That day, as the morning sun rose and its faint light hung half-veiled on the horizon like a shy bride, the thick fog blanketing the sky had yet to dissipate. After days of silence, the Nether army finally made its move.
Arrogant, ruthless, opinionated, and paranoid, His Majesty Li Cang donned his armor and stepped up to the city wall. Sweeping his hand out to gaze into the distance, he saw a dense host of 100,000 Nether foot soldiers, flanked by 50,000 cavalry on each wing—a total army of 200,000. They looked like massive, pitch-black rain clouds materialized out of nowhere in broad daylight, forming an unbroken sea of darkness. Right at the vanguard, a young general in white armor, riding a white horse and wearing a white cape, stood out conspicuously like a ball of white cotton pressing against the front lines. Beside him fluttered a massive commander's banner bearing the four large seal-script characters for "Venerable Zeling," snapping violently in the fierce gales.
The cavalry was organized with a leader for every five riders, an officer for every ten, a commander for every hundred, and a general for every two hundred.
Chapter 91