, their numbers thinned to a pitiful few. Qiang Wei fought to keep pace but faltered, his strength draining with every labored step he took.Stolen novel; please report.


    Amid the retreat, Qiang Wei stumbled, collapsing against a shattered tree trunk, his hand slick with his own blood as he struggled to rise. The sounds of battle faded into the distance, swallowed by the nearby forest''s eerie stillness. Clearly, not all of his soldiers managed to retreat.


    He forced himself upright, staggering forward in defiance of the pain gnawing at his insides. His vision swam, and every heartbeat sent fresh waves of agony through his battered frame. Still, he pressed on, driven by instinct and pride.


    When the remnants of his forces vanished into the dense forest ahead, he found himself alone, isolated in hostile territory. Pain surged through his body, each movement a cruel reminder of his own mortality, which after countless victories he had forgotten applied to him as well. Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward, driven by stubborn defiance and the will to survive.


    Hours crawled by in agonizing silence. The towering trees seemed to close in, their twisting branches forming a cage around him. Despite his almost unparalleled mastery of martial arts, he had sustained grievous injuries. His ki could slow the bleeding, perhaps even close them given enough time, but he didn''t have the luxury to sit down and let them heal. His world blurred between shadow and memory, the taste of blood thick on his tongue.


    Many hours passed before his luck finally ran out, mere moments before nightfall. Enemy scouts stumbled upon him while he staggered through the forest''s underbrush. In a blur of steel and fury he struck them down, felling men like a wounded beast lashing out at his hunters. But victory came at a steep price. He had received yet another injury, this one was a cut near the elbow reaching all the way to the bone, rendering it nigh useless. On top of that, his abdominal wound tore even further open, alongside the many shallower wounds he had sustained that day which.


    Soon after, he stumbled upon a cave, its yawning mouth offering a fleeting promise of shelter. There, in the damp and dark, he bound his wounds with trembling hands. His breathing slowed, his body shaking with cold and exhaustion. He wouldn''t make it, that much was clear to him. For a fleeting moment, he considered staying, letting oblivion take him in the stillness and quiet of the cave. It was so peaceful, so quiet... But he snapped out if it. Such an end felt dishonorable, it was a coward’s death.


    “I am Qiang Wei, the steel tempest!” he barely whispered, his voice hoarse yet full of resolve. "I will not die hiding from those who killed my men."


    Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, he staggered into the night, using his sword as a crutch, as uncomfortable as it was. He was seeking battle or death, but found nothing but the indifferent wilderness. The forest stretched endlessly before him, its silence felt unnatural, or perhaps he had already lost his hearing from the blood loss.


    When he approached the caves exit his one working eye became temporarily blinded, it was morning, the blood loss distorted the passage of time for him, and he had spend more time in the cave than he thought.


    His steps grew slower, each one more uncertain than the last. The world around him dimmed, shadows twisting into familiar faces, friends, comrades, enemies. His breathing grew shallow as blood loss drowned his strength.


    Eventually, his knees buckled, sending him crashing into the dirt. There was no final stand, no dramatic duel, only cold earth embracing his battered body. He clawed at the ground, refusing to surrender, his fingers carving desperate trenches into the dirt. Or at least he though he did. He had lost feeling in his body a while ago. Even making it this far was a miracle, a testament to the sheer determination and mental fortitude he possessed.


    The wind whispered through the trees, a haunting serenade that rose and fell like distant song, although he heard none of it. The taste of iron filled his mouth, it was the only thing he could feel, the vision in his remaining eye wavered between past glories and the dirt in front of him.


    Qiang Wei lay sprawled amid the grass and fallen leaves. The forest’s indifference was absolute, the mighty was Steel Tempest reduced to nothing more than a broken figure fading into the dirt like so many before him.


    His breathing slowed, then ceased entirely. Whatever blood he still had pooled around him, eventually soaking into the cold earth.


    Thus ended the life of the Steel Tempest, not in a blaze of glory nor peacefully surrounded by his grandchildren as he had always dreamed, but in the quiet solitude of a forest whose name he didn’t even know.


    His body would never be found. He hadn’t spent the night in the cave as he had imagined, but instead remained hidden there for three full days. By the time he left, the search had long ceased, and all available forces were mobilized to attack what remained of his sect.


    The grandchildren he had hoped to be surrounded by were all killed, as were his wife and everyone else who had stayed behind.