Though the army numbered in the millions, Qin Emperor had only brought fifty thousand fighting soldiers along from afar, the rest composed of vast logistical and support troops.
On the other side, Jiang Su initially gathered eight hundred thousand elite forces, of which thirty thousand were dispatched elsewhere, leaving fifty thousand troops at the main front.
The armies surged forward like roaring waves, their momentum stretching far across the battlefield.
At the very heart of this turbulent world’s storm, they faced off.
The sound of pounding hooves, the neighing of warhorses caught in their throats, the flutter of banners trembling faintly in the wind—all these sounds blended into a vast sea of noise, like the surging tides of the age itself.
Qin Emperor and the God of War locked eyes.
Each bore the weight of the great tide of fate on their shoulders, yet neither moved to strike immediately.
They only stepped forward slowly, their auras intertwining and drawing in tension, as if their very energy might crystallize into something tangible, ready to erupt at any moment.
Yet both halted at the pinnacle of this unseen battle of wills, their spiritual energy at its sharpest—but no blow had been struck.
Jiang Su gazed steadily at Li Guanyi, and said softly: