These eight hundred light cavalry were, in essence, an oversized Night-Scout squad—a reconnaissance force. Their mission was simple: probe the enemy's strength, confirm their positions, then return to report.
Since when did scouts casually ride around and suddenly charge headlong into an enemy camp?
Scouts? This was madness!
In the great desert, once surrounded, there was almost no terrain for retreat or maneuver. The only choice was to fight through by brute force. Even immortals would find it hard to escape such a trap.
"A Martial Artist at the Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement stage, if surrounded by a large army, could at most kill over a thousand enemies before exhausting their strength," said one strategist grimly.
"But the problem is—inside the Prime Minister's camp at Tiger Hill Mountain, there aren't zero generals. There are three!"
The Sixth Prince, Cao Huan, paced back and forth before the sand table map, anxiety clouding his features. "General Chen has ordered me to command the Hongze Battalion to ride out of the Great Wall tonight. They're to seize the enemy camp and take any prisoners once the battle ends. General Fang, what do you think we should do?"
"Your Highness, rest assured," said Fang Qingyun calmly from his wheelchair. "General Chen would never act rashly. Since he's gone himself, we should do exactly as he ordered."
"That's right," said General Zhao Wuji, who was also stationed in Liangzhou. "General Chen must have a strategy in mind. The main force needs to be ready to support him. Any delay now could ruin his plan."
"In that case," Cao Huan said with resolve, "carry out the order immediately! Have the Hongze Battalion ride out from the northern gate and march straight for Tiger Hill Mountain. They must reach the objective within one day!"
The Hongze Battalion had 15,000 cavalrymen—every one of them elite and precious.
But even more precious was Chen Sanshi himself.
If something happened to him, the loss would be far greater than fifteen thousand men.
Back when he was confined in the capital, Cao Huan had relied solely on reports to hear of Chen Sanshi's feats—reading one incredible account after another: "Four Crossings of Hongze River," "Three Thousand Against One Hundred Thousand." At the time, he thought such results sounded almost fictional.
He had once wondered what it felt like for a commander to have a subordinate like that—one who brought endless "surprises."
Now he understood.
It wasn't surprise—it was terror.
His heart felt like it would burst from the constant shock.
This wasn't command—it was gambling!
The camp felt less like a military post and more like a gambling hall, and he himself was the gambler—throwing everything onto the table again and again.
And Chen Sanshi was the one shaking the dice.
Until he lifted the cup, no one knew what the outcome would be.
After issuing the orders, Fang Qingyun wheeled himself into the courtyard and gazed up at the falling snow. "It's been years since Liangzhou's seen snow this heavy."
"An auspicious snow brings a good harvest," said Cao Huan, stepping out behind him, wrapped in a black cloak. "But why does this snow feel so cold?"
"Report!"
"Your Highness!"
"The Twelfth Prince has arrived!"
"My twelfth brother?"
At that, Cao Huan adjusted his cloak and went out personally to welcome him.
Through the swirling snow, Twelfth Prince Cao Zhi rode in, dismounting gracefully and bowing with a smile. "I greet Your Highness, the Prince of Zhao."
"Twelfth Brother, there's no need for such formality between us."
Cao Huan helped him up with a smile. "It's good you've come. I could use an extra pair of hands. For you, joining such a major campaign will be excellent training."
"Thank you, Sixth Brother, for giving me the opportunity to prove myself."
Cao Zhi craned his neck, looking around. "Where's General Chen?"
"He's gone."
Cao Huan's tone was plain but heavy. "He led eight hundred scouts to annihilate the enemy."
"Scouts? Annihilate the enemy?" Cao Zhi blinked in disbelief. "Sixth Brother, what are you talking about?"
"Oh, let me explain."
Cao Huan quickly summarized the situation.
"Then let me go too," Cao Zhi said immediately. "I'll join the Hongze Battalion and ride for Tiger Hill Mountain!"
"Fine," Cao Huan agreed, though his eyes were serious. "But be careful—no recklessness."
"Don't worry, Sixth Brother."
Cao Zhi swung back into the saddle before the snow had even stopped falling and galloped straight toward the military camp.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the Luotian Mountain Range, two men advanced side by side—both of them over a hundred years old.
"Zizhan," murmured Cao Kai, his tone faint. "You're truly entrusting such a major campaign entirely to them?"
Sun Xiangzong walked ahead, hands clasped behind his back, occasionally pushing aside branches in his path. He didn't answer.
Cao Kai gave a short laugh. "Perhaps that's for the best. The younger generation of the northern frontier is full of talent. Even without us paving the way, they'll manage just fine."
Just then, a gyrfalcon swooped down from the sky.
"Speak of war, and news arrives."
Because they didn't want anyone to know they were here, the Longqing Emperor was using only a normal falcon for communication.
He opened the message slowly, scanning it before raising an eyebrow. "Interesting. Your closed-door disciple led eight hundred scouts to attack an enemy camp.
"By the way, why do the barbarians' movements seem so strange this time? Instead of attacking Liangzhou, they're going after Youzhou. What could they possibly be planning?"
"You should be asking yourself that," Sun Xiangzong replied coldly. "In a few days, will Youzhou's gates open by themselves to let the barbarians in?"
"Sun Xiangzong, don't spout nonsense," the emperor snapped. "Youzhou is a vital fortress. Would I ever let wolves into the sheepfold?"
"There's nothing you wouldn't do," Sun Xiangzong retorted. "It only depends on whether you want to."
He stopped walking, his eyes fixed on the twelfth ridge ahead—the very heart of the Luotian Mountains. His tone grew grave. "But let me remind you of one thing.
"If the Foul vein isn't dealt with…
"Not only will countless lives perish, but your Cao family's dynasty won't survive either."
Before them, several cultivators were flying through the sky before landing deep within the mountains.
"Lately, I've been studying old texts," said Cao Kai, narrowing his eyes. "It's said that once the Foul vein revives, the ancient demonic race of the immortal world will no longer be bound by Heaven's laws. They'll descend into the mortal realm, using their foul qi to corrupt the Eastern Divine Continent, transforming it into a place suitable for their cultivation.
"So then—this business of collecting martial artists' heart-blood—is it related to the revival of the Foul vein?"
"You can thank His Majesty for that," said Sun Xiangzong coldly. "Without your 'help,' such a massive blood sacrifice would never have taken shape so easily."
"That's enough!" Cao Kai's voice boomed, echoing through the mountains.
From within his sleeves, the Longqing Emperor, Cao Kai, let out a low growl that seemed to echo with the cry of a dragon. His voice rose, one word after another, heavy with fury. "I will personally help you sever this Foul vein and wipe out every last one of those fiends! When the war ends and the northern frontier is pacified, peace will return to the realm!
"I, myself, will forge a second flourishing age of Longqing! Peace shall once again descend upon the world!"
Sun Xiangzong only shook his head slightly and, without replying, quickened his pace on the mountain path.
At Tiger Hill Mountain, snow whirled in the air and cold winds howled across the frozen landscape.
"Not good! A patrol squad has gone missing!"
"It must be those Sheng scouts—the Night-Scouts!"
"Quick, there's movement up ahead!"
A barbarian cavalry unit that had noticed the disturbance galloped toward the perimeter to investigate. Through the blizzard, they vaguely saw a figure approaching from the white curtain of snow.
"Is that one of ours?"
The barbarian sub-general, Haribari, shouted at the figure.
No reply.
Only the rapid thunder of hoofbeats closing in fast. The blurry silhouette in the snow grew clearer—a white horse, and on its back, a young general.
He wore no armor, only a white robe the color of the snow itself. A long spear hung at his saddle, and in his hands, he raised a massive black-iron bow.
By the time Haribari saw his face clearly, the bow was already drawn to a perfect full moon. A dark-tipped arrow gleamed coldly, aimed straight at his forehead.
White robe. White horse. Long spear. Great bow.
Could it be—?!
Haribari's pupils shrank in terror.
"Boom—!"
The snow exploded outward.
From it burst a black dragon, roaring across the air.
Haribari's instincts kicked in. His hand was already gripping the curved blade at his waist. In that instant, he unleashed his full strength—qi and blood, internal force, and raw muscle all surged together into his weapon. With a feral roar, he swung at the incoming dragon.
"Clang—!"
A clear metallic shriek rang out. The curved blade shattered under the crushing force. The black dragon crashed into his face without resistance.
Then, darkness.
"Bang!"
His head burst like a watermelon, spraying blood into the air. The red mist mingled with the swirling snow, blooming into a blood-colored lotus in the white sky.
The dragon didn't stop.
After tearing through Haribari's skull, it kept howling forward, leaving behind trails of crimson flowers in its wake.
In just a single breath, five or six barbarian riders were hit in succession. They didn't even have time to scream before tumbling lifelessly from their horses.
"Chen Sanshi!"
Only then did the surviving barbarians realize the truth.
That white-robed general of legend—he was here!
"It's Chen Sanshi!"
"Hurry!"
"Sound the alarm—"
"Swish! Swish! Swish—!"
Before the warning whistle could finish, another breath passed. Every man in the patrol squad fell beneath the rain of arrows.
The disturbance was impossible to ignore.
Within several li, alarm horns began blaring one after another, and shouts of panic echoed through the snowy darkness.
"Chen Sanshi!"
"Chen Sanshi is attacking the camp with his army!"
"Stop them—stop them, damn it!"
Under the frantic orders, hundreds of barbarian soldiers rushed forward to block the oncoming threat.
But it was useless.
They couldn't even reach close combat. From within the snowstorm, arrows streaked toward them like meteors, and one after another, they toppled from their saddles.
Not far away, Chu Shixiong and his men encountered more barbarian cavalry. They could see their commander—white-robed, on his white horse—charging straight ahead like a thunderbolt. The sight alone ignited their courage and killing intent. With roaring battle cries, they clashed with the barbarian riders in the blinding snow.
Inside the central command tent—
"Report!"
"Prime Minister!"
"Bad news!"
"Something terrible has happened!"
"It's Chen Sanshi!"
"That Sheng general, Chen Sanshi, is leading an army to attack the camp!"
"What?!"
Yu Wen Chengzhao, the Prime Minister of the Yu Wen tribe, nearly choked on his wine. He threw down his bowl and demanded, "Who did you say? Are you sure?!"
"It's Chen Sanshi! There's no mistake!"
"Prime Minister, you must think of a plan! Chen Sanshi is less than two li from the central camp!"
Yu Wen Chengzhao exchanged glances with the two generals beside him. None of them had expected such an event, but they were experienced leaders, not men easily rattled.
"Impossible," muttered General Tengger, his expression grim. "Our scouts are spread across the entire frontier. If there were a large-scale attack, we'd have known. Since there's been no report, it can't be a full army assault."
His voice was calm. He even sliced two pieces of roasted lamb leg with his knife and began chewing leisurely.
"Mmm. General Tengger is right," said Yu Wen Chengzhao with a nod. He glared at the panicked messenger. "Stop flailing around like fools! Find out exactly how many they are!"
"Yes, Prime Minister!"
Though outwardly composed, the three men didn't dare be careless. While waiting for new information, each picked up his own weapon from nearby.
"Report!"
Soon, another messenger rushed in.
"Reporting to the Prime Minister! Enemy numbers estimated at no more than one thousand. Maybe as few as six or seven hundred, but no more than twelve hundred at most!"
"And the leader—it's indeed Chen Sanshi! Looks like the same group of Sheng Night-Scouts that's been moving around nearby lately."
This was their main camp. Everyone nearby was one of their own soldiers. Getting an accurate headcount of the enemy was effortless.
"Less than a thousand?"
Yu Wen Chengzhao narrowed his eyes. "Could it be a spur-of-the-moment attack? Did he lead his scouts on an impromptu raid?"
"What a joke," sneered Daricha, one of the vice generals. "Isn't this Chen fellow supposed to be a cunning strategist? Why would he act like a reckless fool now?"
"I still find it odd," Yu Wen Chengzhao said quietly. "Does he really think he alone can stand against thousands of men? That's absurd."
"Perfect!" said Tengger with a wicked grin as he grabbed his spiked mace. "I've long wanted to test myself against that man!"
Daricha said coldly, "That man—only a year ago—was at the Meridian-Connecting stage. Even if he's incredibly gifted, at best he's just entered the Profound Manifestation Realm. Let's be generous and say he's reached Mastery. Isn't he just walking to his own death?"
"Seeing is believing," said Yu Wen Chengzhao, gripping his weapon. "Order the army to form a full encirclement—quickly! We'll take the field ourselves!"
"Boom, boom, boom!"
The drums thundered across the snowy plains, shaking heaven and earth.
Endless waves of barbarian cavalry, black as a storm cloud, surged from every direction.
"Only seven or eight hundred men?"
"Good! Very good!"
Dragging his spiked mace behind him, Tengger climbed to the watchtower and looked out over the battlefield more than one li away. After confirming several times, he saw clearly—only seven to eight hundred Sheng soldiers, already trapped in the encirclement of heavy troops.
"Since they came here, they won't be leaving alive!"
"Whrr—"
Before he could finish, a piercing whistle cut through the storm.
A single arrow ripped through the air, wreathed in raging gang qi, a spiraling force like a coiled azure dragon twisting through the sky.
Tengger froze. The distance between him and that white-robed man was over one li, yet the arrow had reached him with terrifying speed—carrying gang qi!
Impossible!
But Chen Sanshi's Archery was renowned throughout the world.
Tengger was already prepared. Waves of gang qi surged outward from his body, wrapping around his weapon. With a roar, he swung the mace down.
"Boom!"
Two surges of pure force clashed head-on, detonating in midair. The shockwave blasted outward, and the wooden tower beneath him couldn't withstand it—it collapsed instantly with a crash. Tengger hit the ground from several zhang high, stomping deep into the snow and dirt, leaving a massive crater beneath his feet.
He had heard long ago that this man's bow was strange—that his arrows carried gang qi. Now he saw it with his own eyes.
The power wasn't weak—but it seemed no stronger than a beginner-level Profound Manifestation practitioner.
Tengger's killing intent boiled over. Abandoning his horse, he leapt forward with monstrous strength, each jump spanning several zhang. In just three bounds, he crossed the field, landing in the heart of the battlefield—only about one hundred steps from the white-robed general.
Two more arrows came flying.
He swung his mace in rapid motion, deflecting both, closing the distance further. Fifty steps left—just fifty!
If he could kill this man, the reward would be worth ten million merits!
The thought drove him mad with excitement.
The veins in his arm bulged like ropes. Muscles twisted and knotted across his torso. His breathing method roared to life as his eight extraordinary meridians circulated at full speed, drawing in the chaotic qi of heaven and earth, refining it into pure gang qi, and pouring it all into his weapon.
Layer upon layer of force gathered until the mace transformed into a ferocious shape—a manifested beast.
To the soldiers watching nearby, it looked as if their general was no longer holding a weapon but commanding a monstrous bear of gang qi, towering over a zhang tall.
The bear gang materialized through the storm, bounding beside Tengger before leaping high into the air—its immense weight crashing down like Mount Tai, unstoppable and furious!
Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement! Gang Qi Manifestation!
And his very first strike was an all-out blow!
In midair, Tengger could already see it clearly in his mind: the white-robed general and his white horse smashed into pulp. A savage grin twisted across his face.
But then… the grin froze.
Because on the ground below, Chen Sanshi had already drawn his bow—but hadn't released the string.
Gang qi surged through his arm into the massive bow, flowing like a river through the Ghostwood frame and gathering endlessly at the tip of the arrow.
The aura around the arrow grew stronger and stronger, thicker and heavier, until it reached its limit—just before it shattered.
Then—boom!
It exploded, unfolding into a pair of wings.
Two blazing wings, formed entirely of condensed gang qi, burst open, whipping up the snow into a spiraling storm. The air shimmered with heat, the ice melting instantly into vapor.
A divine beast emerged from the distortion—its feathers burning red like fire.
It was the Vermilion Bird (Zhuque)!
For a moment, everyone seemed to hear a piercing phoenix cry echoing through the storm.
Vermilion Bird Form!
'Gang Qi Manifestation?'
'He's also at Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement?!'
Impossible. It was utterly impossible.
Even Tengger, as battle-hardened as he was, felt his mind tremble. This was beyond reason. A cultivation speed like this had never existed in history!
Still, he didn't falter. Grinding his teeth, he pushed himself beyond his limits. His body twisted, his meridians screamed, and the bear gang beside him thickened—more solid, more violent. With a roar, it dove toward Chen Sanshi.
"Whrr—!"
The bowstring twanged like thunder.
The Vermilion Bird spread its wings, igniting the blizzard, then streaked forward as a blur of flame and smoke.
Bear Gang!
Vermilion Bird!
They collided midair.
The explosion was deafening—a shockwave rippled outward in every direction, blowing away the snow and revealing clear air for hundreds of paces.
When the wind finally settled, the bear gang was gone—completely obliterated.
In the deep pit below, Tengger lay motionless. The entire right half of his body was destroyed—blood, bone, and flesh melted together.
He stared blankly at the falling snowflakes, his eyes unfocused. Two breaths later, his head lolled to the side, and he died on the spot.
One arrow.
Killed a Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement expert.
"Tengger!"
A few hundred steps away, Yu Wen Chengzhao and Daricha, who had just arrived, yanked on their reins in shock. Their horses reared, snorting in terror. Both men stared ahead, wide-eyed, speechless.
What… just happened?
They had followed right behind him—just a few breaths behind.
And Tengger… was gone?
One arrow?
He was killed by a single arrow?!
Even if Tengger had the weakest physique of the three, even if he'd just broken through recently—he was still a true Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement cultivator, only one step away from becoming a Martial Saint!
And now, just like that…
He was dead—instantly.
Neither man could spare time to question how Chen Sanshi's cultivation had skyrocketed in such a short time. Their minds were too stunned by what they saw.
Even if he'd reached Major Achievement, he shouldn't have been able to crush someone of the same realm!
"Prime Minister…"
Daricha's voice trembled. "What do we do?!"
"Encircle him!" Yu Wen Chengzhao roared. His confidence returned as he saw the 20,000 troops gathered and ready. "Just eight hundred men, and they dare to challenge us?! Even if you were a Martial Saint, you'd die here today!
"Attack!
"Whoever kills Chen Sanshi—shall be made a Marquis!"
At that very moment, the eight hundred light cavalry had fully entered the fray.
They didn't charge recklessly but instead fought with precision—launching strikes from the outer flanks, cutting through one side of the enemy ranks, then breaking away to circle and harass again. They fought like shadows in the snow, using guerrilla tactics to cut down their foes.
With Chu Shixiong, a Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement expert, leading the vanguard, as long as they avoided being surrounded by heavy troops, their losses remained minimal.
But there was one greater reason for their survival—
Chen Sanshi himself!
He alone had drawn nearly all the attention—twenty thousand enemy soldiers focused entirely on one man.
Alone, he was surrounded on all sides.
Chen Sanshi looked around.
Beyond the blizzard, there was nothing but the enemy—no retreat, no hesitation. His breath slowed, and the chaotic qi within his body converted into Four-Phase Heavenly Gang Qi. He shifted his weapon from the great bow to the Liqüan Spear.
"Kill him!"
"Kill!"
Countless weapons—blades, spears, halberds, axes, hooks, and forks—came crashing toward him from every direction.
Yet just as the tips neared his robe—less than an inch away—they froze, unable to move forward at all.
It was as if invisible dragons coiled protectively around him and his white horse, while fierce tigers ripped at the enemies' weapons. A wave of crushing force burst outward, blasting dozens of men into the air. Those of weaker cultivation died instantly—blood streaming from all seven orifices.
Body-Protecting Gang Qi!
"Formation—Trap the General!"
High-realm warriors were nearly impossible to kill before they exhausted their strength.
Thus, formations like this had been invented—to wear down enemy commanders while minimizing one's own casualties. Once the target's strength waned, a finishing strike by their own general would secure the kill.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
Massive seven-foot-tall rectangular black-iron shields slammed into the snowy ground. From north, south, east, and west, they formed an iron fortress, closing in and shrinking the circle—trapping Chen Sanshi and his horse inside.
Those holding the shields were no ordinary soldiers. Among them, seven or eight were Meridian-Connecting deputy generals; the rest were all at least Transforming Strength Realm, every one a seasoned officer.
Hidden safely behind their shields, they thrust spears and halberds through the narrow gaps, each strike empowered with inner strength—slowly, relentlessly, draining his energy. Behind them, more senior generals waited to rotate in, determined to bury Chen Sanshi alive in that trap.
From the ridge above, Chu Shixiong and the light cavalry saw it all unfold.
"General!"
"My lord!"
"General Chu!"
Zhao Kang shouted urgently, "We can't let this continue! This tactic may keep us safe, but the commander is fighting alone in that death trap! We must go back for him—now!"
"Our eight hundred are best used for hit-and-run attacks!" said Chu Shixiong grimly. "If we charge into that encirclement, they'll send a general to tie me down. We'll all be slaughtered within moments!"
"Then let us be slaughtered!"
Xu Bin raised his blade and roared, "The commander said he'd capture Prime Minister Yu Wen alive—so he'll do it! If we don't follow, we'll only slow him down!"
"Well said! Brothers, charge the formation!"
"Stop!"
Chu Shixiong barked sharply, "Not yet!"
"General Chu," Xia Cong stepped forward and cupped his fists, "we can't wait any longer. If he's trapped in that formation much longer, then—"
Before he could finish, he froze.
Because suddenly—
Ahead, from within the Trap-the-General Formation, a thunderous explosion erupted.
"Boom—!"
It was like thunder splitting the earth apart—like mountains collapsing in a storm. The ground trembled violently, the heavens seemed to shake, and through the sea of soldiers, a storm of qi burst forth, flinging countless barbarian soldiers high into the sky.
The shockwave blew away the falling snow, revealing the truth.
There—
Chen Sanshi stood at the center, his Liqüan Spear gleaming darkly under the stormlight. Though forged of pure black iron—solid, unyielding—in their eyes it had transformed into a living dragon.
The Azure Dragon roared through the snowstorm, weaving through the ranks like lightning. Wherever it passed, soldiers and armor shattered alike—pieces of metal and flesh burst into the air, spinning in the storm. Blood mixed with snow, raining down like red hail, while bodies fell one after another.
The white-robed man and his white horse left only carnage in their wake.
"An ant trying to stop a chariot!"
That was all the Hongze Army soldiers could think of to describe it.
He was just one man on one horse—but together they were like a mountain of iron crashing through an army. The enemy might seem endless and fierce, but before this unstoppable force, they were as fragile as mantis limbs—crushed into dust.
Within the time it took to drink one cup of tea—
One thousand enemies lay dead.
One thousand!
And most terrifying of all—the white-robed general showed no sign of exhaustion.
"Where the hell does he get that endless gang qi?!"
When Yu Wen Chengzhao first heard of the sudden raid, he didn't panic.
When he heard the attacker was Chen Sanshi, he stayed calm.
Even after watching Tengger fall to a single arrow, he kept his composure.
But now—after seeing over one thousand men slaughtered without pause, without even a flicker of fatigue—both he and Daricha could no longer remain steady. Sweat streamed down their backs despite the freezing snow, and even their warhorses trembled and bucked.
One man killing over a thousand didn't seem like much compared to an army of twenty thousand—but the psychological blow was devastating.
Because to the barbarian soldiers…
The man before them was no longer human.
He was—
A god of slaughter.
An unkillable god of death.
The troops' fear grew thicker with every heartbeat. They were seconds away from a total rout.
Yu Wen Chengzhao and Daricha had no choice but to ride into the formation themselves, forcing their courage to the surface as they charged toward the white-robed demon.
"Prime Minister!"
"He's already slain a thousand men! Even gods would be drained by now!"
"If we steady the lines and let our soldiers tire him out a little longer, then attack together from both sides, we can still bring him down!"
"You're right!"
"Clang—!"
Yu Wen Chengzhao's blade fell, cleaving through several of his own men who had tried to flee. He shouted furiously, "Whoever brings me even one of Chen Sanshi's fingers will be granted a marquisate! But anyone who retreats—his entire tribe, men, women, and children—will be enslaved!"
Their brutality steadied the ranks at last.
"His horse!"
"Cut down his horse first!"
"Right! Bring down the beast!"
The soldiers soon realized—the unstoppable force of that white figure came not only from his spear but also from the divine steed beneath him. Its speed and power made him untouchable.
So they turned their efforts toward the mount.
Under shouted orders, soldiers dragged iron caltrops from the camp, scattering them across the charging path. Rows of anti-cavalry stakes were planted in the snow, and specialized horse-slaying spears were readied behind them.
Their new plan was simple—
Kill the white horse.
Then seize the white-robed demon alive.
Iron caltrops…
The iron caltrops were jagged, irregular traps forged entirely from solid metal.
The anti-cavalry stakes were tall wooden barriers studded with spikes, forming a deadly fence. Behind them, soldiers crouched low, raising long spears that extended more than ten feet forward, ready to pierce anything that charged.
But just before Chen Sanshi and his white horse collided with the countless traps, he suddenly leapt high into the air.
He soared several zhang upward, his long spear drawn back behind him. Gang qi condensed around him, swirling the flying snow into a spiral that began to take form under his will.
The entire spear shimmered—its form shifting from the Azure Dragon into a White Tiger, the ferocious god of slaughter.
"Hrrrhhh—!"
The white crane horse neighed sharply. It leapt skyward as if it could fly, completely unfazed by the traps below. In midair, it caught its master on its back and descended together, the spear in Chen Sanshi's hand roaring with the might of the White Tiger.
"Roar!"
For a moment, it was impossible to tell whether the sound was the cry of the spear or the tiger itself. A wave of violent qi erupted outward, flinging men through the air. Blood and flesh rained down in a crimson storm.
That single leap covered several dozen zhang, and when he landed again, he stood right before Yu Wen Chengzhao and Daricha.
"Prime Minister, watch out!"
Daricha's giant axe came swinging down like a falling meteor, the force behind it howling like a celestial wolf descending to earth. But the instant it collided with the White Tiger's force, it shattered. The impact sent Daricha flying backward like a broken doll.
"Whrr—!"
Chen Sanshi didn't give him a chance to rise again. His gang qi surged; he hurled the Liqüan Spear like a thunderbolt. It spun through the blizzard, transforming once more into an Azure Dragon that pierced straight toward Daricha.
The strike blazed through the snow like a rainbow across the sun.
Even among Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement experts, there were levels of strength.
Daricha was far stronger than Tengger. He had reached Major Achievement long ago—his foundation firm and his gang qi perfected.
Ordinarily, he might have blocked the blow and stabilized himself within a breath's time.
But Chen Sanshi didn't give him even that.
The spear reached him in an instant. The dragon's roar drowned out the storm as it tore through his chest, the tip of the spear bursting from his back. His heart was pierced clean through, his meridians shredded, and his internal organs reduced to pulp. He hit the snow like a rag doll, dead before he could scream.
Another general—dead.
Yu Wen Chengzhao didn't just stand there watching. The moment Chen Sanshi threw his spear, he swung his massive saber, carrying the force of ten thousand catties, aiming straight for Chen Sanshi's face.
If that madman dared to throw his weapon away, then he'd handed him his life!
His confidence surged. Saber qi roared like a lion as it crashed down.
"Clang—!"
Mountain-Suppressing Sword—Unsheathing!
The Black Tortoise Form emerged, divine and indestructible. The spectral lion of saber qi scattered in an instant.
Yu Wen Chengzhao didn't even see Chen Sanshi draw the blade. He only saw a flash of light—then panicked, raising his weapon too late.
A chill ran across his shoulder.
His entire right arm—along with the massive saber—was sliced clean off, tumbling through the snow and rolling away like discarded firewood.
"Ahhh!"
Even in agony, Yu Wen Chengzhao didn't stop fighting. He swung his left fist at his enemy, but it too shattered under the recoil.
Both men—Profound Manifestation—Major Achievement cultivators—had fallen in mere moments.
Not one of them could last a single exchange.
Chen Sanshi reached back into his quiver, drawing out arrows in a smooth motion. He nocked and fired in rapid succession, using his bowstring like a thunder god's whip.
Each arrow pierced one of Yu Wen Chengzhao's meridian points with pinpoint precision.
In an instant, the Prime Minister's body bristled with arrows—like a hedgehog—his qi sealed, his strength gone.
Chen Sanshi reached down, grabbed him by the neck, and lifted him high into the air. His voice was a rolling thunder that shook the blood-soaked battlefield.
"Surrender to the Great Sheng Dynasty, or die where you stand!"
"Prime Minister!"
"Prime Minister?!"
Across the sea of corpses and rivers of blood, twenty thousand barbarian soldiers watched in frozen horror.
A single rider had slain a thousand men, then cut down three generals—one after another—alone!
Three generals!
All of their commanders—dead.
The soldiers stood trembling. Their hands shook so violently they could barely hold their weapons. Even beasts would cower under such fear—what chance did men have?
"Don't surrender!"
Yu Wen Chengzhao, drenched in blood and barely alive, roared hoarsely, "Don't worry about me! Don't surrender! Withdraw—retreat! They only have eight hundred men! Run! Run back to your nearest tribe!"
He was already as good as dead, but he wouldn't let his men throw their lives away.
If he refused to cooperate, those eight hundred couldn't possibly subdue twenty thousand warriors.
Chen Sanshi understood that perfectly.
Back at Hulao Pass, three thousand had forced tens of thousands to surrender only because Fan Shuzhen had aided from within.
He hadn't expected this barbarian Prime Minister to have such backbone.
He didn't bother arguing. He simply slammed Yu Wen Chengzhao into the ground, then raised his spear, his voice ringing like divine thunder across heaven and earth.
"Those who refuse to surrender—kill without mercy!"
War required clarity of purpose.
This northern campaign across the desert wasn't about seizing land—it was about annihilating the living strength of the barbarian tribes.
That endless desert—other than the lands around the Agate River, which were useful for breeding horses—offered little value to the Great Sheng. Occupying it would only drain resources.
So the goal was simple—eradicate the enemy.
"This…"
The barbarian soldiers exchanged fearful glances. Their courage faltered.
Finally, they chose to retreat, not surrender.
The Prime Minister was right.
The Sheng army had only eight hundred riders.
They couldn't win—but they could still flee!
If they reached their tribes, life would go on. But as prisoners, their fates would be far worse.
"Go!"
"Retreat!"
Under the shouts of several deputy generals, the twenty thousand troops turned their horses and fled toward the nearest settlement.
"Good… good!"
Bleeding and broken, Yu Wen Chengzhao laughed bitterly. "As long as our men still live, one day we'll return. We'll take your lands, drink your blood, and grind your Sheng people into dust!"
Chen Sanshi's face was unreadable.
If they had surrendered, he would have spared them. It would've saved the Great Sheng countless future battles.
But since they refused—
He would kill them.
All of them—until none were left standing.
The barbarians didn't look back. They held their ranks together as best they could and fled toward the nearest tribe that still had a Martial Saint to protect it.
The eight hundred Hongze riders gave chase but couldn't stop such a massive force bent on escape.
"Clang—!"
In a flash, Chen Sanshi drew the Liqüan Spear from Daricha's corpse.
Then he vanished from Yu Wen Chengzhao's sight.
When he reappeared—
It was in front of the retreating army, alone, one man and one spear, blocking the path of ten thousand fleeing soldiers.
"I told you…"
Snow howled across the plains.
Chen Sanshi's voice rolled across the snowy plains like thunder.
"You have only two choices—surrender or die! There is no third path!"
"You—!"
The barbarian soldiers trembled between rage and despair. "You've gone too far!"
They couldn't defeat him, and now he wouldn't even let them flee. He was forcing them into a corner—forcing them to die.
In an instant, the nineteen thousand remaining barbarians became like trapped beasts. Their fear twisted into bloodlust under the pressure of survival. Their broken army suddenly rallied, roaring as they charged toward that lone figure in white standing amid the snowstorm.
"You can kill one thousand men!"
"But can you kill twenty thousand?!"
Yet soon—they realized the terrifying truth.
He truly could.
The white-robed man's strength seemed endless. His qi never faded.
Many times, they thought he'd finally stopped—that he'd run out of energy. But then, he would simply wipe the blood from his spear shaft, tighten his grip, and charge forward again—calm, cold, relentless.
Not even the slightest hint of fatigue showed on him.
The barbarians' organized retreat devolved into chaos. Men scattered in every direction, but almost none escaped. The white horse was like a phantom from hell—whoever tried to run found the rider already at their back.
The terrain around Tiger Hill Mountain was treacherous, with only two narrow routes of escape. The eight hundred Hongze riders filled every gap, herding the fleeing soldiers like sheep, driving them again and again into the same killing fields.
Those barbarians who still clutched their weapons no longer had the will to fight. They were nothing but lambs awaiting slaughter.
Two thousand!
Three thousand!
Eight thousand!
Ten thousand!
By the time dawn broke, the snow had stopped. Sunshine poured over a battlefield that had run red through the night.
He had killed without pause—from dusk till morning.
At last, terror consumed the barbarians completely—terror that tore their hearts apart and crushed their spirits.
They were no longer warriors—only beasts broken by fear, stripped of will.
Even the thought of running no longer existed.
"Clatter—clatter—clatter!"
Weapons and armor fell like a crashing tide.
The last ten thousand barbarians all dropped to their knees as one, their movements as neat as falling wheat before a storm.
"Surrender!"
"We surrender!"
"Ahh—ahhh!"
Some screamed mindlessly, others stared blankly at the endless white snow. In their eyes, everywhere they looked, there were only white robes and white horses—until madness took them.
From a distance, Yu Wen Chengzhao, now under the watch of Zhao Kang and the others, stood numb with disbelief.
He could only stare at the scene before him—the sea of kneeling soldiers, the mountains of corpses, and that lone white-robed figure, drenched in blood yet still unbowed, still tireless.
That man—
He alone had likely slain over four thousand men tonight.
And he still hadn't reached his limit.
One man—had slaughtered an entire army.
Yu Wen Chengzhao's body trembled uncontrollably.
He knew now—without a doubt—there would never again be another man like Chen Sanshi in this world.
This defeat… was no injustice.
At that moment, far in the distance, the Hongze Battalion was approaching.
Leading the way was Cao Zhi, accompanied by Deputy General You Jike, commanding fifteen thousand cavalry.
Not far ahead lay Tiger Hill Mountain—the heart of the barbarian encampment.
"Why is it so quiet?"
Cao Zhi frowned. "Did we come to the wrong place?"
"No mistake," said You Jike firmly. "I've personally scouted this area before with the Night Scouts. Prime Minister Yu Wen's camp should be right ahead."
"Then why is there no sound at all? Don't tell me something's gone wrong…" Cao Zhi muttered uneasily.
Eight hundred light cavalry, acting as vanguard scouts, sent to wipe out a fortified enemy camp—an absurd idea to begin with.
And now, not even the faintest battle cry or clash of steel reached their ears. The silence was unnerving.
Within the Hongze ranks, most soldiers had never actually fought alongside Chen Sanshi before. They whispered among themselves nervously.
"Do you think the general…"
"Yeah… after all, there were only eight hundred of them."
"They say Tiger Hill Mountain's camp had at least three Profound Manifestation generals."
"If they got surrounded—"
"Enough nonsense!"
Wang Zhi barked angrily. "Spreading panic is a capital crime! Do you not know that?!"
"General Tang," Cao Zhi said calmly, "perhaps we should halt the army here. You and I can take fifty light riders to scout ahead at Tiger Hill Mountain. Once we see the situation clearly, we'll decide our next move."
He was right. They couldn't risk advancing the entire army blindly.
If the eight hundred had been wiped out, there could very well be an ambush waiting for them ahead.
"My junior brother isn't reckless," Wang Zhi said after a moment's thought. "That strike with eight hundred riders may have been bait. Maybe he called us here for something bigger. Let's go see for ourselves."
They gathered fifty riders, galloping swiftly toward a nearby slope overlooking the enemy camp.
And then—they saw it.
Under the morning sun, the snow was streaked red. Rows upon rows of barbarian soldiers stood neatly in line, their heads bowed, trudging obediently toward the Great Sheng's banners.
There were almost no guards around them—only discipline born of fear.
Behind them, in the center of what had been the barbarian camp, fluttered two flags in the cold wind—one bearing the bold Sheng character, and the other, the single large character Chen.
At that moment, Cao Zhi and Wang Zhi both understood.
Tiger Hill Mountain—had fallen.
Eight hundred men—had taken a camp of twenty thousand, including three Profound Manifestation generals and their Prime Minister.
And not only that—these twenty thousand hadn't even tried to run. They were marching like captives, docile as lambs, their spirits already broken.
From the bodies scattered across the snow, it was clear—at least ten thousand had been slain.
The rest had simply… given up.
This wasn't a battle.
It was a massacre.
Eight hundred men—had reaped an army like cutting grass.