October 3rd, auspicious for rituals, inauspicious for warfare.
The sunlight hung high in the mid-sky, tinged with a faint pallor, while the western wind blew fiercely, banners fluttering.
Zhou Ping'an sat upright atop a massive white tiger, behind him an army of fifty thousand surged with overwhelming might, their bloodshot eyes glinting with murderous intent.
Ahead, Ten li away, the Northern Garrison had already formed their massive battle array, with enormous green turtle shells visible even from afar, sending chills down the bones of onlookers.
For days on end, Yue Chengtian's supernatural ability, the one wielded by the Northern Garrison's commander, had wreaked havoc upon the Ping'an Army.
The suffering inflicted upon Zhou Ping'an's forces had been considerable.
Victory seemed within reach, yet the opposition's resilience proved tenacious, always managing to cling onto the last gasp of survival.
