Rumble—
Thousands of horses thundered forward, and a hundred thousand soldiers wielding blades and spears closed in from every direction across the wasteland toward the Ghost Dance Legion.
The earth was trampled beneath them, and the ice and snow groaned.
Like a small boat in a vast ocean, or a storm petrel caught in a raging tempest, the Ghost Dance Legion stood surrounded on all sides, as though the gale could snap their wings at any moment and the towering waves could drag them into the deep.
At Princess Qian Du's side, a ghost-faced knight sneered. "Princess, just as you predicted, we're surrounded."
Qian Du held the Magic Flute and lightly tapped it against her thigh. She said coldly, "Everyone says Lu Wuyong is treacherous and crafty, with a deep and calculating mind. I came here so openly to persuade him to surrender—he must have wanted to kill me. How could he possibly have genuinely considered my proposal? Lu Wuyong put on that performance atop the city wall for so long precisely to wait for the other armies to arrive, surround us, annihilate us, and then wipe us out in one fell swoop. But there are only three armies? He still thinks too little of our Ghost Dance Legion."
Clip-clop, clip-clop—
The warhorses charged wildly, their iron hooves striking the ground at a frantic rhythm.
Each blow seemed to hammer straight into the hearts of those listening.
They drew closer and closer. The face of Lu Tiesheng, twisted by excessive excitement, was already visible.
"Ghost Dance Legion, turn the rear into the front. Charge and kill!"
"Kill!"
At Princess Qian Du's command, the Ghost Dance Legion, which had remained silent until then, came alive as if it had been fed dragon's blood.
They howled wildly, pulled the reins to turn