Both the eight thousand Cang Shou soldiers and the officials of Tai Cang held their breaths, their gazes locked onto the swirling mist.
The fog obscured the figures within, leaving only faint silhouettes visible. Yet, the moment it appeared, an inexplicable chill gripped the hearts of all who saw it—as if some ancient, savage beast lurked inside, ready to tear them apart.
Ji Qianqing watched intently. Unlike the others, as a Ninth Heaven powerhouse, she could sense three distinct auras within the mist.
Cold. Damp. Rotten.
Yet, the power radiating from them was immense—so much so that even she had to take them seriously.
In all of Tai Cang, a nation of merely six hundred thousand, she had never felt such strength outside of the late king himself.
"Is the Crown Prince colluding with the Gou Quan? Are those Warhound Generals in the mist?"
The thought flickered in her mind, but she dismissed it just as quickly.
"Different races, different forms. There's no benefit in betrayal."
As the mist slowly dissipated, the frigid energy spread across the training grounds. Those with weaker constitutions began to shiver.
Then—they emerged.
Three slender warriors, clad in rusted black armor, stepped forward. Their eyes, visible beneath their helmets, burned a deep crimson, as if forged in the fires of hell itself.
Though their gear was aged and corroded, no one dared underestimate them.
The moment they appeared, a sinister wind howled through the sky, carrying an oppressive aura—one even more terrifying than the Gou Quan's presence.
"These three... are strong," Ji Qianqing murmured.
Grand Archivist Zhao Qu frowned. "I sense no life in them. Where did they come from?"
The crowd's shock only deepened when the mist fully cleared, revealing a thousand more soldiers standing in perfect formation behind the three generals.
The Cang Shou Army instantly turned, weapons drawn, ready for battle. Even Ji Qianqing's sword was halfway unsheathed.
Only when the entire force—three Nether Generals and a thousand Yin Soldiers—stood assembled did Ji Xia finally exhale in relief.
He couldn't gauge their strength, but the reactions of Ji Qianqing and the others told him everything he needed to know.
They were formidable.
The three generals strode forward, ignoring the Cang Shou commander's order to halt. When Ji Qianqing's energy flared—knocking Ji Xia off balance—the generals' eyes blazed brighter.
With a guttural snarl, they drew their blades and lunged at her.
Ji Qianqing met them head-on, her sword glowing dark red as she leaped from the tower's edge.
Ji Xia realized the misunderstanding—the generals thought she had attacked him.
"STOP!" he roared.
Instantly, the three figures twisted mid-air and landed gracefully, kneeling before him.
"Nether Generals Hei Ding, Yin Ding, and An Ding pay homage to our master!"
The thousand Yin Soldiers followed suit, their voices thunderous. "We greet our master!"
Ji Xia blinked. "They can speak? They're not mindless puppets?"
This was an unexpected advantage.
Suppressing a smug grin, he glanced at the stunned officials—even Ji Qianqing and Lu Yu wore expressions of disbelief.
"Rise," he commanded.
"As you will!" The generals stood first, their rusted armor clanking in unison as the soldiers followed.
Lu Yu, his voice trembling, asked, "Your Highness... they obey you?"
Ji Xia nodded. "They are gifts from the Great Wind. From this day forth, they fight for Tai Cang."
Whether they like it or not.
Tears welled in the old minister's eyes as he whispered, "Could this... be Tai Cang's salvation?"
Grand Archivist Zhao Qu observed the lingering doubt among the officials and sighed inwardly.
"If the Great Wind truly sent an avatar, would it not shake the earth and reverse the rivers? Yet now, with death at our gates... perhaps they need this hope."
Stepping forward, he bowed deeply to Ji Xia.
"A month ago, my divinations foretold a sliver of hope for Tai Cang. I thought it lay in surrender—but now I see it was always you, Your Highness."
Then, to the shock of all, he knelt.
"The Great Wind protects."
The message was clear—Zhao Qu acknowledged Ji Xia as the Wind's chosen.
For a moment, the officials froze. In Tai Cang, the Grand Archivist bowed to no one, not even the king.
Then Lu Yu stepped back, knelt, and pressed his palms together. The rest of the officials followed.
Only Ji Qianqing remained standing, her piercing gaze locked onto Ji Xia. Their eyes met—neither yielding.
Finally, with a slow exhale, she too dropped to one knee.
Ji Xia's expression turned solemn.
Ignoring the bowed officials, he reached into his robes and fished out a small pouch.
"The previous Crown Prince had some hiding skills. If they'd found this earlier, I'd have woken up in the Dark Dungeon."
Just as he was about to call for the officials to rise, he caught Ji Qianqing's pointed stare—her finger subtly indicating the pouch.
Glancing down, he saw the Great Wind's emblem stitched onto the fabric.
"Ah... right."
Clearing his throat, he discreetly retrieved the Tai Cang Royal Decree from the pouch and tucked the bag away.
"Rise, my ministers." His voice carried newfound authority.