The wind stopped.
The dust settled.
On the city wall, every Qin soldier stood frozen like clay statues, unable to move.
They stared at the sky.
At their Emperor.
Below the walls, that endless ocean of wolves lay flat upon the ground.
Tens of thousands of wolves.
Not a single howl remained.
Only low whimpers, like desperate pleas for mercy.
The surviving Xiongnu knelt in the dirt, their bodies trembling like sieves.
They stared at the place where their god had disappeared.
Then slowly raised their heads toward the man standing atop the wall.
The man in the black dragon robe.
The gigantic black dragon’s golden eyes gradually faded away.
Its form became thinner and thinner, like drifting smoke.
It twisted.
Flowed backward.
And completely poured back into Ying Zheng’s body.
That terrifying pressure capable of crushing heaven and earth vanished without a trace.
At last, one soldier dared to gasp for air.
In the dead silence, the sound was like thunder.
“AHHH—!”
A scream filled with madness and despair tore through the night sky.
It came from below.
Modun, his face covered in blood, struggled to crawl back to his feet.
“Fake!”
he screamed hoarsely, his voice cracking.
“It’s all fake!”
“It’s illusion magic! Sorcery from you Central Plains people!”
He looked around at his kneeling tribesmen and the wolves sprawled on the ground.
“Get up!”
“Get up, all of you!”
“The Wolf God is invincible! For the Wolf God—kill them all!”
No one moved.
The wolves whimpered even louder, burying their heads deeper into the earth.
The Xiongnu warriors did not even dare raise their eyes.
Modun trembled with rage.
Pointing shakily at the city wall, he roared:
“That’s a demon! Not a god!”
“Our god…”
His voice suddenly broke.
He stared at the empty sky as his faith shattered inch by inch.
Then a lazy child’s voice drifted down from atop the wall.
Amplified by the horn speaker, it sounded loud and piercing.
“Hey!”
Ying Ziye held up the giant ox-horn loudspeaker, looking down at them as if they were ants.
“You there! The guy riding the dog!”
Modun jerked his head upward.
Ying Ziye pointed the loudspeaker straight at him.
“Are you blind?”
“Your god already got eaten by my dad as a snack!”
“Crunchy too!”
He even deliberately made an exaggerated crunching sound.
On the wall, several Qin soldiers—still stunned out of their minds—almost burst out laughing before forcibly holding it back.
But Ying Ziye was not finished.
He swept his little hand across the sea of wolves below.
“See that?”
“Even your dogs surrendered already!”
“They’re lining up to become my dad’s pets!”
“So what the hell are you still fighting for?!”
The words were crude, overflowing with contempt, echoing across the silent plains.
Every surviving Xiongnu heard them clearly.
It became the final straw crushing their beliefs.
One Xiongnu warrior looked at the wolves lying on the ground.
Looked at the land where his god had been devoured.
Then looked up at Ying Zheng, who had not moved a single step from beginning to end.
The curved saber slipped from his hand with a clang.
He threw himself flat onto the ground, forehead smashing heavily into the dirt.
Bang!
That sound triggered a chain reaction.
Clang!
Clatter!
Weapons hit the ground one after another.
One by one, then hundreds, then thousands of Xiongnu warriors threw away their weapons.
All of them knelt.
All of them kowtowed.
Not toward the memory of their Wolf God.
But toward the man standing atop the wall.
Toward the Emperor who ate gods.
Watching this scene, Modun’s eyes instantly turned blood-red.
His people.
His warriors.
Were worshipping their enemy.
“No…”
A low growl squeezed from his throat.
“NO!!”
He stood utterly alone.
His god was dead.
His army had betrayed him.
His world was gone.
All that remained was hatred.
“I’LL FIGHT YOU TO THE DEATH!!”
With one final desperate roar, he charged forward.
Ignoring his grievous wounds.
Ignoring his shattered mind.
He lowered his head like a maddened bull and rushed straight toward the gates of Shangjun.
If he was going to die—
Then he would die charging.
On the wall, Wang Li watched him.
He licked his lips.
A cruel smile spread across his face.
“You wanna die?”
“I’ll grant your wish.”
Casually, he raised the heavy bow in his hand.
He barely even aimed.
He simply pulled back the bowstring.
Then he released his hand.
“Whoosh—”
The arrow turned into a straight black line beneath the moonlight.
Modun was still more than ten steps away from the city gate.
The arrow found him.
It pierced straight through his throat.
“Ugh…”
His charge came to an abrupt halt.
He reached up, trying to grab the arrow shaft embedded in his neck.
His widened eyes were filled with disbelief as he stared at the gate he would never reach.
Then he fell.
He twitched a few times in the dust.
And then, no more movement.
The last hope of the Xiongnu—the man who had summoned their god—was dead.
Killed by a casually fired arrow.
On the city wall, the two soldiers holding Touman suddenly felt the weight in their hands drop.
Heavier.
“Hm?”
One soldier looked down.
Touman’s head had tilted to the side.
His eyes were wide open, fixed on empty space.
Within them was frozen terror.
The soldier placed his fingers under his nose.
No breath.
He checked Touman’s chest.
No heartbeat.
“General…”
The soldier’s voice sounded strange as he called out to Meng Tian.
“This… this Touman…”
“He seems… to have stopped breathing.”
Meng Tian walked over in large strides.
He looked at the dead Xiongnu chanyu.
In his lifetime of campaigns, he had seen thousands of ways to die.
But never this one.
Scared to death.
Modun’s final roar faded.
The last resistance of the Xiongnu collapsed completely.
The wolves, now severed from their divine link and their summoner, reverted back into ordinary beasts.
Confused, frightened, they struggled to their feet.
They did not charge.
They turned around.
And ran.
A black tide retreated back into the darkness of the grasslands.
The battle was over.
This massive crisis had ended.
The Qin army had not even stepped out of the city gate.
“We… won…”
a soldier murmured.
Then he shouted with all his strength.
“We won!!”
“Hooray!!”
“Long live Great Qin! Long live His Majesty!!”
The despair that had filled the walls exploded in an instant.
Cheers surged like a tsunami, drowning out all fear.
Soldiers hugged each other, laughing and crying.
They threw their helmets into the sky.
They had faced a god.
And their emperor had eaten that god.
Ying Zheng stood amid the cheers.
He did not smile.
He simply looked at the kneeling enemies below and the celebrating soldiers above.
He could feel it—the power of the black dragon within him—settling.
It was not a violent force.
But a warm, nourishing current.
The exhaustion accumulated from ruling a vast empire for years was completely washed away.
All the subtle injuries in his body vanished.
He felt light.
He felt powerful.
He felt… young.
More vibrant than when he was truly twenty years old.
His gaze fell upon the small figure beside him.
The creator of all these miracles.
His son.
Ying Ziye.
A trace of warmth appeared on Ying Zheng’s otherwise icy expression.
He was about to speak.
About to give this son the highest praise an emperor could offer.
But he stopped.
Ying Ziye stood there.
Frozen, staring ahead, his oil-stained little mouth slightly open.
His small body did not move.
He was not looking at the cheering soldiers.
Nor at the surrendering enemies.
It looked as if his soul had left him.
To others, it seemed like the child was simply overwhelmed by the shocking scene.
But only Ying Ziye knew the truth.
His mind was not empty.
It was exploding.
A series of cold, mechanical voices—like celestial transmissions—echoed in his mind without pause.
One after another.
Unceasing.
【Ding! Detected: Host assisted the First Emperor in killing Xiongnu Chanyu Touman, reversing the historical node “Touman’s death leading to Modun’s rise”!】
【National Fortune Critical Strike triggered!】
【Ding! Detected: Host assisted the First Emperor in killing future Xiongnu prodigy Modun, shattering the possibility of the “Siege of Baideng” future event!】
【National Fortune Critical Strike triggered!】
【Ding! Detected: Host assisted the First Emperor in destroying the Xiongnu Wolf God totem, completely crushing their spiritual foundation!】
【National Fortune Critical Strike triggered!】
The notifications poured in wildly, each one more shocking than the last.
Ying Ziye felt a chill run through him.
He had hit the jackpot.
A triple jackpot.
【Triple National Fortune Critical Strikes stacked!】
【Calculating legendary reward…】
【Calculating…】
Then, at last, the most anticipated voice arrived.
【Congratulations, Host! You have obtained a Unique Legendary Reward.】
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