As the catastrophe loomed, the ministers of Tai Cang had no time to dwell on the mysterious girl.
They led Ji Xia through the palace, ascending a high tower. General Ji Qianqing stood at the forefront, summoning the troops. Soon, orderly formations of soldiers assembled in the grand training grounds below.
Ji Xia observed the disciplined, iron-willed warriors of Tai Cang with astonishment.
"An army this formidable is only the second strongest in Tai Cang? Just how powerful was the Wei Army before it was wiped out?"
He had just witnessed the gathering of the Cang Shou Army—eight thousand elite soldiers, each wielding weapons weighing over a hundred pounds with ease.
"If only I could've seen the legendary Wei Army before that damned meteor annihilated them."
"But now, the real question is—can the Yin Soldiers from the Netherworld Barracks stand against the Gou Quan Warhounds?"
His gaze lingered on Ji Qianqing, her black-and-red armor gleaming, her cape billowing heroically in the wind.
He hadn't spoken up earlier out of recklessness. He feared the grief-stricken officials would throw him into the Dark Dungeon if he hesitated.
And from what he'd heard of the Gou Quan, they were a race of monstrous savages. If Tai Cang fell, he'd have nowhere to hide.
Now, even if the Yin Soldiers were weak, they had to fight. Every bit of strength counted.
The eight thousand Cang Shou soldiers stood in perfect formation as Ji Qianqing addressed them, her voice amplified by spiritual energy:
"Warriors of Tai Cang! Six thousand Gou Quan beasts march upon us from Deer Cry Mountain! For 232 years, we have struggled in this merciless wasteland. Now, on the brink of ruin—do you accept defeat?"
Ji Xia marveled at the spiritual energy power.
"This world's cultivation is incredible. Why did the Crown Prince reject it? Even my past life's frail body was stronger than this!"
The soldiers roared in unison:
"Great Wind! Great Wind! Great Wind!"
"Great Wind"—the sacred totem of Tai Cang, a dragon-headed deity with arms coiled in celestial serpents, feet planted upon continents.
Ji Qianqing's voice rose. "Then we fight! For humanity! For Tai Cang! For our families behind these walls! May the Great Wind protect us!"
The soldiers' battle cries shook the earth.
Then, a grizzled general stepped forward, saluting the tower. "We go to our deaths today. Let the king send us off with his blessing!"
A shadow crossed Ji Qianqing's face. "The king... is unconscious. His wounds from battling the Gou Quan general never healed."
The ranks stirred with grief.
Ji Xia felt a pang of respect. "A ruler mourned by so many... he must have been extraordinary."
Then Lu Yu, the elderly minister, turned to Ji Xia. "Your Highness, present the Royal Decree and address the troops."
Ji Xia blinked. "Me?"
"You are the eldest of the ninth-generation royals. It is tradition."
Murmurs spread among the officials. Ji Xia could guess their thoughts: "The fool who shattered the jade? Him?"
The Grand Archivist, a bearded elder named Zhao Qu, silenced them. "Only the royal bloodline may bless the troops before battle. To break this is ill omen."
Ji Xia sighed inwardly. "Superstition runs deep here. But then again... in a world where mountains wake and gods walk, maybe omens are real."
Stepping forward, Ji Xia surveyed the soldiers.
Eight thousand men, armed with little more than courage. Yet not a single face showed fear.
Something in their resolve resonated with him.
"Those who defend their homeland... never fear death."
He cleared his throat, channeling memories of Earth's greatest war speeches.
The black-clad figure from earlier pointed at him, and suddenly, Ji Xia's voice boomed across the field.
"Warriors! Today, we will die beneath the fangs of the Gou Quan!"
Ji Qianqing and Lu Yu frowned.
"Heaven is unjust! Two centuries of sacrifice, undone in a single night!"
"The Wei Army is gone. Now the Warhounds come, drooling for our flesh—and they will feast."
The soldiers' expressions darkened.
"They will breach our gates. They will devour our people—your parents, your children, even the livestock!"
A minister lurched forward to silence him, but Lu Yu held up a hand.
Ji Xia's voice turned razor-sharp.
"But because we know we will die—should we bare our throats? Open the gates? Watch as our families are eaten alive?!"
The soldiers' fists clenched.
"No! We will make them* bleed!**"*
His whisper became a roar.
"We will make them pay! Even if they enter Tai Cang, they will carry mountains of their own dead!"
The army erupted. "GREAT WIND! GREAT WIND!"
Ji Qianqing and Lu Yu exchanged stunned glances.
Ji Xia raised a hand. Silence fell.
"But... there is hope."
The officials scoffed. They'd heard this before—empty words to avoid punishment.
An elder snapped, "Enough! Issue the decree!"
Ignoring him, Ji Xia declared:
"Last night, the Great Wind came to me in a vision! He gazes upon Tai Cang—upon me! I am now his* avatar in the wasteland!"*
Zhao Qu paled. "Blasphemy! The Great Wind never chooses mortal vessels!"
Chaos erupted. "He's mad! Drag him down!"
Ji Xia raised his arm—
And the earth trembled.
At the edge of the training grounds, a dark mist swirled.
From it emerged figures clad in shadow.