Since the beginning of the nation, there has only been one general so formidable.

His name was Chen Yang.

He held the high post of Nine Gates Admiral and was titled the Zhennan Prince.

He was a god within the Martial Department, revered by his own people and feared by his enemies.

Wu Chen sat paralyzed on the ground, the overwhelming shock nearly suffocating him. Despite his title as the King of Martial Kings, he was nothing compared to the man before him. At most, he was a mere jester.

Wu Yanting spat out a large mouthful of blood. His eleventh-rank cultivation crumbled to dust, leaving him a ruined man.

CREAK.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor echoed through the deathly silent hall. All around, people retreated in terror, their divine spirits scattered, utterly at a loss.

HISS!

Sharp intakes of breath could be heard one after another. Who could have imagined that this peerless legend would appear before them on such an occasion?

Looking at the imposing, uniformed Chen Yang and the beaming Zhao Dejiang beside him, everyone felt a chill so deep it seemed to freeze the blood in their veins, especially Wu Chen.

"How, how is this possible?!" He... he's the Zhennan Prince?

Chen Yang looked out the window. In the distance, the Lingjin River was clearly visible, its waters crowded with warships poised for battle. They had all shed blood for this cherished land.

"Compared to them, you are not worthy of the uniforms you wear." Chen Yang's simple words struck them like a clap of thunder. Everyone turned pale, their scalps tingling with fear.

This was especially true for the Martial Guards. All traces of inebriation vanished in an instant. They hung their heads low, drenched in cold sweat, not daring to make a move.

Kneeling on the ground, Wu Yanting took several deep breaths and said, steeling himself, "A-Admiral, my master is the number one expert of Qiyun Road, Qingyao Daoist. I implore you, for his sake, to spare my son."

"I promise that nothing like this will ever happen again."

Wu Yanting was no ordinary man, after all. Having calmed himself, he immediately played his trump card: his master. He believed his master's reputation was enough to save his son.

"Qingyao Daoist? We've never heard of him," Yang Hu said seriously, his hands clasped behind his back.

Wu Yanting's mouth twitched. Just as he was about to say more, Chen Yang twirled his fingers slightly, and a faint, purple-gold light swirled into existence.

BOOM!

The floor beneath Wu Yanting's knees suddenly shattered. In the utter silence that followed, he was left completely crippled.

From start to finish, Chen Yang had only moved his fingers. Wu Chen's hair stood on end, his lips quivering. This... is this the might of the Zhennan Prince?

"Yesterday, when you were making trouble in the residential area, I let it slide out of professional courtesy. But you..." Yang Hu said, slowly rolling up his sleeves and shaking his head.

Hearing this, Wu Chen finally understood how incredibly fortunate he was to still be alive.

"And today, you seized this Martial Guard who once bled and wept for this nation. While you were humiliating him, did you ever remember that he, too, once wore the uniform and charged the front lines of battle?"

"He dedicated his entire life to this land," Yang Hu said gravely. "He led from the front, willing to fight to the death without a single regret. What right do you have to treat him this way?"

In an instant, the hall fell silent. Even Wu Chen was overwhelmed by a torrent of thoughts and a mix of complex emotions, realizing he had made a colossal mistake.

Zhao Dejiang's gaze turned radiant as he looked toward Hanyun Valley. He had poured his youth and passionate blood into that rainforest. He reminisced about those glorious, bygone days. If I have another life, I will stand guard at the frontier once more to protect this cherished land.

At this moment, all traces of his prior misery and dejection vanished. He stood tall and radiant, a truly imposing figure who commanded respect.

"Let's go. We'll meet the Martial Guards on the Lingjin River," Chen Yang called to Zhao Dejiang.

What?! Those Martial Guards... they're *his* men? With troops stationed on the Lingjin River, what on earth is the Admiral planning to do? The thought detonated in everyone's minds.

Zhao Dejiang paused for a moment, then nodded emphatically.

"Yang Hu, this place is yours to handle."

"Yes, Admiral!" Yang Hu replied crisply.

Feeling a profound sense of crisis, Wu Chen quickly pulled out his phone and dialed his superior's number in a last, desperate gamble.

"Hello."

"Sir, this is Wu Chen. I... I've offended the Admiral!" Wu Chen forced himself to remain calm, but his voice still trembled uncontrollably.

The other end of the line went silent.

"Sir, you have to save me!"

After a moment, the person on the phone finally spoke. "What did he say?"

"He... he wants to kill me."

"I'll arrange your funeral."

Wu Chen was left speechless. Before he could say anything else, the other person hung up.

The phone clattered to the floor from Wu Chen's limp grasp.

Watching Chen Yang walk out of the hall, Wu Chen's face turned ashen. The pressure constricting his heart left him breathless.

***

Once Yang Hu had left the hotel, the group of three set out for the north bank of the Lingjin River.

「A dozen or so minutes later.」

A small boat appeared on the surface of the Lingjin River, heading toward the warships.

Gazing at the solid, magnificent vessels, Zhao Dejiang murmured with reverence, "With you guarding Hanyun Valley, this cherished land is safe."

"Old Zhao, this is already the third batch," Yang Hu sighed.

Zhao Dejiang fell silent. How could he not understand what Yang Hu meant? The first two batches had been completely wiped out!

Despite having been hardened by the brutal trials of war, Zhao Dejiang couldn't help but tremble. Three batches replaced... just how many lives was that?

Yang Hu seemed lost in memory, his face etched with pain. "The most recent was the Battle of Hundred Flowers Valley."

"Millions of Barbarians mobilized. Led by several Thousand-Faced Yamas, they charged the border with the ferocity of tigers and wolves."

"The fields were strewn with corpses, and the rivers ran with blood."

"Although we completely crushed the Barbarians' fierce onslaught, our Hanyun Valley Martial Guards suffered devastating casualties."

Zhao Dejiang shakily raised his right hand to his forehead in a salute. His weathered eyes, yellowed with age, welled up with tears. It was your sacrifice that protected the peace for the people on the border and provided the fertile ground for this era of prosperity. With men like you, the nation is truly fortunate! I salute you!

「On this day.」

Countless people walking by the Lingjin River saw a figure boarding the warships. Even from a distance, they could feel the majesty and imposing presence emanating from him.

「Not long after.」

The warships' horns blew.

For a full minute, the bellowing horns sounded like thunder cracking across the sky. The sound exploded over the Lingjin River, the rolling waves of noise shaking the entirety of Qiyun Road.

...

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