499 The Final Lesson (1/2)

The Dongxuan soldiers no longer held the slightest bit of trust in Zhan Ge in their hearts. With their defeat, the top priority now was to escape and survive. However, Han Sanhe's appearance gave these soldiers hope. They were facing a crisis now, but it would still be better to gather under the banner of the God of War of this continent. The reputation of being the continent's top militant was not easily forgotten.

As the flag of the God of War fluttered, the rousing sounds of the horn were being blown underneath the flag.

There, five thousand men of the Shadow Cavalry had just formed into a squad. They still looked somewhat deplorable, but they still managed to construct their formation, immobile against the hundreds of thousands of routed soldiers. They were ready to pick up the pieces, coiled and awaiting their commands.

As time went on, the horns formed a choir and the momentum came back to the army.

Among the assembling Dongxuan army, Han Sanhe was mounted on a warhorse right at the vanguard, wearing a snow-white mink fur coat; he sat atop his horse calmly as he watched his army being routed in distress. His expression remained stoic.

The incessant horn was only delivering one message – ”Return! Assemble! Fall in!”

The routed Dongxuan soldiers who witnessed the silent scene immediately recovered some degree of faith.

After all, these people were initially Dongxuan's elite troop – the crème de la crème. The cannon fodders, random teams, and martial forces of noble families of Dongxuan had, after all, been drained by Han Sanhe in the Fortress of Resilience, and had been buried there. The remaining Dongxuan troop was comprised of warriors who had been baptized countless of times by steel and blood; such an elite troop could recover swiftly once something that could shake them sufficiently appeared, despite being routed from anomalies or crushing defeat.

Han Sanhe was the person who could shake them up sufficiently.

More and more soldiers halted their steps, some measure of clarity returned to their panicked gazes. One by one, they sprinted forward to return to Dongxuan's base and reassembled themselves.

Some lower-ranking leaders were already beginning to organize their own units.

”Those belonging to the third division, seventh squad, fifth camp! Gather here!”

”Those belonging to the first division, second squad, third camp! Here, here! F*cking hell, faster!”

…

”Assemble!”

”Stop running! Come and assemble!”

Once Han Sanhe's flag of the God of War was raised and he appeared with indifference, a big chunk of the army's panic and defeated emotions had been instantly quelled. An increasing number of Dongxuan soldiers were falling into formation behind Han Sanhe again. The calm and steady aura of a militant was being conjured once again.

This was where Han Sanhe excelled. He knew well his strengths and weaknesses. It was true that he was nicknamed the continent's God of War but he was no real God. When the rout began, it would be useless even if he displayed the God of War's flag; he would be taking after Zhan Ge and washed down by the routing army. Then, it would really be realizing their defeat without any chance to do anything about it.

On that account, he had acted ahead of time and waited with a raised flag hundreds of miles away from the routed troop.

There had to be a limit for the retreating army and these withdrawing soldiers had to be tired out by fleeing. More importantly, their terror about the unknown power must be near mind-numbing and the moment would come when they needed support, a backbone. Only then would his abrupt presence be able to make an impact.

The theory sounded simple, but there were, at most, three people in the entire continent who were able to step out dauntingly and hold the routed army back from utter defeat under such circumstances!

To achieve such a feat, the commanding marshal must have a standard of calmness rendered from countless wars as well as an unsurpassable reputation in the military. None of these two aspects could be absent.

As Dongxuan's routed soldiers ebbed from every direction, Han Sanhe's spot looked like a solid rock amidst the raging sea from afar. The collapsing army that was like a raging, retreating tide turned into a slow stream at once after passing the calm rock of Han Sanhe; they then stopped and redirected their flow.

It was a miracle, akin to a rock stopping the advance of a fierce tidal wave.

Zhan Ge was close to vomiting blood as he retreated along the way, being swept by the rest of his troop. When he finally came close and slowed down, the temptation to behead people to subdue the scattered soldiers was strong. It was only then that he realized the speed of the people fleeing around him was impossibly slow. In fact, they no longer seemed to be running away. It was more like they were walking forward slowly.

Zhan Ge sucked in a deep breath and looked over to where they were walking towards. Once he took in the sight of the solemn army formation, Zhan Ge teared up as he sobbed, ”Teacher…”

Han Sanhe kept stationary without saying anything. His gaze was calm and he only lightly, faintly, waved his arm.

Zhan Ge suddenly felt energized and he walked over with large strides. The few steps were enough to recover the calm on his face. When he walked to position himself behind Han Sanhe, Zhan Ge was already fully composed; the expression of failure, defeat, and dismay had vanished.