"Drop your weapons and you'll be spared..."
The surrounding Daqin Elite Soldiers were also screaming madly.
Around them, the Zhao soldiers all, in unison, turned to look at Zhao Feng on the chariot, and saw Pang Xuan's severed head held high.
In this moment.
Their morale and fighting spirit collapsed completely.
"Spare us."
"I surrender."
"Spare us."
"Run, quick, run."
"The Senior General is dead, we've lost."
"Hurry..."
Right now, the Zhao Jun were in two states.
One side dropped their weapons and kneeled in surrender; the other side simply turned and fled in panic.
No matter how desperately many Zhao officers tried to maintain order, they couldn't stop the collapse—a defeat as sudden as a mountain falling.
Zhao Feng tied Pang Xuan's head to his waist, then jumped down from the chariot, his gaze fixed on the fleeing Zhao Jun, as well as the direction of the Zhao Royal Palace.
"Brothers."
"The Zhao Army has fallen. It's already certain that Qin will conquer Handan."
