Ye Zhongdao responded with a sound.

It was quiet again for a while.

Ye Zhongdao said softly: "Lu Youxian is right."

"Ah, Great Chen, such a name, such a grand past once existed."

"Its end should not be in such an absurd manner."

Ye Zhongdao looked at Zhou Xianping, smiled and said:

"What Your Majesty mentioned, a grand and glorious death, a death that leaves a mark in history, should be like this. The last breath and blood of Great Chen should not be used in internal conflicts of the Central Plains, but should be exhausted on the battlefield against foreign enemies, consuming the last fierce spirit of Great Chen."

"Outside Zhenbei Pass, two hundred thousand troops of Chen Country fought the Turks to the death."

"From the mediocre emperor to the infantry, all died in battle."

"The renowned worldwide Night Rider Cavalry and the Iron Futu fell together into Abyss Purgatory, disappearing from this world."

"In future history books, even if our generation’s fall from grace is despised, at least a bit of respect should be left in words."

Zhou Xianping said softly: "It’s a pity for these comrades."

Ye Zhongdao said: "More than two hundred thousand troops, with about a few hundred thousand left, accompanied us to the last battle, died for the country, is it not a man’s way of dying?"

Zhou Xianping grinned, reached out, patted Ye Zhongdao’s shoulder, and said:

"Well then, see you in the Eighteenth Layer of Hell."

Ye Zhongdao clenched his fist, struck it on Zhou Xianping’s armor, and they each returned to their camps, leading their own troops. On the blood-soaked battlefield ahead, the murderous air soared, the spirit of the Military Formation almost turned tangible, stirring the sky, pressing down on the entire firmament.

It was oppressive and gloomy.

The Turks were tightly pursued at their rear by Chen Dingye, regardless of the cost.

Chen Dingye’s isolated forces chased them into the steppe, plundering it for logistical supplies.

For the Great Khan, they must be crushed; otherwise, the over hundred thousand army of Chen Country would be like a sharp sword, stabbing directly into the heart of the steppe. Besides the terror of this combat skill, there are other reasons as well.

The Great Khan still remembers that day, when he fought with all his strength, risking injury to charge out from that formation trap, Chen Tianqi swept his spear horizontally, breaking the Great Formation, the sounds of misery, shouts, and sword clashes echoed incessantly.

In such circumstances, Chen Dingye covered in blood, stepped out with fire, drew his sword, and slashed down towards the top of his head.

Madman!

Whether it was Chen Dingye at that time or the insane strategies later, they were like that of a madman. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

The Great Khan knew, such an opponent, like an old wolf that bites your leg and does not let go, must be dealt with decisively and fiercely in one breath to kill this wolf. Otherwise, this wolf would clamp down.

Biting through bones, severing veins, even when being killed, it would not release its grip. A little hesitation or consideration for oneself would lead to being bitten crippled.

The Turks dispatched hundreds of thousands of troops, intending to break Chen Dingye head-on with sheer military force.

If you want to sacrifice for your country, fulfill your wish!

And then rush into Zhenbei City accordingly, to occupy this city.

The grand army surged with a murderous aura, another great battle ignited again.

The Iron Futu became the spearhead, charging forward, followed closely by the light cavalry of the prairie. When horse hooves smashed down, the sound was dull and murderous, like rolling muffled thunder sweeping across this vast steppe.

Ye Zhongdao roared, leading the last Night Rider Cavalry onto the battlefield, where both sides slaughtered each other.

Zhou Xianping held the Hooked Scythe Spear, watching the Night Rider Cavalry and Iron Futu, like a crescent moon, skimming across the battlefield.

Listening to the song of swords clashing, seeing warhorses fall amid their shrieks, seeing blood explode, armored warriors knocked high and then trampled by the battle formations of both enemies and allies during the high-speed charges.

In such cases, falling means death. The dynamics of the battlefield changed so quickly that even Zhou Xianping could not discern which side suffered more deaths, only staring fixedly at the enemy ahead, shouting:

"Attack!!!"

The Hooked Scythe Spear Corps formed a tight formation, merging the military might with the aura of renowned generals.

Clearly no longer on home soil, clearly knowing, this great battle is almost about depletion, the end is only death. Yet at this moment, the Hooked Scythe Spear Corps erupted with an even more tragic aura than usual.

There was no longer a way back behind them.

They were the end of this Great Chen Corps.

Behind them was not homeland and home country.

It was the death of the home country.

At this point, one’s mind could not avoid tragic heroism. Amidst the tragic heroism, where is there any concern for life, amid angry shouts, the Hooked Scythe Spear Corps and Iron Futu clashed directly, as the slowed Iron Futu faced the mountain-like Hooked Scythe Spear Corps, both sides suffered casualties.

Zhou Xianping killed a Ten Thousand Captain General of the Iron Futu.

However, his injuries became increasingly severe, previous wounds ruptured, causing his movements to deform, initially blockable moves unexpectedly exploited by the opponent, Zhou Xianping looked at the red-eyed fierce Turkic general opposite him.

Zhou Xianping’s mind was at peace.

Does it match the way a battle general should die?

He abandoned his spear, grabbed the sword, and aimed at the gap in the side armor of his opponent. He would be struck on the forehead by the opponent’s weapon, but the opponent would also die under this sword.

So-called Central Plains generals, dying in the battle against foreign enemies.

Perfect, just perfect.

At this moment, familiar shouting seemed to ring in his ears, breaking Zhou Xianping’s momentary trance before death, the surging fervor of the battlefield entered his perception, everything quickened.

The sharp tearing sound broke through the air at this moment, a thrown shadow crossed the vast battlefield, inserting itself between Zhou Xianping and the Turkic general, the spear exploded with a scorching aura.

It forcibly intercepted the deadly strike aimed at Zhou Xianping.

The long spear stood on the ground, extremely long, its blade straight, with barbs.

Zhou Xianping was stunned.

Hooked Scythe Spear!

Where did a Zhou Family general come from?!!

Immediately after, the sound of new hoofbeats appeared on the battlefield.