I rode and slashed unparalleled in the Three Kingdoms

Chapter 1132 Such reinforcements, how laughable!

A few days later, Ekbatana.

Su Yao's warning was like a declaration of death, and it quickly spread to every street and every military camp in Ekbatana along with the fleeing soldiers.

Soon, panic spread like a plague, filling the ancient mountain town with an atmosphere of impending doom.

"What did you say?"

"The frontline outposts have been completely wiped out?!"

Inside the governor's mansion, Commander-in-Chief Ispabudan listened to the pleas of the fleeing soldiers, his ruddy face turning deathly pale.

This is absolutely ridiculous!

More than one outpost was destroyed. In the blink of an eye, all eight outposts he had set up around the Salt Desert front were wiped out without exception.

Moreover, the methods were remarkably consistent. Within a single day, all the commanders of the frontline outposts were beheaded. The sentries who witnessed the demon's power fled in terror, and no one dared to take on the role of eyes again.

This has directly resulted in him being completely clueless about the front lines in the salt desert, making his planned harassment and delaying tactics completely impossible to execute.

"asshole!"

"waste!"

"No matter what, he's just one person! Can't you even do a good job of relaying information?"

Ispabdan flew into a rage, grabbed a wine glass from the table and smashed it over the head of the kneeling sentry, leaving him bleeding profusely.

"My Lord, please calm down, my Lord, please calm down!"

The sentry clutched the wound on his head and wailed, "It's not that we didn't do our best, it's just that the demon is too powerful!"

"You didn't see it. Not only are the divine beasts in the sky invulnerable to swords and spears, but the demon himself can also summon thunder."

"Our battalion commander is such a brave warrior, but he was completely powerless against him. A bolt of lightning struck him down and turned him into a charred corpse, still smoking, sir!"

The sentry, tears streaming down his face, collapsed to the ground, howling, "This battle was impossible to fight, sir! The brothers were desperate and could only flee in droves."

"Yeah yeah!"

Another sentry also banged his head on the ground, saying, "That demon isn't human at all! If it weren't for him asking us to deliver a message, we probably wouldn't have made it back!"

"Deliver a message? What message did he ask you to deliver?" Ispabudan asked, clenching his fist, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

Upon hearing the commander-in-chief's question, the sentry realized he had spoken out of turn and quickly covered his mouth, stammering and not daring to answer.

As a result, he was immediately subjected to a severe beating.

"Speak! What message did he send you to deliver!" Ispabdan snatched the whip from his personal guard and personally lashed the sentry's back.

The sharp crack of the whip tearing through the air mingled with the sentries' screams, making the atmosphere in the governor's council chamber so heavy it was almost palpable.

The sentry was whipped so badly he rolled on the ground, finally unable to bear the excruciating pain any longer, and could only cry out and beg for mercy:

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk! That demon… that demon told us to deliver a message: within ten days, he will be standing on the city walls of Ecbatana! If you surrender, he will spare your clan and prevent the people of the city from being slaughtered; if you insist on resisting… he said… he said that this thunder will be your fate!”

The sentry practically roared out the last sentence, and before he could finish, he was so frightened that he fainted.

The council chamber fell into a deathly silence.

Ispabudan's hand holding the whip trembled slightly, the sentry's words echoing in his ears like a spell.

Ten days! They actually said ten days?!
It's important to understand that Ecbatana (modern-day Hamadan) wasn't a city on the edge of the salt desert, but rather in the northwest of the Persian Plateau, hundreds of miles away as the crow flies! There were also rugged mountains and wilderness in between. Even if the Han army could break through the natural barrier of the salt desert, it would be absolutely impossible for a normal army to reach the city within ten days!

"Absurd! Arrogant!" Ispabdan slammed his whip to the ground, trying to dispel the chill in his heart with a roar. "Who does he think he is? How dare he look down on our Parthian army!"

Ispabdan never expected that the demon would be so arrogant, as if the ancient city of Eqbatana was nothing more than a fruit that could be picked at will.

"The Commander-in-Chief"

Just then, a white-haired noble elder spoke tremblingly. He was the hereditary lord of Ecbatana, and compared to the enraged Ispabudan, his face was filled with fear:
"That demon from the East can summon thunder and control divine beasts; no ordinary man can defeat him. The complete annihilation of the eight outposts in a single day is irrefutable proof! In my opinion, perhaps... we should make plans early to avoid total destruction after the city falls!"

"Make plans early? What plans are you going to make!"

Ispabdan whirled around, his eyes bloodshot: "Should we surrender? We are the warriors of Parthia! Ecbatana is the gatekeeper of Ctesiphon. If we surrender, what will happen to His Majesty? What will happen to the foundation of Parthia?!"

No one could answer the question; only Ispabudan's roar echoed in the council chamber, carrying a hint of desperate madness.

The commander-in-chief, appointed by the Parthian king to be in full charge of the frontline military affairs, looked around at the pale-faced, shifty-eyed nobles and generals, and a tremendous sense of powerlessness welled up within him. He knew that the seeds of fear had been sown and were growing wildly.

"Don't be intimidated by the Han people's threats."

"We have an army of 60,000! We have fortified cities! And His Majesty's and Roman reinforcements are on their way!"

"As long as we hold firm, victory and glory will surely be ours!"

Although Ispabudan shouted loudly, he had little confidence in his heart.

Ever since his crushing defeat at Bailaomen, the new king who succeeded him fled to the Western Palace of Taisifeng. Although he frequently issued orders to send troops to resist, he has yet to see any reinforcements.

As for the Roman Empire's reinforcements, it wasn't just an empty promise, but...
Three months ago, His Majesty the Sixth sent an envoy to Rome to request assistance.

Then, a month ago, the first batch of Roman reinforcements arrived in Ctesiphon, numbering as many as 800!
That's right, there's no missing zero, it's not 8000 or 80000, but rather 800 soldiers!

When Ispabudan first encountered the Roman reinforcements, he was inspecting the defenses on the walls of Ecbatana. When his personal guards pointed to the sparsely packed troops in the distance amidst the dust and shouted, "The Romans are coming!", the battle-hardened Parthian commander almost thought he was seeing things.

There were no imaginable heavy infantry formations covering the hillsides, no legendary javelin throwers capable of piercing iron armor, and no Roman legion banners that were said to be "never broken"—only about eight hundred men, dressed in all sorts of armor, some even carrying rusty short swords. The Roman centurion leading them, however, wore a bright silver breastplate, looking like a proper officer.

This was the first wave of reinforcements sent by the Romans. It wasn't a legionary infantry force, but a mercenary unit that had been cobbled together from who-knows-where.

Even Ispabudan didn't know whether these people were sent by Rome or whether His Majesty had found some Greeks and Egyptians in Ctesiphon to put on a show of strength.

But at this point, Ispabudan could only grit his teeth and welcome this wave of reinforcements, then spread rumors that there were still large numbers of reinforcements on the way after the Romans, trying his best to boost morale.

"Is this the Roman reinforcements that the commander-in-chief spoke of, the ones who 'can turn the tide of the battle'?" When the gates of Ecbatana opened and eight hundred Roman reinforcements swaggered into the city under their banners, the nobles in the city all showed surprised expressions and made sarcastic remarks.

Some hot-tempered individuals even stepped forward to expose the fraud, standing in the middle of the road and pointing their fingers at the reinforcements, calling them all liars.

Faced with accusations and questions, the officer in charge of the team remained arrogant.

"Quiet, quiet!"

This man, a genuine Roman centurion named Marcus, could not understand the cacophony of curses, but he could read doubt in the distorted faces. He immediately waved to the Roman mercenaries behind him, ordering them to form a loose square formation. He deliberately tapped his short spears on the cobblestones, making a dull thud—a common tactic of the Roman legions to demonstrate their power, even if they were just a hastily assembled group of mercenaries, they still had to put on the airs of "conquerors."

"Insolence!" Marcus's translator immediately stepped forward and shouted.
"Insolent fools! This is Lord Marcus, sent by His Majesty Emperor Septimius Severus! He has brought Rome's most elite vanguard! Three more legions, totaling 15,000 soldiers, have already assembled in Syria and will arrive soon! How dare you question him?"

The translation is only half true and half false.

The Romans did receive the Parthian plea for help and were indeed wary of the Han army's westward expedition, but in reality, they were powerless to do so.

Septimius Severus was not the only emperor of Rome.

After the assassination of the tyrant Commodus, the Roman Empire quickly descended into civil war, with four emperors standing side by side across the vast empire. Severus had just defeated Nigel, the governor of Syria who had also declared himself emperor, and unified the East, and was now marching toward the Senate.

At this point, how could he possibly have the time to care about these trivial matters in the East?
Therefore, the so-called "three legions" were nothing but empty promises. These eight hundred men were both a test and a "placebo" for Parthia. After taking the opportunity to demand the gold and provisions promised by Parthia, they also had the task of finding out the true strength of the Han state.

Ispabdan's face turned ashen, but he had no choice but to step forward and smooth things over. He grabbed the nobleman who was still cursing and whispered a rebuke, "Stop talking nonsense," before forcing a smile and bowing to Marcus: "Centurion, you have come a long way and must be tired. Ecbatana has prepared provisions and barracks. Please rest first, and we will discuss a strategy to defeat the enemy."

Marcus, however, was unmoved. He walked straight to the chair next to the main seat in the council chamber—the seat that should have been occupied by Lord Ecbatana—crossed his legs, and said in broken Parthian, “Supplies? I want the finest wheat and wine, and enough sheepskin blankets. My soldiers cannot live in tents; they must live in stone houses. Also, when will the five hundred talents of gold promised by the Parthian king be delivered?”

Ispabudan's fists clenched so tightly they cracked, but he could only endure it. Now he had even lost the outpost, and the Salt Desert defense line was practically non-existent. If he offended this only "foreign aid," the morale in the city would only collapse further. He gritted his teeth and agreed: "The gold is being prepared and will be presented in full after the battle. However, the Han army is approaching, so I ask the centurion to help me defend the city."

"Defend the city?" Marcus scoffed, tapping his breastplate with his finger. "Roman shields can stop any arrow, and Roman short swords can pierce any armor. Those Eastern barbarians only win through sorcery. When they besiege the city, I will have my soldiers help you defend it. Then they will know what real war is!"

Ecbatana's defenses were among the strongest on the Persian Plateau. The dark blue stone walls were over two zhang high, covered with crenellations and crossbow emplacements, and there were two moats outside the city. Even jackals would find it difficult to cross the line.

Upon seeing the city, Marcus immediately understood that the Parthians' biggest problem must be the morale crisis following their crushing defeat. Therefore, he made grand promises in an unusually high-profile manner, even claiming that he had brought the protection of the sun god Apollo to temporarily stabilize the morale of the people.

But all of this is only temporary.

On the morning of the third day after the Roman reinforcements entered the city, the sentries on the city walls sounded a piercing alarm.

"Enemy attack! Han army! The Han army is coming!"

The piercing siren shattered the morning tranquility of Eqbatana. The sentry on the city wall scrambled to ring the alarm, his voice trembling with fear.

"What?! Did you see that clearly?!"

After being dragged from his bed by his guards, Commander-in-Chief Ispabdan immediately rushed up the city wall, disheveled, while fastening his armor belt, roaring:
"Why haven't we heard a single word? It's only been a few days! Did they fly over the salt desert and mountains?!"

However, when he looked out while holding onto the cold battlements, he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, and his blood seemed to freeze instantly.

On the distant horizon, billowing smoke and dust made it seem as if tens of thousands of troops were approaching the city at an alarming speed.

"How can it be?!"

"Wasn't it said that there were only a few thousand Han soldiers with about ten thousand surrendered troops?"

"It looks like there are probably at least 100,000 of them!"

The crowd on the city wall stirred up a commotion, but soon, as the army approached, they could see the enemy's face clearly.

At the heart of the army were several thousand disciplined Han cavalrymen in crimson battle robes, leading the charge. Behind them stretched a colorful array of nomadic and auxiliary cavalry, several times the size of the main force.

But these people only numbered at most twenty or thirty thousand cavalry. What was truly astonishing was the endless cavalry that followed them.

That's right, this army had more warhorses than people, reaching a terrifying level of almost three to five horses per person!

"hiss--"

Marcus on the city wall gasped and unconsciously took two steps back.

He didn't know whether it was sorcery or not, but the sheer force of the attack had shattered his previous pride.

This Roman centurion was no fool; he knew all too well the terrifying mobility and impact that one man on multiple horses could deliver. The Roman legions' prized marching speed was like a tortoise crawl against this formation. What alarmed him even more was that this army was not a chaotic horde of barbarians; its core, the Han cavalry, was disciplined and exuded a chilling aura, far surpassing the eight hundred ragtag mercenaries under his command.

Ispabdan's face was even paler than Marcus's. He stared intently at the striking golden figure at the forefront of the smoke, his throat dry: "It's...it's that demon...he really...only took ten days..."

Fear, like a plague, swept across the entire city wall in an instant. The defenders looked at the massive cavalry legion outside the city that seemed to have descended from the sky, and at the golden divine beast that hovered low in the sky, radiating an invisible pressure. Their last shred of hope completely collapsed.

"Surrender! Let's surrender!" The hereditary old nobleman was the first to break down. He grabbed Ispabudan's arm guard, his voice trembling with sobs, "General! For the sake of the city's soldiers and civilians, surrender! He said that as long as we surrender, we will live!"

Marcus, forcing himself to remain calm and attempting to salvage some of Rome's "prestige," drew his short sword and shouted, "You cowards! You only have more cavalry, how can you possibly breach a fortified city? You have high walls! You have plenty of arrows! If you hold out, my soldiers will too..."

Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted by a deafening roar!

boom--! ! !
A blinding bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens, not towards the crowd, but precisely at the huge flagpole of the Parthian King's banner atop the city tower!
The sturdy flagpole snapped in response, and the royal banner embroidered with Parthian totems, billowing black smoke and flames, fell pitifully, crashing heavily against the city wall before tumbling down the city walls.

silence.

A deathly silence enveloped the walls of Ecbatana.

All the guards who witnessed this scene felt a chill run from the soles of their feet to the top of their heads. Divine punishment! This was definitely divine punishment!

Marcus's mouth hung open, but the words he was about to say were stuck in his throat. The short sword in his hand clattered onto the city bricks. The eight hundred mercenaries he had brought were so frightened that they huddled together, no longer resembling the "elite Romans."

Su Yao hovered his Griffin in the air not far from the city wall, his cold gaze sweeping across the top. He didn't even glance at the Roman mercenaries, as if they were nothing more than insignificant ants. He raised his golden mace again, this time pointing it at the city gate.

Although no more lightning struck, the silent threat was more suffocating than any loud noise.

Ispabudan was utterly desperate. He looked at the imposing Han cavalry formation outside the city, at the mythical beast, at the soldiers around him whose morale had completely collapsed and whose eyes were filled with nothing but fear, and then glanced at the group of terrified Romans... His hand holding the sword trembled, and finally fell limply to his side.

"Open...open the city gates..." he squeezed out the words through clenched teeth, as if using all his strength, "Send an envoy...out of the city to surrender..."

(End of this chapter)