The heads of the various families and sect masters turned and quickly returned to their formations to direct the troops.
Soon, commands rose and fell, echoing off the mountain walls. Banners snapped and unfurled, blades and armor clanged, and the hundred-thousand-strong coalition army slowly took its positions like a cumbersome, sluggish beast of war.
Archers and crossbowmen climbed the stone walls and arrow towers. Heavily armored infantry erected three shield-wall iron formations in the center of the valley road, while light cavalry on both wings formed ranks against the mountains and awaited orders.
The battle line stretched more than two li deep, layer upon layer, a sea of black with no end in sight.
A murderous air soared skyward above Crossridge Pass.
And in the distance.
That yellow dragon of dust had already closed to within three li.
The muffled thunder of hooves striking the earth gradually became audible, blanketing heaven and earth like mountains collapsing.
At the very front, a pitch-black banner snapped wildly in the wind. Embroidered upon it was a silver wolf bathed in blood, the emblem of the Northern Frontier's Zhenbei Army twisting in the wind as though alive.
Thirty Thousand Cavalry advanced in formation. Though their battle line was not as long as the coalition army's,
their ranks were as neat as if carved by a blade. Horse and rider moved as one, their military bearing hard as iron. Even from three li away, that Killing Intent pressed so heavily upon the chest that it became hard to breathe.
Beneath the banner, one man and one horse stood at the forefront.
Clad in black armor and a dark robe, his face seemed forged from iron, his eyes deep as frigid pools.
The Black Steed beneath him was black as ink. Hanging beside its saddle was