The war drums exploded, shaking heaven and earth.Thick oxhide drums were pounded by strong men, their thunder rolling through ten miles of clouds, trembling the ground. Dust rose from the camp, swirling to blot out half the sky.
Xiang Yu sat atop his steed Zhui, straight as a pine. His black iron armor fit perfectly, each plate quenched in black iron liquid, glinting coldly. His shoulder guards bore ferocious beast heads; between the plates still clung fresh bloodstains from yesterday's battle.
His eyes were cold stars, sharp enough to pierce the heart. He glanced at the Macedonian phalanx, calm as ever, only bottomless indifference.
Half a step beside him, strategist Chen Ping was serene. Unarmored and unarmed, his gaze burned bright, taking in the whole field. Unmatched in wit, he read men and mastered war—Xiang Yu's invisible blade on his western campaign.
To the left, Han Xin wore silver armor bright as frost, sword at his waist, upright as a spear. His face stern, eyes sharp as eagles, he had already mapped the enemy's formation, weaknesses and routes. Known as the Immortal of War, he waited only for the overlord's order to strike like thunder.
Xiang Yu's thin lips parted. He spoke one word, not loud, but with unchallengeable majesty, cutting through dust to every soldier:
"Shoot!"
No test, no words, no pre-battle taunts, no "fair duel." To Xiang Yu, war was no game. Only a thunderous blow, defeating the enemy at the least cost, was the true way. The Eastern Legion struck with a nation-killing move.
Chen Ping flicked his feather fan softly and reported:"My Lord, the Macedonian phalanx is dense and solid, flawless from the front—but it fears heavy crossbows. If our bed crossbows and ten-thousand-jin divine crossbows fire together, they will pierce the formation in one strike, cutting their front from rear."
He lifted his gaze to the war machines, certain:"These divine weapons are the peak of Eastern craftsmanship. The West has never seen their like."
Han Xin nodded calmly:"Their formation is tight but lacks shield cover. One volley and they will break. Alexander's undefeated myth will be shattered."
One in counsel, one in power—their strategies matched the overlord's tyranny perfectly.
Dozens of giant bed crossbows rolled to the front, like iron mountains on the plain. Each stood over three zhang tall, two wide, frames of century-old oak wrapped in refined iron, bearing tremendous force. Their arms were thick as a man's waist, tough old wood that had weathered a hundred years. The bowstrings were not animal sinew, but twisted refined steel, glinting silver. When drawn, they hummed deeply, like a dormant beast gathering strength.
Ten sturdy men stood by each crossbow, bare-chested, muscles knotted, veins bulging. They gripped the winch, bending and straining to draw the string inch by inch. Sweat slid from their brows, hitting the ground and evaporating at once. Each pull made the frame creak, yet it stood firm as a mountain.
Each bolt was over a zhang long, its iron head axe-sharp, with three blood grooves to tear flesh. The shaft was hardwood wrapped in iron, coated in tung oil, carved with spiral lines to cut air and boost penetration. Each bolt weighed a hundred catties—too heavy for ordinary men to lift—yet the crossbows launched them like shooting stars.
Behind them stretched an endless line of ten-thousand-jin divine crossbows.These were standard heavy crossbows of the Eastern Legion, forged entirely in iron, drawing power dozens of times that of ordinary bows. Their bolts were heavy armor-piercing types, thick-shafted, thick-headed, made to crush heavy armor, tight formations and hard shields—unstoppable.
Nearly ten thousand triple heavy crossbows lined up, forming an impenetrable iron forest. Each cast iron body was light yet strong, with three arms firing three bolts at once. Shooters worked in threes: one winding, one loading, one aiming. They wore black soft armor, daggers at their waists, focused and steady. Fingers on triggers, eyes locked, they waited. The dense weapons blotted out the sun, plunging the field into dimness, a suffocating pressure settling over the plain.
This was no army. It was a war beast born only for destruction. Every bolt held death; every machine brewed slaughter.
Chen Ping's fan stilled."My Lord, fire."
Han Xin's eyes flashed cold."One strike to end this."
"FIRE!!!"
Xiang Yu's roar boomed like a bell, warping the air.
In the next breath, heaven and earth turned upside down!
BOOM!!!
The bed crossbows fired first.Ten men released the winch at once. The strings snapped back with a deafening shriek. Thick iron bolts tore through the air like black lightning, slamming into the phalanx with apocalyptic force.
SPLURT!!!
Flesh exploded nonstop, like ripe fruit smashed. Front-line Macedonian soldiers had no time to scream before they were pinned through, man and spear. The iron heads pierced bronze breastplates, tore muscle and bone, driving them into the ground. The bolts kept going, piercing three more men before embedding deep in the soil, their tails still trembling.
Armor shattered, bones snapped, blood sprayed like rain, dying the grass red. Bronze-cloaked men were as fragile as paper. Some had necks split open; some were run through the chest, twitching into death; some were nailed to the ground, sacrifices to the bolts.
Then the ten-thousand-jin heavy crossbows volleyed as one!Countless armor-piercing bolts howled out, heavy and powerful, their air-slicing roar deafening, truly unstoppable.
Triple bolts poured like a storm, darkening the sky and slamming into the Western Legion. Three bolts formed a triangle, too fast for the eye to see, only blurry silver lines. They cut through the air with a dense whoosh, like a swarm of locusts.
The Macedonians' proud bronze armor was worthless before this steel storm. Spear walls were pierced instantly, spears snapping like dry branches. Shields were riddled, some blown right through, men and shields falling together.
"AHHH!!!""Help!""What monster is this…"
Screams, cracks, bolts tearing flesh, armor shattering—all merged into a desperate symphony of death. The field erupted in blood and limbs. The once-impenetrable phalanx was shot apart, pierced and smashed!
One volley, men and horses torn to pieces!
Alexander stood in the ranks, his face pale, pupils shrinking, hand on his spear trembling. He gripped his royal bronze spear so tight his knuckles whitened. He had swept Eurasia for decades, never seeing such terrifying, overbearing, unreasonable ranged weapons.
He had seen Persian archers, their arrows rain but fail heavy armor; Indian elephant troops, their arrows not felling the beasts; Greek archers, precise but only picking men off, not covering the field in slaughter.
But this Eastern Legion had raised long-range destruction to a new level.
"This is not war…" Alexander muttered hoarsely, fear leaking through. "This is crushing!"
He finally understood: he faced no ordinary Eastern overlord.He faced a war beast, holding the power to destroy nations, glorying in overwhelming victory.
Xiang Yu stood before his lines. Zhui neighed proudly, hooves scraping dust. He watched the field of corpses and blood, the once-arrogant phalanx turned to hell, and his face did not move.
Chen Ping glanced at the collapsing Western lines and smiled faintly:"My Lord, the crossbow formation has prevailed. The enemy is terrified."
Han Xin's eyes were cold, scanning every detail:"The phalanx is broken. No chance to turn the tide."
One civil, one military, one wit, one courage—they made the overlord's might even more earth-shaking.
Xiang Yu slowly raised a hand, spread his fingers, then clenched it into a fist. The simple action pressed the air heavier. His voice rolled over the field, every word unyielding:
"This… is only an appetizer!"
His men roared in unison, shaking the skies, their fighting will blazing. They had long grown used to such crushing victories, yet still burned with pride and zeal.
Xiang Yu glanced at the crossbows, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He had ordered craftsmen to build them day and night. The East gathered master artisans whose skill in iron, wood, winding and calibration reached perfection. These crossbows were symbols of Eastern power, his blades to conquer the West.
He turned to Alexander, gaze icy. Blood stained the emperor, his bronze armor riddled with bolt marks. His guards clustered around him, nervous, their old arrogance gone.
"You have your phalanx. I have my ten thousand crossbows."
Xiang Yu's voice carried, mocking yet true:"You have your path of conquest. I have mine to sweep the eight wastelands."
"You think your Macedonian phalanx is an unbreakable wall?" He raised an arm toward the shattered formation. "Before my unstoppable bolts, it is only scrap iron waiting to be broken."
Alexander gritted his teeth, wanting to retort, yet found no words. The crossbows' power weighed on him like a mountain. His once-proud tactics felt hollow before absolute force.
Xiang Yu lifted his overlord spear, its tip aimed straight at Alexander, tone calm but tyrannical:
"Today, I will make you remember—"
"Before me, Xiang Yu,"
"your so-called Western Lion is but a lamb to the slaughter!"
"Your undefeated legion? Nothing but pulp under my bolts!"
Heaven and earth echoed with the Eastern overlord's arrogance, while the crossbow formation kept firing. Silver bolts rained down unceasingly. The phalanx collapsed completely; men fled in all directions, yet could not escape the storm.
Chen Ping flicked his fan, gazing west:"After this battle, no one in the West will dare defy you, My Lord."
Han Xin rested a hand on his sword, eyes deep:"The road of sweeping conquest begins here."
The setting sun bled red over the battlefield, dying blood and limbs deeper. Zhui's hooves caked in mud and blood still stood proud. Xiang Yu sat tall, an unshakable war god, overlooking the land he had just conquered.
The dragon roared through the nine heavens.The lion's soul was broken.
The true crushing… had only just begun!