Hulao Pass, majestically guarding the straits of mountains and rivers.
The city walls tower high, etched with battle scars, the city gates thick and colossal, standing imposingly, with the famed reputation of "One man guards the pass, ten thousand cannot open."
Atop the city tower, an elder dressed in a crimson official robe, hair and beard all white, frowned with a grave gaze towards the outside of the city.
On the plains outside the pass, only a few thousand Daoist soldiers were arrayed.
Their numbers were not many, yet their formation was solemn, their momentum solid and imposing, exuding an invincible pressure.
Inside the pass, sitting on ten thousand troops, armored soldiers like clouds, weapons like forests, supplies abundant.
Having the advantage of timing, geography, and unity, they should have been as stable as Mount Tai.
However, there was not even a half chance of victory in the elder's heart.
