Lu Xiong's Doubts

Meanwhile, three hundred li away, on the raised platform of the Yin Shang army's main camp, ten thousand tents spread beneath the summer sun.

Lu Xiong wore heavy gilded armor and full battle dress. A military register in hand, he stood atop the watchtower and gazed toward Western Qi.

A fierce summer wind whipped dust across the sky and sent his graying hair and beard flying. Stifling heat, laden with the air of slaughter, hung over the central camp.

His personal deputy wiped sweat from his face, bowed, and asked, "Old General, it's the height of summer. The northern heat is scorching, and the men are exhausted from days of marching. Sleeping in the open is more than they can bear. Why not make camp and rest for three days to steady morale before advancing west?"

Lu Xiong raised a hand and rejected the suggestion outright. His gaze was sharp as a blade. "Speed is paramount in war! Western Qi has defeated two of our armies in succession. Its morale is soaring. Every day we delay gives it another day to prepare its defenses. Besides, the sky is clear and the sun is shining. What is there to worry about? How could a little mortal weather halt the royal army of Great Shang?"

He had spent half his life at war. After decades on the battlefield, he trusted terrain, strategy, and morale to win his campaigns. He had always scorned hazy omens about the heavens and believed even less in Divine Abilities or the Immortal Path.

The few cultivators accompanying the army were weak. Several times over the past days, they had submitted warnings that the summer weather might turn strange and urged him to prepare. Lu Xiong had dismissed every warning as fearmongering that would unsettle the troops.

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