The Strife of Chaos Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Final Battle

A hundred years ago, within Shu-Han City, then still called Lianshan Pass.

“General, let us go to battle.” A black-armored warrior pleaded earnestly with the commander before him.

At the forefront stood a young man, clad in silver-gray scale armor, bearing a resemblance to Huo Qing, though he was even younger. Yet the armor, which should have gleamed brilliantly, was now covered in dust, its pauldrons scored with numerous savage scars.

“No, we still haven’t found a way to redirect the backlash. If you go to the battlefield now, that vortex will devour you,” Huo Qubing said in a low voice.

“General, too many brothers have already sacrificed their lives. I can’t bear to hide in the rear any longer. Even if it means death, I want to die honorably on the battlefield.” The once steadfast soldier now shed tears; these many days, they had bid farewell to countless brothers with whom they had once braved life and death.

Huo Qubing lowered his eyes, falling into silence. He, too, felt the pain of every soldier lost in battle. These were men he had trained day by day. For someone born into a military life, these warriors were no different from family.

Seeing the general still torn, the soldier pressed on, “General, I am not the only one who feels this way. Every brother in the Martial Formation holds a fire in his heart. We are soldiers—from the moment we enlisted, our lives were pledged to the nation. Death is our destined end. If our deaths can bring victory, then it is worth it.”

“Ah, Ah Hu, you are right. I have cared too much about the outcome.” Looking up at his men, Huo Qubing seemed to have reached a decision.

Grasping his weapon, the general—only twenty-five years of age—walked with heavy steps to stand before the resting soldiers. Some were bandaging wounded comrades; others sat dazed, staring into the distance.

“Soldiers, are you willing to follow me into battle with your lives?”

At the sound of Huo Qubing’s voice, the soldiers all lifted their heads to look at him. One by one, the black-armored men rose, raising their weapons high, and in unison shouted, “Sacrifice our bodies, protect our country!”

“Sacrifice our bodies, protect our country!”

“Sacrifice our bodies, protect our country!”

Since the war began, this unit—meant to be the main force—had been forced to remain behind because of the backlash from Martial Essence Manifestation, watching as ordinary soldiers threw themselves into the fray. Their frustration was beyond words.

Now, at last, they were given the chance to enter the field of battle. Even if this would cost them their lives, even if it would be their final fight, they felt no fear or hesitation. Their hearts blazed only with the fire of war and the resolve to defend their homeland. In this moment, their spirits were united as one, and this spirit in their last battle became the symbol of the Storm Battalion for generations to come.

The soldiers formed a neat phalanx, and Huo Qubing stood at their head.

“General, let us go. The nation still needs you for many things.”

Huo Qubing waved his hand, replying, “I am a general of the Empire. To fight to the death for the safety of the nation is my duty. If I did not fight at your side, I would regret it for the rest of my life.” With a smile to the soldier, Huo Qubing marched towards the city gate.

Mongol camp.

“Report, General! A unit has just emerged from the Han city, and the leader appears to be Huo Qubing himself.”

“What? Those cowards finally dare to come out. Assemble the troops, we’ll annihilate them without a trace.” The Mongol general excitedly brandished his scimitar and strode out.

A cavalry force of several thousand soon appeared before the Storm Battalion. The Mongol commander at the front jeered loudly, “Huo Qubing, you’ve finally come out to die!”

Huo Qubing ignored him, slowly raising his long weapon.

“Attack!” Black Martial Essence rose from the ground like a massive vortex, spinning violently and surging forward with the soldiers’ charge.

“We have Martial Formations too! On my command—manifest!” With a slash of his scimitar, a giant gray wolf appeared before the Mongol cavalry.

“Mongol cavalry, Prairie Divine Wolf!”

With no further preamble, the two armies collided. The Mongol general’s scimitar slashed down, a sharp aura bearing down. Huo Qubing met it with his weapon, blocking the blow steadily.

Immediately, a spiraling force traveled along the weapons towards the Mongol commander, shattering the leather armor on his chest in an instant. Only his powerful protective martial essence saved his life.

“What is this?” clutching his aching chest, the Mongol general asked in shock.

“The Vortex Martial Essence,” Huo Qubing replied coldly, then raised his blade high.

“Brothers, this is our first battle, but it is also our last. Storm Battalion, arise!”

On his command, each soldier of the Storm Battalion pushed their martial essence to the limit. Those of lesser cultivation were already bleeding from their seven orifices; even Huo Qubing’s eyes streamed with crimson blood.

Seeing this, the Mongol cavalry finally panicked. “What is this? Huo Qubing, are you seeking death?”

The black martial essence swept into a massive tornado. The giant wolf was torn apart in agony, and the thousands of Mongol cavalry fared no better—some flung into the air, others shredded by the raging vortex.

The enormous storm engulfed not only the cavalry, but even tens of thousands of troops behind them.

In a short span, the once-mighty Mongol army was reduced to a field of broken limbs and wailing survivors. The Storm Battalion, the cause of it all, fared little better. The weak lay dead; the stronger ones clung to life with faint, ragged breaths. At the front, Huo Qubing knelt on one knee, blood streaming continuously from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

“General, I’ll go on ahead,” a soldier behind him managed a pained smile. In that moment, he felt only honor, excitement, and the worth of his fate.

“The rest of the story, Prime Minister, you must have heard already. General Huo, though grievously wounded, led the remaining soldiers in pursuit, reclaiming all lost territory. In the end, he died young from the grievous wounds inflicted by the Storm Battalion’s backlash.”

Cao Cao gazed into the distance, falling into deep silence.

Guo Jia continued, “This is the origin of the Martial Formation. Later, General Huo used his remaining time to improve the Storm Battalion’s martial essence, lessening the backlash of the Vortex, but only reducing it. No soldier of the Storm Battalion in any generation has died a natural death. This became a secret known only to the battalion, and never spoken of to outsiders.”

“So every soldier who joins the Storm Battalion has already surrendered his life?” Cao Cao asked.

Guo Jia nodded silently, saying nothing more.

Cao Cao looked toward the Red River, his voice deep. “If Lin Xuan uses his life to unleash the full power of the Storm Battalion, he could tear apart all ten thousand Qin heavy cavalry. Then our besieging forces would not need to sortie; we could hold the city and even support Beiwei City, catching Bai Qi utterly off guard.”

“Prime Minister, you are entirely correct.”

“The situation calls for it, but I truly cannot bear to sacrifice Lin Xuan for this victory.”

“Prime Minister, those who accomplish great things do not dwell on trifles. Have you not always understood this? And is it not for this very reason that Lin Xuan serves you loyally?”

Cao Cao turned away, leaving the city wall at a measured pace.

Watching him go, Guo Jia could only smile helplessly.

By the Red River.

Just as a hundred years before, a black vortex spun relentlessly. Yet Zhu Long did not attack recklessly; he merely tested the vortex with simple manifestations of martial essence. But all the golden dragons he conjured were swallowed up by the black vortex.

“What kind of Martial Essence Manifestation is this?” he muttered.

Lin Xuan replied with a faint smile, “The Storm Vortex—an essence that can kill you all.”

Zhu Long’s face darkened. He did not want to believe it was so powerful, but Lin Xuan’s confidence made him uneasy.

“Storm Battalion, last battle—Storm Vortex!”

At Lin Xuan’s shout, the black vortex erupted into a massive storm. Zhu Long felt the terrifying tearing force, but Lin Xuan had no intention of merely demonstrating.

Just as at Lianshan Pass a century prior, the raging storm advanced with the Storm Battalion’s charge. The golden dragon spiraled, sucked into the vortex, its body already being torn apart. Zhu Long fought desperately against the storm, but the soldiers behind him could not withstand it; many were swept up, reduced to ashes.

Seeing Lin Xuan bleeding from every orifice, Zhu Long shouted, “You will die too!”

“From the day we joined the Storm Battalion, death has been our constant companion.”

“You—” Zhu Long began, but before he could finish, all were swept into the air—the five thousand soldiers of the Storm Battalion, and Lin Xuan himself.

“Commander, is that a giant tornado ahead?” a scout asked.

Ying Zhengqin gazed at the sky-reaching storm, his heart filled with dread, for he knew that was where Zhu Long’s forces had been.

“Alert the entire army to speed up!”

“Yes, sir!”

By the time Ying Zhengqin and the First Regiment of Qin’s Iron Cavalry reached the Red River, they were greeted by a scene of unspeakable carnage.

Everywhere were severed limbs, scattered viscera, and blood splattered across hundreds of meters. Not a single body remained whole. Seeing the fallen Zhu banner stained in blood, Ying Zhengqin felt a growing sense of foreboding.

“Commander, these corpses belong to two armies. One is Zhu’s force, the other must be the Han’s Storm Battalion.” The soldier reported, still suppressing his nausea.

Realizing something was wrong, Ying Zhengqin immediately ordered a retreat. Though he wished to press on, the sight of so many soldiers shaken by the horrific scene made him realize their fighting spirit was crumbling. He had no choice but to withdraw to Yueming Pass and determine what had happened.

“The Qin army has retreated?” Cao Cao asked, sitting alone in the main hall as Guo Jia entered.

“According to our scouts, Ying Zhengqin has led the First Regiment of Qin’s Iron Cavalry back to Yueming Pass,” Guo Jia replied.

With a helpless sigh, Cao Cao continued, “Give orders to treat the families of all Storm Battalion soldiers with the highest honor. I will petition His Majesty to posthumously name Lin Xuan as General of the Storm Battalion. It is the least we can do for them.”

“A wise decision,” Guo Jia said softly.