Pursuing the Victory and Expanding the Gains

Dust and smoke stretched across the ridgeline in a gray-yellow line. The hoofbeats had yet to arrive, but the wind had come first. Chen Wuya stood atop a boulder, his right arm still numb from the backlash of Misaligned Force running in reverse. Yet he did not move, merely staring at the churning dust. He knew what it carried—the news brought by the routed soldiers. The enemy's rear camp had been shaken.

"They won't sit and wait." He turned, his voice quiet yet carrying to the ears of every allied soldier. "Their vanguard has been wiped out and their signal posts destroyed. What comes next will be an emergency redeployment. If we stop here, what awaits us won't be reinforcements, but a harder shell."

Bai Zhi came down from the southern slope, her flexible sword returned to its sheath, a layer of powdered gravel dusting her shoulders. She said nothing, only handed him a bloodstained command arrow. It was a passage token taken from an enemy deputy general, engraved with three slanting lines that signified direct access to the three strongholds in the enemy's interior.

Chen Wuya accepted it, his fingertips brushing over the grooves. Then he suddenly smiled. "Then we won't give them time to grow their shell back."

He strode quickly toward the central command tent. The new king of the tribes was already inside, studying a map with a commander from the Central Plains. Both wore grave expressions, clearly aware of how urgent the situation had become.

"Now is not the time to hold the valley." Chen Wuya slapped the command arrow onto the table. "Blackstone Stronghold, Wind Chime Slope, Eaglebeak Cliff—these three positions form a tripod, each serving as the other's horn and flank. But now that their vanguard has fallen and their chain of command