Deposed? I couldn't be happier! I wouldn't even be a dog to the crown prince.

"boom--!"

The moment the two torrents collided, the expected chaotic and evenly matched stalemate did not occur.

There was no pause, no obstruction.

The white wave was like a red-hot knife, cutting effortlessly into a piece of soft, juicy butter.

"Pfft—"

The agonizing sound of flesh and bone being torn apart instantly drowned out the clamor of the battlefield.

Ashina She'er, the Turkic vanguard general at the forefront, didn't even have time to swing his spiked club before he saw a flash of white light.

Immediately afterwards, his proud vision began to spin, and the last thing he saw was a headless, muscular body, spurting blood, still charging forward on his beloved warhorse.

"That's...my body?"

This was the last thought in his mind.

Chen Zhibao's plum wine didn't even tremble, and the blood droplets on the spear tip dripped down the red tassel without even staining his white robe.

"Too weak."

He coldly uttered two words, and his white swan horse accelerated once more.

Behind him, three thousand Great Snow Dragon Riders, like silent death gods, swept past with the help of their horsepower, their Northern Liang swords propelling them forward.

The Turks' scimitars struck their gleaming armor, only scattering a few pitiful sparks and making a crisp "clanging" sound, without leaving even a white mark.

But the Great Snow Dragon Rider's sword cut through tofu as easily as cutting through it.

Man, horse, and weapon—all severed in one stroke!

This was a completely unequal massacre. These three thousand men were no ordinary cavalrymen. Each and every one of them was a seventh-rank martial arts master, capable of serving as a captain in the Tang army!

With true energy infused into the blade, it can cleave through not only leather armor, but even iron and stone!

On the Wei River Bridge.

Li Shimin gripped the white marble railing tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, even cracking the hard stone railing.

His eyes, which had seen countless deaths on the battlefield, were now wide open, bigger than copper bells, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

"This...this is the damn Tang army?"

He, who always valued imperial dignity, actually uttered a curse at this moment.

Yuchi Gong, standing nearby, nearly popped his eyes out. He didn't even notice when the large iron whip in his hand clattered to the ground; he just opened his mouth wide, drooling all over the place.

"Good heavens... I, Old Hei, have never submitted to anyone in my life. Even His Majesty's Xuanjia Army isn't this ruthless!"

"The Xuanjia Army?"

Qin Qiong, pale-faced, clutched his chest and gave a bitter smile. "Jingde, don't flatter yourself. The Xuanjia Army is indeed heavy cavalry, but they rely on thick armor and strong horses for brute force. But look at this army—the angle of their sword swings, the frequency of their breathing, even the gait of their warhorses—it's all as perfect as a single person!"

"This is martial arts! It's a well-organized legion of martial arts grandmasters!"

"Even with only three thousand men, they are invincible on this plain!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield.

The sinister smile on Jieli Khan's face had completely frozen, like a layer of dry plaster hanging on his face, looking utterly ridiculous.

Just a moment ago, he was thinking of taking those white horses as spoils of war.

At that moment, he felt like he was having a nightmare.

"Sorcery...this must be Han Chinese sorcery!"

Jieli watched as his five thousand elite vanguard troops vanished without a trace in that white meat grinder without even making a splash. A chill ran down his spine and straight to the top of his head.

"Khan! We can't stop them! We simply can't stop them!"

A tribal chief, covered in blood and screaming, had lost his helmet. "Our swords couldn't cut them, but their swords killed us instantly! These aren't human, they're demons! Demons sent by the Eternal Heaven to punish us!"

"Bullshit! Hold the line!"

Jieli lashed the leader's face with his whip, roaring hysterically, "They only have three thousand men! They'll be exhausted to death! Give the order to flank them from both sides! Surround them and kill them!"

However, issuing orders is easy, but executing them is another matter entirely.

That white torrent gave the Turks no chance to encircle them. Chen Zhibao was like an indestructible drill, relentlessly biting into the weakest point of the Turkic central army, drilling through, drilling through, and drilling through again!

Wherever they went, men and horses were shattered, and rivers of blood flowed.

The Turkic warhorses were terrified by the murderous aura emanating from them. No matter how much the riders whipped them, they dared not take another step forward. Instead, they scattered in panic and trampled each other.

The formation is in disarray.

The army of 200,000 was scattered and broken by 3,000 men, like a flock of sheep being driven by wolves.

"How could this happen... how could this happen..."

As Jieli watched the approaching banner bearing the character "Xu" and the young white-robed general who seemed like a god of war descending upon the world, his mental defenses finally crumbled completely.

He was afraid.

Even though he was the wolf lord of the grasslands, even though he killed countless people, he felt a fear from the depths of his soul in the face of absolute violent aesthetics.

This is not a war at all.

This is a dimensional reduction attack!

"Retreat...retreat quickly!"

Jieli let out a scream, and without even bothering to sound the retreat horn, he pulled hard on the reins, turned his horse around, and ran north.

What is the Wei River Alliance, what is the treasure of Chang'an? None of them are as important as my own life!

"As long as I return to the grasslands, as long as I maintain distance, I will still be the master of the grasslands!"

Jieli lay on the horse's back, desperately whipping the Akhal-Teke steed, listening to the screams growing fainter behind him, a faint sense of relief rising in his heart as he thought he had survived a calamity.

Sudden.

"call out--!"

A sharp, piercing sound, like a ghostly howl, instantly tore through the noise of the battlefield and exploded in his ears.

Before Jieli could turn around, he felt a jolt in his crotch.

"Herod—!"

The Akhal-Teke horse, capable of traveling a thousand miles a day, let out a final mournful cry, its front legs suddenly buckling to their knees. The immense momentum sent Jieli flying, rolling over a dozen times on the ground, his mouth full of mud and grass.

He turned around in horror.

A silver spear pierced through the warhorse's body, pinning the heavy steed to the ground.

The butt of the gun was still trembling violently, emitting a buzzing sound.

That's... Chen Zhibao's plum wine!

Ignoring the pain, Jieli scrambled to his feet and tried to keep running.

Just then.

An old, hoarse voice, yet carrying a chilling aura, rang out clearly in the noisy battlefield, as if whispering in his ear.

"Khan Jieli, you're leaving already?"

Jieli stiffly raised his head.

In the center of the battlefield, the old man in blue who hadn't made a move was watching him coldly from a distance of several hundred paces.

Xu Xiao's eyelids drooped, and a cold knife that was still sheathed appeared in his hand at some point. His tone was as calm as if he were chatting with an old neighbor.

"My prince is still taking a nap and hasn't told you to leave."

"Who dares to move?"