The banners of the Crimson Thunder Army, once symbols of Gao Zhen's dominance, now fluttered under a different master. The warlord's lifeless body lay crumpled in the dirt, his name already fading from history as the remaining soldiers knelt in submission before Shao Xian.
The valley, which had moments ago echoed with the cries of battle, now held only silence—a silence carved not from peace, but from absolute conquest.
Shao Xian stood unmoving, his golden eyes sweeping across the kneeling soldiers. Fear clung to them like a second skin. These men, once proud warriors, had fought countless battles, yet before him, they were nothing more than lost children before a storm.
"You serve," Shao Xian said, his voice like the distant tolling of a divine bell. "But do you understand what that means?"
No one dared to lift their heads. No one dared to speak.
Shao Xian took a single step forward, and the earth beneath him cracked as if bowing beneath his might. The pressure in the air thickened, turning the very act of breathing into a struggle.
"If you are to follow me, you do not follow a mortal." His voice was calm, yet each word carried the weight of inevitability. "You follow an existence beyond your comprehension. You will obey without question. You will fight without hesitation. And you will die without regret."
A single heartbeat passed, and then another.
"We will!" The first voice to break the silence was hoarse with fear, but it was enough.
Like an avalanche, the others followed.
"We serve!"
"We obey!"
Shao Xian nodded, satisfied. Weak-willed men could be ruled by fear, but only those who accepted their insignificance could become weapons sharpened to his liking. These soldiers, tempered by war, had now been reforged into something far greater—a force that would become the foundation of his dominion.
His gaze shifted to the largest tent in the camp. It had belonged to Gao Zhen, but now, it belonged to him. Without another word, he turned and strode toward it. The soldiers, understanding his unspoken command, scrambled to clear a path.
Inside the tent, the stench of wine and blood lingered. Maps of the region lay scattered across the war table, inked with battle plans that no longer held meaning. Gao Zhen's ambitions had died with him.
Shao Xian's fingers traced the edge of the table, his mind already weaving new designs upon the remnants of the old.
A shadow moved at the entrance. One of the Crimson Thunder Army's commanders stepped inside, his movements stiff with unease.
"My Lord," the man said, his voice measured but respectful. "The army awaits your orders."
Shao Xian turned, studying the man. He recognized the type—someone who had survived long enough to understand when to surrender and when to swear loyalty.
"Your name," Shao Xian said.
"Zhou Fan, my Lord."
"Zhou Fan," Shao Xian repeated, committing it to memory. "Then tell me, what is the strength of this army?"
Zhou Fan hesitated only for a moment before answering. "Five thousand trained soldiers remain, my Lord. Another three thousand are stationed in Zhenlu, waiting for orders. The city's defenses are strong, but without proper leadership, they will fall into disarray."
Shao Xian closed his eyes for a brief moment, considering.
Zhenlu.
A city that had once been a stronghold under Gao Zhen's rule, now left vulnerable in the wake of his death. If he wished to solidify his grip, he would need to claim it before another opportunist attempted to seize control.
He opened his eyes. "We march at dawn."
Zhou Fan nodded, accepting the order without question. "And what of Gao Zhen's loyalists within the city?"
Shao Xian's lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. "Burn the rot from the foundation, and what remains shall stand stronger."
Zhou Fan understood immediately. "It will be done."
As the commander left to relay the orders, Shao Xian turned his attention back to the war table. His fingers traced over the map, stopping over Zhenlu.
This was only the first step.
Dominion over this world would not be granted; it would be taken, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to oppose him.
Dawn arrived with an eerie stillness.
The army moved as a single entity, their footsteps measured, their formation precise. The banners they carried had yet to be altered, still bearing the insignia of the Crimson Thunder Army, but soon, that would change. Soon, the world would know to whom they truly belonged.
Zhenlu's towering walls came into view as the sun crested the horizon. The city, built as a military stronghold, was fortified with high stone barriers and iron gates. A defense that had once served Gao Zhen well.
It would not serve him now.
Atop the walls, the city guards stood watch, their armor gleaming beneath the morning light. They had yet to realize their warlord was dead.
Shao Xian did not give them the luxury of time.
A single step forward, and his presence expanded, an unseen force pressing down upon the city like an unseen hand gripping its throat.
The guards stiffened. Even from this distance, they could feel it—a suffocating weight, a power beyond reason.
One by one, their knees buckled. Weapons clattered to the ground, hands grasping at their throats as though struggling to breathe against the sheer force of Shao Xian's will.
Then, a voice rang out, trembling yet desperate.
"Open the gates!"
The order came not from Shao Xian, but from the city itself.
A panicked officer rushed to obey, and with the groaning of iron chains, the gates of Zhenlu swung open.
The army did not charge. They did not need to. They simply walked forward, unchallenged, as the city surrendered before a battle could even begin.
Shao Xian entered last, his golden eyes taking in the streets lined with civilians who dared not raise their heads. The city belonged to him now, and with it, every soul within.
Zhou Fan approached, his expression one of awe. "The city is yours, my Lord. No resistance remains."
Shao Xian inclined his head. "Then let it be known."
Zhou Fan bowed. He did not need further explanation.
Within the hour, the banners atop Zhenlu's walls were stripped away, replaced by new insignias—symbols not of mortal conquest, but of absolute dominion.
And in the center of the city, within the once-mighty warlord's fortress, Shao Xian stood at the highest balcony, overlooking the lands now under his rule.
This was not the end.
It was only the beginning.