The Zhou Army's raid on the camp had seemed a grand, thunderous affair, but less than two hours had passed between their departure from the pass and their rout.
The fires in the Hundred-Li Camp were gradually dying down. Just as Ao Lie had said, no camp was immune to fire attacks, but with an extra layer of precautions, those attacks were not so frightening.
Although they had deliberately lured the enemy in, the Shang Army's commanders knew that provisions were an army's lifeblood and could not be allowed to suffer damage. They had moved them elsewhere beforehand. With deliberate countermeasures and advance preparations, the Shang Army had warded off disaster before it struck and suffered almost no serious losses.
This battle had boosted morale even further. All those rumors about King Zhou being gravely ill and suffering Heavenly Retribution collapsed without anyone needing to refute them.
Especially with several Shang commanders deliberately fanning the flames, the soldiers came to understand that everything had merely been a stratagem, leaving them overjoyed.
As the soldiers cleared the battlefield, they chatted among themselves. Emotions traveled through words, particularly in a crowd, and the joy of their great victory spread through the entire army at an astonishing speed, lifting its morale.
With Zhou corpses strewn across the ground and great victories coming one after another, the officers and soldiers grew excited and stirred up, instinctively imagining the best possible outcome. Although Lu Xiong had lost, King Zhou's successive stratagems had brought victory time and again. How could the Western Expedition possibly fail?
You're the son of destiny, Ji Fa, so why can't you win even once?
Thus, the officers and soldiers' spirits soared. Word spread from one to ten, then from ten to a hundred, until everyone was rubbing their fists and flexing