A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

When Zhang Yan raised his hand, all the flags above the Holy Flame Sect's central army suddenly straightened.

Zhao Qiniang's expression changed on the spot.

"Your Majesty, please stop!"

Wei Zhao did not stop.

The spear was pulled from the chest of a cult member wielding a knife, and blood splattered from the spear tip onto the horse's front.

He looked up at the yellow cloth platform in the distance, where Zhang Yan stood, wearing a reddish-yellow Taoist robe and a wooden crown, with more than a dozen sacred fire flags circling around him.

That wasn't blown by the wind.

At least when Wei Zhao first looked over, he really couldn't tell where the wind was coming from.

Despite the dust swirling on the battlefield and the smoke from the cavalry charging eastward, the flags around Zhang Yan were pressed westward, as if something had forcibly twisted their direction.

Wei Zhao was no stranger to the tricks of the trade.

Nie Yinniang's lightness skill, Hua Jieyu's disguise, and Xie Daoning's poison theory are all terrifying enough to ordinary people.

But those are skills that people can develop through practice.

This one is different.

Zhang Yan raised his hand, and a patch of the sky suddenly darkened.

It's not completely dark.

Above the central army of the Holy Fire Cult, the clouds were stirred into a dark vortex, so low it seemed to press down on the flagpole.

The wind swept in from all directions, making the yellow cloth flags flutter and causing the warhorses of the Xinwu Army to begin to stir.

One of the Imperial Guards' horses suddenly reared up, nearly throwing the man off.

"Hold on!"

Liu Jingshuang shouted sharply from ahead, "Pull back the reins! Don't panic!"

Zhao Qiniang rode her horse closer to Wei Zhao, her voice trembling.

"Your Majesty, this is the Wind and Cloud Technique of the Holy Fire Sect. In the past, the White Lotus Sect also had people who pretended to be supernatural, but at most they only used hidden fire, talismanic water, and bewitching smoke. Zhang Yan's... I've never seen this before."

Wei Zhao suddenly smiled.

"To command the wind and rain?"

Upon hearing this laughter, the pale faces of the imperial guards around him actually calmed down a bit.

Correct.

His Majesty is still smiling.

Wei Zhao pointed his spear forward.

"Send the order: keep the drums beating and the formation intact. Zhang Yan can summon wind; let's see if his wind can break our iron spears."

The military academy student immediately shouted it out.

"His Majesty commands! The drums must not cease! The formation must not be broken!"

"Zhang Yan can summon wind; Your Majesty wants to see if his wind can break iron spears!"

These words spread among the ranks. Some members of the Imperial Guard were initially taken aback, but then the fear on their faces was suppressed.

That's just how people are.

They feared the gods, but not the stubborn emperor.

But if the emperor dared to stand in front and curse the gods, they would suddenly realize that the gods might not be so untouchable after all.

This is exactly what Wei Zhao wanted.

All the magic and spells, all the wise teachers and virtuous teachers, in the end, it all comes down to morale.

Didn't Zhang Yan want the people to think he was a god?

Then I will tear off his divine skin in front of everyone.

Boom!

A muffled thud suddenly erupted from within the cloud.

The Holy Fire Cult was in an uproar first.

"The wise teacher has manifested his divine power!"

"The sacred flame will never be extinguished!"

"Hear the command, heroes! The new martial arts will perish!"

Countless followers knelt on the ground, kowtowing to Zhang Yan on the high platform.

Someone banged their forehead and broke it open, but they were still shouting.

Someone lifted the child up and made him look at the dark cloud, and he cried until his face was covered in ashes.

When Wei Zhao saw this scene, the fire in his chest rose again.

Zhang Yan's move wasn't for the New Martial Army; it was for the common people.

As long as the people believe, the Holy Fire Cult will not dissipate.

Even if they are defeated today, tomorrow someone will say that the wise teacher is only temporarily avoiding the secrets of heaven, and the day after tomorrow he will gather another group of refugees.

Therefore, Zhang Yan cannot afford to lose.

He must lose badly.

The defeat was so great that everyone witnessed it firsthand; even a so-called wise teacher can bleed and die, and cannot save his own master.

"Liu Jingshuang!"

Ahead, among the cavalry, Liu Jingshuang swung her sword and slashed down a yellow flag without turning her head.

"Your subject is here!"

"Ignore the wind, keep going!"

"Yes, sir!"

Liu Jingshuang spurred her horse and swept her long sword horizontally, cleaving the two armed cult members blocking her path, guns and all, in two.

"Wei family cavalry, follow me and break through their defenses!"

Fifty thousand cavalrymen pressed forward again.

The wind is indeed strong.

The wind was so strong that the horse's mane was blown wildly, so strong that the sand and gravel stung their faces, and so strong that many warhorses began to turn their heads away, unwilling to charge forward.

But once the cavalry gets moving, they can't be stopped by a gust of wind.

Iron hooves trampled into the crowd.

The blade flashed.

The left wing of the Holy Fire Cult was already torn apart, and now Liu Jingshuang has stabbed it in again.

Those believers who shouted for the protection of the sacred fire only realized how much difference there was between flesh and blood and iron-clad warhorses when they actually encountered armored cavalry.

The wooden spear was stuck into the vest, and the shaft broke first.

The machete struck the cavalryman's arm guard, leaving only a white mark.

The next moment, the long sword was already at their necks.

"May the sacred fire protect you!"

Someone broke down and shouted, "Why can't we stop it?"

No one answered him.

Liu Jingshuang's cavalry ran right past him.

Wei Zhao saw it very clearly.

The magic of wind and clouds is terrifying, truly terrifying.

But the Holy Fire Cult members are, at heart, only capable of fighting when things are going well.

When things are going well, they shout louder than anyone else and charge more fiercely than anyone else.

Once the miracle didn't immediately turn into victory, once they realized that people would still die when the sword was wielded, their inner strength began to falter.

Zhang Yan, of course, noticed it too.

On the high platform, he looked down at the breached left wing, his face showing no panic, and slowly lowered his hand.

Dark clouds were still swirling overhead.

The wind is still blowing.

But his gaze had already passed over the chaotic crowd and landed on Wei Zhao.

The two exchanged a glance across half the battlefield.

Wei Zhao suddenly narrowed his eyes.

The old man isn't worried.

Why?

The next moment, a red-robed altar master next to Zhang Yan raised a copper bell and shook it vigorously.

Jingle Bell!

The ringing couldn't penetrate the entire battlefield, but it was as if there were hidden threads planted long ago; when one rang, ten others followed suit.

At the rear of the Holy Flame Cult's central army, more than a dozen small black and red flags were raised simultaneously.

Zhao Qiniang's face turned pale.

"not good."

Wei Zhao turned his head to the side.

"explain."

"That's the death warrant from the Crimson Altar."

Zhao Qiniang's voice tightened: "The White Lotus Sect used similar methods before. They weren't for ordinary followers, but for assassins."

Suicide squad?

The moment those two words flashed through Wei Zhao's mind, he saw Zhang Yan raise his right hand and spill a handful of crimson powder from his sleeve.

The powder was swept up by the wind and scattered around the high platform.

Those followers who were originally standing beside Zhang Yan without armor suddenly raised their heads one by one.

Their eyes turned red.

It's not a metaphor.

It's really popular.

It looked like he hadn't slept for days and nights; the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

Some people still had white foam at the corners of their mouths, while others had their chests heaving violently, their knuckles turning blue from gripping the knife so tightly.

"The sacred flame enters the body."

Zhang Yan finally spoke, his voice carried far by the wind:

"They know no pain, no fear, no death."

He looked at Wei Zhao and smiled slowly.

"Emperor Xinwu, how many can your iron cavalry kill?"

Wei Zhao's expression turned cold.

I fucking thank you.

This is no longer just ordinary incitement.

Medicine, bell, flag, password.

Zhang Yan treated these 100,000 people like firewood, and firewood that had been soaked in oil beforehand.

If there is no A, then fill in the gap with life.

If there's no formation, then bite with ferocity.

Unaware of pain, they fight wildly!