Qingtang

Blinding yellow sand filled the sky, whipping through grass, bamboo, and stone with wild abandon. The scorching sun hung overhead, glaring down as birds screamed in the distance, while a thick stench of blood and decay invaded the nostrils with every breath.

Li Kong shot upright from the ground, a searing pain tearing through his back so sharply that he sucked in a cold breath. Yet the pain quickly faded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of shock that filled his eyes.

Corpses—everywhere, corpses. Some clad in shining armor, others in fur pelts. The earth was littered with weapons of all kinds, twisted and slick with fresh crimson. Some of the dead looked as if they had only just fallen; others were already in advanced stages of decay.

“What in the world is this place?” Li Kong gritted his teeth and struggled to his feet, gripping a weapon that was uniquely his own—a “blade,” perhaps, though it was oddly shaped and marred by several cracks, as if the slightest force would shatter it.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed from the distance. Through the raging wind, a vast shadow surged into Li Kong’s vision.

“Horses… so many horses!” Ten thousand steeds thundering as one?

He’d seen the phrase countless times in textbooks, but as a man of the new century, he knew such a sight no longer existed in the world. Even a hundred horses galloping together made a sizable herd, and that spectacle was nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to the steel torrent before his eyes, which looked capable of shattering anything in its path.

He shook his he