Imu's Defeat and Another Beginning

Jin An's gaze remained icy. His blade was embedded in Imu's body, blood gushing out like a crimson river and staining her robes red.

Although Imu's expression had twisted, her eyes revealing undisguised shock and pain, Jin An showed not the slightest mercy. His gaze remained fixed on her figure, now stripped of all its former sharpness.

He slowly withdrew his blade and stood before her, his gaze as piercingly cold as ice, calm and unreadable.

"You lost, Imu."

His voice was low, carrying an indescribable resolve—the fury suppressed for centuries, the yearning for rebellion, and the power of one final eruption.

The instant his words fell, the entire battlefield plunged into silence.

Time seemed to freeze, as though every battle had halted at that very moment.

Then, a tide-like roar of cheers swept across the battlefield, resounding through the heavens.

"We won!"

One Rebel Army soldier was so overwhelmed that he could barely contain his emotions. Tears welled in his eyes, and his cry brimmed with wild joy and relief.

"This is our victory!"

Another soldier threw an arm around his comrade's shoulders, his voice hoarse yet full of strength.

At that moment, every one of them felt a lightness and glory unlike anything they had ever known.

Neither the exhaustion of body and mind nor the oppression of decades seemed important anymore.

Jin An stood alone in the pool of blood, still unmoving.

He knew that although this war had ended, the responsibility on his shoulders remained heavy.

He heard the cheers and celebrations on the battlefield with perfect clarity, yet the peace deep within his heart made him sigh soundlessly.

They had won, but victory brought not only glory—it also brought endless weight and contemplation.

As the Rebel Army's cheers continued to rise, Jin An gradually shifted