The Demon Lords-Chapter 570 - 68 Kneel! _2
Once the army had finished forming up, Tian Wujing did not rush to give the order to charge. Instead, he glanced at Zheng Fan and asked, "Do you understand why?"
Zheng Fan replied, "There is no need to discuss family matters with outsiders."
Tian Wujing reached out and stroked the Pixiu's mane.
He nodded. "Very well."
It was not a long way, but riding the frenzied horse, Angda felt as if a very long time had passed. The fluttering of the Black Dragon flags still echoed in his ears, as if he had never truly escaped the shadow of those flags.
Until Quemu's shout came, "Angda!"
Angda lifted his head and looked ahead. The gazes of numerous wild people warriors were filled with contempt.
The scene of him kneeling to the Yan people had obviously been witnessed by them; he had been branded a shameless coward.
Quemu, however, approached him, patted Angda on the shoulder, and said, "Angda, you did your best."
Quemu could understand Angda. It was easy for a man to act the hero, leading his entire clan to their deaths alongside him. But to willingly bend his knees for the survival of his people—that was truly difficult.
Angda pulled out his knife with his right hand, grabbed his hair with his left, and slashed. He clutched a handful of his hair, torn out with a piece of bloody scalp.
"Stars above, when I fall in battle, please guide my soul into the starlight!"
Immediately thereafter, Angda wheeled his horse to face the direction of the Yan people and said to Quemu in a deep voice, "Quemu, we have to fight."
There was no retreat…
Because that Southern Marquis of Yan had made the Yan people's stance abundantly clear.
On the Snowfield, the Yan people were determined to get involved.
Quemu raised his iron club and shouted to the warriors behind him, "Warriors of the Holy Race!"
"AAAAARGH!!!!!"
"The glory of the stars guides us! After we die in battle, we will be led into the depths of the brilliant Milky Way and find eternal rest!
For the Holy Race!
For the Snowfield!
For our homeland!
For the King!
KILL!!!"
Their original force of five thousand, bolstered by warriors from various tribes who had heard the horns, numbered nearly ten thousand wild people. Brandishing their weapons, they charged forward, howling.
Among them, fewer than three thousand wore armor, yet their morale was sky-high. You could feel the fierce resolve emanating from them, their readiness to embrace death as if it were a homecoming.
This was a rising nation. In the northeast, they had continuously defeated the Dacheng State's forces, causing the Situ Family to lose all the territories their ancestors had carved out on the Snowfield a century prior.
They dreamt of storming Snow Sea Pass under their King's leadership and returning to the lands of the Three Jin. Moreover, this dream was already becoming a reality, step by step. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎
When a nation was at such a juncture of resurgence, they often unleashed terrifying combat strength.
This was a common theme in the history Zheng Fan knew. Small ethnic groups, previously obscure and with little 'renown,' would suddenly seem blessed by fortune. A host of seemingly natural-born commanders would emerge, along with leaders possessing grand strategic vision, and a core of warriors, though few in number, who were all exceptionally brave and skilled in battle. Then they would sweep across all directions, causing the colossal empires around them to crumble in response.
Zheng Fan glanced at Lord Jingnan beside him, then at the surrounding Black Armor Knights.
However, these wild people were not facing the feeble Qian State, nor the strife-ridden Chu and Jin States. They were facing Great Yan, a power also in its ascendancy, forging its own path to true kingship.
In the distance, dust plumed as the wild people's army charged forth.
Meanwhile, on this side, before Lord Jingnan gave the command, all the Yan Army knights remained still as statues. Even their warhorses merely snorted softly, hooves pawing lightly at the ground.
Lord Jingnan patted the Pixiu beneath him.
The Pixiu opened its mouth.
The Kunwu sword flew out from its mouth and landed in Tian Wujing's hand.
The next moment, the Kunwu sword was held high.
The Pixiu, carrying Lord Jingnan, strode forward to the vanguard of the army.
There were no slogans, no speeches, no attempts to boost morale. There was only a figure in gilded armor with a sword; one man, one mount, slowly beginning to accelerate towards the enemy ahead!
Yet, it was this very silence, this very scene, that seemed to ignite the blood of every soldier in the Yan Army. Even Zheng Fan felt a surge of heat.
Truth be told, Tian Wujing might not have been deliberately trying to be imposing, but his every action was effortlessly, overwhelmingly so.
Watching his retreating figure, his unwavering advance, you would instantly feel an overwhelming urge to charge into battle alongside him, to protect him, to annihilate every enemy in his path.
The battlefield was, by its very nature, a crucible for men's valor!
"Tiger!"
"Tiger!"
"Tiger!"
From the left, right, and center formations, all the knights spurred their warhorses. They began to accelerate, they started to sprint. Behind that golden silhouette trailed a sea of black, a tide threatening to bring despair to the Snowfield!
Zheng Fan also raised his sword and began the charge.
Damn it! He had to admit, though he couldn't say he had 'fallen in love' with this world, he had absolutely fallen in love with this feeling of charging alongside the Yan Army!
That rush of adrenaline, that sense of tens of thousands united as one, that intoxicating triumph of annihilating every foe in their path—it was all so utterly mesmerizing!
And as for the wild people, when they heard those three roars of 'Tiger!'...
