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Heaven and earth were desolate. All was silent.
Two figures approached the peak from afar, right out in the open. They naturally drew Yun Zhao’an and Shen Duqiu’s attention.
“We’ll know for sure if there are problems with those two or not when the hundred thousand Tiger Warriors and three thousand elites of Divine Stratagems Manor test their mettle,” said Yun Zhao’an, stroking his beard.
“We’ll just have to trouble you, then,” said Divine Preceptor Lu Yuan.
Yun Zhao’an drew the blood-red jade ruler from his waist and shook it. It suddenly let out a wondrous rumbling, like waves lapping the shore.
At the foot of the Mountain of Bitter Rains, the beating of drums boomed from within the dense encampment of soldiers.
The Tiger Warriors mounted their horses, drew their weapons, and got in formation!
Every last one of the Tiger Warriors was clad in armor glinting with cold light. They swept forth like the tides, their hoofbeats shattering the otherwise deathly silence. An austere, desolate atmosphere swept outward.
As they advanced, a group of soldiers readied ballistas shaped like hideous beasts, while a throng of archers strung their bows.
The Tiger Warriors of the...
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