Rise of a Lonely City: From Exiled Prince to Ruler of the Nine Provinces

No, it's not that the sky is dark, it's that there are arrows!

It was a torrential downpour of steel, blotting out the sky and howling in the wind!

The specially made triangular armor-piercing arrows, carrying terrifying kinetic energy, easily tore through the air, forming a deadly metal storm that poured down on the Northern Yan infantry formation three hundred paces away!

"Raise your shields!!" Ballu Hong's roar sounded so faint amidst the sound of arrows piercing the air.

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!..."

The dull thud of blades piercing flesh, the cracking sound of bones breaking, the shattering sound of wooden shields being pierced, and the screams that suddenly erupted and then stopped, instantly replaced the shouts of charging and became the main theme of the battlefield!

The crude wooden shields held by the Northern Yan infantry were like paper in the face of the Cold Abyss crossbow bolts, which were designed specifically to penetrate armor! Their leather armor was even less of a threat!

The charging column was as if it had been swept away by an invisible giant scythe. Soldiers in the front row fell in droves, and many were even sent flying backward by the powerful crossbow bolts, knocking down their comrades behind them!

The rain of arrows continued relentlessly, wave after wave, ruthlessly and efficiently reaping lives.

The momentum of the Northern Yan army's charge collapsed instantly, as if it had crashed into an invisible steel wall.

The soldiers behind watched in horror as their comrades fell like harvested wheat, and as they watched the endless, terrifying rain of arrows, their courage quickly dissipated, their steps became hesitant and chaotic, and some even subconsciously wanted to turn back.

"Don't retreat! Charge! Charge!" Balue Hong swung his sword and cut down a retreating soldier, shouting hoarsely.

The cavalry archers on both flanks also desperately hurled arrows at the Hanyuan army formation, but the range and power of their archery were laughable in the face of the Hanyuan crossbow formation. Most of the arrows landed in the open space in front of the formation, and the few that did enter the formation were blocked by the large shields and armor, causing negligible damage.

"Damn it!" Murong Jie, who was watching the battle from a distance, was furious. He was young and hot-blooded and could not tolerate his army being suppressed like this.

"Father, let your son break through their crossbow formation!"

Before Murong Chui could respond, Murong Jie spurred his horse and raised his spear: "Personnel guard, follow me! Target: the center of the enemy crossbow formation. Slay the general and seize the flag!"

Five hundred of the most elite heavily armored cavalry of Northern Yan roared like wolves, bursting forth from the chaotic rear of the infantry like a silver sword. Ignoring the retreating infantry in front, they charged straight towards the center of the Cold Abyss Crossbow Formation, towards the fluttering "King" banner and the high platform behind it, launching a desperate charge! Their hooves pounded the earth with terrifying force.

"Well done!" Wang Dashan on the high platform was not surprised at all; instead, he revealed a sinister smile.

He had already noticed this unusual cavalry unit, and he waved his command flag again.

In the center of the crossbow formation, the heavy ballistae that had been silent all along, along with several specially made slender crossbows with complex aiming mechanisms, were slightly rotated under the precise adjustment of the crossbowmen. The cold crossbow bolts were all aimed at Murong Jie, who was charging at the forefront, his silver armor gleaming, leading the charge!

"Target: Enemy cavalry commander in silver armor. Fire!" The captain in charge of this heavy weaponry coldly ordered.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Several muffled, deafening explosions even drowned out the clamor of the battlefield!

The thick ballista bolts and the specially made crossbow bolts transformed into several blurry afterimages, tearing through the air at a speed that was difficult for the naked eye to perceive, emitting a ghostly shriek, and shooting straight at Murong Jie!

As Murong Jie charged forward, he suddenly felt an extremely chilling killing intent lock onto him, making the hairs on his body stand on end!

He was a warrior after all; with a roar, he swung his spear, attempting to block. At the same time, he desperately dodged to the side.

With a loud clang, he actually deflected a crossbow bolt aimed at his face with the shaft of his spear! The immense force made his arm go numb, and he almost dropped the spear.

However, he could no longer dodge another, faster crossbow bolt fired from a tricky angle.

"Pfft!"

The specially made triangular armor-piercing arrow, with spiral engravings, easily tore through the magnificent silver breastplate on his chest with unparalleled penetrating power, pierced his chest, and emerged from behind. With its remaining force, it tore through the leather armor of a guard behind him before finally stopping!

Murong Jie shuddered violently, and his charge came to an abrupt halt.

He looked down in disbelief at the terrifying arrow shaft, as thick as a bowl, still trembling on its own in front of his chest, then looked up at the distant Hanyuan army formation, opened his mouth, but could not utter a sound.

The arrogance, anger, and astonishment in his eyes were quickly replaced by a deathly despair.

"Well……"

A mouthful of blood spurted out, and Murong Jie's tall body swayed. Under the horrified gazes of his guards, he slowly fell from his horse, pinned firmly to the blood-stained grass by the giant arrow. His silver armor was quickly stained red by the gushing blood.

"Young General!!!"

"General Murong is dead!!"

Witnessing their commander being killed in such a horrific manner, the courage of the five hundred elite cavalrymen shattered instantly, and their charging formation was thrown into chaos.

The arrows from the Cold Abyss Crossbow Formation showed no mercy, immediately covering the heavy cavalry and plunging them into the shadow of death.

Behind them, Ba Lue Hong, who was urging the infantry to advance, also witnessed Murong Jie fall from his horse and was instantly terrified.

"Retreat! Retreat immediately! Sound the retreat! Withdraw!"

He could no longer care about anything else, and with a hoarse voice, he gave the order to turn his horse around first.

With their commander killed in action, the vanguard collapsed, and the cavalry on the flanks lost the courage to charge.

The morale of the Northern Yan army completely collapsed.

Like the receding tide, they fled in disarray towards their main camp, leaving behind a trail of corpses and wounded.

"Crossbowmen, extend your fire! Cavalry, flank and attack!" Wang Dashan would not let such a good opportunity pass by, and waved his command flag again.

The crossbowmen of the Cold Abyss adjusted their angle, and a rain of arrows poured down on the routs of the fleeing soldiers.

The cavalry flanking the two sides roared out, like cheetahs pouncing on a flock of panicked sheep, turning the rout into a one-sided massacre.

Only when the routed soldiers escaped back into the range of the Northern Yan camp's crossbows did the Han Yuan army, under Wang Dashan's orders, cease their pursuit and slowly retreat back to their own lines.

On the battlefield, more than two thousand corpses of Northern Yan soldiers were left behind, along with countless wailing wounded, abandoned weapons, and the lone, bloodied body of the young silver-armored general, pierced by a giant arrow.

Silence returned before Eagle's Beak Cliff.

Only the lingering, thick stench of blood and the countless crossbow bolts embedded in the earth silently recounted the brief yet extremely bloody massacre that had just taken place.

The terrifying reputation of the Cold Abyss Crossbow Formation, and the astonishing feat of the Divine Arm Sniper Crossbow taking the head of a general amidst a vast army, will surely sweep across the entire northern border like the coldest wind, deeply imprinted on the souls of every enemy, bringing endless fear and chill, as the surviving Northern Yan soldiers recount their horrified tales.

Murong Chui not only suffered heavy losses, but also lost his beloved son. He stood there, staring blankly in the direction where his son had died, his face ashen, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.