Rong Heng finally drew his sword, its tip pointing straight to the dim sky filled with falling snow,

and ordered:

"Transmit the order, all soldiers charge with the Dingyuan Army! As long as the Commander’s Chariot does not retreat, I will not retreat, Dayan will not retreat!"

He cleaved a flying arrow with his sword and, along with countless others, fully immersed himself into the battlefield.

"Fight to the death, protect the Prince!"

"Charge, protect the Prince!"

"A reward of ten thousand gold to the one who takes the head of Prince Xiang!"

The soldiers on both sides shouted and charged at each other, merging with the wind and snow under the dim sky.

Rong Heng spurred Mo Feng into the air, his long sword sweeping, piercing through the neck of a Wei soldier.

Blood splattered on his cold features, a faint arc rising on his thin lips.

The scorching hot blood soaked through his clothing and battle armor, horse hooves crushing the enemy’s chest, and a bloodthirsty gleam appeared in Rong Heng’s eyes, yet his expression remained as indifferent and calm as ever.

In the distance, Wei Junzhuo wielded a giant golden spear, each strike felling a Yan soldier from horseback. His martial arts were extraordinary, and he led by example, rousing the limited fervor and battle spirit of the Wei soldiers, turning their eyes bloodshot.

Covered in blood, Wei Junzhuo’s dark golden eyes looked toward the Mystic Armor Prince in the center of the battlefield, his gaze growing deeper.

What exactly is Rong Heng thinking? The Wei army is more than three times the size of the Yan army, yet he took the initiative to charge?

Is he stalling for time, waiting for Rong Baoyi’s support?

But clearly, within a hundred miles, apart from the Dingyuan Army cavalry previously wandering on the outskirts, Rong Heng didn’t arrange for anyone else!

If there were more people, where could they hide without being discovered by the scouts? If there were fewer, they wouldn’t be able to change the Yan army’s defeat.

A subordinate shouted beside him:

"Great General, why consider too much? In my opinion, Rong Heng is just young and impetuous, unwilling to give up Su Yi!"

"Hyah!"

Wei Junzhuo seemed to see Lu Jian’s face, his eyes filled with hatred, and with a shout, he charged toward Rong Heng with his long spear.

At this moment, he was no more than a hundred meters away from Rong Heng, closing the distance within a few breaths. Since Rong Heng was courting death, he would personally kill him to avenge Jian.

Suddenly, a cavalry force, from horses to soldiers, all covered in black heavy armor, appeared before him.

This small number of heavily armored cavalry, impervious to blades and spears, lay in ambush behind the Yan army, now tearing a narrow path from the outside and charged forth.

"Who dares block me!"

Wei Junzhuo swung his giant spear mightily, attempting to sweep a cavalryman obstructing his path off his horse.

Eager to reach Rong Heng, this strike was nearly full force, even the air tearing with a bursting sound.

"If this is your backup plan, then you’re overly confident." Wei Junzhuo looked around, a trace of disdain in his eyes.

This cavalry was indeed fierce, even more terrifying than the light cavalry of the Dingyuan Army, which excelled in swift charges and flexible formations like a sharp spear on the battlefield, a heritage from generations fighting the Qiangrong in the Northern Territory.

Yet this cavalry was less agile than the Dingyuan Army, but like a moving iron-blooded hammer, capable of crushing all enemies before them.

The area outside the city gate wasn’t large, not a plain suitable for the Dingyuan Army’s wild maneuvering, but instead better suited for these heavy cavalry.

If these heavy cavalry numbered in the thousands, the battlefield’s situation would instantly overturn, but they were merely a hundred, allowing them to remain undetected in ambush.

A hundred men were not enough to alter the reality of the Yan army’s defeat.

The giant spear clashed with an ink-black long blade, gold and iron singing together, bursting into a cold spark, even a flash tracing Wei Junzhuo’s golden eyes.

Wei Junzhuo uttered a "huh," pausing his arm.

Was this person the leader of the heavy armored cavalry, managing to withstand his full-force strike?

Yet even so, no one could easily take his strike; Wei Junzhuo was absolutely confident in his martial arts.

He reined in his horse, retracting his gaze from Rong Heng to the man wrapped entirely in black armor before him, wearing a fierce ghost mask, only his eyes exposed.

"Ghost mask?" Wei Junzhuo recalled the intel he received, swinging his giant spear again, ready to deal with this man first, "Basang mentioned you; you are under the Dingyuan Marquis’ command..."

His words trailed off because Wei Chengyuan voluntarily sheathed his blade and removed his ghost face mask.

Two pairs of similar golden eyes collided amidst the war-torn battlefield.

Four eyes met, like fragmented gold catching the light, setting off a shimmery glow.

Wei Junzhuo choked on his words, fixating on the man before him, as everything around lost its color instantly, and he could hear nothing.

That familiar face, those familiar eyes, overlapped with the child in his memory who used to shout "brother," flooding his heart with memories, causing his eyes to moisten slightly.

There was no mistake; this was his younger brother.