Beneath the Golden Wolf War Banner, Wolf Lord Meng Ge sat majestically atop an extraordinary, ink-black steed resembling a dragon.
His build lacked Batur's mountain-like heft, yet he was exceptionally lean and upright, much like the toughest grass on the steppe. He wore a traditional dark-gold wolf-skin royal robe that accentuated his sharply angular, stern face. His nose was high and his lips thin, pressed into a rigid, hard line. Most arresting of all were his eyes—deep as the coldest night sky of the Northern Desert, yet sharp as a golden eagle soaring through the nine heavens. At this moment, those eyes pierced through miles of wind, snow, and the chaotic battlefield, locked unwaveringly onto the figure in the fluttering dark cloak beneath the walls of Panshi City.
Around the war banner, a dead silence prevailed. Whether it was the high shaman with his powerful aura and ornate bone adornments, or the battle-hardened chiliarchs and myriad-commanders reeking of slaughter, all held their breath, their complexions turning so dark they seemed on the verge of dripping water. The air was thick with an oppressive atmosphere; only the snapping of the war banner caught in the bitter wind sounded like whips cracking against everyone's hearts.
Chapter 293