The outcome of the battle was never in doubt. Before Jiaosilu’s army could even organize an effective defense, the forces led by Murong Fu tore through their lines like a raging, unstoppable torrent.
The encampment resembled a field that had been plowed over repeatedly—scarred, riddled with holes, and utterly devastated. These intersecting trenches were nothing more than the gruesome aftermath of the Jiao Tribe soldiers’ corpses strewn across the land. Murong Fu’s cavalry, like wild horses unshackled, galloped recklessly through the camp, their hooves churning up clouds of dust. Meanwhile, his infantry formed tight, disciplined ranks, sealing the perimeter and capturing every Jiao Tribe soldier who attempted to escape.
Jiaosilu, who had been basking in the joy of victory only moments before, plummeted instantly from heaven to hell. He never imagined that while his meticulously planned battle had succeeded, he had merely been the mantis stalking the cicada, while Murong Fu was the oriole waiting in the shadows. This sudden defeat left him in a state of unprecedented shock and despair.
Chapter 236