Chapter 688: Veteran General Brings a Head into the Tent, Iron Bones Appear Beneath Gancao City

The wind beneath Gancao City carried a lingering scent of burnt char and a mingled fishy‑sweetness that refused to fade.

The dying sun, blood‑red, stained the shattered walls and the corpses strewn everywhere with a grim dark crimson.

The elite of the Left Martial Guard were methodically clearing the battlefield, lacking the clamor of a great victory, instead exuding a solemn, murderous silence.

They rummaged through the piles of corpses, carefully lifting out their own side's Pao Ze, and piled the Qi army bodies together like dead dogs.

Inside the central army's great tent, candles burned brightly.

Chen Yan sat upright behind the command desk, his Xuan Tie Heavy Armor removed from the upper body, wearing only a sweat‑soaked Black Military Uniform.

In his hand he held a White Cloth, leaning down to meticulously wipe the blood from his sword.

It was the Blade that had accompanied him in campaigns across Qinzhou and Jingzhou; now its edge remained chillingly sharp, reflecting his deep, abyss‑like eyes.

Below the tent, Gao Jiong, Feng Muye, Lu Ming and other commanders lined the sides; though they had just won a great victory, none dared raise their voices now.

Everyone could feel the restrained yet lingering murderous intent emanating from their Pillar of the State.

"Whoosh—"

The heavy tent curtain was ripped aside, a night wind mixed with sand and blood rushing in, causing the candles to flicker.

Wang Zheng strode in like a comet.

This veteran general, who once followed Chen Hu Lao Zhuguo in campaigns across the world, now showed none of his usual composure.

His once‑gleaming Xuan Tie Heavy Armor was riddled with intersecting slash marks, a piece of the shoulder guard shaved off, exposing an inner lining already dark‑red.

Yet he moved swiftly and steadily, each footfall resonating with the clanging of golden spears and iron horses.

Wang Zheng's left hand bore no weapon, but a Human Head with a furious, wide‑open stare and disheveled hair knot.

The cut at the neck was jagged, clearly hacked off by brute force, and the wound still dripped thick black blood.

It was the head of the Qi army's great general, Ding Weize.

Wang Zheng marched to the command desk, offering neither a kneeling bow nor a word of polite chatter.

His tiger‑like eyes flashed with ferocity; he thrust his left arm up and hurled the head down with force.

"Thud!"

The head hit the ground with a muffled thump, rolling twice; its unblinking eyes stared at the generals inside the tent, as if still voicing its dying terror.

"Pillar of the State!"

Wang Zheng clasped his fists, his hoarse voice booming like a great bell, releasing long‑suppressed fury: "The treacherous Qi general Ding Weize has been cut down by my formation from horseback! The head is here, offered to the Pillar of the State!"

Chen Yan's hand paused briefly, sheathing his freshly cleaned sword with a "clang."

He rose at once, unpretentious, hurried around the desk, both hands firmly supporting Wang Zheng's blood‑stained arm; his gaze swept over the veteran's gruesome wounds, his once‑cold face softened, his tone becoming gentle and respectful:

"Uncle, you have endured a hard ride! Ding Weize was a valiant Qi general; to cut him down, your treasured blade remains unsullied, even surpassing its former glory!"

The utterance "Uncle" was shouted heavily and with great intimacy.

Wang Zheng's body quivered slightly, his eyes reddening.

He was not only Chen Yan's subordinate but also an elder who had watched Chen Yan grow up.

Hearing that title now, the tight string in his heart loosened a bit, yet he immediately turned aside, unwilling to receive Chen Yan's full respect.

"Pillar of the State, you have saved me! All thanks to the Pillar's strategic planning!"

Before the words finished, the tent curtain was lifted again.

This entrance was far slower and heavier than Wang Zheng's.

Several Marquis Estate Private Soldiers carefully supported two blood‑soaked figures that could hardly be called "people," inching them into the great tent.

Leading the way was Wang Xiong.

This guardian of Gancao City now wore almost no intact armor.

Shattered iron plates were embedded in flesh, his body swathed in Rough Cloth Bandage tinged blood‑red; his left leg was clearly grievously wounded, dragging on the ground with a sour‑making scraping sound.

Yet he refused to be carried in.

He still straightened his spine; the eyes, reddened by smoke and flame, flashed a terrifying brilliance the moment they met Chen Yan's.

"Crown Prince… slower…" a nearby Private Soldier urged as he tried to support him.

Wang Xiong shoved the assisting Private Soldier away.

He gritted his teeth, suppressing excruciating pain as his bones threatened to collapse, cold sweat pouring from his forehead, yet he forced himself with a single breath to kneel heavily on one knee before Chen Yan.

"Thump!"

The heavy, grim sound of his knee striking the ground sent a tremor through the hearts of the surrounding generals.

Wang Xiong lifted his head; the blood‑stained face, its features obscured, slowly revealed an extremely tragic smile.

He gasped heavily, his voice hoarse as if sand filled his throat:

"Pillar of the State! Subordinate Wang Xiong… fortunate to not disgrace the mission!"

"Gancao City… though shattered, this spirit I have kept! The face of Great Zhou, I have not let you lose!"

This scene was profoundly impactful.

The Left Martial Guard commanders, previously somewhat proud, now showed emotion.

They were men who licked blood at the blade's edge, and they revered the hard‑boned.

Wang Xiong's appearance, clearly a demon crawling out of Asura Hell, possessed a spine harder than that of gods and Buddhas.

Chen Yan watched Wang Xiong kneeling before him, the bandages still oozing blood, and a deep emotion flashed in his eyes.

He said nothing, but strode forward, gripping Wang Xiong's shoulders tightly with both hands.

"Well! A fine example of not disgracing the mission!"

Chen Yan's voice, deep and powerful, echoed in the tent, "Wang Xiong, you are a true man! You are the hardest bone of Great Zhou!"

Beside him, Wang Zheng looked at his son's dire state; even a man of iron, he could not help turning away, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

He let out a long sigh, his voice trembling with an uncontainable quiver:

Pillar of the State... that was truly fortunate...

If I, the old man, had arrived even a moment later— even just half a incense stick's time— this child would have perished in the Yellow Springs!

Thinking of the scene where even the self‑inflicted Spear Tip pressed against his throat, Wang Zheng, the veteran general who once roamed the battlefield, was suddenly so frightened that he could not speak.

That mixed relief of regaining what was lost, together with the anguish of his son's death‑willing resolve, intertwined and made the father's heart feel as if it were being fried in oil.

Brother Wang!

A shout, booming like a great bell, shattered the silence inside the tent.

Lu Ming, who has always been haughty and submits to no one except Chen Yan, at this moment strode forward, ignoring the wound on his body, slapped his own Chest Armor, stared with eyes like copper bells, and gave Wang Xiong a thumbs‑up.

In my life, Lu Ming has never submitted to many people; apart from my brother‑in‑law, today I submit to you!

Lu Ming's rugged face was full of admiration: "To hold the city like this under the siege of tens of thousands of Qi army, and still have the strength to hold back that dog‑mixed‑blood Ding Weize, that's a real tough man! Strong! Damn strong!"

"General Lu's words are absolutely correct!" Feng Muye also clasped his fists and said gravely, "General Wang's battle is worthy of the annals, making us all feel ashamed!"

The generals' praises rose and fell, each spoken from the bottom of their hearts.

However, Huang Shizhang, kneeling behind Wang Xiong, wore an unusually gloomy expression.

He, too, was gravely wounded, half a shoulder wrapped in bandages, now kneeling on the ground, unable to lift his head despite hearing everyone's praise.

Pillar of the State...

Huang Shizhang's voice was thick with bitter sorrow and guilt, "Subordinate General, I am incompetent... Though we held this shattered wall and saved Sima Wang's life, but... the city's populace, and those over a thousand brothers..."

He jerked his head up, turbid tears washing the blood from his face, "Only one in ten! Pillar of the State! The elders of Gancao City are almost all wiped out!"

The atmosphere inside the tent froze instantly.

The joy of a great victory was diluted by this harsh reality, replaced by a heavy, oppressive weight.

Chen Yan inhaled deeply, disregarding that the blood on Wang Xiong might soil his Brothel, and with a sudden surge of strength, personally lifted Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang from the ground.

He scanned the generals, his gaze like a blade, his voice resonant and powerful, each word striking the crowd's hearts:

"Not your fault! Moreover, not your incompetence!"

Chen Yan pointed outside the tent, toward the blood‑soaked ground, "The Qi army is brutal, slaughtering the living; this is a blood debt! Since it is a blood debt, it need not be washed with tears, but repaid with blood!"

"Wang Xiong, Huang Shizhang, listen to this Duke!"

"Every drop of blood shed in Gancao City, this Duke will make the Qi army, and that fleeing Gao Xiaoyu, spit out a hundredfold, a thousandfold!"