The Head Array

"King of Mingzhou, Iron Threshold King, One Qian Cult—you mud loaches from the pond, pretending to be dragons. You dare come for me?"

The three armies arrived together before Fierce Tiger Pass, their presence imposing and their killing intent surging to the heavens.

Behind Fierce Tiger Pass, however, the sight of the vast, dark mass of troops approaching the pass brought forth an entirely different scene. Everyone's gaze was cold and grim as they looked at the soldiers before the pass, their faces twisted with furious indignation, as if they had suffered an insult.

Since the God-Bestowed King had risen to power, his fame had been immense. He had fought dozens of battles, large and small, and had always been invincible. Wherever he went, people either surrendered or were slaughtered to the last man.

When had he ever been driven to the pass after someone seized and captured his city, bullied right to his face?

He had always indulged his trusted soldiers and the cults and gangs that served him. That was why he had a poor reputation among the common folk. But precisely because he was so arrogant and indulgent, his followers were utterly loyal. And because he slaughtered so freely in every battle, he had cultivated a fearsome aura.

Now, from top to bottom, his troops were already weighed down by anger, never mind anything else. They were just waiting for the chance to unleash it.

"Your Majesty, should we go and talk to them?"

Even amid the fury, there were still clearheaded people. Someone in the pass quietly offered a suggestion.

"Talk? What is there to say?"

But the God-Bestowed King, seated on his throne in black armor, his build tall and lean and his features cold, only let out a sneer.

Truthfully, this great battle was