The killing aura dissipated. Chongxuan Sheng held Ji Cheng's head in one hand — torn from the old general's neck — and looked around.
Of the five thousand Autumn Kill Army soldiers under his command, only seven hundred remained.
Chongxuan Sheng had slain the general and captured the banner in this battle, earning another great merit. Yet four thousand three hundred of his own elite Autumn Kill Army soldiers had died along the charge.
As the saying went: one general's success is built on ten thousand withered bones!
There was no time for sentiment. Chongxuan Sheng leapt into the air, held the old general's head high, and roared: "Our division has slain the enemy general! Ji Cheng is dead!"
The surviving Autumn Kill Army soldiers near the command platform shouted in unison: "Slain the general!"
The azure battle banner on the command platform toppled. Jiang Wang seized it with one hand and waved it overhead: "I have captured the banner!"
The soldiers roared again: "Captured the banner!"
Across the entire battlefield, the Yang army's morale plummeted to rock bottom.
Those Yang soldiers who had been desperately fighting their way back to rescue their command platform had all lost their backbone at that moment.
Then, from the rear guard, a thunderous shout rang out.
"General Ji's will lives on! Men of Yang — follow me, Yang Jiande, into battle!"
"This battle — I, Yang Jiande, fight only unto death!"
The Yang army had been on the verge of collapse, but after that cry, they rallied: "Only unto death!"
---
When the azure battle banner fell, Yang Jiande watched in silence.
He had been watching silently for a long time. But Chongxuan Chuliang had given him no opportunity.
He watched the Yang soldiers fight and die in pools of blood — often it took four or five of them to trade for one Autumn Kill Army life.
He had watched the formation crash into the center army. He had watched the desperate, moth-to-flame resistance near the command platform.
He had watched both sides display extraordinary fighting will.
He watched the old general Ji Cheng channel the starlight of the White Tiger Holy Tower. He knew Ji Cheng's condition well — of the Four Holy Towers, only the White Tiger Tower still shone for him. The others had long gone dark; he could no longer connect to them.
All these years — why had a man as formidable as Ji Cheng never advanced to Divine Descent? Others said he was too old. But didn't Yang Jiande know it was because the powerhouses of the State of Qi had sabotaged and suppressed him more than once?
Ji Cheng had served his country his entire life, yet the State of Yang had failed to protect such a great general.
From his youth as a brilliant young man to his white-haired old age — it was always the State of Yang that owed Ji Cheng, never the other way around.
He watched Ji Cheng's entire family become martyrs — his sons, his grandchildren, and finally the man himself.
And he watched the azure banner bearing the Ji clan of Tianxiong fall at last.
The Sutra of Blood Demon That Eradicates Emotion and Desire had already nearly extinguished his emotions. But somehow, he felt his heart ache.
An ache that pierced to the very core!
Yang Jiande spurred his warhorse, driving it frantically.
This precious steed, whose strength rivaled that of a demon beast, could not possibly respond fast enough to the fury in his heart.
He charged.
No longer as a sovereign lord.
Not in the capacity of a king.
But as a son of Yang, leading a charge.
Ten thousand soldiers from Cangfeng City, who had volunteered for the nation, followed him.
They swept across the battlefield like a torrent, sweeping past the demoralized Yang soldiers, pulling the collapsing battle lines back together once more.
He was the lord of the State of Yang. When the moment demanded it, he would fight to the death at the forefront.
And at that very moment, atop the Autumn Kill Army's central command platform, Chongxuan Chuliang, who had been biding his time, stepped forward.
"Why did I not face Ji Cheng in a contest of command?"
"Because Yang Jiande was conserving his strength. And so was I!"
"Facing Yang Jiande, I dared not divide my attention!"
"But he… divided his!"
Chongxuan Chuliang didn't mount a horse. He simply left the command platform and charged forward through empty air.
"All soldiers, hear my command!"
He drew his Life-Severing Blade, a weapon of savage shape, and bellowed: "A petty state dares to defy heaven's might! Follow me — cut down this rebel!"
Ten thousand elite soldiers surged behind him, all committed to the battlefield.
From the grand strategic view, Yang Jiande had entered the battle from the rear of the Yang army. Chongxuan Chuliang had charged straight out from the Qi army's central position.
For the main theater of battle had already concentrated on the Yang army's center and even rear lines. The Autumn Kill Army's front had been pushed this far.
In other words — the Yang army had reached its final hour!
This was the last charge. Both sides knew this perfectly well.
Unless Yang Jiande could break through Chongxuan Chuliang in a single thrust.
But how difficult that would be!
On the battlefield, sometimes what was being tested was patience alone.
Yang Jiande might not have been inferior to Chongxuan Chuliang in patience. But the situation would not allow him to wait any longer.
Before the Autumn Kill Army's casualties could reach the critical threshold that would force Chongxuan Chuliang's hand, the Yang army had already begun to crumble.
Yang Jiande had no choice but to lead his forces in first.
But Chongxuan Chuliang, though starting later, arrived first.
Because the quality of their soldiers was entirely different. The Yang army was already inferior to the Qi army, and Yang Jiande was leading irregulars while Chongxuan Chuliang commanded the elite of the elite.
Two fresh forces met behind Ji Cheng's command platform, collided… and clashed to the death!
Neither side could fully understand why Yang Jiande had personally led ten thousand irregular troops.
Perhaps it was because the Yang army was weak and short on elite soldiers — all had to be reserved for Ji Cheng — and Yang Jiande was confident enough in his own command to fight without the best troops.
Before the engagement, Chongxuan Chuliang had thought the same.
But Yang Jiande had sought battle against Chongxuan Chuliang three times over — he certainly had his confidence.
His confidence lay in a peerless demonic art passed down from the ancient progenitor of the Demonic Path: the Blood Demon Art of Severing Emotion and Desire!
Before the engagement, Yang Jiande's body was still wreathed in the golden radiance of the Great Sun Golden Flame Art, the secret art of the Yang royal house. He looked majestic and radiant.
What horrified everyone was this: the instant the two forces clashed, every single one of the ten thousand soldiers who had charged alongside Yang Jiande erupted in blood-colored flames!
Because Yang Xuance was a regular presence in Cangfeng City. Though he was unruly, he was beloved by the people. The citizens of this city lived differently from others, and their devotion to the Yang court was stronger than anywhere else.
These volunteer soldiers from Cangfeng had been moved by the state of the nation and came forward of their own courage. Yang Jiande had taken them as his personal guard and placed them under his command — a great honor in their eyes.
The talismanic charms he had distributed before the battle, though they did not know their purpose, had been carried close to their bodies.
The simple battle formations Yang Jiande had personally taught them — though they did not understand their purpose — they had learned earnestly.
They never imagined these were tokens of death.
Ten thousand soldiers erupted in blood flame simultaneously. In the span of a single breath, they were consumed by the flames, their bodies and bones utterly annihilated.
Then the blood flames rose, every last one, and poured into Yang Jiande's body, painting him crimson.
Golden light transformed into blood light. Virtuous radiance twisted into a dark and malevolent glow!
The entire battlefield fell silent for one breath.
Yang Jiande raised his voice in a great shout: "My brave sons of Yang gave their lives for the nation, to help me achieve this great art!"
"I, Yang Jiande, swear to defend our homeland unto death — so that these heroes may rest in peace!"
There may have been shame. There may have been cruelty.
But Yang Jiande knew full well — since the fall of the Tianxiong Army, he had been left with no other choice!
The State of Qi's infiltration of Yang had been gradual and insidious. All his youthful efforts, everything he had exhausted himself to achieve, had only barely sustained the State of Yang's existence.
He had long since seen through it all.
The rise of the State of Yang's greatest misfortune. To be born as its king, with a mind full of strategy and great ambition — that was Yang Jiande's greatest misfortune.
Beneath a towering ancient tree, there is no space for lesser saplings to grow — no sunlight, no rain.
Cultivating the Blood Demon Art of Severing Emotion and Desire was a last resort, and also the only hope.
If he had been born in an era of chaos in the Eastern Domain, Yang Jiande was confident he would have been a great hegemon of his age. If he had been born in an ordinary family, he could have become a supreme cultivator, pushing the limits of cultivation to its very end.
But he was born in the Eastern Domain of this present age. Born as the ruler of the State of Yang.
Twenty-seven generations of sovereign rule rested upon his shoulders.
He had no choice.
He had told himself this more than once: he had no choice!
That was why he had been ruthless enough to slaughter his own blood.
That was why he had stood by and watched Ji Cheng's death — the man who had once taught him to draw the bow, who had taught him the ways of war.
Now, killing these ten thousand brave volunteers — there was nothing left to weigh as right or wrong.
If he died here, everything was over. If he could slay Chongxuan Chuliang, turn the tide of this battle against all odds, then everything could still be said and settled.
Since ancient times, the victor was king and the vanquished a bandit. One general's success is built on ten thousand withered bones!