Before Brunhilde and Randgriz's eyes stretched a brutal battlefield where men were locked in deadly combat.
The sight made Randgrid instinctively cover her mouth—corpses littered the ground, staining the earth crimson.
"Sister, weren't we supposed to be in Xianyang? Where is this?"
"Yes, I definitely set the coordinates for Xianyang!"
Brunhilde frowned deeply.
She was certain she had set the correct time and location, so why had she ended up here?
A miscalculation in the Akashic system's teleportation? How could something like this happen?
Studying the two armies locked in brutal combat, their attire and weapons suggested this was the Qin Dynasty era.
No—this was the Warring States period, before Qin Shi Huang had unified the empire.
So, which battle of the Warring States period was this?
"Wait—no!"
"Huh? What's wrong, sis?"
"The banners—they don't match any from the Warring States period!"
The side with the most soldiers in the fray carried banners that Brunhilde couldn't recognize from her knowledge of Warring States military flags.
"Han!"
Brunhilde murmured the word under her breath.
Now she knew the origin of the larger army.
They weren't in the Warring States period at all—nor even the Qin Dynasty. No, the Qin Dynasty had already collapsed.
They were now in the era of the Chu-Han Contention, right in the middle of a battlefield where the two sides were slaughtering each other.
The clash of steel, the roar of battle, the thunder of hooves—all merged into a deafening cacophony.
Despite having superior numbers and comparable equipment, one side was being pushed back.
The larger force belonged to the King of Han, while the smaller, fiercer one served the Hegemon King.
The Hegemon King's soldiers fought with terrifying savagery, their bloodthirsty disregard for death unnerving the Han troops.
Weapons lost? They fought with bare fists.
Hands severed? They kicked, bit, and headbutted.
As long as they still drew breath, they threw themselves at the enemy with everything they had.
It was this relentless brutality that allowed the Hegemon King's forces to dominate despite being outnumbered.
Killing just one of the Hegemon King's soldiers cost the Han army at least ten of their own.
But the numerical disparity was simply too great.
No matter how valiantly the Hegemon King's men fought, they couldn't hold back the overwhelming tide.
From the looks of it, the Hegemon King's side had barely a thousand soldiers left, while the Han army boasted fifty thousand—an insurmountable gap.
Under the weight of sheer numbers, the Hegemon King's troops were nearing their limit. Total annihilation was only a matter of time.
So, was this a detached unit that had fallen behind and been encircled by the Han army?
No—this was likely the final act of the Chu-Han struggle, the twilight of Xiang Yu, the Hegemon King of Western Chu.
Where was this legendary conqueror now?
Following the tightening ring of cavalry, Brunhilde sensed an aura of overwhelming bloodlust radiating from its center.
Suddenly, the encircling Xiang forces parted, and a figure of immense pressure strode forward.
From a distance, he seemed like a burly, bearded warrior—but up close, his features were strikingly refined.
He was Xiang Yu, the Hegemon King of Western Chu.
Clad in battle armor, gripping the unrivaled halberd—the weapon of conquerors—he closed his eyes and advanced several paces.
The Han soldiers surrounding them recoiled by the hundreds, their faces pale with terror, sweat pouring down their backs.
"Charge!"
"What are you afraid of? There's only a handful left!"
"Kill Xiang Yu, and you'll be enfeoffed as a marquis!!!"
The mention of rewards like "ennoblement" instantly made the fearful Han soldiers' eyes gleam with desire, each one swallowing hard in anticipation.
The Western Chu Hegemon King before them had transformed into some kind of supreme delicacy, tempting them to salivate uncontrollably.
As the saying goes, heavy rewards will always draw out the brave—let alone the temptation of titles and high office.
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
One by one, they raised their bloodstained blades and charged forward.
Yet, in the face of this assault, Xiang's army made no move to defend him, standing rooted in place. Were they abandoning their king?
Not so. The reason they did not step forward was likely due to an order.
However, Brunhilde was certain the Hegemon King had issued no such command.
This was an unspoken understanding—a silent exchange of glances that conveyed the king's will.
Though exhausted, Xiang's soldiers remained sharp-eyed and resolute, unwavering in their belief that their king was invincible, that he would never fall, and that he would lead them out of this encirclement.
The charging soldiers were now within striking distance, viciously swinging their weapons down.
At that very moment, the Hegemon King's closed eyes snapped open, revealing his double pupils.
In that instant, the ferocious aura he unleashed seemed to drain the courage from the oncoming soldiers, freezing them mid-motion.
Simultaneously, the Hegemon King leveled his halberd, twisting his torso slightly backward as the blade extended behind him like an uncoiling serpent.
The next moment, like a bowstring pulled to its limit and released, the terrifying force tore through the air with a deafening crack as the halberd swept horizontally toward the enemy.
Within the halberd's reach, every soldier was cleaved in two at the waist.
No—even those just beyond its range suffered the same fate, while those farther back had their abdomens cleanly sliced open.
Then, agonized screams that could rend the soul echoed across the battlefield.
This sight left Brunhilde stunned.
It wasn't the result of some unfathomable power, but simply the sheer force of the swing—compressing the air into a blade-like current, akin to sword energy.
Logically, such a swing should have generated a violent gust, yet the air remained eerily calm.
This was because the Hegemon King had concentrated all the force into the tip of his halberd, unleashing a razor-thin slash of compressed air.
"M-Monster!"
"I—I don't want titles anymore! I just want to live!"
"There's no winning against this!"
The sheer brutality of this sweeping strike shattered the morale of the Han army, sending them fleeing in panic.
Faced with this chaos, the Han forces had no choice but to temporarily abandon their encirclement, retreating to regroup before pursuing again.
Then, a sharp whistling pierced the air—a spear hurled by the Hegemon King, piercing over a dozen men before impaling a Han general and knocking him from his horse.
Witnessing this, Brunhilder's eyes gleamed with realization.
Wasn't this man before her the perfect candidate?
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