This Is My Holy Grail War [184]

On a small hill with an open view, there stood a unique house—not a modern high-rise of steel and concrete, but a grand wooden structure of classical design.

It occupied a vast stretch of land, built entirely upon the foundation of a leyline, its magnificence resembling that of a palace.

Yet, despite its ancient exterior, the interior was far from traditional. Modern amenities filled the space—after all, no one truly wished to live like a primitive. Even if civilization were to regress by a hundred years, modern people would struggle to endure it. Aesthetic traditions could be preserved, but comfort was non-negotiable.

This palace, though steeped in history, was still designed for practicality. And within it resided a true emperor.

A gentle breeze rippled across the River of Swords, disturbing its surface with faint waves. The cold northern wind let out a low, mournful howl. Archer listened to its whispers as his gaze drifted into the distance.

Across the river, the remnants of magical energy had yet to dissipate. The air was thick with violence—the traces of battle so raw that even an amateur magus could see them with the naked eye.

The lingering force of Saber’s rampage was enough to make one’s heart tremble. This was the most formidable opponent Archer had yet to face.

Though the night’s battle had ended, Archer did not immediately retire to rest.

“It has been a long time since I’ve encountered such a worthy adversary,” he murmured.

Once, his armies had swept across the land, uniting six nations beneath his rule. He had spared no effort in the pursuit of immortality, searching tirelessly for the elixir of eternal life.

And in the end—he had found it.

The immortals had always hidden themselves within this world. The realm of mystery had never vanished, only retreated into the mountains and forests. But an elixir that worked on all men did not work on him.

As if cursed by fate itself—he had conquered the world, yet remained nothing more than a mortal.

The fear of death had plagued Archer all his life. He knew that the moment he perished, his empire would crumble. And history had proven him right—Qin’s fate had unfolded exactly as he had foreseen.

Archer trusted no one. Not his ministers. Not even his own offspring.

Only he could lead humanity to an era of true prosperity. As long as he lived, the world would know order.

“Wei Yang, how are your wounds?” Archer’s voice carried softly into the darkness.

“They aren’t severe—I can still fight,” Wei Yang answered through gritted teeth. “I have disappointed Your Majesty.” Her tone was laced with self-reproach, steeped in frustration.

“Ha! Disappointed? Not in the slightest.”

Archer let out a hearty laugh before continuing, “To stand with me upon the battlefield—that courage alone is enough to outshine all others.”

He praised her sincerely.

“Do not belittle yourself. Compared to my other concubines, you are far stronger.”

To be struck by a bullet—to have steel tear through flesh—was no less severe than being pierced by an arrow. Even hardened veterans would let out a cry of pain when pulling an arrow from their body.

Wei Yang only managed a quiet, “Thank you…” before falling silent.

Archer could hear the frustration in her voice, the stubborn will that refused to be extinguished. For someone her age, such a fierce resolve was rare.

The traces of Saber’s presence still lingered along the northern bank. Archer recalled their battle—it was clear to him now. Saber had likely gone in search of Berserker’s Master.

If not for that damned ambush, Saber would have already perished for daring to challenge his authority.

For he was the world’s one true emperor.

He would obliterate any who defied the throne.

He would ensure the banner of Qin stood eternal.

But first—he had to claim the Holy Grail. The path to immortality lay right before him.

The Holy Grail…

A glint of light flickered in Archer’s eyes. His desire for the Grail was growing stronger. His obsession more intense.

Because he understood—its power was not limited to granting eternal life.

The Grail was a pure, boundless source of energy. A beacon of absolute might. With it, Archer would not simply extend his life—he would forge the foundation of his next conquest.

Far to the east, the city of Blanche stood as a testament to human progress. Modern technology had eradicated hunger, conquered the cold. Yet, the more advanced civilization became, the lazier its people grew.

They had lost their drive, content to trap themselves within their small, sheltered world.

Archer lifted his head, staring into the vast expanse of the star-filled sky.

And then—he felt it.

A surge of magical energy, pulsing nearby.

It was a provocation.

A challenge issued right outside his temporary palace.

The aura was unfamiliar.

There was no doubt—it was Lancer.

It was he who had set the fires. He who had struck from the shadows.

And now, as Archer had withdrawn—he pursued.

Enough!

Archer’s fury erupted.

With a single command, his warhorse materialized from thin air.

This time, he did not ride his grand war chariot.

No—he would personally take to the battlefield.

The moment Archer laid eyes upon Lancer, he recognized him instantly.

Though Archer had been but a child at the time, he had never forgotten that man’s face.

Why?

Because of the sheer, chilling aura of death that surrounded him.

The infamous butcher of battlefields.

Bai Qi.

A man who had slaughtered countless foes, winning victories against overwhelming odds. A general who dared to sever his own retreat, leading ruthless assaults deep into enemy territory.

But Archer knew one thing for certain—Lancer was not a man who fought battles he could not win.

He was still pondering this when Lancer spoke.

“My Master is a coward who lurks in the shadows. I am merely following orders.”

There was shame in his voice.

And then—an explosion erupted behind Archer!

A massive mushroom cloud surged into the sky, momentarily turning night into day.

The shockwave pulsed outward, so intense that even from afar, Archer could feel the winds tearing at him.

Lancer’s Master had planned to kill Wei Yang in one swift strike. The explosion was a means to draw Archer out—to force him into battle, while rendering him unable to protect his Master.

Servants had no fear of modern weaponry. Explosions could not harm their spiritual forms.

But Masters… Masters were merely human.

“Luring me away, severing my ability to aid my Master—ha!” Archer let out a derisive laugh. “Gongsun Qi, have you forgotten the purpose of the [Great Wall]?”

His gaze sharpened, his fury absolute.

“No, you wouldn’t remember. You weren’t there that day.”

The day he had crushed six kingdoms beneath his rule.

The day he had surpassed the Three Sovereigns and towered above the Five Emperors.

The wind whispered past, carrying dust that settled upon the earth.

Archer turned his head.

Behind him, his palace still stood.

A golden glow enveloped its classical rooftops.

Layer upon layer, its protective barriers stacked atop one another—unyielding, impenetrable.

“Do you see it now? This—this is my [Great Wall].”

His voice thundered across the battlefield.

“The [Great Wall] was never a fortress for defense. It was the vanguard of conquest.”

“My Master resides within. And I stand before you.”

“As long as I live—the Wall shall never fall.”

“Come! Come, all you cowards and schemers lurking in the shadows! Face my legions!”

Clang!

Archer unsheathed his sword, the cold bronze glinting under the moonlight.

And with that command—his army was reborn.

This was not a Noble Phantasm.

This was a skill granted by his class.

The legendary [Terracotta Army], one of the world’s most renowned wonders, had not manifested as a singular treasure.

Instead, it had become part of his very being.

Terracotta soldiers, conjured as tools of war.

As both Archer and Caster, the First Emperor wielded the skills of both classes. His aptitude in crafting artifacts was initially low, yet bolstered by legend, it had ascended to EX rank.

Given enough time, he could create anything—even Noble Phantasms.

But immortality… That belonged to the domain of the gods.

For that, he needed the Holy Grail.

The first legion had risen.

But for Bai Qi… a mere battalion was far from enough.

Archer needed an army of a million!

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This is a fan translation of 这是我的圣杯之战 by 向希望祈祷. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!