Turns Out, I’m In A Villain Clan! Chapter 388 Preparing for the Next Strike

A heavy silence gradually descended upon the battlefield.

It wasn't the silence of peace, but rather the stillness of total exhaustion.

Stained by lingering and catastrophic Qi, the sky remained a grim sight.

The earth below was a fractured wasteland, carved with craters, drenched in crimson, and strewn with the remains of broken weapons and fallen warriors.

The very atmosphere felt weighed down by the carnage.

As the rush of adrenaline finally faded, survivors stood frozen in place, their chests heaving and their hands trembling.

While some leaned heavily against their blades for support, others collapsed to their knees, staring with hollow eyes at the slaughter surrounding them.

It was only now—with the combat truly halted—that the grim tally began.

The disparity in losses was impossible to overlook.

Within the ranks of the Desolate Heaven Empire’s coalition, the casualties were devastating.

Numerous Sects and clans had seen a massive portion of their elite disciples slaughtered during the sudden raid by the Demonic Cultivators.

Fortified lines had crumbled, battle formations were shredded, and an untold number of cultivators had perished before any help could reach them.

Yet, amidst this widespread ruin, the Li Clan and the Zhao Clan stood out as the most battered.

Their forces were in utter shambles.

Nearly a quarter of their total strength had been wiped out.

Twenty-five percent.

Dead!

The expressions worn by the members of the Li and Zhao Clans told a story more vivid than words ever could.

Shock!

Fury!

Bitter regret!

Some glared at the dirt in silence, clenching their fists so tightly that blood dripped from their palms. Others were slumped against jagged rocks, their gazes vacant, paralyzed by a grief they couldn't yet process.

The arrogance they once wore like armor had vanished completely.

They had been targeted specifically—just like the Bai Clan.

However, unlike the Bai Clan...

They had failed to hold their ground.

In stark contrast to the ruin suffered by the Li and Zhao Clans, the Bai Clan appeared as though they had emerged from a different war entirely.

A wave of excitement moved through their ranks.

Disciples shared laughs of pure disbelief, clapping each other on the back. Many looked toward Bai Zihan with profound reverence, their eyes glowing with newfound pride.

Meanwhile, the survivors of the Li and Zhao Clans could do nothing but watch.

Their eyes turned toward the Bai Clan, filled with dark and convoluted emotions. Jealousy mingled with resentment, while disbelief twisted into bitter anger.

One look at their faces told the whole story.

One side was basking in the glow of victory.

The other was drowning in a sea of agony and loss.

The quiet of the aftermath was short-lived.

Orders were soon circulated throughout the camp.

The various leaders were called to attend an urgent war council.

Sect Leaders and Clan heads assembled one by one, their faces masked in grim shadows.

Blood still stained their robes, and the pungent scent of iron clung to them, refusing to fade.

Open discontent simmered among the group.

The motivation for their anger was transparent.

The casualties inflicted by the Demonic Cultivators were simply too massive to ignore.

Most eyes drifted toward the front of the gathering.

They focused on Commander Wei.

The man stood tall, his posture resolute yet heavy, with his hands locked behind his back. He made no attempt to dodge the accusing glares of the gathered elite.

He was well aware that this disaster was a direct result of his failure to spot such a massive enemy force infiltrating their lines.

Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward, cupped his fists, and performed a deep bow.

"This failure rests entirely on my shoulders," Commander Wei declared firmly. "I accept full responsibility."

He straightened his back, meeting their gazes steadily.

"It is undeniable that we failed to see them coming."

Then, his voice shifted—becoming heavier and more frigid.

"However," he went on, "the Demonic Cultivators utilized a strategy we never foresaw."

"They employed a concealment art capable of shielding them even from the divine senses of the Immortal Realm."

A collective gasp of shock rippled through the pavilion.

Commander Wei was not prone to exaggeration.

"Even those in the Immortal Realm could not detect them until the slaughter began," he stated calmly. "By the time their Demonic Qi was finally exposed, the damage was already done."

A heavy silence followed his words.

Li Jianhong’s white-knuckled grip loosened slightly.

Other leaders traded glances, their fury being replaced by a sense of stunned disbelief.

If those in the Immortal Realm were blind to the threat, what hope did ordinary scouts have?

What kind of defense could they have possibly prepared against such a thing?

And how had the Demonic Cultivators managed to hide an army of that size from the world?

The resentment didn't vanish, but it suddenly lacked a clear target.

If there was anyone to blame for the lives lost, it could only be their own insufficient Cultivation and strength.

Commander Wei stood motionless for a beat before speaking again.

His tone was neither defensive nor evasive.

"I did not account for this when our strategies were formed," he admitted bluntly. "That is my error."

He cupped his fists once more.

"However, mourning what has passed will not resurrect the fallen," Commander Wei said.

"The only thing that matters now is our next move!"

The pavilion grew even more hushed.

"If the Demonic Cultivators are able to bypass our detection and strike our heart," he said slowly, "then our previous strategies are useless!"

Several leaders frowned in thought.

"Should this happen again, we likely won't know they are there until the first blow lands."

Commander Wei pressed on.

"If that is our reality, then our sole option is to mobilize every available force and prepare for a direct, head-on confrontation."

He raised his eyes to meet theirs.

"Every unit must be stationed where they can react instantly the moment the Demonic Cultivators show themselves."

A few of the leaders nodded their heads in instinctive agreement.

"We must operate under the assumption that they have already infiltrated us. When they strike, we must strike back without a second's delay. Does anyone object?"

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then—Zhao Wutian rose to his feet.

His face was composed, but his eyes were sharp and piercing.

"I have no issue with that," Zhao Wutian said with a nod. "If detection is impossible, then a head-on clash is the only path forward."

A murmur of consensus spread through the leaders.

"But," he added, his voice lowering with a subtle edge, "there is a far more serious issue we must confront."

Commander Wei looked toward him.

"And what problem would that be?"

Zhao Wutian’s eyes scanned the assembled leaders one by one, lingering on Bai Tianheng slightly longer than the rest.

Then, he spoke.

"There is a traitor in our midst."

The accusation cut through the air like a cold blade.

The atmosphere tightened instantly.

Several leaders tensed up, while others narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

"A strategy known only to the high command was leaked," Zhao Wutian continued with a cold tone.

"The Demonic Cultivators knew exactly when to attack, which spots were weak, and how to slip through our defenses."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

"That is no mere coincidence."

No one spoke up to disagree.

Because in their hearts, they all realized he was right.

If the Demonic Cultivators could infiltrate their ranks...

Then it was highly probable that they had already compromised the leadership itself.