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Zhou Xuchuan's shout was the signal.
The troops serving as bait quickly turned and formed an iron wall, while the ambush troops hidden in the east and south moved in, blocking the Dark Heavens Army’s retreat.
The hundreds, if not thousands, of lamas from the Potala Palace showed their might and pushed back the Dark Heavens Army.
"W-what the hell?"
"Monks? Are they the Shaolin Temple?"
"Are they the enemy's support?"
The Dark Heavens Army was bewildered.
While the surrounding siege was alarming enough, it was the sudden appearance of an unidentified force, numbering in the thousands, that truly sent the Dark Heavens Army into panic.
"Restructure!" Zhou Xuchuan shouted.
"Restructure!"
Shen Daoyun, the commander of the Guizhou Front, echoed the order sharply.
"Reinforce the east!"
A thousand reinforcements quickly moved up from the south.
With only about five hundred defenders left in the east, it was a natural decision to strengthen that side.
Having spent over ten years on the front lines, Shen Daoyun’s experience and quick judgment were outstanding—and Zhou Xuchuan couldn't help but be quietly impressed.
The Guizhou Army was also amazing. Despite no detailed prior discussion, they moved like a single organism.
As it had been since ancient times, battlefields rarely followed the script.
Adaptation was survival.
Strategies were always shifting mid-battle.
“Ahem!”
Among the crowd of a thousand people, an old man stood in front.
His bald head gleamed in the sun, and his face was lined with deep wrinkles, carved by time.
His long, white eyebrows weren't grown haphazardly,...
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