Atop the high platform, Ji Fa's body went slightly rigid, his eyes filled with anxiety and panic. Gone was the heir apparent's usual bearing of calmly holding the central army and remaining composed.
He suddenly turned his head and strode quickly up to Jiang Ziya, his voice trembling with barely concealed fear and panic as he asked urgently:
"Prime Minister! The situation is in utter chaos now—what should we do!"
The rout on the battlefield was still continuing.
The Great Shang elites under Huang Feihu's command had heaven-toppling combat strength and feared no death. Riding the momentum of their great victory, they crushed and charged all the way forward, forcing the Xiqi army that had once swept across the world to retreat step by step, fleeing in collapse for dozens of li before they finally halted the decline.
The Yin Shang soldiers did not grow greedy for merit and rashly advance, nor did they pursue blindly. Their formation remained orderly and strict from beginning to end, and after killing the enemy, they swiftly recalled their troops and formed ranks.
Treading over the sky full of remnant sunset and the ground full of gun smoke, marching with sonorous, unified steps, they slowly turned their formation, vast and mighty, calm and unhurried, and withdrew back into Zhaoge City.
The tightly shut gates of Zhaoge City slowly closed, like an undefeated boulder once again standing firm upon the earth, cutting off Xiqi's million-strong heroic army outside the city and forcibly shattering the airtight iron siege that Xiqi had maintained for months.
Night gradually deepened, and twilight covered the earth.
Inside the Xiqi camp that had withdrawn dozens of li, every lamp was lit, and continuous stretches of candlelight shone brightly, illuminating the entire encampment, yet they could not dispel the heavy, oppressive atmosphere