Chapter 674: General Wang

That voice, wrapped with a thunderous roar of a thousand pounds, like a thunderclap rolling through the smoke‑filled alley, shook the blood‑foam on the Qingshi board, and also pressed down all the sounds of fighting, the dying wails, and the clash of Weapons in the alley.

Just moments ago, Wang Xiong, who had been on the brink of death with the Spear Tip pressed to his throat, ready to sacrifice himself for the country, suddenly froze, his knuckles turning a bluish‑white from overexertion.

The coiled‑blade Chang Qiang trembled slightly in his palm, and even his breath seemed to halt at that moment.

He lifted his head mechanically; on his blood‑smeared cheek, the eyes already soaked in blood and despair suddenly flashed with an incredulous light.

He stared fixedly toward the plume of smoke at the alley's end, torn apart by the morning light.

The next second, over a thousand Iron Cavalry shattered the silence, like a black torrent surging from the far end of the Changjie at the alley's mouth!

The horse hooves struck the hard Qingshi board, producing a thunderous "Da‑da‑da" roar.

Each step felt like stepping on the tip of a heart, making the ground hum, the raised dust and blood mist intertwining, blurring vision, yet it could not hide the cavalry's austere edge.

Just over a thousand men—not many—but each stood tall, their armor gleaming, riding skill superb; even at a gallop their formation stayed flawless, like a drawn sword thrusting into the Qi army's rear within the alley.

At the forefront of this Iron Cavalry, a rider on a White Horse surged ahead of the smoke; the man seated on the horse was about forty, with a resolute face, a faint beard, clad entirely in Xuan Tie Heavy Armor.

The armor plates still bore dust from the long march and specks of blood, yet its imposing presence was undiminished.

He clenched the horse rein in his left hand; as the White Horse rider rose, his right hand still held the posture of having just drawn a Carved Bow and nocked an arrow, the bow still trembling slightly, the quiver now missing one Feather Arrow.

It was precisely that arrow which had pierced a Qi soldier's brow and saved Wang Xiong's life.

The man's eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, his gaze sweeping over the alley strewn with corpses, finally fixing on the besieged, blood‑soaked Wang Xiong; his pupils roiled with fury, anguish, and lingering fear.

The aura of pressure he exuded caused even the Qi soldiers at the front to instinctively step back half a pace.

He was Wang Zheng, the New Duke who had raced from Chang'an through star‑filled nights, crossing thousands of miles to aid Gancao City in Xiazhou, Wang Xiong's father and once one of the Twelve Great Generals.

The Qi soldiers inside the alley had been snarling as they closed in, intending to capture Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang alive for glory, but the sudden arrival of over a thousand Iron Cavalry froze them in place.

The Weapons in their hands hung frozen in mid‑air, their faces full of shock and bewilderment.

Their blood‑thirsty gazes were instantly replaced by panic; the clamor of roars abruptly ceased, leaving only hoofbeats and heavy breathing echoing through the narrow alley.

Ding Weize rode a high‑headed warhorse; the cruel grin that had shown when Hong Xi sacrificed himself and Wang Xiong attempted suicide froze on his face, the curve of his mouth solidifying before being replaced by a heavy Dark Hawk expression.

He yanked the horse rein sharply; the warhorse, feeling the pain, reared, pawing the air twice with its front hooves before crashing back to the ground.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze cutting through the smoke like a blade, fixed on the charging Wang Zheng Iron Cavalry; his brows knit into a tight river-shaped line, and he muttered involuntarily, his voice low yet tinged with unmistakable astonishment: "Where did these guys… come from?"

Gancao City had long been sealed off by the Qi army, the Zhou Army remnants inside the city were swept clean, unable to mount any decent resistance.

All routes for reinforcements outside the Outside City had already been cut; how could a fully‑formed cavalry suddenly break out at this critical moment?

He dared not be careless, squinting as he surveyed the rushing unit, his gaze fixed on the armor pattern on the soldiers, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the hilt at his waist; moments later his heart sank, and he murmured again, his tone now heavier: "Look at the armor pattern… it's Zhou Army!"

"Or elite Zhou troops!"

Even from dozens of steps away, he could identify it at a glance.

But this very recognition made Ding Weize feel an ominous foreboding.

The elite Zhou troops arrived at Gancao City so quickly?

The Qi soldiers' bewilderment surpassed Ding Weize's; the formation that had been encircling Wang Xiong instantly lost its cohesion.

The soldiers kept glancing at each other, faces full of confusion and unease, murmuring among themselves as noisy chatter rose and fell.

"Whose unit is this? Why did they suddenly charge out?" a Qi soldier wielding a Long Spear widened his eyes, instinctively gripping the spear shaft, his fingertips tingling.

His gaze fixed on the approaching Iron Cavalry, his voice trembling subtly.

Beside him, an old soldier squinted, scrutinizing the opponent's armor; his brows furrowed tighter as he said thoughtfully, "The armor style… seems to be Zhou Army's pattern, certainly not a Xiazhou local force, nor steppe cavalry—no mistake!"

The remark caused a stir among the Qi soldiers; someone immediately voiced disbelief, "Zhou Army? But the Zhou troops inside the city were almost all wiped out by us, weren't they?"

"We searched the treasury, streets, and city gates; not a single decent commander remained. How could so many cavalry suddenly appear?"

"Something's wrong! Way wrong!" another burly Qi soldier narrowed his eyes, his gaze locked on the charging Zhou cavalry; the gleaming armor on those soldiers especially startled him, and he raised his voice in astonishment, "Look! Their armor is still new!"

"There's barely any wear; clearly it's elite armor issued recently, not battle‑worn gear!"

New Armor, elite cavalry skill, over a thousand regulars, Chang'an Zhou Army pattern…

All clues intertwined, deepening the Qi soldiers' unease, and the earlier earth‑shaking cry "Spare my son" pierced everyone's doubts like a needle.

A sharp‑eyed Qi soldier furrowed his brows, instinctively turning to the surrounded Wang Xiong, his voice hesitant: "You heard that 'Spare my son' just now, right? The old general shouted 'my son'…"

"Who is his son?"

The words hit like a revelation, instantly awakening every Qi soldier present.

All eyes swept to Wang Xiong, from the direction of Wang Zheng's roar, to Wang Xiong's blood‑soaked figure, and to the seven‑tenth resemblance between their brows.

A startling thought wildly sprouted in every Qi soldier's mind—

"Could it be…?!"

The soldier's words cut off, the latter half swallowed, yet his shocked and fearful face already revealed the answer.

It turned out the old general was Wang Xiong's father!

In an instant, the Qi soldiers' faces turned pallid, their previously confident swagger fading, and the hands gripping Weapons began to tremble slightly.

Their gaze at Wang Xiong shifted from contempt and bloodlust to fear and panic.

And Wang Xiong, the focus of all eyes, had already forgotten his wounds, the surrounding clashing blades, and the resolve to end his life.

He stared at the familiar, imposing figure at the alley's mouth, at his father's temples now dusted with white frost, at the still‑dusty armor and the posture of nocking an arrow to save him, his heart a tangled mix—

The hope amid despair, the warmth at the brink of death, the bittersweet reunion after long separation, the relief of escaping death, and the ache for his father's thousand‑mile charge…

Countless emotions surged like a tide, instantly drowning all his reason.

He slowly released his grip on the coiled‑blade Chang Qiang, then clenched it hard again; his knuckles whitened, the wound on his arm tore open, blood gushed anew, yet he remained oblivious.

His blood‑smeared cheek bore eyes turning crimson, gradually moistening, the eye sockets reddening uncontrollably.

Scalding tears mixed with the blood on his face, sliding down his jaw, dripping onto the bloodstain on the Qingshi board, instantly merging.

He opened his mouth, his throat feeling as if blocked by cotton, hoarse to the point of silence; after a long pause he forced a faint call from deep within, a weak voice full of choking and dependence, audible only to himself and the nearby Huang Shizhang:

"Father…"

This single "Father" contained all his grievances and resilience from the bitter siege, the loss of comrades, and the desperate plight.

He also completely concealed his role as a son, shedding all his hard‑won fragility before his father.

Beside him, Huang Shizhang was leaning against the wall, the wound on his shoulder still gushing blood, his face as pale as paper, even standing was extremely difficult, and his eyes already held a dead, desolate despair.

But when he heard Wang Xiong's choking call, and when he saw clearly the old general leading at the alley mouth, recognizing the Xuan Tie Heavy Armor, his whole body jolted in a sudden shock, as if struck by thunder, frozen in place.

He muttered wildly in his mind, unable to believe yet absolutely certain: "Sima Wang's father?"

"The one arriving… could it be the New Duke under Chen Hu Lao Zhuguo, Old General Wang Zheng?!"

At that moment, the dead silence in Huang Shizhang's eyes suddenly reignited a blazing fire of hope, a light climbing back from hell to the mortal world, a rapturous joy of survival from a desperate plight.

He thrust his hand on the wall with force, trying to straighten his body; the searing pain in his shoulder came, yet he barely noticed, staring fixedly at the charging Wang Zheng Iron Cavalry, his mouth corner trembling slightly, his eyes once again flashing with fighting spirit—

With the New Duke present, with these over a thousand Great Zhou elites, Gancao City, there is salvation!

They, are saved!

At the alley mouth, Wang Zheng's gaze precisely caught his son's reddened eye sockets and that faint call, his heart suddenly clenched.

It was as if an invisible hand gripped him hard, the pain making him almost unable to breathe.

He looked at the countless wounds covering Wang Xiong's body.

He looked at the corpses of Zhou Army soldiers strewn across the ground.

He looked at the only severely wounded Huang Shizhang left beside his son.

He looked at Hong Xi's body, still warm, lying in a pool of blood.

The raging fury in his heart instantly surged to the extreme, the killing aura around him nearly solidifying.

He suddenly swung his Long Sword, the White Horse let out a long neigh, accelerating again, over a thousand Zhou Army cavalry followed closely, the clatter of iron hooves booming louder, like an unstoppable torrent, crashing fiercely into the Qi Army formation!

Riding his horse, Ding Weize took in the whole scene.

He watched the Qi Army soldiers' panicked confusion, saw the hopeful eyes of Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang rekindled, saw Wang Zheng's Iron Cavalry's sharpening edge drawing nearer, and the Dark Hawk and ruthlessness in his heart instantly overpowered his astonishment.

He knew that at this moment chaos was unacceptable; if the formation broke and the Zhou Army cavalry scattered them, his Qi Army would be forced into a disadvantage, perhaps losing the entire battle.

Immediately, he drew his Great Sword from his waist, the blade reflecting the morning light, carving a cold arc, then barked sharply, his voice booming through the alley like a thunderclap, drowning the soldiers' chatter: "Why panic! It's only over a thousand remnants, stop standing there!"

That rebuke was like a sudden wake‑up slap, making the panicked Qi soldiers instantly regain composure, gripping their Weapons tightly, suppressing their fear, and reforming the formation.

Ding Weize's eyes widened, his gaze sweeping over his troops, issuing orders methodically, his tone cold and decisive, without any hesitation: "Front line five hundred men, form a formation immediately, block the alley mouth, stop the Zhou cavalry!"

"Rear line three hundred men, advance at once, capture Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang, regardless of life or death, as long as the person is taken, it counts as a major achievement!"

"The rest, follow me to engage the main Zhou force; today we must grind these riffraff from Chang'an to death in Gancao City's alleys!"

He saw clearly that Wang Xiong was the invading commander's weak spot; capturing Wang Xiong would allow him to leverage Wang Zheng and seize the initiative.

Blocking the alley mouth, using the narrow terrain to limit the Zhou cavalry's charging advantage, would let infantry check cavalry, offsetting the enemy's fierce onslaught.

"Understood!"

The Qi soldiers answered in unison, their voices tinged with a hint of panic yet still bearing a soldier's bravery, and they moved according to the orders.

Front‑line soldiers quickly took up Shields and Long Spears, forming a dense shield‑spear formation at the alley mouth; the spears protruded from the shield gaps like a cold forest, pointing straight at the charging Zhou Iron Cavalry.

Rear‑line soldiers again gripped their Weapons, blood‑lust flashing anew on their faces, closing in again on Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang, their steps heavy, killing aura surging.

The remaining soldiers clustered around Ding Weize, forming a battle line, ready to follow him in confronting Wang Zheng's main force.

The atmosphere inside the alley instantly tightened to the extreme again.

Wang Zheng pulled the White Horse's rein, the White Horse let out a long neigh, its front hooves crushing the dust before it, the wind lifting the dust off the Xuan Tie Heavy Armor, rattling loudly.

His gaze burned like a torch, sweeping over the over a thousand Left Martial Guard cavalry ahead, then glancing at the hundred private soldiers behind, clad in black armor, waist‑sheathing short blades, their aura fierce, he immediately issued a deep command, his voice like a great bell, cutting through the battlefield clamor: "One thousand elite riders of the Left Martial Guard, follow this Marquis in formation, engage Ding Weize's main force head‑on!"

"Marquis Estate Private Soldiers, charge at full speed, slay the encircling enemies, save the world's son!"

"No mistakes allowed!"

"Obey!"

Over a thousand Left Martial Guard cavalry answered in unison.

The roar shook the earthen walls on both sides of the alley, causing soil to fall; the clashing of armor rang sharply, they quickly formed a spear‑head formation, lances held level, the cold glint catching the morning light, pointing straight at Ding Weize's Qi Army.

And the over a hundred Marquis Estate Private Soldiers beside Wang Zheng, all of whom were death warriors who had followed him into battle for years, each a superb rider, fierce and fearless.

Hearing the command to save the world's son, they instantly erupted a thunderous roar, needing no further words.

They immediately turned their horses' heads, like arrows released from a bow, crashing fiercely into the Qi soldiers besieging Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang!