It was as if within an endless tent, a golden tent was situated at the center, exceptionally conspicuous.

The surroundings were heavily guarded.

The Dread Emperor sat on a low stool; he not only wasn't repulsed by the titles given to him by various nations, but instead liked them very much.

An emperor who instills fear in all.

The Dread Emperor, in his view, that title was truly wonderful.

He even instructed his subordinates to call him the Dread Emperor.

"Milante crowned himself king in Feda, preparing to face me to the death on the Meland Plains. With him facing me directly, you'll attack from the side, ambush the granary at my rear."

The Dread Emperor narrowed his eyes slightly.

The Mida Ambassador below was so frightened that he knelt on the ground, his head pressed directly on the floor, saying: "Yes, Milante is overestimating his abilities, wanting to challenge Your Majesty's authority.

We are willing to offer him up, and also willing to surrender to Your Majesty, forever acknowledging allegiance."

"Hehehe."

The Dread Emperor let out a light laugh, with a slight curl of his mouth. He didn't plan to spare any country but was looking forward to seeing Milante's expression when he realized he'd been betrayed.

For five years, Milante had been like a mouse.

Not particularly harmful, just very unsightly.

No matter how many times he got defeated, Milante always managed to make a comeback.

The Dread Emperor disliked this feeling very much; he wanted everyone to submit, everyone to kneel at his feet.

Just like the Mida Kingdom.

The Dread Emperor didn't believe they were unaware of his character.

Yet they still made such a decision, choosing to betray Milante, because of their fear.

They were too afraid to be enemies with him.

So they would rather act blind with eyes wide open, to live in their fantasy world hoping to survive.

"Tell your king to reply to Milante, saying you'll comply, and then appear on the Meland Plains with your army on that day."

The Dread Emperor tapped his fingers gently on the table, saying: "Do you understand?"

"Un-understood."

The ambassador quickly replied.

The Dread Emperor waved his hand and said: "Then withdraw."

"Yes."

The ambassador nodded heavily, but he didn't choose to stand up; instead, he crawled out like an animal.

His legs were so weak he couldn't stand, and there was a faint wet stain on his pants.

"Haha!"

The Dread Emperor laughed, glancing over the generals on both sides, his tone turning cold: "Prepare the entire army; after this battle, the Eastern Continent will belong to Kusha!"

"Long live the Dread Emperor! Long live the Dread Emperor!"

The generals on both sides shouted in unison.

The Dread Emperor smiled.

He couldn't wait to see Milante stand before him and witness his five years of struggle turning into bubbles.

...

Seven days later, at the Meland Plains in front of the Meland Canyon.

It was very spacious here, suitable for the deployment of a large army.

The bloodthirsty and brutal war slave soldiers were driven by the Kusha Cavalry.

Their equipment was outdated, and the weapons in their hands were obtained from the battlefield.

Every day they could only eat a little food.

Yet in the killing, they were even more determined than the Kusha Cavalry.

Because their homeland had been destroyed by Kusha.

They had nothing.

They didn't want to let any other country exist.

Especially since when Kusha destroys a nation, war slaves are rewarded with the spoils.

Women, food — to them, even the occasional scraps from the Kusha Cavalry were enough to numb them.

A vast sea of tens of thousands of war slaves was arrayed ahead, seemingly endless at the border.

The burly Dak was the general leading these war slave soldiers, always at the forefront in battle.

He looked at the Milante army on the plains ahead.

That little mouse constantly escaping defeat from the Dread Emperor, finally in his dying moments, had mixed into a king's title.

But... Dak looked at such a military posture with a trace of disdain at the corner of his mouth.

However, he did not immediately attack; instead, he waited for the Dread Emperor's orders.

Different bugle calls resounded from both sides of the plains, the banners and armies of the Seven Nations appeared on the flanks.

Someone rode out from their ranks, shouted: "Milante, we have surrendered to the Dread Emperor, do not make futile resistance any longer!"

On the several-hundred-meter-high terrace, the Dread Emperor sat there, looking down at the front from afar.

Though a bit distant from the front lines, he couldn't see Milante's expression at the moment, but he could clearly see the chaos within the Milante Kingdom's army.

With the Seven Nations Allied Forces taunting before the battle lines, even before it began, some were already retreating.

"Hahahahaha!"

The Dread Emperor tilted his head back, feeling as pleased as never before in the past five years.

"Milante, your ugly struggling appearance is truly disgraceful!"

He waved his hand; as the soldiers beside him saw his gesture, they hesitated no longer and immediately blew the horn to attack.

The frontline Dak received the order, shouted: "Attack."

"Kill!" "Kill!" "Kill!"

Tens of thousands of war slave soldiers shouted loudly, rushing forward like a black tide engulfing the earth, drowning all the green.

They roared madly, wishing to kill all the soldiers of the Milante Kingdom.

The Dread Emperor sat there, with the main force of the Kusha army unmoved.

He planned to take down Milante first, then use his main force to crush the remaining seven nations' allied forces.

To the Dread Emperor, he wanted to resolve all his opponents today in one fell swoop.

Dominating the Eastern Continent, this hegemonic endeavor never achieved before, would be realized today.

The more the Dread Emperor thought about it, the more excited he became. Rising from his seat, he felt even the wind was praising his grand achievements.

...

Arrows fell like rain, the sound like thunder.

The lagging Milante Kingdom army fell like swathes of wheat harvested by farmers.

Milante, mixed among them, loudly urged: "Run, run!"

He kept shouting like this, looking back at the advancing war slave soldiers, knowing that continuing would make it difficult for this group to safely retreat into Meland Canyon.