The spear thrust startled his accomplice, chilling Yin Po to the bone; the bell shattered the fake ledger, exposing the villain.

"Gulp..."

Yin Chang stared at the shattered city gate and subconsciously swallowed. The bob of his Adam's apple sounded especially clear atop the deathly silent walls.

He had thought that since Zhao Cheng was going to "plead guilty," he would surely rein in his edge. How could he dare be so arrogant?

Even if he truly dared to cause trouble, with his twenty thousand garrison troops defending the city, could he not stop a mere thousand men?

Yet he had never imagined that Zhao Cheng would truly be so utterly unrestrained. Leading a thousand Blood-Clad Army soldiers, he had dared to shatter the city gate with a single halberd strike despite having no warrant to do so!

By Yin Chang's original reckoning, the instant the Blood-Clad Army made any excessive move, he would immediately stand firm against them.

But after witnessing the might of that "one halberd breaking the city," Yin Chang felt as though his legs had been filled with lead. Forget ordering them driven away—he did not even have the strength to move a step.

The rebuke whose wording he had long prepared lodged in his throat just like that. He could neither swallow it nor dare spit it out, choking until his vision went dark.

The Blood-Clad Army had already ridden into the city like a tide.

Figures in black armor and red cloaks swept past the shattered gate. Their horses' hooves crunched over splintered wood, yet not one of them spared the walls a glance, as though this sturdy city were nothing more than a fence set up for show.

As for the garrison and its commander, they were no different from stray dogs by the roadside.

Yin Chang stood blankly beside the battlements, watching the Blood-Clad Army ride into the city as though entering an