The followers with yellow scarves on their heads resisted desperately, but it was to no avail, they fell one after another, dying with open eyes.
"The Blue Sky is dead, Yellow Sky shall rise," the Commander grasped the Iron Sword on his chest, trembling as he recited, "The Blue Sky is dead, Yellow Sky shall rise."
Amidst the outcry and obstruction of the followers beside him, the Commander fiercely drew out the Iron Sword that pierced himself.
"Yellow Sky!!!" His piercing cry echoed through the city, "Yellow Sky!!!"
On the city wall, the soldiers who had been fighting with abandon heard the sound, first froze, and then fled in panic to distant places, not even caring about the mortal enemies beside them.
Because the Thunderbolt makes no distinction between friend and foe.
Under the might of Heaven, both form and spirit perish completely.
On the battlefield, only the Commander stood alone, holding the Iron Sword aloft.
