The Bad Guys: Everyone, let’s revive the Tang Dynasty together!

Chapter 440 Before the Battle, the King of Qin (The End)

The wind and snow, like gravel, lashed against the last rugged ridge on the eastern foothills of the Taihang Mountains.

With each valiant climb, the deep, bone-revealing arrow wound on Bago's left arm felt like it was being branded with a red-hot iron. Fresh blood seeped out, instantly congealing into a dark red, glaring shell on her cold, soaked coat. Every muscle contraction brought excruciating pain. She gritted her teeth, tasting the metallic sweetness of rust on her tongue, yet dared not pause for a moment.

Behind them, Shangguan Yunque was constantly moving around, fending off the relentless pursuers. The sharp sounds of weapons clashing and muffled groans could be heard continuously.

"Quick, get on that rock," Bago roared hoarsely, his voice shattered by the wind and snow.

She whirled around, ignoring the sharp pain in her left shoulder, and with her right hand, she unleashed a silver thread that shot out precisely, wrapping around the edge of a weathered boulder above. Using the momentum, she swung wildly, narrowly avoiding a stray arrow shot from below. The arrow pierced the crevice in the rock where she had just stood with a sharp "thud."

Despite the excruciating pain, she turned around and pulled the two night scouts who were taking turns carrying Li Cunren—codenamed Rock and another codenamed Green Stone—up onto the giant rock. On Green Stone's back, the unconscious Li Cunren was as light as a feather, his breath so faint as to be almost imperceptible.

Bago lay prone on the cold rock, her lungs like broken bellows, each breath accompanied by the excruciating pain of ice shards scraping against her throat, her exhaled breath instantly swallowed by the gale. She quickly scanned the area below and saw Shangguan Yunque locked in combat with the chain-wielding man from before, their blades and spears clashing fiercely on the narrow mountain path, sparks flying everywhere.

Another warrior, wielding two daggers, glided along the ground like a ghost, attempting to bypass Shangguan Yunque and head straight for Qingshi, who was carrying Li Cunren. Further away, behind the rocks, the arrows of powerful archers gleamed coldly, locked onto the same target.

"Watch out for the left flank!" Bago warned sharply, simultaneously directing his thoughts. The waning blood snake in his sleeve transformed into a dark red lightning bolt, not to attack, but to suddenly dart towards the loose snow and gravel behind the bluestone. The blood snake's movement triggered a small avalanche, sending rocks tumbling down. Although it failed to injure the enemy, it successfully delayed the dual-dagger assassin's attack route.

Upon hearing the sound, Qing Shi reacted with lightning speed, her body slamming against the right rock wall, narrowly preventing the double daggers from striking. The daggers scraped against the rock, sending sparks flying. Almost simultaneously, Bago's coiled silver threads hummed as they shot out again, this time targeting the rock top where the strong archer was hiding. The grappling hook embedded itself in a crevice, and with a sudden pull, a large patch of snow and gravel was torn down, crashing towards the strong archer's position, forcing him to abandon his aim and scramble to avoid it.

"Go, don't worry about me. You guys go first!" Shangguan Yunque shouted from behind. He leaped forward despite being surrounded by several people, and even managed to take a sweeping blow from a chain spear. He then used his sword to force back the double-dagger assassin, buying Bago and the others a few moments.

With a low growl, Pan Shi disregarded the deep gash in his arm from the previous battle and used his last strength to support Qing Shi. Together, the two of them carried Li Cunren on their backs and charged towards the breach opened by Shangguan Yun Que, using both hands and feet. Slippery snow and loose gravel tumbled down their feet, and every step felt like walking on the edge of life and death.

Bago followed closely behind, her coiled silk coils shooting out continuously, sometimes to help her climb, sometimes to distract the assassins pursuing her below. Her face was already ashen white from blood loss and depletion of internal energy. She could clearly hear the increasingly annoying, deliberately suppressed breathing of the Tongwen Hall experts behind her, like maggots clinging to her bones.

"Get over it." Bago pointed ahead at the narrow pass, briefly blurred by the wind and snow. The hope of survival was squeezed into a faint spark in despair. The group used their last remaining strength to drag and push each other, the rocks and stones even using their shoulders to brace against each other. Finally, struggling and rolling, they managed to get over the pass that determined life and death.

The snowstorm seemed to have subsided somewhat. Below lay the Hebei Plain, an endless expanse of pale white. The frozen Hutuo River, like a lifeless, greyish-white python, meandered into the hazy distance.

Not far from the foot of the mountain, on the plain, hundreds of Iron Forest soldiers formed a somewhat thin but exceptionally resilient defensive circle, taking advantage of the terrain. Lightweight round shields were tightly linked, and long spears pointed diagonally, casting imposing silhouettes on the snow. Wen Tao moved anxiously within the formation, his gaze fixed intently on the direction of the mountain ridge.

Hope was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, creating only a faint ripple before being swallowed up by deeper exhaustion and the approaching killing intent from behind. There was no Zhao army to come to their aid, only a few hundred cavalrymen standing ready in battle, and the Grim Reaper lurking behind them, ready to claim their lives.

"Charge down!" Shangguan Yunque forced Shang and the others back again, and took the lead in clearing a path down the steep and slippery hillside. The four of them, catching their breath, followed Shangguan Yunque's route downhill, each step accompanied by the danger of falling rocks and losing control of their bodies.

But just as they were descending, an unusual tremor suddenly came from the flank of the plain.

A larger, more turbulent black wave swept out without warning from behind a low hill to the west.

More than a thousand Crow Army soldiers and several thousand Jin cavalrymen traveled swiftly and lightly, all wearing leather armor or light lamellar armor for easy movement.

Although the Jin army was slightly hindered by the iron caltrops and nails laid by Wen Tao inside Tumen Pass, which slowed their pursuit, the speed and wild momentum they were unleashing at this moment were still terrifying. The horses' hooves trampled the thin ice covering the field ridges and roughly rolled over the edges of any possible deserted villages, as if they were stepping not on foreign territory, but on an unclaimed wasteland.

"Fourth Brother." Li Cunli rode closely beside Li Siyuan, his brow furrowed, his voice hurried in the wind, "Although the Zhao army is cowardly, they still have troops within their territory. If Wang Rong is incited by the Liang people and gathers his forces to ambush them from the rear..."

Li Siyuan abruptly waved his hand, rudely interrupting Li Cunli's words. His gaze swept past Tie Lindu, who was forming an array, and locked onto the few tiny figures on the hillside, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Wang Rong? A mere rat. He wouldn't dare step out of the city even if he had ten lives. Order the vanguard to spread out and flank from both sides. As for the center, crush them all! Anyone who blocks our path, human or animal, shall be trampled to dust!"

There were obstacles blocking their way ahead and pursuers behind.

Shangguan Yunque, Bago, and the other three were completely squeezed between the steep hillside and the surging black tide, like a sampan about to be smashed to pieces in a raging sea.

"Quick!" Pan Shi roared, like a wounded tiger, and together with Qing Shi, who was carrying Li Cunren, they unleashed their last ferocity, protecting the two in the middle as they charged downwards.

On the hillside, a deadly threat suddenly loomed.

A dark figure emerged from behind the rocks on the side like a ghost, its chain gun flashing like a venomous snake, tearing through the air with a sharp whistling sound, its angle extremely tricky, aimed straight at the unsuspecting rock in the back.

Almost simultaneously, another figure, gliding along the ground like a shadow, silently slashed at the ankles of the person carrying the load, their twin daggers gleaming with a chilling light. Further away, behind a protruding rock, several skilled members of the Tongwen Academy, barely keeping up, panted heavily, their bows drawn halfway, the arrows shifting slightly with the staggering figure of the person carrying the load, trying to find the perfect moment to strike.

Bago's eyes widened in fury. With a backhand sweep, several silver threads suddenly lashed out at the wrist of the chain gun's owner, forcing her attack to falter. However, her own ribs were wide open, and another silent short blade grazed past, leaving a trail of blood. The excruciating pain made her groan, and she slipped, almost tumbling to the ground.

Rock roared and turned, parrying a second strangulation attack from the chain gun with his short knife, but a throwing knife hurled by another assassin pierced his shoulder blade. His body shuddered violently, and enduring the excruciating pain, he slammed Qing Shi to the ground. A cold arrow, accompanied by a deathly whistle, grazed his scalp and embedded itself deep in the frozen earth.

Qing Shi groaned as another arrow grazed his calf, instantly staining his trousers with blood. He desperately protected the person on his back and struggled to stand up.

Down the mountain, Wen Tao's eyes were bloodshot. The elite Jin cavalry at the forefront barely formed ranks before, urged on from behind, they surged forward like a black torrent of steel, crashing violently into Tie Lindu's shield and turret formation.

"Hold on!" Wen Tao's roar was drowned out by the deafening impact.

A series of muffled thuds, the dying neighs of warhorses, the dull thuds of blades piercing flesh, and the cracking of bones shattering instantly intertwined into a symphony of death. The Raven Army's light cavalry, though lacking heavy armor, possessed unparalleled horsemanship and charged with fearless ferocity. The Iron Forest's battle line, like a dam repeatedly pounded by a giant hammer, twisted and undulated violently. Shields shattered under the immense force of the impacts, and soldiers wielding them coughed up blood as they flew backward, instantly engulfed by the hooves of their pursuers. Arrows from both sides soared into the air like locusts, their shrill whistles indiscriminately covering the deathly slope in the center, claiming life after life.

"Make backup! Make backup even if it kills us!" Wen Tao's voice was piercing. He saw the group getting closer and closer on the hillside, but couldn't find an opportunity. His heart was burning with anxiety.

Fortunately, at that very moment, several muffled, earth-shaking sounds, like the earth turning over, came from a low-lying wasteland near the rear of Wen Tao's lines without warning.

The snow and frozen ground were violently hurled dozens of meters into the air by the explosion. The turbid, icy waters of the Hutuo River, like a primordial beast breaking free of its shackles, roared and churned, surging into the huge, man-made depression. A troop of light cavalry from the Raven Army, attempting a high-speed flanking maneuver to tear apart the Iron Forest Capital's defenses, was as if struck by an invisible wall, instantly swept into the icy, muddy vortex. For a moment, men and horses were thrown about, but the fierce momentum of their flanking charge was finally abruptly cut short.

"Good!" Wen Tao's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he shouted hoarsely, "Bows and crossbows, target the mud, pin them down. Light cavalry, flank left and right, shoot the horses. Quickly, go and provide support!"

The crossbowmen of Tielindu displayed astonishing tenacity, raining down a dense barrage of bolts upon the Jin soldiers and horses mired in the mud, struggling and groaning. Led by Gongyang Zuo, the light cavalry on both flanks, who had joined forces after the river had been breached, galloped forward, their crossbows spitting out arrows, clearing a bloody path for the Jin warhorses and riders trying to escape the mud.

This sudden chaos gave the four people on the hillside, who were on the verge of despair, a last glimmer of hope for survival.

Shangguan Yunque and Bago, dragging the dying but still clinging to the back of the blue stone carrying Li Cunren, and with the tragic cover of the rock behind them using its body to withstand an assassin and then using its last strength to slam him off the cliff, the three of them, covered in blood, finally rushed into the support cavalry led by Gongyang Zuo.

Li Cunren was quickly placed in a relatively stable position at the center of the formation, and several blood-soaked warriors immediately formed a final human wall on both sides of him using their bodies and broken shields.

The rock disappeared into the snow-covered, rocky hillside.

Li Siyuan watched the vanguard struggling in the quagmire like lambs to the slaughter, and watched Wen Tao's troops retreat into the depths of the plains once again after breaking off contact. His face was so gloomy it was almost dripping with water. A flash of rage crossed his eyes, tinged with a sense of frustration at being outmaneuvered.

"Useless! Spread out on both flanks and bypass that muddy swamp. Li Cunxiao, you fucking charge forward and smash a path through it with your spears! If you don't get the Tiger Tally back, you'll all come back with your heads."

The black tide surged once again, displaying the resilience and ferocity befitting its dominance over the North.

Wen Tao's troops fought and retreated, but soldiers kept falling, leaving intermittent, glaring scarlet trails and discarded, broken weapons on the pristine snow. They retreated into a relatively open plain, the vast land of Zhenzhou stretching out beneath their feet, yet they could not see the other side of life.

Deep within the heart of the Zhao state, the Zhao army never once sent troops to provide support or intercept them.

But just as the exhausted remnants of the Iron Forest forces retreated into this open area, attempting to regroup, a new, even heavier shadow appeared out of nowhere on the horizon, blocking their path of retreat.

A large cavalry force, clad in gleaming armor and adorned with a forest of banners, stood silently and orderly in formation. Though far outnumbered by the Jin army, their formation was nonetheless impressive.

On the banners fluttering in the wind and snow, the words "Beiping" waved. Leading the charge was a young general, clad in golden helmet and silver armor; he was Wang Yu, the eldest son of Wang Chuzhi, the Prince of Beiping. He reined in his horse before the enemy lines, his gaze sweeping over Wen Tao's retreating troops, then over the relentless pursuit of the Ya Army in the snow, a faint smile of satisfaction playing on his lips.

Wang Yu spurred his horse forward a few steps, his voice booming, barely drowning out the howling wind and snow: "This is the territory of Zhenzhou in Hebei. The Jin and Liang armies are both guest forces. You fight and chase each other here, swords flying everywhere, smoke billowing, as if my Hebei towns are nothing? You disturb the peace of my homeland and harm my innocent people. Is this the behavior of a righteous army?"

He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the figures vaguely visible in Wen Tao's formation. His tone turned cold, carrying an undeniable force: "To ensure peace in Hebei and prevent further bloodshed, please hand over the people you are protecting and their belongings to my Dingzhou army. I, the Prince of Beiping, will handle this matter impartially and provide an explanation to all parties. The rest of you, retreat immediately, and do not say you were not warned!"

Wen Tao commanded his remaining troops to protect Li Cunren at the center, forming a smaller and more precarious defensive circle.

Every face stained with blood and mud was etched with extreme exhaustion, despair at Zhao Jun's broken promise, and the final, desperate glint of a wounded, trapped beast locked in a desperate battle.

Bago barely managed to stay afloat on her horse, each heavy breath aggravating the wound in her ribs, bringing excruciating pain. She looked at the Jin army's snowy dust relentlessly pursuing her, and at the dark mass of Dingzhou troops ahead, waving the banner of "fairness." Her eyes were empty and numb, as if all her strength and all her hopes had been completely extinguished at this moment.

Shangguan Yunque leaned on his chipped and bloodstained sword, his chest heaving violently. His gaze briefly met that of Gongyang Zuo, who was also covered in blood but whose eyes were even more ferocious. The two men, who usually looked down on each other, understood the pure determination in each other's eyes.

Behind them, Li Siyuan had already led the main force of the Crow Army closer. He naturally saw and heard the Dingzhou army blocking his way and Wang Yu's righteous and stern declaration.

"Grand Commandant, Marquis Xue, is Wang Yu, the eldest son of Wang Chuzhi." A lieutenant rushed to Li Siyuan's side. "Judging from their formation, they number quite a few; it seems this was premeditated. Should we…?"

"Premeditated?" Li Siyuan's lips curled into an extremely contemptuous sneer. He swept his gaze across the seemingly disciplined formation of the Dingzhou army as if it were nothing, his tone filled with undisguised disdain.

"Wang Chuzhi? A fence-sitter guarding a tiny place, only good at currying favor with everyone. And his eldest son, still wet behind the ears, wants to play the mantis stalking the cicada?" He suddenly waved his hand, his voice turning sharp, "What bullshit about supervision and punishment? He's just trying to take advantage of me, trying to raise his price. Does Wang Yu even deserve to put on airs in front of me? He dares to block my way?!"

He suddenly spurred his horse, and the warhorse, in pain, bolted forward. Li Cunli, with his sleeves tucked in, slowly followed.

Li Siyuan raised his whip, pointing directly at Wen Tao's crumbling cavalry and Wang Yu's Dingzhou army ahead: "My lads, those remnants ahead are already sitting ducks. As for the Dingzhou army, they're nothing but a bunch of foxes borrowing the tiger's power. The late king's relics and the traitors are right before our eyes. Anyone who dares to block our way will be crushed. Whoever captures the traitor will be rewarded with a thousand gold pieces and promoted three ranks!"

The Crow Army was the elite of the Shatuo, and their commander's contempt and the promise of a great reward instantly ignited their ferocity. The raging tide, which had just been held back by the swamp, slowly began to accelerate again. With its last ounce of strength, the black waves whipped up a cloud of snow and dust, charging toward their prey, which was now trapped in a double encirclement.

Li Cunxiao, who had been addressed by his full name by Li Siyuan earlier, took the lead, raising his massive Yuwang Spear high above his head and letting out a deafening roar, like a raging prehistoric beast, charging straight towards Wen Tao's center of the formation.

Wang Yu was clearly taken aback by Li Siyuan's domineering and arrogant attitude, which disregarded his and the prestige of the Dingzhou army, and even resorted to direct insults. The stern expression on his face froze instantly, turning ashen with shock and rage. The Dingzhou soldiers under his command were also intimidated by the momentum of the Crow Army's charge, and their formation began to visibly tremble.

Behind them was the Jin army, and even Li Cunxiao's huge figure, with its unparalleled ferocity, was almost within reach. In front, Wang Yu's Dingzhou army was briefly thrown into chaos by Li Siyuan's contempt and forceful charge, but it still blocked their retreat.

The remnants of Wen Tao's troops were caught in a true ambush, and despair, like an icy tide, instantly drowned out their last shred of hope.

Just moments before this suffocating, despairing silence was about to be utterly torn apart by a new, even more brutal and chaotic massacre.

笃…

笃…

笃…

笃…

A strange, deep, yet incredibly clear sound pierced through the howling wind and snow, overpowering the snorting of warhorses and Li Cunxiao's roar. It came from the south of the battlefield, like a steady and powerful pulse emanating from the depths of the earth, rolling closer and closer.

The sound was initially fine and dense, like raindrops striking armor, carrying a cold, hard metallic quality. Then, the sound became deep and heavy, like countless heavy war drums being struck simultaneously, rising in a continuous, terrifying rhythm that crushed everything and shattered one's heart.

It wasn't deliberately noisy, yet it contained an absolute power that could tear apart all obstacles and dominate all life and death. All sounds on the battlefield seemed to be instantly wiped out by an invisible giant hand in the face of this strange, ever-approaching rhythm.

Between heaven and earth, only the increasingly loud, ever-closer "thump-thump" sound remained, pounding against everyone's heart. Wen Tao suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot, almost bulging eyes fixed on the snow-covered horizon to the south. Shangguan Yunque's knuckles, gripping the knife, cracked slightly from excessive force, his knuckles pale. Gongyang Zuo, as if struck by a thought, turned back to look south, grinning broadly.

In the depths of Bago's empty, numb eyes, a faint glimmer, like a candle flickering in the wind, suddenly and violently jolted, as if something deep within his soul had been struck hard by that sound.

The curtain of snow and wind in the south was suddenly torn apart by an overwhelming, invisible force.

The first thing that catches everyone's eye is a large black flag.

The flag fluttered wildly in the biting north wind, its fluttering sound echoing through the air. The single character "Xiao" on it, written with powerful strokes and immense force, resembled a burning black thunderbolt, radiating an awe-inspiring and imposing aura against the gray and chaotic sky.

Under the banner, one rider took the lead.

There was no dazzling golden helmet, no magnificent ceremonial guard. He wore only a slightly dusty, dark blue, narrow-sleeved military robe, over which was an unremarkable old cloak of the same color. The hem of the cloak was stretched straight as a blade by the fierce wind whipped up by his galloping horse.

The wind and snow lashed against his calm, serene face, obscuring his features. Only his eyes remained, deep and unfathomable like a cold, ancient well, or perhaps containing the stars and the universe. Wherever his gaze fell, the air seemed to freeze and time seemed to stand still.

The sword at his waist, the Qi King's sword, was simple and unadorned, its scabbard even bearing the mud splatters left from a long journey. His hand, controlling the reins, was remarkably steady, without the slightest tremor. The magnificent white warhorse beneath him exhaled thick, almost tangible white vapors, billowing like clouds. Its powerful muscles bulged and jutted beneath its sweat-drenched, glistening coat, each tendon pulsating with the testament to a superhuman, exhausting long-distance trek.

A white horse, a military robe, an old cloak, and a turban—seemingly unremarkable, yet at this moment, they were captivating and unforgettable…because almost everyone could recall countless things from this figure.

Today, the world is in turmoil and war is almost everywhere. Yet, in these past few decades, across the vast land, there has only been one person who has suppressed the world with the single phrase "commanding troops to quell injustice."

This was built by this young man in his early twenties over four years, from Hebei to the northern deserts, from the Central Plains to the remote borderlands, from Bianliang to Chengdu, from Li Cunxu to Yang Shihou, from Zhu Wen to Wang Jian, with countless victories... It cannot be faked.

Even right now, in the very present moment, the few elite crow soldiers in the Jin army might have a deeper impression of this man. The blood shed on the banks of the Gaoliang River three years ago was undoubtedly spilled by their own bodies.

The young man rode ahead alone, followed by no more than a hundred riders.

Everyone was covered in light armor, the plates of which were not new, bearing numerous dents and scratches from being hacked and slashed, and thick frost from their long journey. Their faces were covered with ferocious iron masks that only revealed their eyes, and the gazes behind the masks, piercing through narrow eye sockets, were cold, indifferent, and devoid of any emotion.

The warhorses were equally strong and tall, their movements perfectly synchronized, man and horse as one, like a precise whole. There were no shouts, no cries, only the deep clang of armor scales rubbing together, and the heavy thud of hooves striking the frozen earth in unison.

However, what truly plunged the entire battlefield into deathly silence was not merely these hundred riders.

Slightly to the side and rear of this torrent of hundreds of cavalry, a large and well-disciplined army of infantry and cavalry, like a silent mountain, slowly pressed into the battlefield.

First came a smaller banner bearing the character "Zhao," beneath which King Zhao Rong was practically carried on horseback by two burly armored soldiers. His face was ashen, his lips trembled, his eyes were unfocused and vacant, and his body shook violently. His magnificent robes were covered in mud and snow, making him look utterly disheveled.

Beside Wang Rong, his most favored eunuch, Shi Ximeng, lay slumped on a packhorse like a lump of mud, held down by guards to prevent him from slipping. Tears streamed down his face, and his lower body was a mess of wet stains, emitting a foul stench. Equally striking was a close attendant beside Wang Rong's horse. He held an ordinary wooden box in his hands, utterly unremarkable, yet this attendant was deathly pale, his hands trembling like leaves, as if he were holding a red-hot iron, his eyes filled with extreme fear.

Behind this disheveled "ceremonial procession," symbolizing the highest power of the Zhao state, lay the truly formidable force. Zhao had deployed its entire elite army. The infantry phalanx, gleaming in armor, stood like a forest of spears and a wall of shields. Though lacking the overwhelming ferocity of a hundred cavalrymen, their disciplined bearing and silent yet undeniable power were undeniable. The cavalry, arrayed on either flank, were fully armored and rode powerful warhorses—clearly Zhao's most prized asset.

The appearance of these troops silently proclaimed one fact: the State of Zhao had mobilized its entire forces under the will of its true ruler.

The appearance of the Xiao banner was like an invisible giant hand, instantly seizing control of the entire battlefield.

Throughout the entire battlefield, regardless of north or south, east or west, everyone present was filled with dread.

The charging Jin cavalry, as if crashing into an invisible stone wall, suddenly tightened their reins. The galloping warhorses were forcibly brought to a stop, neighing in pain and terror, their forelegs raised high.

Wang Yu's warhorse in front of the Dingzhou army began to paw the ground restlessly, snorting and retreating, disrupting the previously orderly formation into chaos. The stern expression on Wang Yu's face instantly shattered, replaced by disbelief, horror, and pallor, and he instinctively steered his horse backward.

The remaining soldiers, huddled in a circle in the center of the battlefield, suddenly relaxed from their near despair. Someone, perhaps the first to do so, let out a hoarse cry, tinged with the relief of surviving a catastrophe: "King Qin! King Qin! It's King Qin!"

The shout was like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly igniting a blazing fire in the eyes of Bago and the others, including all the remaining Nightbringers.

As for the Jin army's formation, the rage, frustration, and determination on Li Siyuan's face vanished without a trace in an instant.

His pupils suddenly contracted, fixed on the banner bearing the character "Xiao" and the figure in the black cloak beneath it. An indescribable fear of the man before him, originating from the deepest recesses of his soul and etched into his very bones, instantly gripped his heart, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

The next moment, Li Siyuan suddenly turned his head and looked at Li Cunli beside him, whose face was already in a daze. His eyes were filled with surprise and doubt, and a trace of barely perceptible plea for confirmation.

Li Cunli recognized the banner even earlier than him, and immediately recognized the figure. His lips trembled slightly unconsciously, and he whispered in Li Siyuan's ear in a hurried voice that only the two of them could hear: "Big brother... it's him."

This final confirmation was like the last straw that broke the camel's back, completely crushing the last shred of hope and resistance in Li Siyuan's heart. His fingers, which were holding the reins, trembled unconsciously, and a feeling of weakness and powerlessness swept over his entire body.

In the Crow Army's ranks, several surviving officers who had personally experienced the defeat at Gaoliang River turned pale and lost all color the moment they saw the man's silhouette and the unique Xiao-character flag.

One of them couldn't help but let out a suppressed whimper, like a dying beast, and tumbled off his horse, banging his head against the ground towards the southern banner, his forehead pressed against the muddy snow, his body trembling violently. This silent collapse, like a drop of boiling oil, instantly spread a wave of suppressed panic throughout the Crow Army.

Li Cunxiao also stopped in his tracks. His beast-like intuition sensed a familiar, deadly threat. For the first time, the Yuwang Spear that Li Siyuan had specially provided for him lowered heavily, his fierce, bell-like eyes filled with intense fear and a trace of unprecedented bewilderment. A low, uneasy roar escaped his throat, but he dared not take another step forward.

On the hillside, the members of the Shang organization and the experts from Tongwen Hall, who were about to chase after them, instantly concealed all their presence like demons exposed to the midday sun. They hid even deeper in the shadows or behind the rocks on the hillside, not daring to make the slightest move.

Dead silence.

Only the howling of the wind and snow and the restless snorting of warhorses echoed over this battlefield that had been completely shaken.

In the suffocating silence, Xiao Yan gently flicked the reins. Alone on horseback, he slowly spurred his horse forward a few steps, calmly distancing himself from the hundred riders behind him. His old cloak fluttered in the wind, his posture as leisurely as if he were merely patrolling his own hunting grounds.

His gaze calmly swept across the chaotic battlefield, over the jubilant remnants of the Night Scouts who were cheering and even shouting "Long live the Emperor!", over the black tide that had been forced to a halt, over the Dingzhou army whose formation was in disarray, and finally landed on the front lines of the Jin army. His voice was not loud, but it clearly pierced through the wind and snow, reaching every corner of the battlefield, carrying an unquestionable, almost divine, authority.

"Li Cunli."

Li Cunli's body stiffened abruptly when his name was called. Countless gazes, like tangible needles, instantly focused on him. He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging, overwhelming fear, and striving to maintain his last shred of composure. He quickly straightened his brocade robe, which had been slightly disheveled from the pursuit, pushed aside the guards who tried to escort him, straightened his back, and, step by step, painstakingly maintained his dignity, spurred his horse out of the Crow Army's ranks, dismounting about ten paces in front of Xiao Yan's horse.

He did not kneel immediately, but first clasped his hands together and performed an extremely solemn and meticulous bow, bending his waist very deeply. When he raised his head, his face had tried his best to regain its composure, but there was still a slight tremor in his voice that he was trying hard to suppress.

"Your subject Li Cunli greets Your Highness, the Prince of Qin. May Your Highness enjoy boundless blessings."

Xiao Yan sat upright on his horse, his calm gaze fixed on Li Cunli as if examining an object, utterly undisturbed. He did not immediately order him to straighten up, but instead asked in his indifferent tone, "The Prince of Jin sent you as an envoy to seek peace with Bian. I have granted your request."

He paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over the devastated Zhao territory behind Li Cunli, trampled under the iron hooves of the Jin army. His voice remained calm: "But today, your Jin troops have dared to trespass into the territory of my vassal state, Zhao." He emphasized the words "my vassal state," his gaze then sweeping over the wounded but upright Wen Tao troops. "What is the purpose of pursuing and killing my troops?"

Li Cunli maintained his bowed posture, his head slightly lowered to avoid the intimidating gaze. His speech was steady, yet with a barely perceptible increase in pace: "Your Highness, please understand... We were ordered by the Prince of Jin to pursue and suppress the rebels Bago and Li Cunren... These two stole important treasures of the Jin Kingdom; the evidence is conclusive, and their crimes are unforgivable... We truly did not know... we truly did not know that they were traveling with Your Highness's subordinates, nor did we know that Your Highness's subordinates were carrying out official duties within the territory of Zhao... leading to their clash with the royal army... This is all a misunderstanding. I am terrified and earnestly beg Your Highness..."

At this point, Li Cunli was unable to utter another word.

Xiao Yan stopped looking at him, glancing past Li Cunli's forced composure without a second glance, and abruptly turned to Li Siyuan in the Crow Army formation, whose face was ashen, eyes darting wildly, and forehead beaded with cold sweat. His voice remained calm, yet it contained an invisible pressure capable of crushing mountains, echoing clearly across the deathly silent battlefield.

"Li Cunren."

These three words struck Li Siyuan like a thunderbolt.

His heart pounded wildly, almost leaping out of his throat, and a chill instantly shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. His innate, pragmatic, and self-serving instincts instantly overwhelmed all other thoughts.

Suddenly, his life and death seemed to be completely and utterly in the hands of the man before him. Any hesitation, any so-called dignity, any explanation would be utterly foolish and a path to certain death!

Without the slightest hesitation, and even with an almost instinctive, extreme desire for survival, Li Siyuan was about to spur his horse forward when he heard Xiao Yan speak calmly.

"Dismount and crawl over on your knees."

Li Siyuan's face twitched, but he still managed a forced laugh. Just then, a loud shout rang out from behind Xiao Yan.

"The King of Qin orders you to crawl over here!"

This time, under Xiao Yan's indifferent gaze, Li Siyuan hesitated for a moment, then his Adam's apple bobbed, and under countless horrified, contemptuous, and incredulous gazes, he tumbled off his horse. He then crawled on his knees in the most humiliating, humble, and primitive way, using both hands and feet to move incredibly quickly across the cold, muddy, blood-stained snow, until he reached Xiao Yan's horse and stood beside Li Cunli, who remained in a bowing posture, not daring to raise his head.

He bowed before them, barely managing to straighten his body, but his voice was hoarse and distorted due to extreme fear, humility, and the will to survive.

"This sinful subject, Li Cunren, pays his respects to Your Highness, Prince Qin! Your Highness, please forgive me! Your Highness, have mercy!"

Xiao Yan looked at him as if he were looking at an ant crawling in the mud. He didn't say a word, but just slightly turned his head and gestured to the pale-faced attendant in the Zhao Kingdom's group behind him who was holding a wooden box.

The attendant trembled as if whipped by an invisible lash. He immediately picked up the heavy box and almost staggered forward. Under the cold gaze of the two Qin Kings' followers, he tremblingly placed the box on the snow within reach of Li Siyuan. He then opened it, revealing a head.

Zhang Wenli, the adopted son of King Zhao Rong, is placed lifelike in the box.

The wind and snow seemed to freeze at that moment.

Xiao Yan's voice rang out, as calm as if he were giving an order for a trivial matter, yet it once again plunged Li Siyuan into an icy abyss.

“Take this item back to Taiyuan and present it to the Prince of Jin.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze seemingly piercing through the wind and snow, landing in the distant direction of Taiyuan, his tone carrying an indescribable hint of amusement.

“Just say it was a New Year’s gift from me to him…”

Dead silence.

A deeper, more oppressive silence than before. It was as if even the wind and snow had been frozen.

Li Siyuan and Li Cunli lay prostrate in the cold snow and mud, their bodies stiff as stone sculptures, their breathing completely stopped.

Wang Yu's face was ashen. The Dingzhou army's formation completely collapsed, and their warhorses paced restlessly in circles. Within the Crow Army's ranks, fear spread like a tangible plague, and even the fierce Li Cunxiao subconsciously took a slow, half-step back.

Bago leaned against the cold, blood-stained shield, peering through the gaps in the crowd at the figure in the snow, his black cloak billowing, as imposing as a mountain. Tears welled in her numb, lifeless eyes, gushing silently like a burst dam, mingling with the blood and snowmelt streaming down her face. Trembling, she reached out her cold, stiff hand and tightly grasped Li Cunren's equally cold fingers, as if trying to convey to her the immense shock of surviving this ordeal and the silent, overwhelming power of the heavens that had swept everything away.

Her lips moved silently and violently, and only she could hear the faint tremor, filled with endless complex emotions, like the most devout prayer of a believer.

"...Heavenly... might..."

The wind and snow continued to howl, sweeping across the battlefield, which had been completely stunned and silenced. The banner bearing the character "Xiao" fluttered wildly in the wind, like a totem of victory.

Beneath the banner, a solitary figure in a black cloak stood alone. A hundred riders stood solemnly, silent as mountains. Behind him, the elite army of Zhao, mobilized in full force, stood silently guarding him. Before and behind him, thousands of troops and horses stood in complete silence.

(End of this chapter)