The Wolf Cavalry led by Ian Song charged into the Yan–Zhao coalition formation like a massive steel awl.
Fast as lightning!
Unstoppable!
Wherever the 'awl' swept through, death followed.
In just one minute, this giant awl had already pierced into the center of the coalition formation, leaving five thousand Yan–Zhao soldiers dead beneath their weapons.
Especially at the very front, Ian Song seemed possessed by a demonic war god—white robe, long sword—each sweep of his blade reaping dozens of lives with ease.
The Wolf Cavalry following close behind didn’t kill quite as extravagantly, but they cut down Yan–Zhao soldiers as easily as chopping vegetables.
The coalition soldiers had absolutely no power to resist.
General Qi Mu, leading his officers and hidden within the formation, watched in shock—so the Grand General of Qi wasn’t just good at making money; on the battlefield, no one could stop him.
As for the other generals, they were completely dumbfounded—who could possibly stand against such a monster? Most of them felt a rising sense of fear and unease.
Watching that giant 'awl' still advancing at incredible speed, slaughtering wave after wave, Qi Mu finally snapped out of it: "Quick, quick—stop them!"
He knew that if Ian Song punched straight through the coalition formation, it would devastate the soldiers’ morale.
Hearing Qi Mu’s order, the senior generals all led their troops from several directions, trying to surround and kill the Wolf Cavalry.
But the Wolf Cavalry moved like the wind, and after their rampage, the coalition formation was already on the verge of collapse, making it hard for the other generals to act.
"Qi Mu, old man, just accept your fate! You’re doomed to lose this battle!"
At that moment, Ian Song, leading the Wolf Cavalry charge, suddenly looked in Qi Mu’s direction.
Before the fighting started, Qi Mu would’ve scoffed at Ian Song’s words—after all, the coalition had two hundred thousand men. But now, after watching the Wolf Cavalry tear into the formation, he couldn’t help but waver: "Is Qi Mu really going to lose this battle?"
"Kill!"
Shouting at Qi Mu, Ian Song refocused on the battlefield.
As he swung his long sword, a ripple of transparent waves suddenly spread out.
The transparent ripples spread rapidly; every Yan–Zhao soldier touched by them dropped dead on the spot. In an instant, over two hundred coalition troops fell to his sword, and a gap appeared in the front ranks.
Rumble—!
The thunder of hooves filled the air as the Wolf Cavalry gained even more speed.
The Yan–Zhao soldiers blocking their way saw the Wolf Cavalry charging and turned pale with terror.
Finally, one soldier couldn’t take the pressure—he screamed, threw down his weapon, and fled in panic.
With one person leading the way, a second soldier soon dropped his weapon and ran.
Then a third…
Then a fifth…
Then the fiftieth…
At last, as the Wolf Cavalry closed in, all the soldiers in front broke, tossing their weapons aside and scattering in every direction.
Ian Song, who’d planned to punch straight through the coalition, saw this and couldn’t help sneering. He’d overestimated these soldiers—they collapsed much faster than he expected.
Since that was the case, there was no need to break through the formation anymore.
So—
He steered his warhorse to the right and charged into the fray.
Pupupupu!
Hundreds of thin sword beams shot out from Ian Song’s long sword.
Wherever the sword light passed, over three hundred lives were reaped.
Run! That demon king of slaughter is coming this way!
Seeing Ian kill three hundred men with one stroke, the coalition soldiers wished they’d been born with fewer legs and threw down their weapons, fleeing in panic.
The already unstable formation was completely shattered by the stampede of fleeing soldiers.
More and more soldiers began throwing away their weapons and running for their lives.
Ha! Pathetic!
Seeing this, Ian Song burst out laughing in triumph.
Standing atop his war chariot, Qi Mu watched the scene unfold, his face turning tragic. "The coalition is finished!"
After that, Ian Song kept changing his direction of attack.
With each charge, the mighty coalition formation was further shattered. Meanwhile, General Gu Min and General Victor Zhao each led twenty thousand troops flanking from the left and right, while another ten thousand held their ground.
The Wolf Cavalry rampaged inside, while forty thousand Qi troops attacked from the outside.
In less than two hours, the two-hundred-thousand-strong coalition was utterly defeated.
Reining in his warhorse, Ian Song looked out over the battlefield. It had become a land of carnage—blood filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
As for the coalition’s commander, Qi Mu, he was now surrounded by General Gu Min’s troops.
Inside the encirclement, Qi Mu looked utterly desolate. His helmet was gone, his gray hair whipped in the wind, his battered armor soaked in blood, and his breathing was heavy and ragged like a bellows. Four wounded bodyguards stood at his side, watching the enemy warily.
Just then—
The encirclement loosened, and Ian Song, dressed in white, strode in.
Strangely, after nearly two hours of slaughter, his white robe was still spotless, not stained with a single drop of blood.
At the sight of Ian Song, Qi Mu’s old eyes narrowed, a fierce killing intent flashing within them. But soon, it faded, leaving only endless loneliness.
Ian Song stepped across blood-soaked ground, calmly approaching Qi Mu:
"Old General, my offer still stands—why not surrender to Qi?"
"There is only a slain Qi Mu, never a surrendering Qi Mu! To fall to you, Grand General, I have no regrets!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Qi Mu grabbed a bronze sword and slashed his own throat—blood spurted everywhere…
"General, I, Ken Tian, will join you!" cried one of his bodyguards, who then followed suit with his own sword.
General, I, Kui Ming, will join you too!
…………
All four bodyguards followed Qi Mu’s example, drawing their swords across their necks and ending their own lives.
Seeing this, Ian Song did not try to stop them—his expression simply grew more complicated.
Give them a proper burial!
He glanced once more at Qi Mu’s corpse, then turned and walked away.
Days later, news spread that Ian Song had led fifty thousand troops to crush the Yan–Zhao coalition of two hundred thousand. The entire world was shaken.
Those two hundred thousand troops were the elite of Yan and Zhao.
To think they were defeated—by just fifty thousand men! It was simply unbelievable.
Ten days later, Yan and Zhao sent envoys, offering to return the lands they had taken from Qi, on one condition: they hoped to make peace with Qi and avoid further war.
Ian Song agreed, but with a condition of his own: each country must pay Qi ten billion in war reparations.
Ten billion was an astronomical sum.
Yan and Zhao’s annual tax revenue did not even reach two billion.
For Ian Song to demand ten billion, it meant they would have to pay out five years’ worth of taxes.
Upon hearing this, both the King of Yan and the King of Zhao refused.
Ian Song wasted no words and immediately ordered General Gu Min and General Victor Zhao to each lead twenty thousand troops to attack Yan and Zhao.