Tian Yi slowly opened his eyes and glanced toward the camp gate, a trace of mockery brushing his lips. "He was beaten until he vomited blood and fled for his life just yesterday, yet today he dares to jump around and bark? Someone must be backing him. So be it. I'll make another trip and let him understand that beyond the heavens lie further heavens, and beyond the mountains lie further mountains. If he still doesn't know when to stop, I'm afraid the Investiture of the Gods List will have to add another name."
With that, he straightened his Daoist robe and adjusted his Purple Gold Crown. His white hair fell to his shoulders, and he once more became solemn and dignified, unmistakably a true adept who had attained the Dao.
Wen Zhong was overjoyed when he heard this and immediately ordered the drums beaten to boost their morale. The drumbeats shook the earth, and the banners whipped in the wind. By now, where was there any trace of his earlier doubt and disdain toward Tian Yi? All that remained was fervent excitement—the casual strike from that blue-robed figure yesterday, delivered with such effortless ease, had carved an indelible mark into his heart.
It had given Wen Zhong absolute confidence, yet now he had no choice but to rely on Tian Yi's might to reclaim the morale that had been dealt such a blow.
Tian Yi naturally understood the purpose behind Wen Zhong's arrangements. After hearing him out, he merely nodded slightly and did not refuse. The messenger loudly announced the order, and the generals of the three armies sprang into action. Armor clanged, banners snapped, and the troops formed ranks as neat as if cut by a blade. In the blink of an eye, a hundred thousand elite soldiers