Xie Xun's army was encamped right outside Zhongzhou City, and the gates of Zhongzhou City were tightly shut.
Tens of thousands of Ningzhou Iron Cavalry were clad in battle armor, with the cavalry at the front and infantry behind. Their black armor gleamed under the sun like phosphorescence, forming a line with the overcast sky, majestic and heavy, instilling an intense sense of oppression.
The soldiers on the city walls felt an overwhelming aura and murderous intent. This was the bravely battle-hardened Ningzhou Iron Cavalry that had defeated the Beiman. Could Zhongzhou's defenders truly hold the city gates against this cavalry?
General Chen Ming pondered the same question.
Xie Xun, in white horse and silver armor, stood before the army formation, holding a long spear and a longsword at his waist. With eyes like torches, he glanced at the defending general on Zhongzhou's city wall. Though he had never met General Chen Ming, he discerned his identity.
