Chapter 115: Collapse

"What? What did you just say?" Temujin leapt to his feet, grabbing the messenger by the collar, his eyes sharp as blades, his voice icy and sharp as he demanded fiercely.

"Our forces were so close to Wulahai City—how did they cut off our supply lines? Did they capture Wulahai City?"

Before deploying troops, he had surveyed the terrain: Wulahai City lay at the boundary between the northern and southern deserts, surrounded by barren wastelands of sand and gravel. If the Revolutionary Army attacked, they would face the desolate southern desert plains, the towering Helan Mountains, and the impassable Yellow River—all natural barriers with uneven terrain, severely hindering troop movement.

Such treacherous terrain was like a heavenly barrier; even with their fire-guns as sharp as flickering flames, they could not have taken it in a short time. Worse still, the seventy thousand troops of Heishuizhen’s Yan Garrison hung like a sword above their heads, ready to reinforce at any moment. So how, then, had they taken it?

"Yes—it must have been Guo Jing himself leading the charge." Temujin involuntarily sank into deep memory, recalling the figure who once commanded lightning, as if a god descended upon earth. That man seemed to breathe with heaven and earth, dance with thunder and lightning, every gesture radiating boundless authority and power. Each of his movements could shake the heavens, summoning thunder and flashes of lightning.

If he unleashed his full strength, the Revolutionary Army could very well have captured Wulahai City.

Most crucially, he had never imagined the Revolutionary Army would move so swiftly—tens of thousands of troops converging and launching a surprise assault, toppling the city in the span of a single day.

A force of tens of thousands cut off from supplies was a Gujun . Most critically, his own troops were the Xi Xia’s Qinsheng Army—the last of the kingdom’s viable soldiers. If Wulahai City had fallen in a single day, what of the other cities and passes?

A massive shock, like a sudden storm, swept through Temujin’s mind; he felt as if caught in raging waves, unable to hold himself. Yet Temujin knew panic and helplessness now would only plunge him deeper into despair. He quickly adjusted his breathing, forcing himself to calm down.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward, striving to shut out external disturbances. His thoughts gradually sharpened, beginning to analyze the current situation systematically. He knew only through calm reflection could he find a response, only then could he stand firm against this sudden blow.

Now that Guo Jing had led his army to strike Wulahai City, he was not merely cutting supply lines—he aimed to trap Xi Xia’s main forces on the steppe. He needed only a small contingent to block them with firearms and fortified passes.

The rest of his forces could then advance unimpeded to crush Xi Xia and capture its ruler, for what remained of Xi Xia’s army was utterly incapable of resistance.

But since Guo Jing personally led the campaign against Xi Xia, the other tribes on the steppe must now be left vulnerable, unable to implement scorched-earth tactics. This was his perfect opportunity to strike them down.

"Brothers, I’ve just received word: Wulahai City has been taken. I know you’ve all seen their firearms these past days—we cannot take their passes. But since they’ve committed their main force, the steppe is now defenseless. This is our chance to strike. When we control these tribes, Xi Xia’s armies will collapse without a single blow."

"Brothers, to save our families from slaughter, I need you to raise your Ma Dao, fearless of death, and charge into the enemy."

Tens of thousands of Xi Xia iron cavalry roared in unison, shaking the heavens and earth like thunderclaps. Indeed, Temujin was a true prodigy of his age—his valor and might could make heaven and earth pale. In just a few stirring words, he revived the morale of his once-depressed, nearly broken army, transforming them into warriors reborn from fire, ready to die without fear, unstoppable.

Amidst this fierce cry, the Xi Xia iron cavalry surged forward like rivers of steel, their eyes blazing with resolve, as if determined to crush every obstacle before them. Temujin stood at the front, his figure towering and mighty in the sunlight, his voice ringing like a great bell, resonating in every warrior’s heart.

In that moment, the Xi Xia iron cavalry forgot fatigue and fear—only one belief remained: for their families, press forward!

Then there was no more—courage and conviction were shattered by Nie Huaishang’s eighty 107mm rocket launchers.

Every military strategy, like a towering tree, takes root in past battlefield experience. Yet for the valiant Temujin, though his experience was vast, the unknown transformations of this battlefield still struck him with unprecedented shock.

He had seen bows with ranges exceeding a hundred paces, arrows streaking across the sky like meteors, devastating in power; he had witnessed firearms firing at distances of five to six hundred paces, their muzzle flashes and roars seeming to tear the air. He had even heard tales of the legendary bed-crossbow, capable of reaching sixteen hundred paces—though he had never seen it, its rumored power inspired awe.

But a weapon capable of firing eight thousand six hundred paces? He had never heard of such a thing. A wave of indescribable shock surged through him. This weapon not only surpassed all known ranges, its power was so immense it would terrify any enemy into flight. Worse still, its rate of fire was astonishing—each trigger pull unleashed a devastating burst of destruction, leaving one speechless.

Again and again, explosions erupted like thunder amid the army, shaking every soldier’s soul. With each blast, more men scattered like shattered pottery, their forms blurred in dust and smoke. The firestorm, like a ravenous beast, mercilessly devoured those unable to flee, dragging them into searing whirlpools.

In this terrifying chaos, the tens of thousands of Xi Xia iron cavalry finally broke. Once famed for their iron will and unyielding spirit, now their hearts were consumed by fear and despair. Soldiers fled in all directions—some screamed for comrades, others collapsed, paralyzed. The battlefield sank into utter confusion and hopelessness.