The second volley came in an instant.
Xiang Yu stood before the formation, his Wuzhui horse steady-hoofed on the slightly heated earth.Wild wind swept the battlefield, swirling blood and dust from the last arrow rain into the sky, yet could not shake the overwhelming, mountain-like oppression of the Conqueror.His black armor bore faint bloodstains; his spear slanted toward the ground, blood dripping drop by drop into the mud, blooming tiny, eerie flowers of blood.
The killing intent in his eyes was no mere battle will,but cold fury that overlooked all living things and held power over life and death.
He slashed his Overlord Spear through the air, crisp and decisive, no hesitation at all.Two cold words, sharp as ice, burst from his lips:
"Fire again!"
BOOM——!!!
A deafening blast almost split the sky.
The giant crossbows, long ready, fired as one.Iron bolts thick as arms and over a zhang long tore through the air with earth-shaking force, screaming like thunder from the nine heavens, slamming violently into the already tattered Macedonian phalanx.
This time, the Macedonian soldiers could hold no longer.
The first volley had shattered their proud shield wall—shields broken, shafts snapped, front ranks decimated.Survivors gritted their teeth and struggled to prop up a crumbling line with bodies, broken shields, and splintered spears.But before this second volley, all struggle was pale and ridiculous.
Where the bolts passed, shields burst like paper, armor was torn open, bodies pierced straight through.Blood and flesh sprayed everywhere; screams rose one after another.The once-ordered formation was ripped open several gaping, bone-deep wounds in an instant,reduced to tattered ruins like dead branches beaten by storm.
The triple divine crossbows followed.
A thousand powerful bows fired together. Arrows poured like a tide, dense and dark, blocking most of the sky.The arrow rain fell without blind spot, without mercy, like a scythe swung by Death, harvesting lives without pity.
The dull thud of arrows piercing flesh echoed endlessly—pfft, pfft—making one's scalp tingle.Soldiers fell in rows. Some were turned into porcupines on the spot; some were flung backward by the force; some lay gravely wounded in blood, wailing in agony across the plain, chilling to hear.
What Macedonian elite, what heavy infantry, what iron will to fight to the death—
Under the brutal crush of ten-thousand-jin divine crossbows and giant ballistae,all so-called dignity, glory, and faith were torn to shreds, trampled into blood-mud, ground to powder.
War, sometimes, needs no subtle tactics, no fancy skills.
When one side's power is enough to crush all,what remains is only one-sided slaughter.
Slightly behind the formation, Han Xin wore light soft armor and held a short ji.He watched the bloody scene calmly.He did not roar like common soldiers, nor show fear.His eyes were clear and deep, as if embracing the entire battlefield.
His personal guards stared in shock at the Macedonians falling like grass, and whispered in awe:
"General Han… this… this is too powerful!Those so-called invincible legions of the West break so easily before the Overlord!"
"Yes! One volley from the crossbows collapsed them.At this rate, we won't even need to charge—they'll break on their own!"
Han Xin nodded slightly, no surprise on his face, and spoke calmly:
"The Macedonian phalanx excels in order, toughness, and frontal impact, good for large-scale positional warfare and advance.But its greatest weakness is bulk, slowness, poor adaptability, and extreme dependence on formation.Once the shield wall breaks and the formation scatters, they become sheep without armor, waiting to be slaughtered."
He paused, his gaze falling on Xiang Yu's tall, pine-straight figure, a complex glint in his eyes.
"The Overlord's way of war has always been strength over skill, power over weakness, no empty tricks.He saw clearly: Macedonia's pride lay in shields, formation, and unity.So he used the most violent, direct method—first shatter their shields, then disorder their formation, finally… crush all their confidence completely."
One guard could not help asking:"General Han, shall we advance in full force and rout them in one strike?"
Han Xin shook his head gently, his eyes turning to the silent, mountain-like heavy cavalry behind Xiang Yu, a faint smile tugging at his lips:
"No rush. The Overlord has his own plan.Watch closely—the real killing move has not yet moved."
Not far from Han Xin, Chen Ping wore a long robe and flicked a feather fan lightly, relaxed and unhurried, utterly out of place on the bloody battlefield.A gentle smile lingered on his face, as if he watched not a mountain of corpses and sea of blood, but a grand performance.
Several soldiers guarding him gripped their weapons nervously, alert on all sides.But Chen Ping himself remained calm, as if everything was under control.
He looked at the Macedonian legion on the edge of collapse, then at the domineering figure before the formation, and murmured softly, only audible to himself:
"Alexander, swept the West, expanded ten thousand li, undefeated all his life, hailed as the Lion of the West—how majestic.But seeing him today… just so-so."
"In the face of absolute power, so-called legend, reputation, undefeated myth are nothing but a joke."
"The Overlord's move is simple, direct, brutal, yet most effective.First drain the enemy's morale with long-range fire, tear their formation, then finish with a heavy hammer…Heh—seemingly reckless, in truth extremely precise."
Chen Ping flicked his feather fan, wisdom shining in his eyes.
"Lion of the West?Today, you shall learn the fangs of the Eastern Dragon."
On the battlefield, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Alexander stood among the remaining phalanx.His golden armor dimmed in smoke; his once-handsome, resolute face twisted with rage.His eyes bloodshot, chest heaving violently, every breath thick with blood.
He watched his invincible army, which had swept across Europe and Asia, harvested like weeds, falling in rows.Blood dyed the earth; wails shook heaven and earth.His elite veterans, his invincible phalanx—under enemy long-range strikes, they could not even reach the enemy lines.
They fought with all they had, stood their ground, blocked arrows with bodies, defended glory with lives.
Yet all was in vain.
"Damned… damned!!!"
Alexander gripped his spear tightly, knuckles white, veins bulging, arm trembling from strain.He wanted to roar, charge, fight the Eastern Conqueror himself—but he could not.
He was commander. If he moved, the already collapsing legion would disintegrate instantly.
A deep sense of powerlessness coiled around his heart like a cold serpent, suffocating him.
Never in his life had he felt so humiliated, so hopeless.
He had defeated countless foes, breached countless strong cities, conquered countless nations.But today, on this strange Eastern land, facing an unknown Overlord,he felt for the first time what despair was, what utter powerlessness was.
The phalanx kept collapsing, soldiers kept falling, blood streaming into brooks.
The pride of the Lion of the West was being ground to dust bit by bit.
At this critical moment, one breath before the Western legion completely broke and scattered—
Before the formation, Xiang Yu slowly raised his head.No emotion stirred in his dark eyes, only bottomless coldness.
He lifted his Overlord Spear again, pointing straight at the tattered Macedonian legion, and spoke coldly, his voice like iron striking ground, echoing across the battlefield:
"Iron Pagoda… charge!!!"
BOOM——!!!
A great roar—not clashing weapons, not arrows cutting air, but the earth itself shaking violently.
The entire battlefield trembled.
Behind Xiang Yu, the heavy cavalry that had stood silent like black mountains finally moved.
Iron Pagoda.
Man and horse clad in heavy black armor, forged a thousand times, unyieldingly hard.Horses fully covered, only their red, furious eyes exposed, snorting thick white breath.Riders tall and strong, murderous as fiends from hell, holding heavy lances, eyes cold and emotionless.
Long Ju took the lead at the front of the Iron Pagoda.
His armor thicker than ordinary riders', his giant iron spear weighing a hundred jin, tip glinting coldly, terrifying to behold.Long Ju was Xiang Yu's top fierce general, brave and fearless, deeply trusted.This world-famed Iron Pagoda was under his direct command.
At Xiang Yu's order, Long Ju's eyes blazed with battle will. He roared to the heavens, shaking all directions:
"By the Overlord's command—Iron Pagoda, follow me!!!"
"Kill——!!!"
BOOM——!!!
The Iron Pagoda accelerated.
At first, slow steps, heavy hooves striking the ground with deep, powerful thuds.Step by step, faster and faster, until they became an unstoppable black torrent, a steel mountain crushing everything, rolling toward the Macedonian remnants.
Armor plates scraped against each other in a piercing, chilling sound.
Hooves thundered, shaking heaven and earth.
A thousand riders charging as one, momentum devouring the sky!
No fancy moves, no testing, no circling.
Only the most primitive, furious, savage, direct frontal crush!
This was the Iron Pagoda.
This was Xiang Yu's sharpest, most terrifying, unstoppable killing move.
"Kill——!!!"
War cries shook the world. The black torrent crashed into the Macedonian remnants in an instant.
Pfft——!!!Crack——!!!
Two sounds exploded together, drowning the battlefield.
Pfft—the sound of iron lances piercing flesh.Crack—the sound of bones crushed, armor flattened.
Horses' screams, soldiers' desperate wails, weapons snapping, armor clashing…All mixed into a tragic, furious symphony of war.
Remaining Macedonian soldiers stared wildly and fought desperately.They raised spears and stabbed with all their strength at the charging Iron Pagoda.
Ding——!!!
Spears struck the heavy armor, only a clear crisp sound—not even a faint white mark, let alone piercing defense.
The next moment, massive impact struck.
Some soldiers were slammed by horses, flying like kites with broken strings, spitting blood, falling motionless.Some were pierced through and lifted high, blood running down the lance.Some could not dodge, trampled by hooves, instantly mashed into pulp, bloody and hideous.
The so-called unbreakable Macedonian phalanx was smashed, torn, trampled flat like paper before the Iron Pagoda.
The so-called impenetrable line collapsed in the blink of an eye.
The so-called world-conquering Lion Legion of the West had no power to resist before this true war beast, this invincible Eastern heavy cavalry—only fate to be slaughtered, crushed, utterly destroyed.
Long Ju led the charge like a blade piercing the enemy's heart.His iron spear swept and stabbed, each strike claiming several lives.None stood in his way. Black armor soaked in blood, he looked like an Asura risen from a sea of blood, terrifyingly fierce.
"Who blocks me—dies!!!"
He roared repeatedly, momentum rising.Under his lead, the Iron Pagoda broke through all obstacles, pushing forward unimpeded.
Where the Iron Pagoda passed, corpses paved the road, rivers of blood flowed.
The earth stained red, limbs scattered everywhere, stench of blood sharp and nauseating.
The Western legion was completely broken.Completely routed.Completely chaotic.
No formation, no discipline, no resistance left.
Soldiers threw away armor and weapons, fled in all directions, crying and screaming, desperate to escape this hell on earth.But before the high-speed charging Iron Pagoda, their flight was feeble.They were caught from behind and cut down one by one.
Defeat like a landslide.
Alexander stood frozen, all strength drained from his body.
His guards fell one by one, blood splattering his golden armor, his face.Warm blood slid down his cheeks to the ground, yet could not warm his utterly cold, desperate heart.
He gripped his spear tightly, arm trembling, knuckles white,yet not even a chance to fight.
The enemy was too strong.
Strong enough to make him despair, doubt his life,collapse all confidence and pride built over a lifetime.
He stared at the heavy cavalry like black fiends, at the Conqueror coldly overlooking all before the formation, and muttered hoarsely, filled with endless despair and disbelief:
"So this… is the power of the Eastern Conqueror…"
"This is not war… not fair battle…"
"This is… a dead end."
"A true, hopeless dead end."
His lifelong undefeated myth shattered completely at this moment.
Before the formation.
Xiang Yu stood quietly, coldly watching this one-sided crush, one-sided slaughter.No expression, no pity, no pleasure—only indifference and dominance over life and death, overlooking all beings.
As if the mountain of corpses and sea of blood before him were nothing but dust and grass.
He slowly rode forward.
Wuzhui horse stepped steadily over corpses, red blood, broken weapons and spears,step by step, unhurried, toward Alexander.
Each step felt like stamping on Alexander's heart, on the hearts of all remaining Macedonian soldiers.
Oppression, like mountains and seas, closed in.
Finally, Xiang Yu stopped, a hundred zhang apart from Alexander.
Near enough to see each other's faces, far enough for his voice to reach every ear clearly.
Xiang Yu lifted his head slightly, dark eyes falling on Alexander, calm yet suffocatingly oppressive.
He spoke slowly, not loud, but clear, cold, domineering, like heavenly judgment, echoing across the battlefield:
"Alexander."
"You wanted war?"
"You swept the West, named yourself Lion of the West?"
"You brought your invincible legion to fight me?"
He paused, voice suddenly sharp as thunder:
"Now tell me—"
"Where is your shield?"
"Where is your formation?"
"Where are your soldiers?"
"Your glory, your pride, your undefeated myth…"
"Which of them have I NOT crushed?!"
One sentence, like ten-thousand-jin thunder, slammed into Alexander's heart.
Alexander trembled violently, face as pale as paper, lips shaking, unable to speak a word.
He had nothing to say.
No words to reply.
Smoke filled the air, blood dyed the sky.
Wild wind swept the battlefield, carrying thick, clotted blood, lifting Xiang Yu's black cloak, flapping loudly.
The Lion of the West was driven to the edge, dignity shattered, no power to resist.
But the Eastern Dragon had just bared its true fangs, its true power only beginning.
This clash between East and West, this peak battle, was far from over.
And the legend of the Overlord had only just begun.
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