Chapter 1249: First Volume, Chapter 1249: Eastern Front Pyrrhic Victory

First Volume, Chapter 1249: Eastern Front Pyrrhic Victory

One grim report after another arrived; Lin Zhao, who had spent half his life bleeding on the battlefield, now found sweat pooling in his palms.

"General, it's bad—the front-line troops are breaking!"

"The Supervisor of the Army can't hold them anymore; morale is collapsing."

"General! Confirmed—the Heavy Armor Battalion sent by Qin Feng is composed of Tianji Camp Guards!"

"Five hundred Tianji Camp Guards and a thousand Servant Soldiers are advancing steadily, tearing through our lines. Without Heavy Armor to hold the front, our losses are catastrophic—we're shattered."

In all of Heaven and Earth, who among those who have taken up arms has not heard the name "Tianji Camp Guards"?

The Tianji Camp Guards, personally trained by Qin Feng, are hailed as the pinnacle of Ji Zhan—and indeed, they are, without a single exaggeration.

Whether it was when they followed Qin Feng on a thousand-li rescue of his mother, slaying the Legendary Fang General Zhong Ling of the Northern Di on the spot,

or when they held Daqingshan alongside Qin Feng against eight or nine thousand enemies, then slipped away like a golden cicada shedding its shell to escape death,

as elite shock troops or Heavy Armor infantry, the Tianji Camp Guards are nothing short of masterpieces of war—as if, under Qin Feng's meticulous crafting, they were born entirely for battle.

Even with equal or double their numbers, not a single commander across the entire Nan Jing could claim confidence in defeating the Tianji Camp Guards.

"Five hundred…"

"This Qin Feng… he's been hiding so many Tianji Camp Guards…"

Lin Zhao's face turned pale with shock, his mind filled with confusion—he couldn't fathom where Qin Feng found the audacity to remain calm, when he had been on the verge of collapse, and still held back the Tianji Camp Guards until the final moment.

Now Lin Zhao could no longer stop the Tianji Camp Guards—this battle was already lost…

"Beidi War Command… retreat…"

Lin Zhao reluctantly issued the order; his surrounding generals stared in stunned silence, racking their brains yet unable to comprehend how, with such overwhelming advantage, they had lost at the final hour.

"General, we cannot retreat—once we pull back, we'll never again have the strength to advance north."

"We've poured too much into this war—this retreat means all our efforts are wasted."

"The encirclement around Gusu City is about to break—how can we abandon it at the last moment?"

Faced with his generals' protests, Lin Zhao could no longer contain himself—he roared.

"You fools!"

"The enemy holding the Eastern Front are all Northern Border Troops—you've seen their combat effectiveness. To wear them down this far is already our limit."

"Now that their Heavy Armor Battalion has advanced, what do we use to stop them?"

"Continuing to fight is pointless waste of manpower. A timely retreat still preserves some of our fighting strength—we can still stand off against Qin Feng."

At Lin Zhao's rebuke, the generals fell silent.

Lin Zhao's face turned ashen; though he spoke of preserving the mountains to save the firewood, his heart was filled with despair.

As Main General, he knew better than anyone the cost of this retreat.

For the Nan Jing Army to rebuild another large force and secretly assemble near Gusu City would take at least a year and a half.

In other words, Gusu City would receive no reinforcements for a year and a half.

Perhaps the Gusu City Garrison could hold out by relying on the city walls—but the problem is, Qin Feng will now attack Gusu City without restraint, no longer fearing the sudden appearance of the Nan Jing Army.

How long Gusu City can hold is anyone's guess.

At least in Lin Zhao's view, the defeat on the Eastern Front will lead to the gradual collapse of the entire Gusu City Defense Battle.

But he could never voice these thoughts—he sighed inwardly, murmuring: "No wonder Qin Feng—when cornered, he turns death into life."

"If he hadn't risked coming to reinforce the Eastern Front, the Eastern Front would have collapsed—and the outcome would have been different."

"No wonder he's the man who defeated the Northern Di—I, Lin Zhao, yield!"

"We retreat!"

Lin Zhao no longer hesitated—his most urgent task now was preserving his fighting strength.

Too bad—when an army is defeated, it collapses like a mountain falling—the troops already torn apart by the Heavy Armor Battalion could not regroup. As the retreat order rang out, the entire force scattered like a swarm.

Of the remaining ten thousand troops, if three or four thousand made it back to ZhuZhen, it would be a miracle.

Most of the soldiers would likely desert outright amid the rout.

At the same moment, thunderous cheers erupted across the battlefield from the Northern Border Generals.

"The enemy is retreating!"

"We won!"

"Hahahaha, we won! Finally won! Long live the Qin King!"

"It's Qin King Thousand Years!"

"To hell with that—I'm calling him Qin King Ten Thousand Years! Without Qin King risking his life to come to our aid, the entire Eastern Front would've been crushed!"

"You're right—we won this battle like a miracle, and this miracle was forged by Qin King alone."

"Unbelievable… to win under such circumstances…"

The generals were overjoyed; Qin Feng, too, finally exhaled in relief, collapsing onto the ground, utterly spent.

He was exhausted beyond measure—his eyelids wouldn't lift—but his lips curled involuntarily, for Qin Feng knew: victory on the Eastern Front would propel the entire Southern Campaign forward by a great stride.

Now, all that remained was to methodically wage a Consumption War against Gusu City.

As the city's New Recruits broke down and prolonged consumption drained their Logistics, supply lines would collapse—further consumption would steadily build Qin Feng's advantage until Gusu City was crushed.

Just as Qin Feng lay on the ground, gasping heavily, envisioning the fall of Gusu City, heavy footsteps echoed beside him.

He looked up—it was Zhao Yuxiong.

Drenched in blood, Zhao Yuxiong gripped his Ji Zhan spear tightly, his gaze cold—as if he alone among all the Northern Border Troops felt no joy.

"Brother Qin, return to camp!"

With that icy remark, Zhao Yuxiong turned and walked away without looking back.

Watching Zhao Yuxiong's retreating back, Qin Feng felt a pang of loneliness—he had won the battle, but lost his comrade.

Qin Feng closed his eyes and took a deep breath; he had long anticipated that Zhao Yuxiong, this "Traditional General," would never tolerate Qin Feng's reckless actions.

But now that it had come to this, Qin Feng had no other option—he could only take it one step at a time.

Less than half a Envoy later, news of Lin Zhao's army's defeat reached Gusu City, leaving Lin Wenwan utterly stunned.

"L-Lost?!"

"How is this possible?"

Wang Keng's face was equally shocked and bewildered: "Qin Feng hid a Heavy Armor Battalion—and unleashed it at the last moment…"

Lin Wenwan burst out laughing, shaking her head in disbelief: "Heavy Armor Battalion…"