The fire in the valley behind the rebel army's main camp burned throughout the night. It was no ordinary blaze. Ignited by Tran Kien's solar flame, imbued with Primordial Chaos Qi, and catching onto oil-soaked provisions, it burned with a ferocious and eerie intensity that could not be quenched. The colossal pillar of black smoke soared into the heavens like the Reaper's ink brush, painting a massive question mark across the sky of Thang Long regarding the fate of the hundred-thousand-strong army.
When the first rays of dawn broke, the scene revealed was a purgatory on earth. The entire grain storehouse, the lifeblood of the army, had been reduced to a heap of pitch-black, smoldering ashes. The acrid stench of charred grain, mingling with the scent of blood and despair, permeated the air.
The news of the burned provisions, coupled with the severing of the Marquis's commander banner right before the central tent, spread through the ranks faster than the fire itself, acting like a massive earthquake.
"It's over! The provisions are completely gone! We're going to starve to death!" "Even the Marquis's commander banner was cut down! This is an omen of terrible calamity! Heaven has forsaken us!" "The enemy infiltrated the very heart of the camp without anyone noticing. What is the point of fighting with such defenses?"
The army's morale collapsed into absolute chaos.
This hundred-thousand-strong army was, from the start, a motley crew bound together only by profit and their fear of the Marquis's prestige. Now, the profit (provisions) was gone, and the prestige (the banner) had been humiliated. The fragile thread connecting them was completely severed.
Within the central command tent, the two Foundation Establishment experts—who had barely managed to escape Thiet Phu's pursuit and quell the rioting troops after a grueling night—now had faces as white as paper. They looked at the shattered commander banner on the ground, then at each other, their eyes brimming with terror.
"What do we do now?" one asked, his voice trembling. "Without provisions, the army will disintegrate on its own in three days at most!" "We must report to the Marquis!" the other said decisively. "Only he can make the decision!"
But they did not know that their messenger's path had already been blocked.
On a secret trail leading out of the encampment, Tran Kien had not left. He sat upon a tree branch, waiting quietly. He knew the Marquis would certainly have arranged a secret communication route. And the messenger was the biggest fish he needed to catch.
Sure enough, a black silhouette, moving with extreme agility, came rushing along the path. Tran Kien gave him no chance. The moment the man passed beneath the tree, a figure dropped silently behind him.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
The dark figure was horrified and tried to turn around. But it was too late. A hand had already clamped onto the back of his neck. A stream of ice-cold Primordial Chaos Qi pierced straight in, sealing all of his meridians.
An hour later. Within a secret cave, Tran Kien had obtained all the information he required. The Marquis of Vinh An indeed had more than one storehouse. He had another, smaller, secret stash hidden in an abandoned temple not far away. However, those provisions were only sufficient for his most elite troops, not for a hundred thousand men.
Tran Kien had also learned of the Marquis's contingency plan. He had ordered that if the situation turned unfavorable, they were to immediately abandon the siege and retreat southward with full force to preserve their strength.
"Want to retreat?" Tran Kien sneered. "It won't be that easy."
He did not kill the messenger. He knocked him unconscious. Then, perfectly mimicking the Marquis's handwriting, he forged a secret missive. The contents were simple: Defend to the death! The secret provisions will be dispatched as reinforcements immediately. Anyone who dares retreat without orders will have three generations of their family exterminated!
Next, he sought out Thiet Phu. "Take a hundred Blood Fiend Guards," he commanded. "Go to that temple. There is no need to plunder the grain. Just set it ablaze. Burn it to the ground for me."
The storm was pushed to its absolute climax. The rebel army, having received the order to "defend to the death," yet not receiving a single grain of rice in reinforcement, plunged into utter despair. Simultaneously, the news that the secret storehouse had also been burned acted as the final drop that caused the cup to overflow.
Internal rebellion truly erupted. The martial world gangs and demonic factions began to pillage one another, fighting over the meager scraps of remaining food. The Marquis's elite troops attempted to suppress them, resulting in a blood-soaked slaughter within their own ranks.
Meanwhile, atop the walls of Thang Long, Duke Dinh Quoc and Tao Chinh received Tran Kien's report in sheer disbelief.
"Alone... he did it all alone?" Duke Dinh Quoc murmured, his tiger-eyes filled with shock. "No," Tao Chinh shook his head, his gaze profound. "Not alone. But with an entire legacy."
They did not miss this golden opportunity.
"OPEN THE GATES! ALL FORCES, SALLY FORTH!!!"
The war drums of the imperial army resounded with majestic fury for the first time in days. A total counter-offensive officially commenced.
The game in the imperial capital had reached the time to sweep the board clean.