The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

The Hunxie King's tribe could no longer hold out.

Baridang was dragged north by his guards, with fleeing soldiers all around him. Cattle and horses trampled each other, and felt tents were set on fire, turning the snowfield blood red with the flames.

The corpse was still chasing, its steps slow but leaving deep, dark footprints, like black furrows being carved into the snow.

Huletai was dragged into the horde of corpses and then fell silent. Hanmu's horse was knocked down and disappeared without a trace.

The commanders of the Hunxie tribe fought their own battles; some died in the chaos of battle, while others fled westward with their remaining troops.

Baridang glanced back at the banner glowing red in the flames, where the wolf's head embroidered on it was being licked by the flames, its eyes gradually turning charred black.

He finally loosened his grip on the golden knife, and it fell into the snow without making a sound.

Just then, a bugle call sounded from the south.

The sound was different from the horn on the grassland; it was deep and resonant, one sound after another, like a boulder rolling across the earth.

Baridang suddenly looked up.

The routed soldiers of the Hunxie tribe also turned back one after another.

South of the snow line, a cavalry unit is deploying its ranks.

Black armor, red flag, tall horses, and barely any clattering of hooves as they moved.

The leading general wore a black cloak and held a long sword with a ring pommel, the blade gleaming with a faint red light.

Beside him, another general rode a chestnut horse, with a curved sword at his waist and three quivers of cinnabar arrows hanging from his saddle.

Behind the two men were three thousand iron cavalry.

Silent, orderly, like a steel longbow being drawn back.

A young cavalryman from the Hunxie tribe knelt in the snow, one arm broken, supporting himself with his other hand as he looked up at the black-armored cavalry pressing in from the south.

He had never seen an army like this before.

When cavalrymen charge on the grasslands, they shout, shouting the names given to them by their parents, shouting the names of their enemies, using their shouts to fill themselves with boiling water before splashing it out.

But this cavalry didn't shout.

Their horses pounded the snow with a dull, dense sound, like a moving iron wall, but not a single mouth on the wall was open.

The young cavalryman suddenly felt his shout stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Huo Qubing reined in his horse and stood atop the slope, glancing at the battlefield at the bottom of the valley.

He saw the torn-up camp of the Hunxie tribe, the still-chasing Yin Corpses, and the distant Agula's central army banner slowly moving forward.

He didn't rush to give the order, but turned to Li Wenzhong and said, "The Yin Corpses are afraid of fire, cinnabar, and true qi. You take the left wing and clear the outer perimeter first. I will charge into the middle and break their formation."

He spoke in a very flat tone, exactly the same tone he used when he ordered his scouts "Go east" while patrolling the border at Baiyang Fort.

Li Wenzhong nodded and said only one word: "Okay."

He pulled on the reins, causing the chestnut horse to turn around and move towards the left flank.

The two didn't exchange any more words.

Having fought together since the North, they no longer need any further explanations.

Within a few dozen breaths, the three thousand cavalrymen split into three groups.

Li Wenzhong led 800 cavalry on the left wing, all lightly armed and riding fast horses. Each rider had two bags of cinnabar powder and several oil canisters hanging beside their saddle.

The right wing, led by the deputy general, consisted of eight hundred men, with bows and crossbows nocked and the quivers filled with heavy arrows soaked in cinnabar.

Huo Qubing led 1,400 cavalrymen in the central army, all of whom were veterans he had brought from Baiyangbao, and each of them was capable of fighting tough battles.

An old soldier from Baiyang Fort rode in the third rank of the column; his name was Liu San.

He is thirty-two years old this year. He followed Huo Qubing on patrols in the northern border for six years. He is missing a section of his left little finger, which was severed by an arrow two years ago when he was chasing a group of bandits.

He held the spear under his arm, the tip pointing forward, and gripped the reins with his other hand, his palms sweaty.

Next to him was a young scout named Shuanzhu, who was fighting in this kind of battle with the main cavalry for the first time, and his face was a little pale.

Liu San glanced at him sideways, lowered his voice and said, "Grip the spear tightly, don't look to either side, follow me, wherever I charge, you charge."

Shuanzhu swallowed hard, nodded, and gripped the spear even tighter.

The bugle sounds again, and all three routes are launched simultaneously.

Iron hooves trampled the snow, and the earth began to tremble.

The routed soldiers of the Hunxie tribe instinctively scattered to both sides, making way for the suddenly appearing black-armored cavalry.

Agula's central army also discovered the change, and the Yin Corpses at the front were urgently redirected.

However, the Yin Corpses did not move quickly. Faced with the cavalry charge, they maintained their unhurried pace, like a black wall that was being pushed aside.

Huo Qubing took the lead and charged ahead.

The 1,400 riders behind him simultaneously lowered their spears, raising the tips horizontally.

The sound of horses' hooves grew louder and louder, like an approaching thunderstorm.

When they were about fifty paces away from the Yin Corpse Formation, Huo Qubing let out a roar and swept his long sword horizontally.

Eighth-grade true qi was poured into the blade, and a crimson arc-shaped blade aura shot out, several feet wide, like a crimson moon.

Where the blade's energy swept across, the front row of Yin corpses were neatly severed in two, and black energy shot into the sky from the cut.

Before the crimson light dissipated, Huo Qubing had already charged into the enemy formation.

He didn't use a spear, but only the ring-pommel sword in his hand, slashing left and right.

Each strike carried true energy, and each strike left wounds on the corpse that could not be healed.

The corpses fell before him like grass, but they were tenacious, still crawling forward with broken arms and legs, and some even with only half their bodies left, still reaching out to grab the horses' hooves.

Huo Qubing did not slow down; his warhorses trampled over them, their iron hooves driving the severed limbs deep into the frozen earth.

Liu San rushed in after Huo Qubing's horse.

His spear got stuck when it first pierced the chest of an infernal corpse.

After the spear tip pierced through, the corpse's flesh contracted as if it were alive, clamping the spear shaft tightly.

He tried to pull it out but couldn't, so he let go and drew a short knife from his waist.

A corpse lunged at him from the side. He plunged his dagger into the creature's throat, the blade going in from the front and coming out from the back. Black blood splattered on his face, as cold as ice water.

Before he could even wipe it, the second body was already in front of him.

Liu San ducked to avoid the grab, then bumped the corpse in the waist with his shoulder, knocking it half a step to the side, before stabbing it in the back of the neck with his knife.

He saw the spear of the pillar beside him pierce the chest of a corpse, but the thing did not fall down. Instead, it slid forward along the spear shaft, and the withered black hand was about to grab the pillar's wrist.

Liu San rushed over and kicked the corpse in the side of its knee, making it kneel down, and then chopped it on the back of the head with a knife.

"Stop standing there!" he yelled at Shuanzhu. "Don't stab him in the chest, stab him in the neck! If you can't get it in, switch to your knife!"

Shuanzhu hurriedly threw down his spear, drew his waist knife, and slashed the neck of a corpse as Liu San had instructed.

The cut wasn't deep, but the corpse's movements clearly faltered for a moment. Shuanzhu then delivered another blow, finally bringing it down.

He glanced back at Liu San, panting heavily. Liu San didn't say anything, just nodded at him, then turned and rushed towards the next corpse.

On the left wing, Li Wenzhong was faster.

He didn't have the eighth-rank True Qi like Huo Qubing, but he had cinnabar and fire.

Eight hundred light cavalrymen cut in from the flank, and the riders on horseback took off the leather bags from their waists and scattered handfuls of cinnabar powder onto the horde of corpses.

The crimson powder landed on the corpse, making a hissing sound, and the flesh immediately began to smoke and rot.

A corpse, after being hit by cinnabar, remained motionless, its entire body emitting white smoke, its hands flailing wildly in the air as if it were being burned from within.

Immediately afterwards, the oil canisters were set ablaze and thrown one by one into the center of the horde of corpses.

The oil fryer exploded, flames rose, and the corpse, engulfed by the flames, emitted a very low, mournful cry, like muffled thunder coming from the earth.

Li Wenzhong personally lit the first oil canister, the flames making his face glow red. He turned and shouted to the cavalry behind him, "Don't linger! Maintain speed, clear from left to right, then turn back!"

The eight hundred riders swept through the flank of the Yin Corpse Formation like a red-hot comb, leaving only burning remains in their wake.

The crossbowmen on the right flank continued to fire from a distance.

They didn't dismount, but instead rode around the perimeter of the battlefield, shooting as they went.

Although the cinnabar arrows are not as immediately effective as the true qi and fire oil, their advantage lies in their sustained effect.

Each arrow that enters the corpse of the Yin Corpse will slowly release cinnabar inside, slowing down the Yin Corpse's movements.

The Yin Corpse is not afraid of pain, but the cinnabar circulating in its body will obstruct the flow of its Yin energy.

If you shoot too many times, their movements become slower and slower, and eventually they even stop and twitch in place.

A crossbowman on the right flank fired seven arrows from horseback, each one striking the same corpse in the back of its left knee. The corpse's entire left leg, from the knee down, turned black and rotted, finally causing it to kneel.

Agula, witnessing this scene from the central army, turned ashen-faced.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the reins, and the veins on his thumb and forefinger bulged.

He turned to look at the Yin Protector, his voice forced out through clenched teeth, like a piece of iron worn down for too long: "Didn't you say your Yin Corpse could hold off an Eighth-Rank Rank cultivator?"

Yin Protector withdrew his gaze from the battlefield.

He stared at the crimson blade of light that was rampaging through the Yin Corpse Formation for several breaths, his lips pressed into a thin line, before finally speaking.

His voice was colder than usual, with a thin layer of something beneath the coldness, like an undercurrent surging beneath the ice: "We can hold them off, but not for long. That Huo Qubing, he brought kerosene and cinnabar, he came prepared."

"Moreover, his true energy is more profound than when I last saw him. He is at the eighth rank, having just entered the eighth rank, but the thickness of his true energy is not even comparable to that of ordinary peak eighth rank cultivators."

He paused for a moment, watching as a corpse, engulfed in flames after being struck by a canister of kerosene, rolled several times on the battlefield before coming to rest. His fingers, hidden beneath his sleeves, twitched slightly. "Your Majesty, let's retreat. We can't fight today. If we drag this out any longer, more than half of the corpses will be lost, and we won't even have the resources to cover our retreat."

Agula gripped the reins tightly, gazing at the Yin Corpse Formation being dispersed by Huo Qubing in the distance.

Those ghosts that had once made him invincible fell in droves amidst the crimson light and flames.

He recalled three months ago in the valley of the Qiyan tribe, when those things rushed into the crowd like sickles cutting wheat.

He recalled the words that the Yin Protector had whispered in his ear.

"Your Majesty, their blood will make your tribe stronger."

He suddenly felt something blocking his chest, like a bone stuck in his throat, which he couldn't swallow or spit out.

He turned his head and glanced in the direction of Hunxie Wang's tribe. Baridang's banner had fallen, and in the firelight, one could vaguely hear someone crying out.

He didn't speak, but slowly raised his hand and made a backward waving motion.

The bugle call of the Xiu Tu tribe has changed its tune.

The horn signal shifted from attack to retreat, short and urgent, like a bird struggling with its throat being choked.

The central army began to retreat, and the cavalry on both flanks followed suit.

The corpses were left behind to cover the retreat, but they were no longer able to stop the black-armored cavalry.

The Ghost Protector glanced back at the battlefield from the retreating ranks, his expression obscured by his hood.

But the withered finger in his sleeve was trembling incessantly, as if he were calculating something that could no longer be calculated.

The Underworld Protector remained silent.

He rode his horse like a moving stone tower, pressing deeper craters into the snow wherever he went.

His eyes gleamed briefly in the darkness, then dimmed again.

Huo Qubing slashed through the entire Yin Corpse Formation, and when he turned back, the crimson light on his blade had not yet completely faded.

He saw Agula's central army retreating, but did not pursue them.

He reined in his horse and looked back at Li Wenzhong.

Li Wenzhong had just rallied the left wing and rode over on horseback. His face was blackened by the firelight and smoke, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness.

The two stood side by side on their horses, gazing at the dissipating remains of the Yin Corpses and the retreating army of the Xiutu on the distant snowfield.

Huo Qubing wiped the black blood on his sword on the sole of his boot, sheathed his sword, and suddenly said, "In this battle, they were lucky to escape quickly. The Yin Corpse Formation was broken through, and Agula didn't dare to press forward anymore. But we don't know how many Yin Corpses he still has."

Li Wenzhong chuckled, panting.

He rubbed the soot off his face with the back of his hand, leaving a mottled mark: "They ran fast, but they still left behind several hundred bodies. There's still half a cart of kerosene left, and half of the cinnabar has been used. Next time we encounter this, we can prepare more."

He glanced back at the archers on the right flank who were still circling and firing, and shouted "Stop!" The cavalry on the right flank then turned their horses around and gathered in his direction.

Liu San and Shuanzhu were also among those gathering.

Shuanzhu's waist knife was covered in black blood, and his hand holding the knife was still trembling slightly, but the white on his face had faded and been replaced by a red that remained after being burned by the flames of war.

Liu San walked beside him without saying a word, only handing him the last drop of water from his water bag.

Shuanzhu took it and poured it down his throat. When he returned it, he said, "Third Brother, that stuff... cutting someone's neck is definitely more effective than stabbing them in the chest."

Liu San hummed in agreement and patted him on the shoulder.

Huo Qubing glanced again at the Hunxie tribe's camp, now reduced to ruins.

Baridang had disappeared, and the remnants of the Hunxie tribe were gathered in twos and threes, their faces full of confusion.

Some people knelt on the ground searching for the bodies of their loved ones, some hugged a horse with a broken leg and cried, and some sat blankly in the snow like a frozen stone statue.

He was silent for a moment, then said to Li Wenzhong, "Have the army doctors treat the wounded, and tell Baridang that if he is still alive, let him come to see us."

Li Wenzhong responded and rode off.

Huo Qubing stood alone on the hilltop, gazing at the darkening sky to the north.

The snow began to fall again, covering the embers of the fire and the ashes left by the undead.

He muttered to himself, his voice broken by the wind: "Next time, it won't be so simple."

The wind whipped his cloak, making it flutter like a battle flag.

In the distance, Agula's central army had retreated behind the snow line, leaving only a blurry black outline that was slowly shrinking.

The fallen banner of the Hunxie tribe still lay askew in the snow, its surface burned down to half, the wolf head on it unrecognizable.