Chapter 210: Great Victory, Total Annihilation!

Since ancient times, when an army is defeated, it collapses like a mountain falling—once one misstep is made, it sinks into despair and decline; when soldiers grow demoralized, the rout becomes a landslide, impossible to control.

Despite the blow, Yuwen Tianxian still forced his way through the fleeing troops, barely gathering a core of fighting force, preventing total chaos, maneuvering and circling—if this continued, even after being defeated by a string of clever stratagems, he could still maintain the most basic state.

He would not suffer excessive losses.

Yuwen Tianxian's general trait was fully revealed at this moment: such a commander rarely achieves great victories, yet is exceedingly hard to suffer a crushing defeat—even after a major setback, he can swiftly regroup his troops.

He may not be the most skilled in close combat or breaking formations, but when no one else is suitable for a position, he is the most stable of all generals; Yuwen Hua rode his strange beast to his uncle's side and gathered the scattered troops.

But just then—

A thunderous roar exploded like Lei Ting.

Black-armored cavalry appeared atop the slope; Ling Pingyang raised the great banner entrusted to him by Yan Xuanji, the crimson battle standard flaring as five hundred armored cavalry entered the battlefield from the flank.

The warhorses charged, like thunder.

Yuwen soldiers saw the arriving heavy cavalry—their flanking iron riders wore different-style full plate armor; their leading general was awe-inspiring, with arched brows and starlit eyes, wielding a black long spear, while a deputy raised the great banner, its crimson flag like fire fallen from heaven.

A single character—

【Li】!

Ling Pingyang instantly skewered three cavalry captains.

Leading the charge, his long spear darted left and right; each strike claimed a life, his momentum soaring as he roared: "I am Ling Pingyang of Yue Mountain!"

Like thunder.

The world's foremost frontline heavy armored cavalry unit appeared at the perfect moment for such troops; the sound of hooves striking the ground was muffled as distant thunder. Ling Pingyang split the five hundred heavy cavalry into five squads, each shaped like a 【Yanyue】.

And they did not charge side by side, but pierced and slashed from multiple angles.

Five hundred armored cavalry became five heavy Yanyue blades, violently severing the force Yuwen Tianxian had gathered; as they charged back and forth, infantry in the formation faced cavalry attacking from all sides—five hundred men, yet they struck with the momentum of a thousand horsemen.

Yuwen Tianxian fell silent, gazing at Yuwen Hua, and said:

"You take the men and go left."

Yuwen Hua gasped: "Uncle!"

Yuwen Tianxian lifted his battle spear and said gravely: "I failed to see through Li Guanyi's formation. As commander, I led the army into such a crushing defeat—I must carve a path out myself."

"A commander should die on the battlefield. But you are still young."

He stared at Ling Pingyang, galloping toward him.

Behind him, one hundred heavy cavalry remained silent, yet still held a solemn, deadly resolve; they raised their spears. Yuwen Tianxian spurred his strange beast, and in this moment of utter defeat, those hundred heavy cavalry still gathered a blazing, fiery fighting force, piercing straight into the 【Yanyue Formation】.

"To eat the ruler's grain, one must serve the ruler faithfully."

"Ling Pingyang, come!"

Yuwen Tianxian charged forward; Ling Pingyang's five hundred heavy cavalry surged as one, clashing with Yuwen Tianxian in several exchanges. The charging cavalry general, brimming with momentum, could not compare to a defeated commander—but even so, Yuwen Tianxian drove his spear straight into Ling Pingyang's heavy armor.

This calm, cold commander now burned as fiercely as fire.

Ling Pingyang gripped the dark weapon tightly and laughed.

The young warrior's vigor seemed to form a dragon behind him; his peak Fifth Heaven realm had matured into divine essence. Ling Pingyang roared, struck decisively, and after several exchanges, under the weight of the army's momentum, Yuwen Tianxian was slammed by Ling Pingyang's spear onto the crown of his mount's head.

The mount coughed blood and collapsed; Yuwen Tianxian's aura surged upward, then was crushed down by the spear, and was finally captured.

Yuwen Hua charged out, gritting his teeth, leading dozens of light cavalry across the battlefield.

The battlefield was in chaos.

Even regular troops, when they lost their will and broke, could not resist the morale-boosted rabble—no, these were no rabble at all; Yuwen's soldiers and these light cavalry felt heavy hearts, each mind filled with swirling thoughts.

Who? Who?!

Yuwen soldiers' minds were nearly blank with confusion. Weren't they fighting rabble? Shouldn't they have swept them away? Why such an opponent? Why had their cavalry suddenly been broken? Why did crossbow bolts never cease?

Why did light and heavy cavalry strike from both flanks as they fled?

At that moment, an arrow spun and pierced Yuwen Hua's shoulder.

Yuwen Hua grunted, switched his spear to his left hand, but the blazing firelight was already near.

Li Guanyi rode the Fire Qilin, the beast galloping wildly, his battle halberd sweeping and slashing—light cavalry in front were flung from their mounts one by one. His heart pounded wildly; he drew a deep breath, halberd in hand, the taste of blood still in his mouth.

The halberd surged forward; he raised his head, lifting the divine weapon in his palm.

Empowered by the formation's strength, he struck with one sudden sweep.

Yuwen Hua turned to defend; their inner qi collided, exploding into a shockwave.

Yuwen Hua's body was flung upward, crashing heavily to the ground; he spat blood. From a family of military commanders, he carried fierce spirit; his Hukou split, inner qi swirling, he still reached for his sword to fight on foot—but the halberd pressed against his throat.

Yuwen Hua suddenly glared fiercely, reached out, and gripped the halberd's blade.

He drove it violently toward his own throat!

Li Guanyi pulled back his weapon.

Yuwen Hua's palm gashed open in a grotesque wound, but the blade missed his throat; the halberd pierced through his shoulder. As blood drained away, Yuwen Hua finally lost the strength to kill himself.

Li Guanyi gasped for breath, the taste of blood in his nose. Martial duels and battlefield slaughter were two entirely different realms. The youth raised his weapon and roared: "The enemy commander has been captured!"

"Surrender your weapons, and you shall not be killed!"

Fan Qing kicked the iron-clad infantryman ahead of him and shouted: "Surrender your weapons, and you shall not be killed!"

"Surrender your weapons, and you shall not be killed!"

In the art of conquering a state, winning hearts is paramount; first, subdue their will.

The shouts swelled louder, like thunder rolling; seeing their commander fall from his horse, heavy cavalry charging across the battlefield, someone began dropping weapons first—the sound crisp and clear. The infantry had utterly lost their will to fight.

Li Guanyi sat atop the Fire Qilin, gasping heavily, watching the chaotic battlefield.

Fan Qing, Lei Laomeng, and many others—only young men forced onto the mountain—clutched their weapons tightly, now realizing, as their adrenaline faded, how wildly their hearts pounded, as if shaking their ears deaf, their hands gripping their weapons uncontrollably.

Gasping for breath, their minds blank.

They saw their commander seated on the Fire Qilin's back, raising his weapon.

Only then did Fan Qing realize how tightly he had been gripping his weapon—his hands trembled uncontrollably, utterly unlike the reckless fury he felt when killing the official; he gripped his blade harder, staring at the young general.

Hearing him shout:

"Wind!"

Then they all raised their weapons together.

Chanting: "Wind! Great Wind!"

No war drums or military music.

The heart beneath their chests pounded wildly, the rush of blood roaring in their ears.

That was the war drum!

………………

After the battle, they gathered their troops, then stripped the surrendered enemies of their armor, helmets, and weapons—this task was assigned to Pang Shuiyun, who had hurriedly arrived; Pang Shuiyun had been the core strategist of Tai Ping Gong's army.

He was very familiar with such tasks.

He had demanded that Yuwen Tianxian and Yuwen Hua be spared.

For future use.

Ling Pingyang and his five hundred heavy cavalry had charged through the routed enemy without a single injury, demonstrating the capability of a frontline cavalry unit second only to the Three Great Cavalry Armies; Ling Pingyang and his five hundred heavy riders dismounted, and this thirty-something cavalry commander removed his helmet, saluted, and said:

"I am Ling Pingyang. I heard that Li…"

He did not know how to address him, so he said gravely: "General Li is besieged; I have come with five hundred cavalry under your command, awaiting your orders."

The five hundred iron cavalry saluted in perfect unison.

Stern and chilling, clad entirely in heavy armor like steel beasts, their eyes fixed straight ahead, obeying orders without hesitation, radiating the terrifying pressure of a top-tier professional army.

Li Guanyi said nothing, but the rest of his warriors, including Fan Qing, were shaken by the sight of these steel-clad monsters.

Meanwhile, the five hundred heavy cavalry silently observed these men—mostly unarmored, some lightly armored—who lacked such fine armor and weapons, yet carried a quiet aura around them, their brows no longer marked by the fear and panic of common folk.

Calm. Stern.

Ling Pingyang noticed the curiosity in their eyes.

That curiosity carried with it an instinctive thought: how would one defeat such men?

This was no longer the gentle gaze of cattle and sheep, but the gaze of predators—bared fangs, having tasted blood and victory.

Of Li Guanyi's eighteen hundred men, five hundred were elite private troops from the city lord's household, mostly archers at the Entry Threshold, and a group of martial cultivators at Entry Threshold.

The rest were bandits who had taken to the hills; before Li Guanyi's arrival, they had been rigorously trained for a month by thirty-three veteran soldiers of Tai Ping Gong, summoned by Pang Shuiyun.

Even with this one month of training, plus the四五 days after Li Guanyi's arrival until Yuwen's arrival, and the time spent in Yuwen's formation, it was barely over a month—but only elite troops knew:

Aside from long-term, systematic elite training,

there was another way to rapidly mature raw recruits in an extremely short time.

The battlefield.

A martial cultivator who rolled through the brutal battlefield of cold weapons and survived became a veteran—he had seen blood, no longer feared blade-to-blade combat; the shift in mindset was crucial at this level.

This battle against a second-tier infantry formation, even with the 【Moon-Reversal Formation】, had minimal losses—but they had still seen blood, had killed men.

They were no longer a rabble.

They were a wolf pack.

Changsun Wuwei, who had led the light cavalry in the flanking maneuver, returned and had to resume his logistics duties—assessing losses, gains, and expenditures took time, but he submitted his report immediately.

Only about two thousand of Yuwen's army surrendered; the rest were dead, swept away by the river to unknown places, or escaped; over a thousand had died. When he learned this number, Yuwen Tianxian, now a prisoner, twitched his cheek.

Li Guanyi's side, eighteen hundred strong, now numbered only slightly over sixteen hundred; even with the 【Moon-Reversal Formation】, even with water tactics, even with Li Guanyi's charge and the heavy cavalry's breakthrough, the gap in raw strength remained terrifying—the enemy had also possessed archer and crossbow units.

Over a hundred had died; many others were wounded.

Also, many horses remained alive; armor totaled three thousand five hundred pieces; weapons, grain, and supplies were seized and brought back.

The young man fell silent for a long time.

Warfare is brutal; death is inevitable once one steps onto the battlefield.

This is precisely what military strategists and commanders must face.

Ling Pingyang noticed the young commander's mood and changed the subject: "Pity we didn't achieve total annihilation—if we had captured them all, we would have gained great renown."

Suddenly, a gentle voice came: "That is not certain."

Ling Pingyang turned in surprise and saw the humble tent flap lifted; several women entered. The lead one wore leather armor and a veil covering her face, leaving only her eyes visible—exquisitely beautiful—this was Nangong Wumeng.

Fan Qing bowed: "General, these ladies brought back three to four hundred routed soldiers."

"The enemy lost one thousand one hundred sixty-three, escaped three hundred thirty-seven—all accounted for."

Fan Qing did not understand military strategy, but in this chaotic age, where armies had been slaughtering each other for over three hundred years, he had absorbed enough by osmosis to know what this meant—

Total annihilation!

Either kill, or capture!

Fan Qing's heart pounded hard; his breathing grew heavy.

The young man suddenly remembered the words of Mr.

A war of annihilation is an operation that completely destroys or captures the enemy, stripping them of all combat capability.

Ling Pingyang was momentarily speechless, left only in awe.

Fan Qing, Lei Laomeng, the physicians, and those young people—

They cheered for victory, because they could live, because something heavier, burning deep in their hearts, made their eyes bright, their clothes torn and stained with blood, embracing each other fiercely out of excitement, grief for fallen friends, and the release of survival.

Then they roared and screamed at the sky.

These were the first to step onto the battlefield of this chaotic age—a group dismissed as rabble in this era—who had entered the world like a blind ox, and in their first battle, achieved a record of 【Few Against Many】, 【Weak Against Strong】, and 【Total Annihilation】.

Ling Pingyang looked deeply at these warriors and said: "But how could you intercept so many routed soldiers? Even if they had discarded their armor and helmets, fleeing men are hard to catch."

Discarding armor and helmets was no figure of speech.

It was real.

It was still Xia Mo, unbearably hot; under the chaos of retreating troops, armor grew stifling and immensely heavy, slowing them down—every fleeing soldier thought only of running faster than his comrades, discarding armor, ditching helmets, even throwing away swords and spears, all hoping to run just a little faster.

Nangong Wumeng tossed his short knife aside and said lazily, "According to that old man named Pang, we left some traps behind where the enemy retreated, but with too few troops, we couldn't hold back many of them—then this sister showed up."

"She just played one piece on the qin, and those hundreds of warriors without armor went wild."

"I sent people to fetch them—they were brought back quickly."

Ling Pingyang exclaimed, "A Yin-Yang specialist skilled in military formations?"

A gentle voice came: "General, you jest. Their morale had already shattered—if their army's spirit had remained calm, and if they had commanders, my qin music would have been useless."

A woman walked forward, beautiful, her hair like a cloud, her demeanor profoundly serene.

Li Guanyi's movement paused slightly.

Murong Qiushui.

Suddenly, a small head popped up behind Auntie—silver hair cascaded down, her face expressionless. Murong Qiushui smiled and waved toward the young general: "Liniuer?"

Ling Pingyang: "………"

Fan Qing: "…………"

Pang Shuiyun: "…………"

All three instinctively stared at that peerless brute who had shattered a second-tier force the moment he entered battle, delivering a total annihilation—and their minds froze.

They simply could not connect this warlord—riding a Fire Qilin, swinging a twelve-foot battle spear, clad in General-grade Tie Futu heavy armor, charging across the battlefield with roaring fury—with the name "Liniuer."

Only the world's most exquisite beauty laughed loudly, unceremoniously.

Li Guanyi grabbed a brush beside him and raised it to tap Nangong Wumeng on the head.

Nangong Wumeng had already vanished on the wind. Li Guanyi, still clad in armor, looked toward Auntie, dismissed the generals, then walked over and said, "Auntie, why are you here?"

Murong Qiushui reached out and stroked Li Guanyi's hair, studying the scars on his face:

"Well, I came to see you."

"And to bring Liniuer a little gift."

Li Guanyi seized Auntie's wrist, probed with inner Qi, sensed Murong Qiushui's energy, and frowned: "Auntie, your Law-Form entrapment hasn't been resolved—you mustn't use your soul or the Jiangnan Mist and Rain Twelve Storied Art."

Murong Qiushui sharply tapped Li Guanyi on the forehead.

When no outsiders were present, she reverted to the Auntie Li Guanyi knew—seemingly furious:

"You're risking your life—what do you mean for me to be cautious?"

Behind Murong Qiushui, the silver-haired girl, expressionless, nodded firmly.

Murong Qiushui said: "Fighting like this—even with a Fire Qilin—you could still be gravely wounded or killed facing a Sixth Heaven general with a full battle formation!"

The silver-haired girl nodded again, forcefully.

Murong Qiushui reached out to prod Li Guanyi's forehead, then noticed his energy was unstable—just as she'd said, the 【Heavenly Great Possession】 could not be sustained long.

Even his body's injuries were severe; beneath the armor, wounds bled.

They had just been treated; because of his body's resilience, injuries that might have killed him were now only moderate—but the 【Eternal Azure Moon Imperishable Body】 Jin Dan he'd painstakingly gathered was utterly depleted.

Yet he could show no sign of weakness or injury.

That was why he still wore the armor.

Murong Qiushui looked at the young man before her—clad in heavy armor, forged in blood and fire, his demeanor transformed from gentle serenity into a hardened, sharp resolve, like a sword tempered and honed.

She reached out, brushing her fingers over his brows and eyes—unconsciously, he had grown.

Murong Qiushui did not know whether she felt pride or a faint sorrow, but she knew: the child she had protected, who had once practiced qin and calligraphy daily, could never return to that past.

She knew: a tiger like this, once unleashed, would never turn back.

The Yuwen family's army had been swallowed whole; the conscripted laborers they had pressed into service briefly remained beneath Zhongshan. Pang Shuiyun, Changsun Wucho, and others completed the follow-up arrangements and rest. Only now did Li Guanyi return.

Murong Qiushui told Li Guanyi to remove his armor.

The boy fell silent, then stripped off the heavy armor. Beneath it, his Dao robe was soaked through—Qi had pierced through the Tie Futu armor; on one side, a grotesque puncture wound marred the plate—Yuwen Tianxian had shattered its defense in direct combat.

At that moment, Li Guanyi had sidestepped the killing blow, and his Tiger Roar Heaven Battle Spear had slashed through Yuwen Tianxian's armor. Murong Qiushui placed her hand on his wound—it had already scabbed, healing at an incredible rate—but for Murong Qiushui, who had watched Li Guanyi grow from age three to now, this wound hurt more than any injury she herself had suffered.

Murong Qiushui treated Li Guanyi's wounds; the silver-haired girl stood silently, handing her items.

The seven physicians were also treating other wounded soldiers.

"Hey, General Li Guanyi, that old man Pang wants you over—he says there's more to arrange, and also—" Nangong Wumeng sauntered in like a street hooligan, pushing open the door.

She saw Li Guanyi, clad only in half-armor, bare-chested as he treated his wounds.

Nangong Wumeng's voice cut off abruptly.

Then she leapt back a step.

She huddled behind the door, stammering: "Y-you—you're doing what?!"

Li Guanyi grumbled: "Treating wounds—I'm not made of iron. What did you think I was doing?"

Nangong Wumeng said: "Y-you—you just need to go talk to Old Man Pang about prisoner handling and the army's next move!" She turned, covered her face, and sprinted away. The silver-haired girl watched the beauty, expressionless, then shook her head.

Her hair swayed slightly, as if smug.

She turned back, gazing at the boy's muscular upper body.

She looked away.

Meanwhile, on another mountain, the green-robed elder and the old man Master Siming fell silent.

Master Siming observed the aura: "... The martial spirit of the army—like a dragon, like a tiger, like smoke and flame—it's all the aura of mighty generals. Goodness, the aura on this mountain blazes like a rainbow. We two old men guarding here, expecting reinforcements, are useless."

"I see Murong Qiushui went too."

"That girl—though only Fifth Heaven soul cultivation—her technique is flawless. I doubt many alive today surpass her in the 【Way of Qin Music】. Come to think of it, that boy asked me to cure her Law-Form entrapment…"

"By the way, aren't your direct descendants down to just these two…?"

Master Siming suddenly realized he'd spoken wrongly. The old man felt his scalp prickle; his Tortoise Law-Form recoiled in alarm, raising a claw to slap over Master Siming's mouth, forcing the old fool to shut up.

Master Siming fell silent, laughing awkwardly: "I misspoke."

Sword Madman, don't get angry or anything like that.

No response.

Master Siming turned curiously, and a rush of sword qi struck his face; even the aura from a single step overturned him, filling his mouth with sand as sword qi scraped his face.

The old man in blue robes had already transformed into a streak of sword light, racing away!