Chapter 357

Heroic Prefecture, North Gate Barbican.

The once bustling city gate passage, filled with carriages and horses, is now unusually stern and lethal; only soldiers wearing helmets and armor stand rigidly on both sides like cast bronze and iron, the cold gleam of their weapons flowing in the sunset's afterglow into an icy river.

Chen Wen was not wearing a dragon robe and ceremonial attire, but had changed into a dark military uniform, over which he wore fine steel armor, with a long sword at his waist.

He stepped up the stairs, his pace steady, treading the stone steps smoothed by countless soldiers' feet, and ascended to the highest point of Heroic Prefecture's northern city wall—before the tower named 'Zhenbei'.

Shi Dun, Zhao Lao Nian, Qian Gui, and the main commanders of the northern armies, all in armor, followed solemnly behind him.

Below the city, the Heroic Prefecture garrison that had received the news, as well as some troops rotating out for rest and other units that had rushed upon hearing the news, spontaneously gathered.

Heads moved together, yet there was little clamor, only the faint metallic clink of armor colliding, and countless gazes converging upon the dark-armored figure on the city wall.

The setting sun, like blood, dyed the city walls, banners, and every soldier's face with a layer of tragic gold-red.

Chen Wen stood before the battlements, his gaze slowly sweeping over the dark, silent sea of people below.

He saw the nervous excitement on the faces of young soldiers experiencing battle for the first time;

He saw the steadiness and resolve in the eyes of veteran soldiers who had weathered many battlefields;

He saw the responsibility and fortitude borne in the brows of the commanders.

Moreover, he saw beyond Heroic Prefecture's walls the vast land of Great Chen that he had sworn to protect, and its myriad people.

A wind from the north blew, carrying the peculiar, faintly icy aura from beyond the light curtain, stirring the great 'Chen' banner snapping on the city wall and fluttering a few strands of hair on his forehead.

He drew a deep breath, the air mixed with earth, steel, and an omen called 'war'.

Within him, the mighty, heavy vortex of Fortune Momentum seemed to resonate deeply with the impregnable stronghold beneath his feet and the tens of thousands of soldiers below willing to die, its flow growing ever more grand.

He used no amplifying device, yet when he spoke, his clear and tranquil voice seemed to carry some strange power, reaching distinctly into every listener's ears and even echoing above Heroic Prefecture.

"Soldiers of Great Chen."

Those five simple words stilled all the commotion below, tens of thousands of gazes blazing, focused on a single point.

"I have come."

He paused, then swept his gaze across the entire assembly again.

"I know that among you, some come from Bian Liang, some from Xingzhou and Luzhou, some from this hegemonic land, and others from the Yan-Yun homeland we have never forgotten."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried a power that pierced the heart.

"Behind you are your parents, wives, and children; the fields you tilled with your own hands, now exempt from tax and levy; the homes you built with sweat; and the Great Chen you are willing to devote your lives to!"

"But now, a group of enemies relies on evil power, commands puppets, and has gathered beyond the light curtain."

He raised his hand and pointed north, his gaze suddenly turning sharp as a blade.

"They want to cross this barrier, to destroy our homeland, to reduce our parents, wives, and children to slaves, and to rekindle upon this land… the beacon fires of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms that we ourselves have extinguished!"

Below the city, countless soldiers' breathing grew heavy, and fury ignited in their eyes.

"They think that by relying on the so-called Divine Martial Army and those unseen demons and monsters, they can make us fearful, make us retreat!"

Chen Wen's voice suddenly rose, carrying a heroic vigor that shot to the heavens and an unquestionable resolve.

"Tell them! Are you afraid?"

"Not afraid!!!"

A shout like mountains and seas erupting burst forth instantly, the sound waves shaking dust from the city walls in a rustling shower.

This roar gathered into an invisible torrent, dispelling the chill brought by the north wind and shooting straight to the clouds.

Chen Wen slammed a heavy fist onto the cold battlement.

"I, too, am not afraid!"

His eyes were like torches, his voice like a great bell, exploding in every heart.

"I stand here today not merely as the emperor of Great Chen, but also as a comrade-in-arms of General Han Tong, and as the inheritor of the will of all heroes who have shed blood and given their lives for this land!"

He abruptly turned to face the interior of the city, where a shrine to the fallen northern front soldiers had just been erected not long before.

He clasped his hands and bowed deeply.

"General Han, may the spirits of all heroes hear me!"

"I, Chen Wen, swear here!"

He straightened his body, his voice decisive as cutting metal, like an oath and also a proclamation.

"As long as I draw breath, and as long as Great Chen has even a single soldier, I will never allow any enemy to trample our land or harm our people!"

"Heroic Prefecture shall be the burial place of me and you all, and also the tomb of the False Song madmen!"

"In this battle, there is advance but no retreat, death but no life!"

"I will share this cup of heroic departing wine with you, and bathe together in the blood of this battlefield!"

"Victory must be ours!!"

The final two words, he bellowed with nearly all his strength, the voice shaking the wilderness.

"Victory must be ours!!"

"Victory must be ours!!"

"Long live! Long live Your Majesty! Long live Great Chen!"

Below the city, the fervent blood of tens of thousands of soldiers was utterly ignited; they waved their weapons, shouting with all their might, roaring.

Wave after wave of sound rose higher, as if it would overturn the walls of Heroic Prefecture.

The gathered morale, the death-defying will, the loyalty to home and nation—at this moment coalesced into an invisible yet real mighty force, wildly resonating and merging with Chen Wen's inner majestic Fortune Momentum.

Shi Dun, Zhao Lao Nian, Qian Gui, and the other commander-officials also felt their hearts surge, their blood boil, and involuntarily raised their arms in shout.

They knew that the Sovereign's act had bound his own fate, that of this city, and that of the tens of thousands of soldiers inextricably together.

"A sovereign dies for the state; the Son of Heaven guards the nation's gate."

This is no empty words.

Chen Wen felt the nearly boiling army morale, and felt his inner Fortune Momentum's unprecedented vigor and majesty.

He knew the oath had been sworn, and the army's morale could be relied upon.

He slowly raised his hand.

The boiling sound waves gradually subsided, but the repressed, battle-ready fury about to erupt only made hearts pound more fiercely.

Countless pairs of eyes still burned, fixed upon him.

Chen Wen's gaze swept across the field once more, finally locking onto the ever-darkening northern horizon.

His voice returned to calm, yet carried an ice‑sealed chill.

"Lords, sharpen your swords and spears, polish your armor."

"Follow me… silently await the wolves."

There were no more words.

But an intangible, unbreakable conviction had already been forged upon the city walls of Majestic Prefecture, in the hearts of the tens of thousands of soldiers.

A monarch's promise weighs heavier than Mount Tai.

Soldiers give their lives, their spirit swallowing mountains and rivers.

This oath forged in blood and fire will soon face its most brutal test at the dawn that is approaching.

Cohesion, at this peak.

The storm approaches.