Chapter 1158 - 1099. Attack On Qinghai Plateau
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(A/N: Don’t forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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This was not just another border skirmish. This was the final stroke of the brush on the map of the continent. They were marching to unify the land under the Hengyuan banner, to permanently erase the chaotic, bloody lines drawn by decades of warlord ambition, and to lay claim to a vast, new western territory in the name of Emperor Lie Fan. The absolute pacification of the realm was no longer a distant dream, it was waiting for them at the top of the plateau.
High above the advancing sea of black armor, the atmosphere within the hastily constructed stone barricades of the League was entirely different. It was a suffocating nightmare of freezing desperation.
Within a crude, wind battered command tent staked precariously near the primary access ravine, the three remaining lords of the northwest, Lu Kan, Mang Xing, and Yang Qiu, huddled around a meager, smoking brazier. Their fine silk robes were torn and stained with dirt, their faces were hollow, their lips cracked and blue from the oxygen deprived altitude and the biting cold.
The ground beneath their boots trembled faintly, a rhythmic vibration carrying the terrifying news of the Hengyuan advance.
"They are coming," Mang Xing whispered, his voice trembling as he stared blindly into the dying embers. "The drums. They don’t stop. They never stop."
"Then let them come," Lu Kan snarled, though the bravado in his voice was thin and brittle, betrayed by the frantic, terrified darting of his eyes. He gripped the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. "We hold the high ground. The ravines are too narrow for their massive formations. We will bleed them on the ice. We drop the boulders, we fire the ballistas, and we make them pay for every single step!"
Yang Qiu looked up from the table, his expression a mask of grim, absolute despair. "Bleed them? With what, Lu Kan? Our men are starving. Yan Xing and Cheng Li took half our supplies when they drove their daggers into our backs. The morale is entirely shattered. We are not fighting to win anymore. We are simply fighting because we have nowhere left to run."
The brutal, unvarnished truth hung heavily in the freezing tent.