Chapter 251: Why Isn’t the Army Eating Breakfast?!

Chapter 251: Chapter 251: Why Isn’t the Army Eating Breakfast?!

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Following the council of war held within the command tent at Silves City, the entire assembly of generals was roused by Ge Long’s rhetoric—specifically his assertion that "the advantage lies with us."

The apprehension they had previously felt regarding the Title Douluos of the Spirit Hall dissipated significantly.

They immediately accepted their orders and returned to their respective camps to marshal their troops, awaiting only the break of dawn the following day to march northward and, in a single decisive strike, flatten Zhao City—the small frontier town of the Haagen-Dazs Kingdom.

Early the next morning, just as the first faint streaks of pearly-white light appeared on the horizon, the deep, resonant blast of marching horns rang out across the outskirts of Silves City.

The 500,000-strong army of the Heaven Dou Empire stood fully arrayed and poised for departure.

Their battle formations stretched as far as the eye could see; banners and standards snapped vigorously in the wind, bearing the soaring swan emblem of the Heaven Dou Imperial Family and radiating the overwhelming might of the host.

Ge Long, clad in a suit of gilded Marshal’s armor, sat astride a high-level Soul Beast warhorse—a magnificent creature of pure, snowy white.

As he gazed down upon the vast, surging tide of troops beneath him, he felt an even deeper conviction in his heart: victory in today’s battle was absolutely assured.

The massive army began its slow advance toward Zhao City, situated within the territory of Haagen-Dazs; the road beneath their marching feet churned up great clouds of dust.

Ge Long rode at the very vanguard of the column, occasionally raising a hand to signal the army to quicken its pace. His mind was singularly focused on reaching the walls of Zhao City as swiftly as possible—to secure a quick victory, capture this small frontier town, and thereby fully open the gateway for the invasion of the Haagen-Dazs Kingdom.

Halfway through the march, Ge Long’s brow suddenly furrowed slightly.

His gaze swept across a legion moving sluggishly to his flank, and he noticed that every soldier and Soul Master in that unit appeared slightly pale, their footsteps unsteady and faltering.

Many were clutching their stomachs in discomfort, and even the luster of the Soul Rings circling their bodies seemed somewhat dimmed.

They displayed absolutely none of the high-spirited vigor typically associated with an army setting out for war—a stark contrast to the vitality and morale of the other legions surrounding them.

In such a condition, were they to step onto the battlefield, would they not merely drag down the rhythm of the entire army? Ge Long’s face instantly darkened. Turning to the personal guards at his side, he issued a cold command: "Go—fetch me the commander of this legion, at once!"

The guards acknowledged the order and immediately galloped away. Moments later, they returned, leading a middle-aged general clad in the legion’s azure armor to stand before Ge Long.

Upon seeing the Marshal’s displeased expression, the legion commander hastily bowed in salute, his demeanor betraying a hint of unease: "Your subordinate pays his respects to the Marshal!"

Ge Long cast a condescending glance down at him, then pointed a finger emphatically toward the direction of the commander’s legion.

His tone was laced with both dissatisfaction and interrogation: "What exactly is the matter with the legion under your command? They march listlessly, devoid of even the most basic fighting spirit. In such a state, how do you expect them to take the field and slay the enemy?"

"Tell me this: why have the officers and soldiers of your legion gone without breakfast?"

Hearing this, the commander immediately straightened his posture and responded in a loud, clear voice—his tone carrying a firm conviction that seemed to border on a bid for commendation: "Reporting to the Marshal! Your subordinate has issued an order: the entire army is to forgo breakfast for the time being. We shall not eat until we have captured Zhao City, which lies just ahead!"

Upon hearing this, the displeasure in Ge Long’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a look of satisfied approval.

He even went so far as to slap his saddle in delight, bursting into hearty laughter: "Good! A truly excellent resolve—to wait until Zhao City is taken before breaking your fast!"

"With such keen spirit..."

"With such resolve among the troops under my command, how could Zhao City possibly fail to fall? How could the Spirit Hall possibly fail to be defeated!"

He raised his eyes toward the distant horizon, where the faint outline of Zhao City was just becoming visible; the arrogance in his gaze intensified.

With a sweeping wave of his hand, he declared with soaring bravado: "You have done well! Issue my command: let the entire army emulate this legion—abstain from eating for now, and with an unstoppable momentum, drive straight for Zhao City! Once we have taken Zhao City, I shall not only ensure every soldier in the army enjoys a hearty feast, but I will also order the distribution of all the high-quality rations and dried Spirit Beast meat carried with the army, to reward the troops!"

At this point, Ge Long paused, his gaze sweeping across the entire army as he raised his voice: "In my estimation, given the sheer might of my five-hundred-thousand-strong army, the Spirit Hall’s scattered forces are utterly incapable of withstanding a single blow! It will take less than an hour for us to be sitting safely within the walls of Zhao City, enjoying a victory feast!"

Upon hearing this, the surrounding generals vied to voice their agreement and shouted in unison. Their morale was whipped into a frenzy; the army’s marching pace accelerated abruptly as they charged headlong toward Zhao City.

The Legion Commander, filled with elation, accepted the order and returned to his unit to relay the Marshal’s promise of rewards.

Upon learning that substantial rewards awaited them once the city fell, the soldiers under his command instantly felt their spirits lift; their gnawing hunger seemed to dissipate significantly as they each threw every ounce of their strength into the charge.

Mounted upon his warhorse, Ge Long watched the army—now surging with high morale—and felt his mind settle with a sense of assurance.

He remained unshakably confident in his judgment: the Spirit Hall’s forces were scattered, and Zhao City was merely a small town garrisoned by a paltry number of troops.

Even if a Titled Douluo were stationed there, he would personally lead his own force of Soul Douluos and Soul Sages to pin them down.

As long as the main army pressed its weight against the city, their sheer numerical superiority would allow them to crush the enemy with ease.

Once Zhao City fell—and provided he pressed the advantage to thoroughly dismantle the Spirit Hall’s deployment within the Kingdom of Haagen-Dazs—he would achieve a feat of military glory unparalleled in history, thereby becoming the foremost God of War in the Heaven Dou Empire!

Before long, Zhao City came into full view. Zhao City was a small town within the territory of Haagen-Dazs, and a massive army of five hundred thousand troops had besieged it so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through.

The Spirit Hall had stationed only ten thousand regular soldiers and two thousand Spirit Master troops here; their highest-ranking commander was a Spirit Douluo named Qian Hong.

Leading a force of two thousand Spirit Masters required a commander of considerable stature; anyone of a lower rank would simply lack the authority to keep them in line.

Upon seeing the Heaven Dou army lay siege to the city, Qian Hong immediately dispatched messengers to Haagen-Dazs City to request reinforcements—the four elders (Chrysanthemum, Ghost, and the others) were stationed there, as was the main body of their army.

Meanwhile, he personally ascended the city walls to rally his troops and boost morale.

"Brothers, do not fear! Reinforcements will be here very soon!"

"The God of Angels will watch over us!"

"For the Spirit Hall! For the God of Angels!"

Qian Hong raised his arms high and shouted.

On the city walls, the soldiers responded in unison.

"For the Spirit Hall! For the God of Angels!"

An hour passed.

Two hours passed.

...

Beneath the walls of Zhao City, the setting sun glowed red as blood.

The fading sunlight stained the horizon a deep crimson, a hue that intertwined with the fresh blood flowing across the ground below—making it impossible to distinguish where the sky ended and the earth began.

The air was thick with the pungent stench of blood, mingled with the acrid, burnt scent of gunpowder—a nauseating combination.

High upon the city walls, the Spirit Hall’s banner—emblazoned with the Six-Winged Angel—continued to snap and flutter fiercely in the wind.

The flag was caked with dust and stained with blood, yet it remained standing, unyielding.

Below the walls, the Heaven Dou Empire’s army—hundreds of thousands strong—began to slowly retreat, resembling a pack of weary, cornered beasts.

Their footsteps were heavy, their faces pale, and their lips parched and cracked.

Many soldiers lacked even the strength to grip their weapons; their long spears dragged along the ground, scraping out a harsh, grating sound.

An entire day had passed.

From the first light of dawn until the fading glow of dusk.

With empty stomachs, they had charged forward time and again—only to be repelled, time and again.

Mounted upon his warhorse, Ge Long gazed at the small city that still stood unyielding before him; his face was ashen with rage.

Why?

He asked himself the question over and over again.

Five hundred thousand troops—why can we not take this single, small city? Half of the soldiers in the Spirit Hall army were former captives; why, then, did they fight so desperately for Spirit Hall?

His hands gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Sound the gongs! Call back the troops!"

His voice was hoarse, laced with suppressed fury.

The desolate notes of the retreat horn rang out amidst the twilight.

The soldiers of the Heaven Dou Empire, feeling as though they had been granted a reprieve, dragged their weary bodies as they withdrew.

No one spoke; only the heavy tread of boots and the clanking of weapons echoed across the vast, empty plain.

...

Inside the makeshift command tent, the lamps burned brightly.

Ge Long strode in and slammed his palm violently onto the command table.

"Bang!"

The maps and military tallies resting on the table were jolted into the air.

"Speak!"

His eyes were bloodshot as he glared fiercely at the group of generals standing before him with bowed heads; his voice boomed like a clap of thunder: "All of you—speak! A whole day! We fought from dawn until dusk, and yet my five hundred thousand elite Heaven Dou warriors couldn’t even take a tiny little place like Zhao City!"

"What the hell are you people good for?!"

His roar reverberated through the tent, shaking the very flames of the candles until they flickered wildly.

Several legion commanders flinched, yet still, no one dared to be the first to offer a response.

Ge Long’s gaze locked onto the legion commander who had volunteered to lead the attack earlier that morning. The man stood with his head bowed, trembling uncontrollably.

"You!"

Ge Long’s finger jabbed almost directly into the man’s face: "Didn’t you swear a solemn oath this morning that you would take Zhao City? Now the sun has set, yet the city remains untaken—and worse, we’ve suffered heavy casualties and lost our officers!"

"Give me an explanation! Why couldn’t you take it?!"