Racing Through Tunnels to the Mighty Pass, Glazed Tiles Reflecting the Sun Fill the Streets

Han Qinglong's face turned even more livid. He slammed his palm onto the table, his voice abruptly rising. "Who's joking with you?!"

The teacup on the table jolted into the air, scalding tea spilling out and splashing across Han Qinglong's Daoist robe, yet he did not notice it in the slightest.

He merely stared fixedly at Xiang Yan. "Junior Brothers Yang Ren and Yan Lu have had their souls scattered to the winds. Junior Brother Ji Ying is dead too. Even Martial Uncle Juliusun was forced back by Zhao Cheng!

Wei State has already been destroyed, and the King of Wei was captured alive!

More than half of Yan State's hundred thousand elite troops have been lost, and Crown Prince Dan has become a prisoner!

Qi State's reinforcements are either dead or surrendered, and the Qi generals have all been slaughtered clean by the Blood-Clad Army..."

His voice carried grief and fury he could not suppress. By the end, he realized he had lost his composure and softened his tone. "This is no joke."

Every word struck everyone's hearts like a sledgehammer.

The tent fell completely silent, leaving only the crackling of the candle flame.

The smiles on the generals' faces froze utterly. Their complexions went from red to white, then from white to green. They stood rooted where they were, their eyes vacant.

Xiang Yan's body swayed. He reached out to brace himself against the table, barely keeping himself from falling. His fingers pressed hard into the map, his nails nearly punching through it.

His voice trembled faintly. "That Zhao Cheng... how could he be so strong?"

He had studied military texts extensively and fought countless battles throughout his life. He believed he had seen no shortage of formidable enemies.

Yet he had never imagined that one man could,