My Whole Class Isekai'd to a Xianxia? Good Thing I Can Do Mind-reading - Chapter 321

Chapter 321: Finding One’s Dao
Red Pole’s camp had fallen. Their once-proud defensive array now lay in ruins, torn apart by Obsidian Court’s weapon. The last line of protection was gone. There was no more hiding, no more delaying. War had arrived at their doorstep, and with it came blood.

They had tried everything to avoid a direct confrontation, but fate had other plans. Obsidian Court boasted five times more Transcending Tribulation experts than Red Pole. That didn’t even account for those who didn’t come to participate in the challenge. Comparing the two factions was like placing a stream beside a tsunami.

At the head of the invading force stood Hou Zemin. Gone was the black mask and black robes from before. Now, he wore only his cold and confident gaze of a man who knew he had already won.

“I gave you a chance to surrender,” Hou Zemin said, his voice echoing like thunder across the desert. He raised his short sword high, his spiritual energy flaring like a beacon of death. “You chose to fight. Don’t blame me for the consequences!”

With a single command, Obsidian Court’s troops surged forward like a tide of death.

Though not the best at head-on clashes, their overwhelming numbers gave them confidence. It wasn’t finesse they relied on; it was brute force and superior cultivation. Red Pole’s cultivators stood their ground with grim faces. Their morale was at its lowest, yet still, they refused to surrender. They gritted their teeth and raised their weapons, prepared to die on the sand if necessary.

A colossal sword, forged of pure sword intent, materialized high in the sky. Fan Ying roared and swung it down, cutting through space itself. Desert and space trembled as dozens of Obsidian Court cultivators were annihilated in a single strike.

If battle was inevitable, she would be the one to strike first.

She raised her sword again, but before she could swing, five Transcending Tribulation experts from Obsidian Court surrounded her in an instant. She cursed under her breath.

The same scene unfolded across the battlefield. Each Red Pole powerhouse, those at the Transcending Tribulation or Body Integration realms, was encircled, outnumbered at least five to one.

The desert became a slaughterhouse. Each second, cultivators fell like rain. Though Obsidian Court suffered casualties, Red Pole bore the brunt. Blood soaked the golden sands. Screams filled the air.

Feng Fan wasn’t spared from the chaos.

A group of Return To Void cultivators surrounded him, their auras fierce, murderous. Leading them was a man with a jagged sword scar running down the side of his face, wielding twin daggers that shimmered with dark energy.

“So this is the brat who killed Xiao Zendong?” the scar-faced man sneered, eyeing Feng Fan like a butcher appraising his next cut. “You don’t even have your array now. What are you gonna do, boy? Beg?”

The pressure was suffocating. But Feng Fan’s expression didn’t waver. His lips curled into a mocking smile.

“Why? Want me to kill you too?”

The scar-faced man laughed. “You think you’re dangerous without your toys? You’re not even a Dao Seeking cultivator.”

He lunged, slashing the space between them with one of his daggers. Dark energy carved through space like a guillotine, aiming straight for Feng Fan’s neck.

But just before the strike landed, Feng Fan’s body vanished, sinking smoothly into the sand below. The slash exploded the sand into a chaotic cloud, but Feng Fan was gone.

“Huh?!” The scar-faced man recoiled, eyes scanning wildly. “Where the hell did he go?!”

The other six looked equally baffled. They couldn’t detect Feng Fan’s aura.

Then, without warning, the sand beneath their feet shifted.

It opened like the maw of some ancient desert beast. Before they could react, it swallowed all of them whole. Even those who had been hovering in the air weren’t spared. Cracking noises echoed from below, followed by muffled screams, then silence. Only the sand remained, still and undisturbed, as if nothing had happened.

Hidden deep beneath the surface, Feng Fan opened his spiritual qi vision. The battlefield unfolded before him in spectral hues. He watched calmly, his heartbeat steady.

They thought breaking the defensive array meant he was powerless. Fools. They didn’t know that he had planted dozens of hidden arrays across the camp—and even more on himself.

Most Return To Void cultivators weren’t a threat to him. But the Transcending Tribulation experts… that was another matter.

‘Without the primary defensive formation, I can’t face them head-on. We’re also outmatched…’

Beneath the desert sands, Feng Fan watched.

Sword light carved across the sky. Flames roared. Ice bloomed. Spells clashed with blades, and bodies fell. Screams merged into a single, unending cry of agony. The ground shook, soaked in blood. Heaven and earth became indistinguishable in the chaos of war.

But within the madness, Feng Fan saw something else.

A pattern.

A rhythm.

Even as cultivators fought like animals, even as life flickered and vanished in an instant, there was something almost… elegant about it. The unpredictable paths of flying swords, the untraceable arcs of energy, the spontaneity of battle. It all moved like a dance, wild and untamed, yet strangely beautiful.

It was sublime. Chaos… wasn’t just destruction.

It was freedom.

It was change.

It was truth.

The carefully woven strategies of generals, the grand formations that shaped the battlefield, even the sacred sect doctrines that dictated cultivation paths—none of it mattered when war descended. In the end, it was disorder that reigned. The rules were shattered. The strong fell. The weak rose. And all that remained was raw, unfiltered struggle.

A slow breath escaped Feng Fan’s lips. He finally understood.

“So this… is my Dao.”

For the last years, he had been searching for it, not expecting that it would come when he needed it the most. His soul, divided into ten parts, trembled, then expanded.

It resonated with the battlefield, attuning itself to the war above. In that moment, Feng Fan broke past a barrier, not of realm, but of purpose.

Disorder.

A Dao without structure.

A Dao that rejected control.

A Dao that thrived in unpredictability.