Sakata Division.
Qin Feng led his remaining two hundred swordsmen, standing proudly atop a mountain of corpses.
Their black clothes were soaked in blood, their short swords dripping red.
"How many times?"
Qin Feng looked arrogantly at Sakata not far away.
"What?"
"How many times have I smashed through your lines?" Qin Feng grinned insolently. "Anyone who didn't know better would think I was the one attacking."
Eight hundred Old Qin People had met them head-on.
They had punched through the enemy formation nineteen times.
On the narrow dirt road.
They could have used the terrain to hold the enemy back layer by layer, but Qin Feng had insisted on clashing head-on.
Eight hundred against nine thousand.
The casualty ratio was nearly one to ten.
It was not that the enemy was too weak, but that those who had come to attend the ceremony were the very best of their respective factions.
"Go back. You're not getting through here."
Qin Feng waved dismissively.
Indecision crossed Sakata's face.
He had never expected these Qin People to be so formidable.
When two armies faced off, momentum was everything.
But his men were now like birds startled by a bowstring.
Even if they won under these circumstances, they would be unable to reinforce Capital City.
But if they retreated, the Sakata Division would be finished.
They would probably spend the rest of their lives branded as cowards.
As he hesitated.
A gale swept in.
A hurricane rose from the ground.
Amid the swirling wind and snow, Qin Feng dropped his contemptuous expression and stared sharply into the distance.
An old man in white robes approached slowly, leading a dozen or so young people.
"It's... it's... Lord Seimei."
"Lord Seimei is here."
"It really is Lord Seimei! We're saved!"
Morale on Kou Island's side