Wen Zhong sat upright in the main hall, the battle report from Xiqi on the table crushed to pieces in his five fingers, scraps of paper drifting to the floor mixed with threads of blood.
The Four Generals of the Mo Family were the elite outer disciples of the Jie Sect he had painstakingly nurtured, the jade pillars that held up Great Shang's four directions—east, south, west, and north.
And yet, overnight, every last one of them had been beheaded. Even that spiritually awakened Flower Fox Marten had not been spared!
"Fine work, Jiang Ziya! Fine work, Xiqi!"
His voice boomed like a great bell, shaking dust from the rafters in a rustling fall. His eyes were blood-red as if aflame, and Metal Spirit Magic Power churned ceaselessly around him, forcing the bronze wine cup on the table to float into the air and crack inch by inch.
"Pass down my general's order!"
Wen Zhong shot to his feet. The pheasant plumes on his Purple Gold Crown whipped wildly, the Nine-Section Whip crackled in his palm, and he strode out through the manor gates.
On the drill ground, a million Great Shang elites had long since formed ranks like a forest, their spears and armor reflecting the radiance of the morning sun, the chill from them biting to the bone.
"Trample Xiqi flat! Avenge the four generals!"
The roar shook through the nine districts of Zhaoge, and the earth trembled faintly with it.
Moments later, the Ink Qilin came treading the wind down from the clouds, the scales across its body flowing with black-jade luster, its four hooves stepping on flame, divine and extraordinary.
With a tap of his toes, Wen Zhong landed steadily on the qilin's back. He held the Male and Female Twin Whips crosswise in his hand,