"Kill——————"
"Charge——————"
Roy led the charge, wielding his crimson demonic spear astride the Treading Snow Black Steed forged by the First Emperor through immortal arts. Like a sharpened spearhead, he plunged into the enemy ranks. Though tens of thousands of Qin soldiers stood before him, none could withstand a single strike from him. His spear danced through the air with deadly precision—the martial techniques learned from Scáthach were far beyond mortal comprehension. In the blink of an eye, hundreds fell before him, his slaughter akin to that of a demon king.
Roy was still holding back, careful not to unleash his full strength lest he accidentally wipe out the entire Qin army with a single sweep. That would turn the Chu-Han contention into a full-blown fantasy tale.
Back when Cú Chulainn completed his training in the Land of Shadows, he single-handedly fought against the armies of Queen Medb of Connacht. Ireland at that time was still in the Age of Gods, and those soldiers possessed supernatural abilities. Yet even then, Cú Chulainn could hold his own alone—proof that Scáthach's spear techniques were born for slaughter and war.
By Roy's side were six thousand elite soldiers from Jiangdong, charging alongside him into the enemy lines, cutting down Qin troops with relentless ferocity.
Behind these six thousand Jiangdong warriors were tens of thousands of irregular troops—peasants by birth, utterly unfamiliar with the chaos of battle. At first, they cowered in fear. But under Roy's leadership and witnessing the overwhelming carnage, the primal brutality and cruelty embedded in human genes awakened. Even the most timid farmer, steeped in the bloodshed of war, transformed into a beast, mindlessly hacking their way forward.
Those who survived several battles and tasted blood, with a bit of training, could quickly become seasoned veterans.
After slaying hundreds, Roy slowed his pace, no longer pressing the attack, instead leaving more opportunities for his soldiers to grow.
Though he could single-handedly annihilate a million-strong army, it would be meaningless. He was leading an army now, and his soldiers needed the chance to develop. As the saying goes, "A thousand soldiers are easy to find, but a true general is hard to come by." In ancient warfare, a fierce warrior's presence greatly bolstered morale—and Roy was nothing short of an invincible war god. With him at the helm, defeat was nearly impossible. No matter the strategy or cunning tactics of the enemy, sheer force would crush them all.
Even if the "Four Sages of Military Strategy" were gathered here together, they would still be routed—because the one they faced, Roy, was no mere man.
Roy's gaze lingered on Yu Ji beside him.
Her flowing hair cascaded like clouds, ethereal as a celestial maiden. A cloak draped over her, concealing her otherwise revealing attire—though alluring, Roy had no intention of letting others glimpse her snow-white jade skin.
Yu Ji rode a horse, never leaving Roy's side. Her beautiful eyes widened as she gripped a blood-red sword in her right hand. Any Qin soldiers who escaped Roy's spear or dared approach him found their heads swiftly severed by a flick of her delicate wrist.
Normally, generals brought their families to the battlefield only to keep them in the rear. At first, the soldiers were surprised and displeased to see Roy bring a woman to the front lines. But when the battle began, this seemingly delicate fairy slaughtered Qin soldiers as effortlessly as butchering chickens—dozens fell in moments. The soldiers soon regarded Yu Ji with reverence, as if she were a goddess.
In ancient warfare, surviving after killing just one enemy on the battlefield was already considered meritorious. Killing several could earn you promotions and wealth, while slaying over a dozen would mark you as a fierce warrior. But figures like Roy, who effortlessly slaughtered hundreds, or Yu Ji, who casually killed dozens without a scratch, were simply inhuman.
Li Wanfang's assessment that "Yu's divine bravery stands unparalleled through the ages" indeed holds true in this Type-Moon world's Chinese history. Routinely killing hundreds per battle—such claims in historical records would likely be met with disbelief.
Roy enjoyed his leisure, watching Yu Ji's exquisite features twist in fury as her graceful figure flitted butterfly-like across the battlefield, slaughtering all who dared approach him. He found the idea of living off her protection rather appealing.
Even without any martial prowess himself, bringing Yu Ji to war would make him virtually invincible.
"My lord, are you unharmed?"
The battle ended swiftly—Qin troops surrendered or fled in disarray. These forces sent by Zhang Han against Zhao Ping weren't the Qin army's elite. Their earlier victories against Chen Sheng had bolstered their morale, but Roy's troops' relentless assault quickly revealed their true nature as a ragtag mob.
Aftermath specialists would tally prisoners and strip the Qin soldiers of their superior equipment—the one advantage these otherwise mediocre troops held over the peasant rebels. No wonder Chen Sheng had been swiftly defeated.
Like Roy's current "army" of tens of thousands, many of whom fought with mere wooden sticks...
"I killed more than you did without a single scratch. What could possibly be wrong?" Roy chuckled.
His gaze lingered on Yu Ji—her ethereal grace untouched by bloodstains despite her ruthless slaughter. Even in her bloodiest rampages, no gore clung to her. None would doubt her divine nature.
"Battlefields are unpredictable, my lord. In clashes of thousands, the slightest misstep brings disaster. You and I differ—I... cannot die. Should arrows fly, shelter behind me. They mean nothing to me."
Yu Ji rode beside Roy, ignoring the soldiers' awed stares as she spoke softly. Rather than argue like some obtuse man, Roy accepted her concern before asking quietly, "...Why not return to the mountains? You despise human company."
"Even the deep woods offer no refuge now. Those alchemists have detected me with their inherited arts. Since hiding is futile... I might as well remain here..."
Her eyes swept the carnage—blood-soaked earth littered with severed limbs, the wounded's agonized cries. Battlefields remained meat grinders, visions of hell.
"Your Majesty was right before—'the greatest seclusion is in the court.' In truth, by Your Majesty's side, I need not interact with anyone else. Merely being near you is more than enough. Isn't this far more peaceful than seclusion in the deep mountains? I imagine Your Majesty wouldn't allow others to approach me either, would you?"
Yu Ji's blood-red eyes swept toward Roy, her delicate brows arching slightly. Her gaze shimmered like rippling water, and the ethereal, aloof immortal now seemed unexpectedly alluring.
...
"Anyone who dares approach you without my permission—I'll slaughter their entire family!"
Roy declared imperiously.
Yu Ji wasn't angered by Roy's words, which treated her as his personal possession. Instead, her gaze softened as she murmured, "...Your Majesty once said it would only take a few years to pacify the realm?"
"Exactly!"
"Then, by then, I won't have to roam the land with Your Majesty anymore, and can live a quiet life, right?"
Her tone held both questioning and hope. "...I've grown somewhat fond of this life now."
No one disturbed her. Though she lived among humans, it was as if she stood apart from the world. She could sit in a corner with bamboo scrolls in her arms, secretly observing human behavior without needing to interact or converse with them.
She loved this life—a life brought to her by the man beside her. Unlike others, he made no demands of her, even going so far as to give without expecting anything in return. He treated her with the utmost care, as though she were the world's most precious treasure.
Yu Ji didn't despise humans. In truth, she found them quite fascinating. What she loathed was the twisted rhetoric and way of life in human society—the self-degrading corruption.
She liked this feeling of being genuinely cared for, free from the hypocrisy of ulterior motives. It was like an addiction. For the first time in thousands of years, she once again felt the warmth of being cherished.
She wanted more—more of this care and affection.
She didn't need grandeur or upheaval—just a peaceful existence.
Roy opened his mouth but this time made no promise.
He feared he might break his word.
Once the realm was pacified, could she truly live the quiet life she longed for? Roy didn't know.
Suddenly, Roy felt that forming a bond with her had been a mistake—one that might bring her ruin.