The fortress that was said to be as solid as a golden soup fortress was like paper before the Celestial Thunder of the Heavenly Dao; in an instant half of it collapsed, leaving only broken walls and shattered rubble in utter ruin.
Within the stockade, the private retainers wailed for their fathers and mothers, the casualties were horrific; those who stubbornly resisted were turned to ash on the spot, and the survivors were so terrified their souls nearly fled their bodies, throwing down their weapons and dropping to their knees in surrender, with not a shred of will to resist remaining.
In the territory of Xu State, the momentum was even more overwhelming.
The local gentry coerced tens of thousands of villagers, mustering private soldiers and strong men to form a dense Grand Array, blocking the throat of the official road, delusionally hoping to use their numerical superiority to force back the Warriors and Daoist Soldiers, their arrogance soaring to the heavens.
