Old Siming raised his head to drink, casually wiped the wine from the corner of his mouth, looked at Li Guanyi, and asked with a smile: "So, kid, in such a good opportunity, why have you become so indecisive?!"

"Chen Dingye, that tyrant, has a blood feud with you. To be honest, strike when he’s weak and take his life. At this point, what’s the point of sticking to martial world ethics? Isn’t it better to just kill that guy first?"

"Chen Dingye is currently exposed at the rear; it’s the perfect time to strike hard at him."

"Just like that, listen to this old man. Use Chen Wenmian’s Grey Wolf Guard as the vanguard, with your Qilin Guard pressing ahead, elite soldiers with heavy armor cavalry, charged up to storm Chen Dingye’s rear forcefully. That kid is as good as dead!"

Prince Qin only watched the vast sky, contemplating for a long time.

The Nine Provinces Tripod Bell roared, within his eyes, divine profundity was hidden.

He saw amidst heaven and earth, waves of desolate and murderous soldier’s evil spirit surging into the sky, crisscrossing and clashing. Even across such a great distance, he could still perceive that fierce aura, hearing the sound of swords clashing.

What should be done?

Li Guanyi leaned against the Big Banner, watching the sky, his right hand removed the jade seal from his waist, holding it up in his hand, looking at the large characters inscribed on it, his mind had long been emptied, his spirit seemed to ascend, overlooking the current global situation, thoughts rising one by one in his mind.

Should he at this moment strike from the rear, fully utilizing the Turkic forces for support, create a front-and-back assault, and completely annihilate Chen Dingye?

Or should he conserve strength and bide his time?

Watch as the sandpiper and clam fight, the fisherman benefits, just observing until this great battle concludes.

Then seize the opportunity to step in, eliminate Chen Dingye’s forces, and expel the Turkic forces’ military edge and malevolence from the Jue Grassland?

Or perhaps...

...

The sound of heavy breathing.

The sound of swords, the whistle of arrows, the low moans of anguish, the screams.

All these many sounds mingling together, accompanied by the scent of blood, forming a corner of the battlefield, Ye Zhongdao’s breathing heavy. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Even for a Master Level warlord, as supplies are gradually reduced, leading an army to chase down the grasslands, relentlessly biting down on the Iron Futu army is immensely draining, at this moment, the Turkic Khan has entered the grasslands, with reinforcements arriving.

The Turkic Khan himself poisoned, and after numerous fierce battles, being relentlessly pursued from behind by Chen Country’s army, the various humiliations of this great war had long left him inwardly furious.

On top of that, Chen Dingye disregarded everything, ignored his injuries, and his army’s casualties, clinging madly, tethering the Khan’s army’s momentum.

It was as if teasing a tiger’s whiskers.

Only upon the reinforcements’ arrival did the latter finally lose patience.

Changing military tactics, heading to clash with Chen Country.

Now both sides have entered a meat grinder of a battle.

At this level, there were no strategies, no tactics, just an expansive battlefield, only the forces each put into it, slaughter, casualties, bloodshed, swords, all killing with bloodshot eyes.

Chen Tianqi disregarded everything to tether the poisoned Turkic Khan, Chen Dingye led the army personally, Ye Zhongdao and Zhou Xianping led Chen Country’s last elite to madly exchange with the Iron Futu.

Yes, exchange.

Life, flesh and blood, on such a battlefield, held almost no meaning; to exchange two lives to kill one Iron Futu was a huge gain, even five lives for one was worth it.

The mighty Iron Futu couldn’t seize the advantage on this battlefield this time.

Chen Country’s army fought desperately against them as if insane.

The Iron Futu still had a path of retreat, behind them were the grasslands and tents, but those 200,000, no, now only 130,000 Chen Country soldiers truly had no retreat.

Their homeland was already destroyed, behind them was no return path, and in front were brutal enemies, no logistics, no supplies, no reinforcements, only the king standing ahead, only the simplest spirit.

Within Zhenbei Pass, the heartland of the Central Plains.

For three hundred years, no foreign cavalry had ever set foot here.

Ye Zhongdao shared his wound medicine with the surrounding Night Rider cavalry captains, his own wounds were simply bandaged; during this brief stand-off and rest, he went to find Zhou Xianping.

Zhou Xianping carried an unshakable scent of blood, his hook sickle spear broken countless times; upon seeing Ye Zhongdao, he merely nodded slightly, lacking the usual lively banter.

Zhou Xianping said: "Seems like you’re still full of life."

"Don’t die before I do."

Ye Zhongdao remained calm, saying:

"Don’t worry, I’ll lead the Night Rider Cavalry to tear into the grassland cavalry as much as possible. Without our Night Riders slowing down the Iron Futu, when those thousands of heavily-armored riders charge in formation, even your hook sickle spear formation would stand no chance, right?"

Zhou Xianping was speechless: "You really dare to speak."

Ye Zhongdao’s lips curved with a faint smile: "Just telling the truth."

Zhou Xianping did not refute him, only looked together at the distant sky, layers of murderous clouds, even veterans like them felt a vague sense of delirium, Zhou Xianping said:

"Is this battlefield our end?"