As Fan Shuzhen shouted, the giant sword in his hand swung down with a roar.
A surge of sword qi burst forth, transforming into a wolf-shaped energy beast that lunged toward the scholar in the wheelchair. Everywhere it passed, the ground split open with a deep scar—as if the very earth itself was being torn apart by the blade.
Almost at the same moment, Deng Feng struck.
His Azure Dragon Crescent Blade came crashing down, cleaving the wolf-shaped sword qi clean in half. The energy beast shattered instantly, dispersing into nothingness.
"Deng Feng is mine!"
"One each!"
Fan Shuzhen growled and charged forward, locking into fierce combat with Deng Feng.
"Lord You!"
Ran Jingxuan drew his sword, his tone sharp. "I'm not strong in direct combat, so I'll deal with Sha Wenlong. That Tang Ruoshan—he's yours! Once I've killed Sha Wenlong, I'll come assist you!"
"You think I'm beneath you?!"
Sha Wenlong bellowed, his heavy blade crashing down like a collapsing mountain.
"Trapping General Formation!"
"Form up!"
"Boom!"
While the generals clashed in the center, ranks of elite soldiers advanced with black-iron shields, charging fearlessly to attack. These were the best of the best. They risked their lives to strike at the enemy—most dying horribly—but their sacrifices steadily drained the opponents' qi reserves.
When warriors of equal realm fought, surrounding and killing one Profound Manifestation expert usually cost no more than five to six hundred lives.
You Jingzhi, however, held back.
In his mind, Tang Ruoshan was also at Major Achievement in the Profound Manifestation Realm. If he charged in recklessly, he might not be a match. The best way was to have his subordinates wear Tang Ruoshan down, stall for time, and wait for one of the other two duels to end—then finish him together.
But before he could act—
Wang Zhi...
Ran!
The man who had been posturing like a master all this time suddenly snatched a weapon from a Southern Xu soldier, killed two with swift slashes, and bolted straight toward the wheelchair.
From his clumsy movements alone, You Jingzhi immediately saw the truth.
'What? He's no Profound Manifestation cultivator! No qi at all—not even internal force. At most he's at Tempering Bone… or is he still hiding his strength, baiting me to strike first?'
"Swish!"
After a moment of thought, You Jingzhi swung his chain weapon. The iron claw at its end shot forth like a meteor, testing the scholar's strength with partial force.
"Boom!"
Wang Zhi had already grabbed a black-iron shield, dragging several Southern Xu soldiers in front of him as cover. They were instantly torn apart, blood spraying as the claw hit. The impact sent Wang Zhi flying backward, the shield ripped from his hands. He coughed up blood and crashed to the ground.
"Damn—Tempering Bone?!"
You Jingzhi shouted, "Your Highness! Strategist! Tang Ruoshan's a cripple! He's only at Tempering Bone!"
"What?!"
Ran Jingxuan, who was clashing with Sha Wenlong, froze for an instant before realization hit. "No wonder he's been hiding in the shadows! Just as I guessed—the unarmed warrior we saw before must have been Deng Feng in disguise!"
It all made sense now.
After all, that so-called unarmed powerhouse had only appeared once, and at night, when his face couldn't be clearly seen.
"Lord You, what are you waiting for?!"
Ran Jingxuan's voice rose with glee. "Kill Tang Ruoshan and Fang Qingyun—this battle will be over!"
At this point, aside from Deng Feng and Sha Wenlong, no one else on Fang Qingyun's side could still fight.
Only one Profound Manifestation at Major Achievement and one at Beginner level—completely outmatched!
"Old Fourth, what now?"
Wang Zhi, bleeding from several deep wounds, gritted his teeth and guarded the wheelchair. "You're crippled, I'm useless! Whatever tricks you've got, use them now! Is this really the time to be playing the damn flute?"
Amid the chaos of battle, the scholar in the blue robe remained calm. His face was solemn but steady. He slowly reached into his robe and drew out a slender jade flute, bringing it to his lips.
"You can play it in the underworld!"
You Jingzhi sneered, hurling his claw once more. The weapon whistled through the air like a ghostly talon from the netherworld, tearing straight toward the scholar's skull.
At that instant—
The jade flute sang.
"Wuuuuu—"
The soft, flowing melody echoed across the battlefield.
Amid the clashing steel and endless shouts, its sound was eerily clear, as though it came from another world altogether. And then—pain.
Every soldier felt knives slashing inside their skulls.
"Ahhhh!"
"Pfft!"
Some formation grunts screamed as their heads burst apart.
Dozens of lower-ranked martial soldiers spewed blood or bled from all seven orifices, collapsing dead on the spot.
"Buzz!"
Even You Jingzhi's vision went black for a moment. He unleashed his full protective qi, barely withstanding the mental assault.
He could feel it—an invisible power riding the music, slashing endlessly at his defensive qi, as if countless unseen warriors were hacking him apart with axes and blades.
Even Fan Shuzhen and Ran Jingxuan were shaken. Both faltered mid-battle, narrowly avoiding fatal blows.
"What in the heavens is that?!"
"A flute—how can a flute be this powerful?!"
"An immortal artifact!"
"It's an immortal artifact in Fang Qingyun's hands!"
"So he really did have something hidden!"
"Old Fourth—where did you get that?!"
Wang Zhi was wide-eyed with disbelief.
Fang Qingyun didn't answer.
He simply gestured with one hand.
Wang Zhi noticed—his friend's face had turned completely pale.
Whatever that flute was, using it came at a terrible price.
"I get it."
Wang Zhi pushed the wheelchair, forcing a path forward.
Everywhere they passed, the soldiers—writhing under the deadly melody—fell aside, leaving a clear road.
"Don't let them escape!"
"Kill them!"
Ran Jingxuan, his lower cultivation unable to fully resist the sound, roared wildly, his face twisted in fury. "Kill Fang Qingyun!"
"Ahhhh!"
You Jingzhi bellowed, his protective qi flaring to the limit.
Finally, he managed to block out the deadly tune.
The iron claw in his hand crackled as his qi condensed around it, reshaping it into a terrifying, branch-like appendage—ghastly and gnarled, like a dead tree's talon.
And then—
It fell from the sky once more.
"Boom!"
The sound of the flute rose sharply.
An invisible force collided in midair, forcibly blasting away the full-powered strike of a Profound Manifestation cultivator at Minor Achievement.
"I don't believe it!"
You Jingzhi roared, his fury boiling over as he continued to strike wildly at the scholar in the wheelchair.
While the commanders clashed at the center, the one hundred thousand soldiers of the Southern Xu army fell completely into chaos.
The fog—
That boundless, sky-swallowing fog—
Blanketed half the battlefield, covering the heavens and the earth.
The Southern Xu soldiers could only watch as the mist rolled past, leaving mountains of corpses in its wake.
White fog and blood mist intertwined. Through the haze gleamed the cold light of steel, flashes of black armor, and the glint of spears and blades. The battlefield became a horrifying vision of divine majesty mixed with blood and terror. Men stared until their souls left their bodies and their courage shattered into dust.
No one knew how many enemy troops were hidden within the fog.
No one knew what realms they had reached.
The only thing the Southern Xu soldiers knew—was that they could not stop them.
No matter how many men they sent to block the way—cavalry, infantry, defensive formations, or spear phalanxes—everything was crushed flat. The only thing left behind was death.
In the eyes of the living, the fog had turned into a colossal beast that devoured everything in its path. Even ten times their numbers would not have been enough.
At that moment, the only thought left in every soldier's heart was pure terror.
"Hold the line!"
"Everyone, hold your ground!"
Several deputy generals tried to rally the troops.
"Don't panic!"
"Form a perimeter formation!"
"Trap them inside!"
"We have one hundred thousand soldiers!"
"Pfft!"
Their shouts ended abruptly.
Those deputy generals were either skewered on long spears that pierced through thousands to reach them—or ignored entirely.
After all, each could command at most a few thousand men. Beyond that, no one listened to orders anymore.
Chen Sanshi used his Qi Observation Technique, searching for enemy commanders. Every strike was precise—every kill, deliberate.
"Where's His Highness?!"
"Where's the general?!"
"What do we do now?!"
The army was headless.
The one hundred thousand troops of Southern Xu had turned into nothing but scattered sand.
No one knew what orders to follow—or who was still alive to give them.
"We've lost!"
"Our army's finished!"
When the Ninefold Celestial Soldiers Formation flanked from the side, the troops who had once been the front vanguard—now reassigned to the left wing—remembered their old terror.
They were the same men who had once trembled at the sight of Chen Sanshi. Ever since the battle at Hulao Pass began, he had repeatedly charged alone into enemy formations or ridden with just one companion to slay their officers.
Those soldiers had been terrified long before this day. Expecting them to fight was a fool's dream.
To keep morale from collapsing entirely, their commanders had reassigned them multiple times.
But now—
Those dispersed units became the seeds of panic, spreading fear like wildfire through the entire army.
Every move Chen Sanshi had planned—
Every layer, every link—
Now revealed its true purpose.
"Chen Sanshi!"
"Run! Get out of here!"
"We can't win! There's no way we can win!"
"Those two killed General Peng, and tens of thousands couldn't catch them!"
"How could we possibly win now, with the whole army breaking?!"
And so—
Across the vast, endless plains—
A collapse unlike any in history began.
There was no stopping it. Soldiers scattered in all directions, no longer knowing where they were running. Even some officers who tried to stand their ground were cut down by their own panicked men.
In war, numbers could be both a weapon and a burden.
Fewer troops meant flexibility.
More troops meant sluggish movement.
Once numbers reached a certain scale, the ability to command them depended entirely on the general's skill. Without true mastery of warfare, even a genius couldn't control an army of this size.
Most generals could manage a few thousand—or at best, ten or twenty thousand.
But one hundred thousand?
That was far beyond their reach.
To make matters worse, many in the Southern Xu army were raw recruits with less than two years of training, mixed with twenty thousand allied soldiers from the Kingdom of Qing.
The result was utter chaos.
With their three Profound Manifestation commanders tied down or absent, what remained was a disorganized, headless mob.
Now, only one step remained—
Kill the main commander, and the one hundred thousand army would crumble completely.
"Xia Cong! Xiao Zheng! You two keep pressing forward, but don't charge straight in. Cut across diagonally, then loop back the same way!"
After giving his orders, Chen Sanshi spurred his horse toward the central camp.
By now, the Black Armored Cavalry had reached the peak of War Frenzy.
Their eyes held nothing but the word "kill."
Fueled by their qi and the Heavenly Book's formations, they tore through the enemy ranks like gods of war, unstoppable and merciless.
Inside the central command tent—
Sustained by the power of the flute—
Deng Feng and the others were still holding out despite being surrounded.
None of You Jingzhi's attacks could even scratch Fang Qingyun.
Instead, report after report came in—each worse than the last.
"General!"
"It's over!"
"The whole army's in chaos!"
"If you don't come out now and take command, our one hundred thousand men will collapse completely!"
"Useless fools!"
Fan Shuzhen, locked in a duel with Deng Feng, roared with rage. "A hundred thousand men, and he's just one Meridian-Connecting cultivator? Hulao Pass barely had ten thousand defenders—how could you not stop them?!"
"Your Highness!"
"They—they've become heavenly soldiers!"
A deputy general shouted in panic, "They've got heavenly soldiers descending into them! I don't know how many, but definitely more than ten thousand!"
"Heavenly soldiers?"
Fan Shuzhen froze for a heartbeat—then his expression darkened.
The Heavenly Book again!
He sheathed his sword, intending to ride out and take command himself—but before he could move, Deng Feng, covered in blood and wielding his crescent blade, broke through the ring of soldiers and charged straight for him.
"Lord You!"
Ran Jingxuan, in the same predicament, shouted, "If you can't kill Fang Qingyun, then go—kill Chen Sanshi! Once he dies, their army will collapse on its own!"
But he was wrong.
From the beginning, they'd thought Fang Qingyun and the other three generals were the key.
In truth—
Chen Sanshi was the true core.
Even if his cultivation was only at the Meridian-Connecting Realm!
Those very words—"Meridian-Connecting"—had made them underestimate him.
"Fine!"
You Jingzhi made his decision instantly.
He abandoned the scholar in blue.
Just as he had suspected—
He couldn't kill him anyway.
But even though that cripple couldn't be killed, he couldn't kill You Jingzhi either. His flute was mostly for defense; it worked fine against weaker cultivators, but against higher realms, its offensive power simply wasn't enough.
"Damn it!"
Seeing the enemy ride away, Wang Zhi grew anxious. "Old Fourth, what now?!"
"Follow them," Fang Qingyun replied calmly.
"Don't panic!"
You Jingzhi tried to regain control amid the chaos, but it was far too late. The Southern Xu army had already turned into a chaotic mess. Even if some officers wanted to follow orders, no one could hear or obey in this madness.
Still, he soon found his target.
Amid the sea of black-armored Southern Xu soldiers—
A white horse charged through the ranks like a thunderbolt. Its rider wielded both spear and sword, cutting down anyone who dared approach. No one could last even a single exchange. No—no one even dared to try. Every soldier fled in terror, clearing a path before him.
Even on such a chaotic battlefield, a wide, empty road appeared in the midst of the carnage.
"Chen Sanshi! Stop right there!"
You Jingzhi spurred his horse forward, charging straight at him.
But to his surprise—
Chen Sanshi didn't flee. Instead, he urged his horse faster, galloping straight toward You Jingzhi. Behind him surged a vast wave of mist that swallowed the world. Within moments, his figure vanished completely.
"What sorcery is this?!"
You Jingzhi froze for an instant, panic flickering across his face.
First, there had been that thunderstorm at Silver Pine Cliff.
And now—this strange and overwhelming fog.
'Are these Heavenly Book formations really that powerful? Then how did the Red Brows Army lose? How did Liang Jinian die to just one or two thousand men?'
Despite his shock, he was still a seasoned commander—a titled marquis and a veteran of countless campaigns. He forced his fear down.
'No matter how thick this fog is, it's just fog. A trick to block the eyes—nothing more. If it really worked, I'd already be dead!'
"Da-da-da—"
"Clang!"
From the rhythm of the hooves, he could tell—Chen Sanshi wasn't using the fog to ambush him. Instead, he was cutting down nearby soldiers first.
Why?
"Boom!"
You Jingzhi swung his chain weapon, the iron claw whipping through the air toward the sound.
A sharp clash rang out—the sound of weapons colliding.
'Hit!'
He charged toward the noise, but when he arrived, there was nothing there—only the corpses of his own men.
The fog stretched for several li around him, completely silent.
No movement. No voices.
No one left alive.
He was alone.
'Did he… clear the field? Silence the witnesses? What the hell is he planning?'
Then, within the mist ahead—
A faint purple glow appeared.
The light tore through the fog, revealing something inhumanly radiant.
A sword.
A small, palm-sized sword, glowing with flowing violet qi. Mystical runes—dense as ant tracks—glimmered along its blade, each one pulsing faintly with power.
'An immortal technique!'
You Jingzhi instantly recognized the aura—it was the same kind of power that had radiated from Fang Qingyun's flute earlier.
He was already on guard. His chain and claw surged with qi as he swung it to strike the tiny purple sword head-on.
"Buzz!"
The moment they clashed—
A crushing force exploded outward.
The sword might have been no longer than a handspan, yet it carried the weight of a mountain. Even with the strength of a Profound Manifestation cultivator at Minor Achievement, You Jingzhi couldn't block it.
In that instant—
Time itself seemed to slow.
The chain-claw flew back from the impact, spinning helplessly through the air. The violet sword shot forward, unstoppable.
You Jingzhi's armor flared, his protective qi bursting outward into a translucent barrier like a thick layer of molten glass.
The small violet sword struck the barrier, paused—then sliced through it layer by layer, cutting with unstoppable momentum until it pierced straight through.
A sharp flash—and it punched cleanly through his skull.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
"Ah…"
You Jingzhi stood frozen where he was, his mind empty.
For a brief moment, he didn't know who he was, or where he stood. Then, a stream of warm blood trickled down from his forehead, spreading across his face like a red spiderweb.
He toppled over—dead before he hit the ground.
"A Profound Manifestation cultivator really can take a beating," Chen Sanshi muttered, stepping out from the thick fog.
His Sword Qi Technique at Minor Achievement could kill a Profound Manifestation cultivator at Minor Achievement—but anything stronger might still survive.
It wasn't like cutting down Meridian-Connecting cultivators, who usually died before they even realized what happened.
It seemed that higher-realm warriors weren't as fragile as he'd hoped.
At least they could still fight back, even against lower-grade immortal techniques.
If that was true for the Profound Manifestation Realm—then a Martial Saint would surely be on a whole other level.
Chen Sanshi drove his spear into the corpse's neck to ensure death, then used the Mountain-Suppressing Sword to cut off the head.
He whistled, calling Qianxun, and galloped forward.
After only a short distance, he met his two senior brothers—Xia Cong and Xiao Zheng—charging toward him, several hundred soldiers and officers in pursuit.
Behind them, Fang Qingyun sat pale-faced in his wheelchair, still playing his flute to hold off the remaining enemies.
Then a spear flashed like a dragon through the fog, ripping apart the last of the enemy formation.
"The battle's won!"
Chen Sanshi raised his spear. "Senior brothers—finish the job!"
The central command camp was already a ruin, shredded by blades and flames.
Deng Feng, surrounded and covered in blood, stood barely upright. His armor was soaked crimson, gleaming under the mist's red glow.
Opposite him, Fan Shuzhen pressed forward with the momentum of thousands.
The balance of power had begun to shift in Fan's favor—
Until something rolled to his feet.
A head.
You Jingzhi's head.
"What?!"
Fan Shuzhen's eyes went wide with horror.
He had sent You Jingzhi to kill Chen Sanshi—so how…?
Had the fog hidden some immortal trick from Fang Qingyun again?
Sha Wenlong, too, stared in disbelief.
At that moment—
The three thousand Black-Armored Cavalry burst through the fog.
After several brutal charges, they had slaughtered the front and central armies. Their armor was soaked in blood, and the once-white fog had turned deep crimson.
Within that sea of blood stood three thousand demons of war.
They crashed forward like an unstoppable tide, crushing the last remnants of resistance.
The battlefield turned.
In an instant, the roles reversed—Fan Shuzhen's forces were no longer the hunters.
They were the prey.
They were now the ones trapped inside the thick, blood-red fog. Facing the Black-Armored Cavalry, who had already gone mad with killing intent, each charge was more desperate than the last. Their frenzied attacks soon exposed flaws that Deng Feng instantly exploited, turning the fight around and severely wounding his opponent.
A war banner bearing the words "Great Xu" fell to the ground with a heavy crash.
"Men! To me!"
Fan Shuzhen's roar tore through the chaos.
But no one came.
Not a single soldier answered his call.
"Strategist! Help me, Strategist!"
In the end, he could only cry out toward Ran Jingxuan.
But Ran Jingxuan was already collapsing. Surrounded on all sides, he and Sha Wenlong exchanged brutal blows, both suffering heavy wounds. Falling to one knee, his face pale and despair filling his eyes, he muttered, "Your Highness... we've lost."
"Lost? Just like that?!"
Fan Shuzhen's eyes were wild, his mind blank. "I had one hundred thousand troops! One hundred thousand! How could it end like this?!"
"Your Highness," Ran Jingxuan said bitterly, "open your eyes and look around you. The ranks... are gone."
At the front, their forces had already collapsed.
When the soldiers in the rear saw the Great Xu command banner fall and the red fog devour everything in sight, they assumed all was lost. Without releasing a single arrow, they turned and ran.
The three main generals of the central army were all captured or killed.
At that point—what was there left to fight for?
"Ahhhh!"
Fan Shuzhen roared in anguish. After another brutal clash with Deng Feng, he barely managed to stay on his feet, glaring at Ran Jingxuan. "Strategist—tell me! Where did we lose?!"
Ran Jingxuan spat a mouthful of blood and smiled weakly. "We lost... because we hesitated. Because we were indecisive. We spent too much time scheming for our own gain. If we'd attacked Hulao Pass with our full might from the beginning—even with heavy losses—we would've taken it. But instead... this."
The fighting slowly ceased.
Out of the three thousand Black-Armored Cavalry, two thousand broke away to finish off the remaining enemy troops, while one thousand stayed behind to surround Fan Shuzhen and Deng Feng, waiting for the inevitable end.
"I have one question."
Ran Jingxuan, bleeding heavily, stared at the young general approaching on a white horse. "Inside Hulao Pass... how many generals and troops did you really have? Twenty thousand? Thirty thousand?"
"Three thousand," Chen Sanshi said plainly. "Three thousand soldiers—and two Profound Manifestation cultivators."
"What?!"
Ran Jingxuan's eyes went wide. A burst of blood sprayed from his lips, his heart breaking from disbelief.
Then, after a long silence, he began to laugh. The sound was hollow, full of despair. "I, Ran Jingxuan, the famed strategist of Ling Suan, led one hundred thousand men... and was defeated by a mere three thousand."
As he replayed it all in his mind, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
He finally understood.
From the moment their one hundred thousand-strong army arrived at Hulao Pass—or even earlier, from the moment Chen Sanshi's first arrow struck their scouting sentry—their defeat had already been sealed.
Every decision afterward... had been within Chen Sanshi's grasp.
Every move they made had been part of his plan.
Three thousand Black-Armored soldiers.
One Meridian-Connecting cultivator.
Yet they had destroyed one hundred thousand.
Ran Jingxuan threw his head back and howled to the heavens, "What face do I have left to live in this world?!"
"Crack!"
Deng Feng's blade flashed, cutting through the air.
"You weren't going to live anyway."
Ran Jingxuan's head rolled across the ground.
"Fan Shuzhen!"
Chen Sanshi pointed his spear directly at him. "You're the only one left. Die with some dignity!"
But before he could strike—
With a thud, Fan Shuzhen fell to his knees.
A moment ago, he'd been defiant. Now, before everyone's eyes, his attitude flipped as if heaven and earth had turned upside down. There was no warning, no hesitation.
"General Chen! Spare me!" he shouted desperately. "I am the Eighth Prince of Great Xu! I have countless allies in the court! Spare my life, and I will make sure you are rewarded beyond measure!"
"You?"
Chen Sanshi looked down coldly. "Fan Shuzhen, Great Sheng came here to reclaim our lost lands of three prefectures. Our war is with the Eastern Qing Kingdom. What does this have to do with Southern Xu? Yet you brought one hundred thousand troops across the border to invade our lands! You dared to challenge the soldiers of Great Sheng—why?!"
Kneeling on the ground, Fan Shuzhen shouted something that made everyone on the battlefield freeze.
Even the killing intent in the air seemed to vanish.
Despite his wounds, his voice was clear and firm.
"If we did not come now, we would've had to travel farther later!"
Chen Sanshi's eyes flickered in confusion.
Fan Shuzhen continued, "General Chen, you're a prodigy—born to lead armies. One day, you'll fight north and south. Sooner or later, you and Great Xu would clash anyway. If that day came, you'd have to cross mountains and rivers to reach us. Now I've come to you myself—doesn't that save you the trouble?"
At that moment, another voice rose from the chaos outside.
"I am Fan Jiaxiao, the Fourteenth Prince of Great Xu! Who among you seeks wealth and glory?"
Soon after, Fan Jiaxiao—still wounded and barely conscious—was dragged before Chen Sanshi and thrown to his knees beside Fan Shuzhen.
"Eighth Brother!"
"Fourteenth Brother!"
The two princes looked at each other, tears streaming down their faces.
"You people from Southern Xu are worse than dogs!" Wang Zhi snapped. "You change sides faster than turning a page!"
He glared at the two kneeling men. One had been howling with rage moments ago; the other had once sworn to behead Chen Sanshi at Silver Pine Cliff. And now—they both knelt like begging curs.
"You two brothers... impressive," Wang Zhi muttered.
Then, cold understanding flashed in his eyes. 'Men like this can't be killed. Let them live—and send them back.'
If either of them ever became emperor... Southern Xu would tear itself apart within twenty years.
"Spare your lives?"
Chen Sanshi's tone was calm. "Fine. I'll grant that. But I trust you know what you must do next without me spelling it out."
"General Chen, rest assured!" Fan Shuzhen quickly agreed. "I'll rally what remains of my forces. Anyone I can call back will surrender to Great Sheng immediately!"
"Clank!"
They stripped off their armor.
Heavy black-iron chains bound the two princes together, then secured them to a dark green warhorse.
Chen Sanshi rode behind them on Qianxun, following as they rode toward the fleeing Southern Xu army.
Raising the Great Sheng banner high, Fan Shuzhen's voice boomed like thunder as he began to gather his broken soldiers.
And thus—
The Battle of Hulao Pass came to a decisive end.
Twenty thousand enemies slain.
Forty thousand taken prisoner.
Another forty thousand scattered—some fleeing into the Kingdom of Qing, others retreating toward Southern Xu.
Only a handful of loyal sub-commanders remained, refusing to surrender even to the princes. Leading a few hundred cavalry, they vanished into the wilds.
Chen Sanshi ordered Sha Wenlong to take men and wipe them out completely.
The rest of the soldiers stayed behind to clean the battlefield and take a short rest.
"Ha! That was glorious!"
Deng Feng laughed heartily, his blood still boiling.
"That's what I call war!"
"That's what true war feels like!"
"Three thousand men crushing one hundred thousand! Unprecedented! Absolutely unprecedented!"
"Commander Chen! I lost fair and square!"
He couldn't stop sighing in admiration.
Compared to this battle, the effortless victory at Zhaotong Prefecture was nothing at all.
The Black-Armored Army was just as exhilarated.
Back when they'd been transferred from the capital, many of them had felt reluctant.
After all, they were one of the emperor's personal guard units, stationed close to the heart of the empire. Suddenly being reassigned to the frontier had left more than a few grumbling—if not for the name "Four-Time Flood Hero of Hongze River" and Chen Sanshi's growing reputation, they might never have agreed to follow him.
But once they reached Laizhou—
Battle after battle proved him beyond doubt.
Now, no one dared question him.
And this victory—
Every soldier shared in it.
Such a great triumph meant gold and silver in abundance as rewards, not to mention martial resources. Their futures would leap ahead once again.
"Nothing unusual," Zhao Kang said, exchanging looks with the veterans around him. "We've gotten used to this."
The old brothers from Poyang remained calm as ever.
Ever since they'd arrived at Hulao Pass, they had been betting on how long it would take to win—and none of them thought they'd lose. Even the most pessimistic guessed they'd just have to hold for three months, not that defeat was ever an option.
"General!"
"Please accept our bow!"
Xia Cong, Xiao Zheng, and You Jike knelt together. "From this day on, we swear absolute loyalty—upward to His Majesty, and downward to you, General. We will fight for Great Sheng with our lives and never turn back!"
"Get up," Chen Sanshi said simply. "Clean the battlefield. Settle the surrendered troops quickly. Any scattered cavalry units must be eliminated without delay. Leave five hundred men to guard Hulao Pass. The rest, return to Laizhou and assist the Grand Commander in taking Yongle Prefecture."
"Yes, General!"
"By the way," one soldier said, grinning, "that Heavenly Book really is divine!"
"Yeah!" another laughed. "Thunder from the heavens, fog covering the field—the very world fought on our side this time!"
Across the blood-soaked wilderness, as the Black-Armored soldiers hunted down the last two hundred resisting enemies, they chatted excitedly about the battle.
"There were immortal techniques too!"
"You didn't hear?!"
"In the central camp, General Fang survived surrounded by thousands, all thanks to a single flute!"
"That's not all—many died that day! Even that Marquis of Qinghe died by General Fang's immortal technique, or so they say!"
"Fang Qingyun? Maybe, maybe not."
Sha Wenlong kept silent, but his thoughts raced.
He had seen it clearly—
You Jingzhi had left.
He had gone to find Chen Sanshi.
And when he came back... there was only a head left.
More likely than Fang Qingyun—it had to be Chen Sanshi who killed him.
But how could a Meridian-Connecting cultivator kill a Profound Manifestation at Minor Achievement?
There was only one answer.
An immortal technique.
Chen Sanshi had learned one too.
Had Sun Xiangzong already taught him?
And this bastard hadn't even reported it to the court!
Wait—
Sha Wenlong's eyes widened as memories flashed back. The deaths of Yin Hanwen and the others outside Liangzhou… the one most suspected had been Chen Sanshi. But back then, he had only been at the Organ-Refining Realm, so no one had dared to imagine it.
Now it all made sense.
It had been him.
He had used immortal arts to kill them—then framed the Wushen Sect!
Everything fit.
This brat—
Was doomed.
Suppressing his expression, Sha Wenlong said calmly, "You few—search east. I'll go check west. Meet back here in half an hour. Cough… cough…"
"Yes, General!"
After giving his orders, Sha Wenlong quietly slipped away from the unit.
He was badly injured—several wounds were deep enough to reach bone. In truth, he was no longer capable of defeating even a Meridian-Connecting cultivator. After all, he was only at the entry level of the Profound Manifestation Realm.
Even so, he forced himself to walk until he found a secluded spot. Then he pulled a folded cloth from inside his armor, bit his finger, and began to write a secret letter in blood.
A gyrfalcon landed on his shoulder, ready to fly the message at top speed.
"Whoosh!"
But just as it spread its wings—
An arrow hissed through the air and pierced it clean through, pinning it mid-flight.
It fell dead to the ground.
"General Sha."
Chen Sanshi appeared silently, holding a longbow. "What are you writing there? Too impatient to use ink and paper back inside the walls, so you use blood instead?"
"You—you…"
Sha Wenlong froze, panic flashing across his face. Then, forcing a sneer, he said, "You've got some nerve! Do you have any idea how rare these falcons are?"
Chen Sanshi ignored him. He bent down, picked up the dead falcon, and unwrapped the small strip of cloth tied to its leg.
"General Sha," he said coldly, "you and I fought side by side. Yet here you are, trying to frame me for treason, accuse me of murdering court officials, hiding immortal arts, and even plotting rebellion. What a poisonous heart you have."
The plot was exposed.
Sha Wenlong stopped pretending. "Chen Sanshi! You killed Young Master Yin, didn't you?!"
There was no reply.
He only saw a small, violet sword slowly condense above Chen Sanshi's fingers.
"You—what are you doing?!"
Sha Wenlong's single eye widened in terror. His guess had been right—Chen Sanshi had truly learned an immortal technique.
But shock quickly gave way to fear. "You wouldn't dare kill me! How would you explain it?!"
"General Sha Wenlong," Chen Sanshi said calmly, "pursued the fleeing Southern Xu cavalry despite his injuries, was ambushed, and died in the chaos. How's that for an explanation?"
His voice was frighteningly even.
"Thud!"
Sha Wenlong realized there was no escape. He turned to flee—
But violet light flashed.
He fell stiffly to the ground and soon stopped breathing.
Chen Sanshi walked over and dealt with the body.
The man's death, at least, served a purpose.
And in such a grand victory—
The death of a Profound Manifestation general was perfectly normal.
If every general lived through the battle, the report would've sounded fake.
Chen Sanshi had noticed his heavy wounds long ago, which was why he chose this moment to act.
He used Sword Qi Technique for a clean, swift kill.
Cultivating the technique consumed a huge amount of incense power, but replenishing it after use only required some time—no great cost.
With that, the Battle of Hulao Pass had finally, truly ended.
By Chen Sanshi's estimation, once they returned to Laizhou, they'd be able to take Yongle Prefecture soon after. The Qing army beyond Greenridge Mountain would likely retreat as well. The recovery of the three prefectures was already a certainty—no unexpected obstacles remained.
Except for one thing.
The Crown Prince's rebellion.
Once the three prefectures were pacified, Ziwei Mountain would be in their grasp.
That was where the Crown Prince and the Incense God Sect planned to make their move.
Soon, His Majesty himself would travel to Ziwei Mountain for the Heaven and Earth Ceremony. All the civil and military officials would gather in Lingzhou.
At that point, Lingzhou would effectively become a second capital.
Chen Sanshi and the other meritorious generals would remain there to await their rewards. Even those who had fought in Mingzhou might come as well.
It would be a grand spectacle.
He couldn't help but wonder how this coming "performance" would play out.
But more than that, he wondered—what could Laizitou possibly gain from it?
'Forget it. One step at a time.'
He focused on cleaning up the aftermath first.
After fully stabilizing Hulao Pass, Chen Sanshi led his army out at dawn the next day, marching straight back toward Laizhou and then on to Yongle Prefecture.
——
In Yongle Prefecture, Meng Quji had not slept for several days.
"What's happening at Hulao Pass?!"
He paced anxiously day and night. "Have the retreat orders been prepared?"
"They're ready," Zhan Taiming answered, removing his helmet and taking a deep breath. "If anything goes wrong at Hulao Pass, we'll immediately abandon the assault on Yongle Prefecture and pull back 200 li. We'll use Zhaotong Prefecture as a dividing line and hold position against both the Qing army and the Southern Xu forces. Logistics and supply lines have all been arranged—there shouldn't be any major problems. But if it comes to a standoff, it might take a year or more to settle."
"I still don't understand why we're fighting this battle at all," Meng Quji sighed. "We should've withdrawn long ago. Even His Highness the Crown Prince, who's usually so cautious and stingy with military funds, insisted on pushing forward. It makes no sense."
"For revenge," Zhan Taiming replied. "Commander, the disgrace of Mingxuan back then was the greatest humiliation in the history of Great Sheng. His Majesty and the Crown Prince both want the three prefectures reclaimed. I can understand that."
"Yes… if we take the three prefectures back, Great Sheng can truly flourish again."
Meng Quji shook his head with regret. "But sending Chen Sanshi and his troops to hold Hulao Pass was a mistake. We should've fought a war of attrition from the start. Now, even if they couldn't hold the pass, they've gone on the offensive—it's practically suicide.
"Three thousand men may not sound like much, but each of those generals is a national treasure of Great Sheng!
"General Fang, the defector Deng Feng—both extraordinary. And Chen Sanshi—he's still so young! To think he might die at Hulao Pass… what a waste. His potential could have rivaled Sun Xiangzong's one day.
"Now it's all gone—just a brief, tragic blaze of glory!"
"By now," Zhan Taiming said, "the battle report from Hulao Pass should be arriving."
"Report!"
As they spoke, the courier arrived, handing over a sealed dispatch.
"That was quick…"
Meng Quji sighed, his face heavy. "Old Zhan, you read it. If it's bad news, don't tell me the details. Just… spare me the pain."
"Understood."
Zhan Taiming unfolded the report. His pupils shrank. His hands began to tremble.
"Well?!"
Meng Quji's heart pounded. "Did anyone survive?"
"No… none of them—none of them are gone!"
Zhan Taiming's voice shook, tears filling his eyes.
"I knew it."
Meng Quji's shoulders slumped. He stood up wearily. "So it's over, then. Prepare for withdrawal."
"No, Commander—you've misunderstood!"
Zhan Taiming raised the dispatch high, his voice breaking with excitement. "It's not that General Chen and his men were lost—it's Southern Xu! Southern Xu is gone!"
"One hundred thousand soldiers—gone!"
"Outside Hulao Pass, General Chen led three thousand to defeat one hundred thousand!"
"Twenty thousand enemies slain!"
"Forty thousand captured!"