Every new member of the Kheshig Army drank a bowl of shaman-brewed potion and had a totem tattooed across their back with the blood of prairie monsters.
But in truth, that cheap potion and those equally cheap beast-blood tattoos did not grant the Kheshig Army any extraordinary power. At most, they made them somewhat stronger than ordinary men.
The ritual was more like an established custom of the Kheshig Army, meant to stir their courage and foster their sense of identity as members of the Kheshig Army.
But now, stimulated by Kuokochu's beast spirits, their potential had been completely unleashed.
Perhaps the price was a shortened lifespan and a long period of weakness, but on the battlefield, victory and survival mattered far more than a few lost years.
Surrounded by the Kheshig Army, the paladins stood like reefs rising from the shore.
The heavy arrows they fired and the blades they thrust could only stir up a layer of foaming spray.
But the other Sasanian defenders were not so fortunate. What awaited them was a one-sided slaughter.
"Your Majesty?"
Governor Rumi, watching the battle, looked somewhat anxious. "Should we use the fire jars?"
He had wanted Huwayzeh to complete its revenge through its own strength, but the gap between the two sides was simply too vast. Even if they committed the entire Reserve Team, they likely would not hold out for long.
No wonder even a fortress as formidable as Isfahan had fallen beneath these barbarians' iron hooves. A mere Huwayzeh, without the new emperor's help, would probably be breached in no time.
"No need."
Rumi had the courage to perish alongside the enemy, but courage could not bridge such a gulf in strength. What came next was no longer a battle ordinary soldiers could take part in. Even if