The thunder of two hundred armored war-horses shook the granite flagstones of the subterranean avenue.
Procurement General Zhao leaned forward in his stirrups, his golden broadsword raised high toward the cavern rafters.
“Impale them!” Zhao bellowed, his voice filled with venomous malice and imperial arrogance. “Show these peasant upstarts what real imperial shock cavalry looks like! Shatter their line and trample their insolence into the dirt! Leave not a single rebel standing!”
Two hundred nine-foot dragon-lances dipped in unison.
The tempered steel points hummed with dark, armor-piercing qi, aiming directly at the chests of the five hundred Righteous Iron Guards standing in the roadway.
The charging cavalrymen grinned with savage delight. For a decade, their heavy armored charges had crushed peasant tax rebellions and trampled rogue cultivators across seven outer provinces. They were the pampered enforcers of the Ministry of War. They expected the merchant’s private security squad to break rank and scatter in terror before the first collision.
General Zhao aimed his own heavy dragon-spear straight at Tie Niu’s throat.
Fifty paces. Thirty paces. Ten paces!
