Chapter 568: Jiang Su Dies!

Sword qi surged to the heavens, magnificent and dazzling; Jiang Su’s armor was torn open by a grotesque crack, blood spurting out.

The blade pierced straight through the body of this General of the Army.

The General of the Army’s martial foundation was immensely formidable, stronger than other martial legends; in centuries past, it had only been breached twice.

The first time was during the Sword Madman’s ascent to martial legend.

At this moment, the sword intent hidden within the wooden sword Long Tu subtly resonated with the lingering sword intent left by the Sword Madman Murong Long Tu within Jiang Su’s body, causing Jiang Su to feel wave after wave of piercing pain.

Facing this fatal strike, Jiang Su’s mind remained as calm as a still lake, undisturbed; he did not retreat, did not hide, but gripped his divine weapon, Jiemie, tighter—and advanced instead of retreating.

The General of the Army said nothing, only fought with all his might.

Jiemie, wrapped in the aura of a martial legend, slammed down violently toward Li Guanyi.

Exchange wounds for wounds.

Better to die together!

Both their energies trembled and exploded simultaneously.

Then they broke apart—Li Guanyi’s shoulder armor shattered into dust; even his body, surpassing a warlord’s, bore direct injury, blood streaming continuously—but Jiang Su paid a far greater price.

His abdomen was pierced straight through by the Sword Madman’s divine weapon.

Li Guanyi’s martial legend energy activated the sword intent of the wooden sword Long Tu; the Sword Madman’s sword qi flowed, leaving wounds that even the General of the Army Jiang Su could not heal quickly—blood continued to flow.

Elsewhere, Gao Xiang’s brow was sharp and grim.

A flicker of sigh passed through his eyes.

He possessed the aura of a martial legend, but as a peak ninth-tier Grand Master, to threaten the current number-one General of the Army, the martial legend Qin Wu, who led his army with the overwhelming momentum of conquest, required only four words: [Surprise Attack].

He gripped his divine weapon, preparing to suppress his aura and hide within the army’s grim energy—but at that moment, strands of silver light entwined around his weapon.

Gao Xiang stared at the fine threads of silver light coiling around his arm.

These radiances rose into the sky.

They exposed this elite general, whose stealth had once threatened a martial legend, right in the midst of Qin Wu’s army; the silver-haired man’s eyes faintly reddened, his hand extended, fingers slowly closing—

In the martial world, martial legends.

Given time, their upper limit could rival even the Sword Madman or the General of the Army.

More than twenty days.

Slowly, painstakingly unraveling, all preparation had been aimed at General Gao Xiang.

The Array Master, Fishhook Whale, whose face had not rested for over twenty days, smiled a dangerous smile: “Found you, bastard!”

Cards on the table—

At this stage, no other choices remained; both monarchs had stepped onto the battlefield, the top ten generals of the realm raced across its every corner, a million troops clashed in unrelenting war—this was total war.

Jiang Su drove his divine spear, Jiemie, into the ground and placed his hand over his abdomen.

His destiny burned, turning into golden flames.

He forcibly absorbed the former national destiny into his body, thereby further elevating himself to battle Qin Wu in his current state.

The golden flames melted and twisted his divine armor, warped his flesh beneath the fire of destiny—using this desperate, brutal method, he healed the wound inflicted by Li Guanyi’s previous strike.

Blood ceased flowing; Jiang Su stared at Li Guanyi.

Gripping the divine spear Jiemie, he launched a suicidal attack upon Qin Wu.

What more is there to say?

Fight! Fight without restraint! Settle life and death! Race for supremacy!

“Come!!!”

……………………

Yet several days prior.

The battle spear slashed down fiercely; Qin Yulong’s weapon was violently wrenched from his grip by Yue Qianfeng’s force, his palms split and bled; under the onslaught of the enemy army, he retreated again and again, ultimately unable to hold his ground.

Yet his battle spirit never faded; his eyes bulged with fury, still preparing to draw his backup weapon and continue fighting.

Suddenly, a piercing whistle pierced the air.

Two weapons pierced the battlefield, striking hard against his armor.

Sharp cold light sliced through the armor.

But it was not the force of slaughter—it was a vast, yet gentle, pushing force—

Chen Baxian’s ultimate technique!

Mountain Crush!

BOOM!!!

Layer upon layer of force, like the collapse of mountains, surged forward; Qin Yulong saw two riders emerge from either side of Yue Qianfeng—Chen Wenmian and Xiao Wu Liang, both eighth-tier generals.

Two long spears pressed against Qin Yulong’s abdomen.

This general, who had stubbornly held his ground for days through sheer troop strength and terrain, finally could not endure—he grew dazed, forcibly thrown from his horse, crashing heavily to the ground; he struggled to rise, but Yue Qianfeng was already upon him.

Qin Yulong’s defensive strategy had succeeded.

But the tide had turned; no matter how fiercely he defended, his breach was merely a matter of time.

At this point, this tenth-ranked general of the realm was no match for Yue Qianfeng.

Yue Qianfeng clenched his fist and struck Qin Yulong’s head with one blow; Qin Yulong, already pushed beyond his limit, saw stars, then collapsed backward, utterly unconscious.

Yue Qianfeng casually wiped blood from his lip, gazing at Qin Yulong with a hint of admiration, murmuring: “A fine man. Held out this long. But time’s up…”

They cleared the battlefield and launched the prearranged signal—a fireworks device crafted by Mo Family mechanical arts shot skyward and exploded; moments later, violent waves churned across the surface of the great river.

Yue Qianfeng stood firm; as the wind blew, the pain in his body transformed into a thrilling exhilaration. Far off, where sky met water, a banner pointed toward the heavens.

One after another warship broke through the water and waves, arriving with thunderous roars.

The Coiling Dragon manifestation circled the sky, emitting chilling dragon roars.

At the highest point, a broad-shouldered elder laughed aloud: “Hahahaha, Younger Brother Yue, you’re moving a bit too slowly here!”

Yue Qianfeng replied: “Qin Yulong defends his homeland. To crush him within these ten days is already swift—well within Master Pojun and His Majesty’s calculations.”

The massive warships halted upon the river nearby.

Lord of the Furious Scales, Kou Yulie, said: “Then follow Master Pojun’s plan.”

His expression calm, he sighed:

“My martial skill, at this stage, brings no advantage on such a battlefield. I thought in this great war, we’d only serve as logistics—but I never expected that foolish emperor Jiang Yuan would dredge waterways and build canals!”

“Though narrow, the waterways allow us to encircle the army with ease!”

“It will do!”

Lord of the Furious Scales roared with laughter; the seventh-tier Grand Master General led his naval forces forward, emerging from the southern waterways into Ying’s canal, swiftly reaching its heartland.

……………………

On the battlefield, Jiang Su knew there was no other choice—only fierce battle remained; the two armies tore into each other, the thunder of hooves, the clash of blades, the roars of men, rising like a surging tide.

The storms of the realm surged, contradictions converged, and bore down heavily upon this place.

Jiang Su burned his wounds with destiny’s flame, briefly healing them, halting the bleeding—this would make his injuries far worse later, but he no longer cared for the future.

Only this death battle!

Qin Wu’s battle spear slashed down violently, colliding with Jiang Su’s divine spear Jiemie; General Gao Xiang’s arrows were blunted by the array prepared over twenty days by Fishhook Whale.

Each time Gao Xiang fired, the array cracked further.

But he himself was locked in.

Both sides were trading lives recklessly.

All were buying time for the outcome of Jiang Su and Li Guanyi’s duel.

BOOM!!!

The Jiemie spear descended; Gao Xiang’s arrow spun outward—but at that moment, a long spear was hurled from the side, striking the arrow weakened by Fishhook Whale’s array.

Gao Xiang’s pupils contracted sharply; he turned his head.

To the western edge of this vast battlefield.

A mournful, chilling howl of the Azure Wolf rose to the heavens.

The martial array of the Divine Martial Prince, the Wolf King, reappeared on the battlefield; Chen Wenmian held his father’s weapon diagonally, beside him stood his father’s beloved general, his own master; he gazed at the battlefield ahead and drew a deep breath.

“Father, Mother—I’ve arrived here.”

Clad in heavy armor, wielding a long spear, solemn and deadly, he broke from the Night Charge cavalry, riding across the western frontier—the final strength of the Divine Martial Prince Chen Chengbi, inheriting his father’s will, forging his own path.

Chen Wenmian’s two-edged halberd tore through the chaos of the age.

Chen Wenmian locked onto the General of the Army Jiang Su and roared:

“Jiang Su! Do you recognize this blade!”

Silver armor, white robe—the Chen Wenmian army, Azure Wolf Heavy Cavalry—stepped onto the battlefield!

Behind them, hooves thundered with grim intensity; the cry of the Golden-winged Great Peng pierced the sky; the colossal manifestation swept across the battlefield, golden flames seeming to burn away the leaden grim energy; the Yue banner appeared at the northern edge of the battlefield.

Yue Pengwu had chosen to come and confront Jiang Su.

This aging general, his Liquefied Spring Divine Spear pointed forward.

The end of chaos. The dawn of peace.

Famous since youth, dominating the realm—his greatest battle, at last, had come; beside him stood Dou De, the martial heroes, the common folk; he gazed ahead and spoke:

“Break the formation!”

The Yue Family Heavy Cavalry stepped onto the battlefield, sealing off the rear of the Ying army.

Yue Pengwu as core, Ling Pingyang as support.

The Beiwei Army began breaking out to seal the rear!

Yue Pengwu’s forces broke through the northern army of Ying Guo and began advancing toward Jiang Su!

Almost at the same moment.

The banners of the Taiping Army appeared in the northeast.

Yan Xuanji, Yuan Shitong, and Xue Tianxing appeared on one flank of the battlefield.

Wen Qingyu’s strategy deployed fifty thousand troops, leveraging the speed of the Grand Canal and the Dragon King of Nu Lin’s fleet to reach the battlefield.

The Taiping Army began its advance.

To pin down the Ying Guo forces in the northeast.

The reorganized Iron Floating Turrets, led by Ashi, appeared on the battlefield.

The Western Regions Army began its advance!

Ye Chongdao and Ye Buyi led the Ye Chi Cavalry onto the battlefield.

The Ye Chi Cavalry began its advance!

Zhou Liu Camp, led by Zhou Xianping, deployed heavy-armored hook-sickle spear infantry on the western flank of the battlefield.

The Heavy-Armored Hook-Sickle Spear Legion began its advance!

Duan Qingyu appeared on one flank—the southwestern army crossed mountains and rivers, emerging at a fatal flank and charging into the battlefield!

This final battle was the strongest in all of history’s thousands of years.

The battlefield stretched across the entire realm, vast beyond measure.

Every sector of the battlefield, every detail, was in motion; every change triggered shifts elsewhere, each link converging to form the ultimate outcome.

Yet all this vast battlefield, all these shifting intelligence streams, fell into a pair of purple eyes—Po Jun studied the strategic map, and the red lines marking each local battlefield began converging, finally uniting at the north-south center.

Po Jun lifted a chess piece and placed it gently.

He exhaled like smoke, saying:

“Checkmate.”

In the center, Yuan Zhi held his sword; he stood within an entire encampment, where Si Wei, Si Ming, and the Whale Fisher were present. Beneath their feet, the earth was densely inscribed with countless array patterns, the left and right forming the Eight Gates.

Guarding the Eight Gates were the realm’s greatest generals—a million troops, the finest commanders of eight hundred years of elegance, three hundred years of chaos—all converged at a single point.

Po Jun was the core; Yuan Zhi was the array’s pivot.

The Eight Gates were Yue Pengwu, Yue Qianfeng, Chen Wenmian, Duan Qingyu, the Taiping Army, the southwestern army, the Western Regions Alliance, and the newly reformed Iron Floating Turrets; the remaining generals surged in coordination. A million troops, with Qin Huang at the core—truly unprecedented, unmatched by any before or after…

The rogue Yuan Zhi gripped the sword hilt with both hands and raised it high.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes blazing.

In his eyes burned reflections of fire, mirroring the galloping realm and battlefield.

In his gaze, each great general charged across different battlefields according to Po Jun’s plan—heroism, ambition, hatred, unmatched skills, the original ideals, the primal fury—countless souls coalesced into the two characters: “Taiping.”

Po Jun’s chess piece fell with a chime.

The eyes of the killer rogue hardened with resolve.

The long sword pierced the array’s pivot.

Let us end this age of chaos. Let us forge a new era.

He spoke, voice hoarse as smoke.

“Eight Gates Golden Lock—”

“UNLEASH THE ARRAY!!!”

BOOM!!!

Spears and halberds clashed violently, the explosive shockwaves rising like dragons. Jiang Su felt a sharp pain in his abdomen—clearer now. At last, the Divine General once again sensed weakness—

Not from personal martial skill.

He still had resolve; he remained an invincible legend of martial arts. But the battlefield momentum supporting him was steadily fading, and thus his power began to plummet.

In this age of chaos, the general commanding an army was the strongest force.

Even a martial legend could not stand against him.

Yet when he lost the army’s momentum, when stripped of the battle array’s support, even a supreme general like Jiang Su lost his edge and grandeur. Suddenly, he realized he was breathing heavily.

He was breathing heavily?

Had this body, which had waged war across the realm for three hundred years, grown old?

Jiang Su had to slow his breath. When he lifted his gaze, he saw only crimson Qilin-cloud banners—flags reflected in his eyes like flames, each tiny spark igniting the entire realm.

On them were ink-written characters.

“Taiping!”

“Chen,” “Yue,” “Yue,” “Ye,” “Zhou,” “Li”…

Crimson Qilin banners blazed everywhere, charging across every battlefield direction. The roaring fire surged skyward, leaving Jiang Su momentarily awestruck.

It all seemed a replay of the Western Regions War—but then, under Li Guanyi’s command as Marquis Qin Wu, they were merely ordinary troops. Even the Qilin Army then paled beside this force.

Now, every single unit composing this cutting tactic was a realm-famous general.

Even Gao Xiang, now pinned by Yue Pengwu and the other generals, could no longer support Jiang Su, trapped in desperate straits. The entire Ying Guo army was now encircled and torn apart by the Qin Alliance, fragmented into isolated pockets.

The battle formation had been severed.

The tide had turned.

Yet the war drums rolled, urging men forward.

A general like Jiang Su knew at this point: his and Jiang Wanxiang’s grand dream had failed. Just as they had swept away the old generation, so too would they, in their decay, ultimately fail.

What followed was a battle destined to end in defeat.

But even so!

Even knowing the outcome!

Could he not fight to the last?

Knowing defeat yet still fighting to the end—isn’t that glorious?

Grand Preceptor Jiang Su laughed aloud. He reached out, seized the great cloak fastened to his armor, and hurled it aside. Then he steadied the trembling Great Azure Dragon Banner. Amidst the crimson Qilin banners all around, this single Azure Dragon Banner still flared wildly.

It was the banner of Ying Guo—the last flicker of its fate.

Jiang Su gripped it in his hands.

Clenched it tightly.

Thus, the Azure Dragon Banner stood alone, stubbornly defiant at the battlefield’s center.

This mighty, haughty, invincible, ruthless, corrupt, vile general—who had upheld this nation for centuries—clutched the Divine Spear Jiemie. Cold, lethal aura erupted from him, soaring into the heavens.

Jiang Wanxiang’s dream ended.

The Grand Preceptor died with the dream.

But the Divine General Jiang Su reappeared here, rushing toward his life’s end. The other Qilin generals honored his command and did not intercept him, avoiding unnecessary losses while holding strategic advantage.

Li Guanyi personally advanced to block Jiang Su.

Jiang Su let out a long roar, his spear Jiemie radiating unmatched brilliance.

The two clashed in battle.

The clash of weapons rang like thunder, rolling across the entire battlefield, across three hundred years of chaos, across the decade-long rivalry and warfare between Qin Huang and Jiang Su.

In the heavens, martial martial energy surged in layers, forming clouds that stretched upward. Jiang Su’s war soul and divine form became a golden-armored god; Qin Huang’s five divine forms became dragons. They clashed fiercely.

Above, divine forms battled; below, generals fought to the death!

Yet Jiang Su, deprived of battlefield momentum and national strength, felt his strength wane with every strike.

Jiang Su’s breath came fast. He abandoned all else. He knew his fate was death—but so what? The air reeked of blood, rang with clashing blades, echoed with shouts.

Advance. Swing your weapon.

Keep going.

His gaze remained fixed. In a haze, he saw old friends approach, then depart. Only victory endured. Suddenly, he saw a young man wearing a golden mask.

Then the young man vanished. Qin Huang appeared. Jiang Su roared. He lost his former calm, becoming a warrior ablaze with fury—Jiemie Spear lunged toward Qin Huang.

The Divine Spear Jiemie pierced Qin Huang’s body—but did not pierce through.

At the same moment, Qin Huang’s weapon came crashing down.

Armor shattered, flesh torn, energy exploded—suddenly, all sound faded from Jiang Su. His thoughts froze. The spear Jiemie could not advance.

The battlefield seemed silent.

Or perhaps his body could no longer hear the battlefield’s noise.

Blood gushed onto the ground.

Qin Huang’s eyes blazed—youthful face filled with resolve and killing intent.

For his parents’ vengeance.

For the hatred of the Wolf King’s beheading.

Or perhaps—for the peace of this vast realm?

Jiang Su slowly lowered his head, staring at the halberd that had nearly split him from shoulder to waist—his organs nearly severed. His vision blurred, then slowly faded. He whispered:

“Hah…”

“Well fought, Qin Huang.”

Three hundred years of war. Three hundred years of chaos. Though all old friends had departed, the Divine General Grand Preceptor, who had pressed forward in his own way, slowly sank into darkness.

BOOM!!!

The golden-armored god in the heavens froze.

Then, before the eyes of a million soldiers, it slowly collapsed, crumbling piece by piece, dissolving into the void. Jiang Su’s body swayed, then fell backward—the sky and earth inverted.

The great banner with the azure dragon pattern seemed to fall to the ground.

Three hundred years of warfare…

It is over.

Your Majesty.

Our dream has ended too.

Jiang Su, the Divine General of the Ying Army, was slain on the battlefield by the Qin Emperor.

On the battlefield, Jiang Su’s body burned with all his strength; his destiny recoiled upon him. He had wielded the destiny of an entire nation, and now, in death, that destiny erupted into flames. As he fell, his body turned to ash and vanished, leaving no corpse, no burial place.

The world, the battlefield.

There could be no more fitting resting place for a Divine General of the Military Arts.

Li Guanyi gasped deeply; each breath brought sharp pain to his chest and abdomen. He slowly straightened his body, gazing at the final azure dragon banner, then gripped the divine weapon.

The battle halberd roared violently, then slashed horizontally.

A brilliant, dense stream of light surged along the halberd’s edge, severing the banner—the three hundred years of national destiny, the stubborn will of generations of monarchs, and the last remaining state’s banner outside Qin.

The azure dragon that had loomed over the heavens for over three centuries fell.

The Qilin’s halberd pointed toward the sky, and Li Guanyi shouted:

“Jiang Su is dead!”

The seventeenth day of the seventh month, fourth year of the Qin Emperor.

After merely twenty-seven days of brutal warfare.

The Qin Emperor, Li Guanyi, personally slew the Divine General Jiang Su—the final battle of a three-hundred-year era of chaos.

And with it, the curtain fell.

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