Great Shang's offensive at the front was like a red-hot blade slicing into butter.
It swept through like a force crushing rotten wood, unstoppable.
With the protection of the Immortals and Gods gone, their commander captured, their provisions burned to ashes, and their morale utterly shattered, Xiqi's troops could no longer be called an army.
They were merely a flock of lambs awaiting slaughter.
Yin Jiao did not even issue any more complicated military orders.
Great Shang's iron cavalry split into three columns, using the simplest and most effective method to divide, encircle, and annihilate Xiqi's defeated remnants.
The war had become a pursuit and a slaughter.
In just three days.
A million of Great Shang's iron cavalry had reached Xiqi's capital.
Beneath Mount Qi City.
The gates of this heartland of Xiqi were now tightly shut. A sparse scattering of defenders-the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled-stood atop the walls, despair written across every face.
Outside the city lay the dark mass of the Shang Army's camps, stretching beyond sight, their great Dark Phoenix banners blotting out the sky and sun.
Inside the city was deathly silence.
The common people hid in their homes, trembling. The streets were empty, with only the bleak autumn wind sweeping up fallen leaves.
Within the Royal Palace, the clouds of sorrow were darker still.
Ji Fa slowly regained consciousness, greeted by the lifeless faces of several veteran Xiqi ministers and generals, including Nangong Shi.
"Your Majesty, you're awake."
An elderly minister spoke in a trembling voice.
Ji Fa's throat felt dry.
"How are things outside the city?"
No one answered.
But their silence had already said everything.
Ji Fa gave a bitter laugh and struggled to sit up from his bed.
Through the window, he saw the endless military camps outside