The rumbling was incessant, swiftly approaching.
Sheng Zhehan's body tensed. In his view, the yellow stone walls that had endured millennia of weathering shattered, transforming into billowing clouds of dust under the heavy hoofbeats. The remnants of millennia were finally pierced through, turning into powder.
Like a sudden sandstorm erupting.
The last remaining wall crumbled.
The dull explosion sound gradually faded away, followed by the clear sound of flags fluttering. A thousand gray banners emerged like descending dark clouds. At the visible horizon, they rolled forward, accompanied by a thunderous roar.
Sheng Zhehan clenched his jaw, staring ahead unwaveringly. Only a dozen archers—if they scattered, there would be even less hope and chance for victory. It was better to confront them head-on, waiting right in front of the opponent, dozens of bows facing the charge of eight thousand elite iron cavalry—a seemingly suicidal move marked by tragic arrogance.
Dichi's Iron Guard, the elite heavy cavalry under one of the eight Great Khan Kings of the Xiongnu Tribe.
One of the strongest cavalry forces of this era.
With an overwhelming weight exceeding five thousand pounds, their charge exhibited astonishing finesse and unity, like molten iron seeping through the vast earth, stopping abruptly, a thousand and more meters from the Zhan Lu Sword's site.
The flags that initially fluttered backwards were suddenly thrust forward.
Thousands stood as one, silent as death, with an oppressive force that made breathing difficult.
The Xiongnu's stature was far taller and more robust than those of other nations, their bodies covered in handcrafted battle armor, dark and heavy, with long tassels in sunset hues atop their helmets, which concealed their faces entirely except for nose and mouth.
Beneath the crimson-gold wolf pattern banner in the center, a towering man sat on a massive black horse with shoulders reaching three meters high. Clad in heavy yet gleaming black armor, with a dark cloak over his shoulders, he gazed silently forward like a majestic dark mountain.
Under the Heavenly Mountain's cloud-like battle banner, Xiongnu warhorses indistinguishable to the naked eye stood—all pitch black, calmly led by the riders, as seasoned warriors, slight mane shaking but with terrifying pressure, drawn bowstrings seemingly ready to charge at any moment.
Sheng Zhehan looked at the towering man at the front, as despair began to creep into his heart.
The man showed no fear whatsoever, completely ignoring the handful of prepared men, retrieving his gaze from the towering sword-shaped building behind them, revealing a subtle solemn smile, as if commanding his subjects inside his royal tent, saying:
"It appears that guests have arrived here ahead of us."
"In such a situation, having the courage not to flee already marks bravery. Today we are here only to claim the sword. You are not Qin people. We do not wish for the blood of brave warriors from the Western Regions to be spilled here pointlessly."
He raised his horsewhip toward the side, saying:
"Leave now, and you can preserve your lives."
The response was the slight lifting of Sheng Zhehan's war bow. He gripped the center of the strong bow, facing imminent life and death, refusing to kneel as he had once begged, not uttering a word, yet this was the best and most direct answer.
The Xiongnu Great Khan King, clad in black heavy armor, nodded and said:
"Grant them the dignity of a worthy death."
Beside him, a slightly overweight general nodded, spurring his warhorse, the armor plates making a slight rustling sound—grim and chilling.
Meanwhile, within the battle formation, several hundred people urged their warhorses beneath them, faces calm, their pride absolute, even the horses marched uniformly.
Three hundred riders stepped out from the formation, the leading general raising his cavalry spear, pointing the black spearhead toward Sheng Zhehan upfront, absorbing no light, the heavy cavalry's pace gradually synchronized, a giant black wolf emerged from the void, prowling above them, displaying fangs and claws.
The general's prowess instantly soared from initial Fifth Rank to its peak.
Calm and detached, he glanced at Sheng Zhehan, slowly driving his horse forward, the massive warhorse weighing thousands of pounds stepping forward, the three hundred riders transformed from stillness into rapid gallop, hooves thundering like a storm.
The spear was held level, the lone wolf raised its head and howled, lunging forward.
A distance of over a thousand meters was covered in mere breaths. Sheng Zhehan's expression turned icy, his right hand covertly released a fierce Vigorous Qi, severing the original setup traps, yet facing threats potent enough for multiple Sixth Rank Martial Artists, the heavy cavalry with average strength of Ninth Grade did not slow.
Instead, their speed increased. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel✦fire.net
Sheng Zhehan stared at the charging heavy cavalry, oblivious to the traps, his heart racing, then nurtured a sliver of hope, his eyes flickering.
If that's the case, if indeed.
It is possible, possible!
At that moment, the heavy cavalry contacted their traps. Sheng Zhehan's eyes brightened with joy, but then he noticed the fat general's exposed chin curve into a sinister smile, realizing something—a shift in expression.