Chapter 252: Ge Long Falls; The Army Crumbles! Heaven Dou’s Hope?

Chapter 252: Chapter 252: Ge Long Falls; The Army Crumbles! Heaven Dou’s Hope?

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The Legion Commander’s body trembled, his voice tinged with an unconcealable bitterness and grievance: "M-Marshal, please forgive me! I—your subordinate—never in my wildest dreams imagined things would turn out like this!"

His voice quivered: "From dawn until now, our soldiers haven’t had a single grain of rice; they are already so famished that their bodies have gone completely limp! Charging forward on empty stomachs—every single step feels as difficult as scaling the heavens. It is truly... truly impossible to break through!"

These words landed like a stinging slap right across Ge Long’s face.

His expression instantly became a fascinating study in conflicting emotions.

There was anger, embarrassment, regret, and even... sheer disbelief.

Fighting on an empty stomach?

That was a tactic he had endorsed.

It was he who had personally issued the order for the entire army to follow suit and abstain from eating for the time being.

It was he who had vowed with absolute confidence: "In less than an hour, we shall be inside Zhao City, sitting down to enjoy a well-earned victory feast in peace."

But now?

The sun had already set.

The city remained uncaptured, the feast remained uneaten, and the soldiers were so starved they could barely lift their blades.

Ge Long was left utterly speechless by the rebuke; his chest heaved violently, yet he could find no grounds for rebuttal.

He parted his lips, intending to say something.

Suddenly, a flurry of hurried footsteps rang out from outside the tent, accompanied by panicked shouts: "Marshal! Marshal! Bad news! Reinforcements from the Spirit Hall have arrived!"

Ge Long snapped his head up, his gaze fixed on the tent entrance.

The tent flap was thrown aside, and a scout stumbled—half-running, half-crawling—into the tent, his face ashen with terror: "Marshal! To the southeast! There are at least tens of thousands of Spirit Hall troops rushing toward Zhao City!"

Inside the command tent, a deathly silence fell.

Ge Long’s heart plummeted.

Before he could even react, a soft, effeminate voice drifted down from the sky above.

The voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly into the ears of every single person present—laced with a hint of mockery and a chilling coldness: "Ge Long, come out and face your death."

Ge Long’s pupils constricted instantly.

That voice...

It was Yue Guan!

The Spirit Hall’s Chrysanthemum Douluo—a Titled Douluo! His expression shifted abruptly; years of battlefield experience allowed him to make a swift decision: "Quick! Have the soldiers prepare their defenses!"

He looked toward the legion commanders inside the tent, his voice urgent: "You lot—come with me to hold off Yue Guan!"

The commanders exchanged terrified glances, their faces turning ashen.

Us?

Hold off a Titled Douluo?

Isn’t that just a suicide mission?

Just then, two more figures appeared inside the tent.

They were two elderly men clad in long white robes, their expressions stern and their spiritual presence profound.

They were Enshriners of the Imperial Family—powerful experts at the Soul Douluo rank—who had remained hidden within the army all this time, serving as the ultimate trump cards.

One of them spoke in a deep, resonant voice: "Why are you just standing there? Move out—now!"

The commanders gritted their teeth and, steeling their nerves, charged out after them.

...

Outside the commander’s tent, twilight had deepened into night.

Four figures descended from the sky.

Yue Guan was still clad in his signature chrysanthemum-patterned robe, his effeminate face bearing an expression that was—or perhaps wasn’t—a smile.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the terrified soldiers surrounding him as if he were looking at a swarm of ants.

Gui Mei, Mo Xiong, and Ghost Leopard followed close behind him.

As the four of them stood together, their overwhelming aura alone sent the encircling soldiers flying backward!

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"

Dozens of Heaven Dou soldiers were knocked flying like kites with severed strings; coughing up blood, they crashed to the ground, unable to rise again.

The remaining Heaven Dou soldiers recoiled in terror, their faces etched with fear.

Yue Guan watched as Ge Long charged out of the commander’s tent, the corners of his lips curling upward slightly.

"Ge Long, surrender with your army right now, and I’ll grant you a quick and painless death!"

Ge Long gave a cold snort: "Emperor Xue Ye has shown me great kindness; how could I betray my master for the sake of personal gain?"

He tightened his grip on his weapon, a flame of absolute resolve burning in his eyes: "If you want a fight, then let’s fight!"

Yue Guan shook his head, a hint of pity appearing on his effeminate face.

He took a step back and raised his hand.

"Make your move."

As the words left his lips...

Mo Xiong Douluo struck first! "Ninth Soul Skill: Blazing Meteor Strike!"

Upon his body, his ninth Soul Ring suddenly flared to life!

In the heavens above, a massive meteor materialized out of thin air; wreathed in raging flames, it plummeted down toward Ge Long and his companions!

The meteor measured a full ten meters across; it descended with a world-shattering might, its intense heat scorching the very air until it shimmered and distorted!

Ge Long’s expression shifted drastically!

He attempted to dodge, but realized that the meteor’s area of ​​impact was simply too vast—there was absolutely nowhere to take cover!

"Block it—together!"

He roared in defiance, simultaneously striking out alongside the two Titled Douluo Enforcers. Channeling every ounce of their Soul Power, they strove to parry this lethal blow!

However, a ghostly voice—sounding as if it emanated from the very depths of the netherworld—rang out: "Ninth Soul Skill: Hellish Specters!"

In an instant, his figure vanished from where he stood!

The very next second, he reappeared directly behind Ge Long!

Swirling black mist coalesced into a myriad of ghostly apparitions, lunging viciously at Ge Long!

"Ninth Soul Skill: Void Shadow!"

"Ninth Soul Skill: Withered Chrysanthemum, Widespread Ruin!"

Four Ninth Soul Skills—four ultimate attacks—slammed into Ge Long and his group simultaneously!

"BOOM—!!!"

A cataclysmic roar shook the very earth!

A terrifying shockwave radiated outward from the point of impact, spreading with explosive fury!

The command tent was blown sky-high, and the surrounding soldiers were sent scattering in disarray by the violent concussion!

A massive, deep crater was gouged into the ground; shattered rock fragments flew through the air, and clouds of dust billowed upward!

When the dust finally settled...

Ge Long remained standing where he was, his entire body drenched in blood.

His gilded armor was shattered; his face was ghastly pale, blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were filled with a look of bitter, unyielding defiance.

Behind him, the two Titled Douluo Enforcers lay sprawled upon the ground—motionless and inert.

As for the various Legion Commanders... not even a shred of their remains could be found.

Ge Long gazed at Yue Guan, his lips parting as if to speak.

Yet, no words escaped him.

Slowly, his body began to topple.

"THUD—!"

Dust billowed once more.

The very pillar of the Heaven Dou Empire—Marshal Ge Long—had fallen.

...

Meanwhile, the main force of the Spirit Hall army—having rushed in as reinforcements from Haagen-Dazs City—seized the opportunity to launch their own offensive.

The army of Soul Masters charged at the very front, with the regular troops following close behind; like tigers descending from the mountains, they pounced upon the disintegrating Heaven Dou army!

The battle cries shook the very heavens!

The Heaven Dou soldiers were already weak and listless from starvation; now, having witnessed with their own eyes the deaths of their Marshal and commanding generals, their morale shattered instantly!

"Run—!"

It was unclear who shouted it first, but suddenly the entire army scattered and fled in all directions, like a flood bursting through a dam!

No one attempted to organize a resistance; no one tried to rally the troops.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers, facing a pursuing force of mere tens of thousands from the Spirit Hall, scattered like a frightened flock of sheep—utterly routed!

The Spirit Hall army pursued them relentlessly, reaping a massive harvest of lives.

Blood stained the earth crimson.

It was two days later when the news finally reached Heaven Dou City.

Emperor Xue Ye sat upon his Dragon Throne, clutching the battle report in his hands, his entire body trembling.

"Ge Long... is dead?"

His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

"Five hundred thousand soldiers... gone?"

No one answered him.

Within the great hall, the civil and military officials stood arrayed on either side, yet every single one stood with head bowed, utterly silent.

No one dared to look up at the old man seated on the Dragon Throne; no one dared to utter a sound. Even the censors—usually the most loquacious and opinionated of men—were now as silent as gourds with their mouths sawed shut.

Their faces grew paler than the last.

Marshal Ge Long was dead.

Five hundred thousand soldiers—vanished in an instant.

The iron hooves of the Spirit Hall army had trampled through the southern defenses of the Heaven Dou Empire, their spearheads now pointing directly toward the heartland.

What were they to do?

Everyone asked themselves this question, yet not a single person could offer an answer.

Emperor Xue Ye closed his eyes, his aged fingers gripping the armrests of the Dragon Throne with crushing force.

A single tear slid down from the corner of his eye.

It’s over.

He whispered the words silently in his heart.

The Heaven Dou Empire... is finished.

He thought back to the day the previous Emperor had entrusted the throne to his hands; he recalled his own youth—that time of high spirits and boundless ambition, when he had stood poised to shape the destiny of the realm; he remembered the years of glory and splendor that the Heaven Dou Empire had once known.

Now, all of it would turn to dust. Inside the main hall, a deathly silence reigned.

At that very moment, from the ranks of the civil officials, a minister stepped forward.

He appeared to be around fifty years of age, with a gaunt yet refined countenance, clad in a purple official’s robe.

Ordinarily, he kept a low profile, never seeking the limelight; yet, whenever he chose to speak, his words carried immense weight.

He stepped forward, bowed deeply in salutation, and spoke in a voice that was both steady and forceful: "Your Majesty, the Heaven Dou Empire still holds hope!"

Emperor Xue Ye jerked his head upward, a flicker of light flashing within his clouded, aged eyes.

"What other means remain to resist the Spirit Hall?"

His voice was laced with urgency—much like that of a drowning man clutching desperately at a final straw.

The old minister straightened his posture, his gaze sweeping across the silent colleagues standing on either side before finally settling upon the aging Emperor seated on the Dragon Throne.

He spoke slowly, enunciating every word with deliberate clarity: "Has Your Majesty perhaps forgotten... the Marquis of Wu’an, who stands guard over the Empire’s northern frontier?"

The moment these words were uttered, a low murmur of discussion immediately rippled through the great hall.

The Marquis of Wu’an.

That name—like a sudden clap of thunder—exploded within the hearts of every Heaven Dou court official present.

A spark of light began to glow within Emperor Xue Ye’s eyes. That light grew steadily brighter, akin to a solitary star-spark piercing through the surrounding darkness.

"Are you suggesting...?"

His voice trembled, yet it carried a distinct note of anticipation.

The old minister nodded, his tone resolute: "Indeed, Your Majesty. The Marquis of Wu’an defends the Xueling Province; under his command remain a hundred thousand elite border troops. These soldiers have spent years battling against Spirit Beasts and wild beasts along the northern frontier—each man among them is worth ten ordinary fighters!"

"Furthermore, the Empire’s heartland remains intact; we can initiate emergency conscription across every region. The Empire is vast in territory and teeming with people; raising an army of several hundred thousand men would be no difficult feat."

His voice rose in pitch, growing increasingly impassioned: "Your Majesty, the Heaven Dou Empire has not yet fallen! We still have a chance!"

Within Emperor Xue Ye’s eyes, that solitary spark of light gradually transformed into a blazing, roaring flame.

"Good! Good! Good!"

Emperor Xue Ye repeated the word "Good" three times in succession, then abruptly rose from the Dragon Throne.

Color returned to his face, and his voice regained its former majesty: "Issue the decree! Issue it immediately!"

"Let the Marquis of Wu’an lead his troops south at once to oversee the entire defense against the Spirit Hall forces!"

"All troops of the Heaven Dou Empire shall be placed under his command!"

"Any who dare disobey shall be executed!"

His voice reverberated through the great hall, lingering long after he had spoken.

The elderly minister bowed deeply to receive the order: "Your humble servant obeys the decree!"

Emperor Xue Ye sank back onto his Dragon Throne and let out a long, deep breath.

Marquis of Wu’an...

Heaven Dou’s final hope now rests upon your shoulders.