Chapter 778 (2): Our Battle Will Shake the Gods

While Zhao Changhe and Yue Hongling were chasing Tngri into the skies, seemingly rushing headlong into certain death at the feet of a divine being, Bo’e himself was still lounging in the encampment, leisurely waiting for Huangfu Qing’s attack.

From Huangfu Qing’s perspective, it was natural that Zhao Changhe and Yue Hongling would pursue Bo’e. She, in turn, should have an easy time leading her army to breach the enemy encampment, only to fall into a trap.

But time passed, and Bo’e kept waiting.

And waiting.

No Han army arrived.

Confused, Bo’e extended his divine sense to investigate only for his eyes to nearly pop out of his skull.

The Han cavalry, who had supposedly set out on a rapid-strike mission with barely enough provisions for survival, had somehow produced an entire field of tents, palisades, and spiked barricades. Backed against the barren mountains, they were industriously fortifying a camp.

Where did all these supplies come from? Aren’t you guys supposed to be a mobile light cavalry unit riding deep into the Grasslands? How in the world did you manage to bring materials for freaking PALISADES? Just how the hell did you people carry all that?

The soldiers, who had been starving and parched just moments ago, now mysteriously found themselves holding dried meat, flatbread, and sacks of fresh water. They were eating and drinking in high spirits, as if their previous hardships had never existed. The time Bo’e had spent waiting for them to attack had, in reality, given them the perfect opportunity to replenish their strength.

Who the hell actually holds that page of the Heavenly Tome that governs illusion and reality? Where did all this food and water come from?

Bo’e was beginning to suspect that if they kept pulling things out of thin air, they might just conjure an entire city next.

But if they had these resources all along, why did they not use them during their long march?

Just then, the sound of galloping hooves echoed from the south.

The northern barbarian tribes that had been gathering along the way had now formed a full-fledged army, mobilized by the signal of the earlier thunderstorm. They charged toward the Han forces without hesitation.

Bo’e made his decision instantly and shouted, “They number only thirty to forty thousand! Before their fortifications are complete, we can crush them from both sides!”

In the blink of an eye, what had seemed like an unguarded encampment transformed into a tide of warriors flooding down the mountainside, surging toward the Han army that had been fortifying their position.

Bo’e soared into the sky once more. Pointing his staff forward, he summoned a strike of lightning identical to the one that had signaled the attack earlier, sending it crashing down upon the Han camp in an effort to disrupt their fortifications.

𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Suddenly, the air was filled with strange, radiant sparks. The mingling of lightning and flame illuminated the sky like the grand fireworks of the capital’s New Year celebrations. As the cascading lightning dissipated, a firebird soared into the heavens, its cry piercing the battlefield, heard for a hundred li in every direction.

The woman Zhao Changhe imagined always had her own background music... Her battles had always been visually and audibly stunning.

“Great shaman, there’s no need for you to be in such a rush. I, Huangfu Qing, have been waiting for you,” came a voice as a flaming spear shot out from the firebird’s celestial form.

This was a weapon Huangfu Qing had not wielded in at least seven or eight years. The conflicts of the

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hardly required her to use it, and besides, it was simply too long to carry around conveniently. But here, amidst the clash of thousands, it resonated perfectly with the very will of the Heavenly Dao.

For the first time in front of an external enemy, she referred to herself as Huangfu Qing, not as Vermillion Bird as she had for the past sixteen years.

Clang!

Bo’e’s staff moved at lightning speed, intercepting the spear in a burst of metal against metal. A violent surge of flames erupted from the clash, rushing toward Bo’e’s face. His eyes flickered with crackling lightning as he retaliated, the two forces colliding violently, momentarily forcing both combatants back.

Huangfu Qing smirked. “Looks like you’re still not fully healed.”

Bo’e was truly out of luck. He had been injured during the battle at the Imperial Ancestral Temple by Xia Longyuan, lost his divine axe, and was then mocked by the Heavenly Tome itself. The Grasslands’ political struggle had spiraled out of his control, and Timur had gained the upper hand. Attempting a detour through Chang’an had only led to him being beaten senseless by Zhao Changhe’s family. His previous wounds had not even fully healed before he suffered fresh ones.

Not everyone possessed divine dual-cultivation techniques or the Rejuvenation Art that could instantly restore them. For a normal person, recovering from such injuries would take months, which was exactly what Zhao Changhe had banked on with his rapid northern campaign. He was striking to prevent the full recovery of not only Tngri, but also Bo’e.

This man—the one once second on the Ranking of Heaven, the one who was supposed to inherit the top spot after Xia Longyuan’s death, the one who was supposed to be closest to divinity—had, over the past months, been unable to wield his full power. Worse still, while others surged forward with breakthroughs, he had failed to keep up with the tide. Now, he could do no better than fight Huangfu Qing to a standstill in one-on-one combat.

Before his injury, Huangfu Qing had only been on the Ranking of Earth, yet to even break through to the third layer of the Profound Mysteries. But now, they stood as equals. It was impossible to describe the sheer frustration swelling in Bo’e’s heart.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions, and sneered coldly. “So, Venerable Vermillion Bird, you still have the leisure to chat while fighting me in midair? Your camp isn’t even fully set up, and your soldiers were starving just moments ago. They’re only now eating their fill. Aren’t you afraid they’ll be wiped out in an instant?”

Huangfu Qing smiled faintly. “Eh, they’ll manage.”

Bo’e’s expression froze. Even as he parried Vermillion Bird’s firestorm-like attacks, he stole a quick glance downward.

His forces were now merely three to five li from the unfinished Han encampment. At this range, it was only a matter of moments before they arrived. Some of the bravest warriors had already drawn the bows slung across their backs, preparing to fire from a distance.

Yet, when his eyes swept over the Han camp, he saw something that made his breath catch. Xue Canghai, who had no business wielding divine powers, was inexplicably digging things out of thin air. Bo’e could only watch in stunned disbelief as one dark, heavy metallic pipe after another was planted within the Han fortifications. There were at least thirty or forty of them.

He had no idea what they were, but they were obviously not surrender flags.

And before the elite archers under Bo’e’s command could even get within range, the Han artillery thundered.

BOOM!

The charging northern barbarian cavalry at the front ranks were instantly torn apart. Men and horses alike were sent flying, reduced to mangled remains. Razor-sharp shrapnel spun outward in a lethal storm, carving through warriors still galloping forward. A grotesque blood mist erupted in every direction.

Bo’e froze for a moment, nearly long enough for Vermillion Bird to skewer him clean through with her spear. He dodged at the last second, but his voice cracked and reached a never-before-heard high pitch as he bellowed, “What the hell is that?!”

What the hell is that?!

The same question echoed in the minds of every Grasslands warrior. For a moment, the entire battlefield seemed to grind to a halt. They had braved Vermillion Bird’s fearsome demonic flames before. At least the great shaman could shield them from her. But this?

The deafening roar of thunder and the towering inferno rising to the sky—it was as if the wrath of all the tngri had descended upon them.

Flames and lightning, not just in the heavens, but upon the earth itself.

Is this divine punishment?

Is this the tngri’s divine punishment? Have the warriors of the Grassland failed in their devotion? Have we committed some unknown sin against heaven?

Bo’e’s furious roar finally shattered the eerie moment of hesitation, “Do not be deceived by their sorcery! This must be some variation of Vermillion Bird’s fire! It cannot be limitless! Our revered god sees your faith! He will grant you boundless strength! Charge!”

BOOM!

A second wave of cannon fire thundered across the battlefield.

Tngri, who had just been preparing to unleash his devastating attack, was forced to divert his attention to provide protection for his people.

And as if to validate Bo’e’s words, this time, the warriors struck by the bombardment were momentarily bathed in divine light. The impact still hurled them from their horses, and many were killed from the sheer force of the explosions, but the shrapnel no longer tore through their ranks like before. Compared to the previous round, where flesh and bone were obliterated in a grotesque display of carnage, this at least looked somewhat tolerable.

It was undeniable that this was Tngri’s protection at work, a divine intervention amidst the chaos. With this, despite the continued losses, the Grasslands warriors grew only more fervent.

This is a divine miracle! The enemy’s sorcery is powerless before our revered god!

Fear only stemmed from the unknown. As long as this was not some incomprehensible divine punishment, what did it matter if the enemy possessed slightly more advanced weaponry? Would the lionhearted warriors of the Grasslands cower in the face of steel and fire?

Bo’e finally exhaled, his heart settling.

Watching the unrelenting tide of warriors surge forward, Vermillion Bird could only sigh in exasperation.

Zhao Changhe’s side was still not strong enough. If they had been, Tngri would not have had the luxury of shielding his people while fighting. But that was the cruel reality. In this domain, he was the land and the land was he. Even Xia Longyuan had found it impossible to kill him outright on his home ground. Had it been possible, he would have done so years ago instead of allowing this war to drag on for so long.

The fact that Tngri’s protection had been reduced to such a limited effect was already proof of how much Zhao Changhe and his group had managed to tie him down.

But what was happening with Zhao Changhe right now?

Defeating Tngri was not realistically possible at the moment. His true body was whole, and it was far stronger than the Dao Lord’s, who had been reduced to a mere lingering soul. There was only one way to weaken him, and that was to slaughter his followers en masse, severing his qi veins and faith.

In essence, they had to use the same strategy that had successfully dragged Xia Longyuan down from his long-held pedestal.

This was the true purpose of the northern campaign. The outcome of this war would ultimately dictate the results of the battle between Profound Control Realm powerhouses.

In reality, from the very beginning, this war had never been about which supreme expert won. It had always been about the war between the Han and the Hu. Zhao Changhe had understood this from the start. It was a battle that required every single person, every soldier, to exert their utmost strength.

BOOM!

A third wave of cannon fire erupted.

A deputy general relayed Huangfu Qing’s command: “The cannons are for suppression, they will not decide the battle! Archers, prepare!”

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Arrows blotted the sky, a relentless storm descending upon the enemy like a swarm of locusts.

The cannons alone were indeed not enough to determine victory. But they had bought the most crucial resource—time. And now, the Han camp was fully fortified as neatly arranged palisades and spiked barricades lined the defensive perimeter. Meanwhile, on the other side... They had nothing but cavalry.

In an instant, the battle’s momentum shifted. Attack and defense had swapped places. The Han army had entered their most familiar battlefield condition.

In truth, the Grasslands warriors were no strangers to this kind of warfare either. For centuries, this was how their battles had always played out.

From the south, another dust cloud rose. The cavalry forces that were supposedly “missing” had never actually disappeared. They had merely shadowed the enemy, waiting for the right moment to strike. Now that the enemy had fallen into the trap, they were supposed to launch a pincer attack.

Yet Huangfu Qing stood her ground. Her encampment was built against the mountains in a semi-circular formation, with towering cliffs to her rear and a curved defensive line in front. Where were the two sides to be assaulted in a pincer attack? There was no such thing.

What awaited was not encirclement but a narrow battleground where strength and courage alone would decide the victor.

Her voice, sharp and commanding, echoed across the battlefield, “We are not like the ignorant barbarians, who kneel and beg for the protection of their barbarian gods! The Han people do not believe in such nonsense! I once believed that our efforts could summon the Night Emperor. Now, I tell you this: the swords in your hands will tip the scales of the fight in heaven! Our battle here will shake the gods!”