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墨書 Inktalez
On the command platform high above, Feng Huo sat in the center, his demeanor as steady as the mountains. His hands were clasped on his knees, and his calm gaze surveyed everything before him. The sun hung high in the sky, casting blinding golden light over the battlefield; yet this brilliance did not dispel the oppressive atmosphere lingering in the air, but rather made everyone's sweat glisten even more starkly.
Yan Kong stood beside Feng Huo, clad in Dark Red Armor, with a single blade sheathed at his waist. The knife lay quietly in its scabbard, as if ready to be drawn at any moment to consume the blood of enemies. His figure was tall and straight, the armor shimmering faintly under the sunlight, exuding an air of authority and coldness. A small recovery robot wobbled at his feet, its camera nervously swiveling back and forth, as if sensing the chaos of the battlefield around it.
Below them was a sea of Fog City Soldiers, moving like a tide. Dressed in their signature black battle armor, they moved in perfect unison, their swords and firearms glinting with cold light. In the distance, Heavy Mechs rumbled ominously, their massive forms resembling moving fortresses, their iron shells reflecting a chilling metallic sheen under the sun. Various commanders wove among them, issuing loud commands to quickly organize their ranks. Their voices intertwined with the roar of the mechs, creating a somber prelude to war.
On another side, Lian stood beneath a makeshift canopy, her slender figure busy with activity. Her fingers flew across an electronic panel while she continuously issued instructions. The area beneath the canopy was piled high with supply boxes and several Medical Stretchers arranged neatly for transporting the wounded, ready for rescue operations after the battle. Her expression was focused and calm; she occasionally looked up to exchange a few words with soldiers before swiftly returning to her tasks.
Yan Kong's gaze swept across the battlefield, feeling a subtle tension within him. His hand instinctively pressed against the hilt of his knife, his fingertips brushing against the cold surface of the scabbard as if that would help calm his racing heart. It had been a long time since he had truly engaged in combat, and this long-lost sensation heightened his senses, causing every muscle in his body to tense slightly.
His eyes returned to the soldiers preparing for battle and the rumbling mechs, a familiar fighting spirit rising within him. This battlefield was no longer just a chaotic and lonely corner of his past; it was a real war—well-planned and orchestrated. And he himself was no longer just a solitary Yankeeper but rather a blade of Wu Jing—a blade capable of tearing through enemy lines.
Feng Huo noticed Yan Kong's tension and turned slightly to him, a faint smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. His tone was calm yet reassuring: "Feeling nervous? Good. That means you haven't lost your respect for the battlefield. Don't worry, Yan Kong; this battle will mark the beginning of your legendary resurgence."
Yan Kong did not respond but tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife and took a deep breath. His gaze grew more resolute as if in that moment all tension transformed into burning combat fervor.
The ranks were finally assembled; the Fog City Soldiers stood aligned like an iron tide on the training ground. Their swords hung uniformly at their waists, their black armor radiating a chilling brilliance under the sun while Heavy Mechs stood silently behind them like mountains.
Feng Huo slowly rose to his feet; his movements were devoid of any excess yet instantly captured all soldiers' attention. The soldiers below stood rigidly at attention as if commanded to do so; the sound of their iron boots striking the ground echoed like thunder throughout the venue. They straightened their backs and raised their heads, shouting in unison: "Commander good!"
The sound resonated like an earthquake, shaking the ground beneath them slightly. The powerful shout and the soldiers' synchronized movements even left Yan Kong—battle-hardened as he was—deeply impressed. His gaze swept over this ironclad army, feeling an undeniable sense of admiration swell within him.
"The military discipline is so stringent; no wonder Wu Jing has become one of the most powerful among the three great nations," Yan Kong thought to himself as he unconsciously brushed his hand over the hilt at his waist, feeling its cold metal surface bring him some measure of calm.
Feng Huo's gaze swept across the assembled army, his expression steady and calm. His voice was deep and clear, as if each word could penetrate the air and reach every soldier's ears. "Warriors of Wu Jing, the challenges we face remain formidable. Last night, the people of Yang Chuan launched a surprise attack with their Fire Wheel Cavalry against our frontline garrison."
A murmur of low discussion arose among the troops but was quickly subdued. The soldiers' eyes sharpened, gripping their weapons tightly as they awaited Feng Huo's next words.
Feng Huo continued, a hint of coldness in his tone. "This assault has cost us over half of our reconnaissance team, and most importantly, it has compromised our frontline. Now, our position is exposed to Yang Chuan's sight, which is an unacceptable disgrace for Wu Jing."
His voice suddenly rose, his gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade. "But Wu Jing never retreats! This Broken Moon Fortress has been our stronghold for centuries, and we will continue to defend it until we have completely uprooted the enemy's banner from this land!"
The soldiers shouted in unison, "Yes! Commander!"
Yan Kong stood behind Feng Huo, scanning the entire field as a surge of indescribable emotion welled up within him. He felt the strength and morale of this army, as well as the pressure of war gradually closing in. This would be a trial of blood and fire, and he would stand at the center of this storm.
Feng Huo's gaze swept across the training ground, the atmosphere taut like a bowstring waiting for release. He slowly drew an ancient bronze token from his sleeve; it was thick and heavy, engraved with a powerful character for "battle." The sunlight glinted off the token, reflecting a blinding golden light, as if this simple character carried with it the blood and glory of countless battlefields.
Feng Huo raised the token high above his head. The soldiers below fell silent instantly, all eyes focused on that token. The stillness lasted only a moment before the entire training ground erupted like thunder; soldiers raised their weapons high, swords and spears shimmering with a fierce light under the sun. Their battle cries were deafening, each shout filled with uncontainable fighting spirit, like rolling thunder surging from all directions.
"Roar!" The synchronized shouts of thousands of soldiers were overwhelming; the clash of swords echoed in the air while the heavy boots of armored soldiers struck the ground with a sound that seemed to make even the earth tremble.
Feng Huo's expression remained stern, his gaze as firm as iron. Suddenly, he flicked his wrist and hurled the token into the air with force. It arced through the sky with a sharp whoosh before landing heavily in the center of the training ground. The sound was crisp and powerful, like the beginning of a storm.
"All troops advance!" Feng Huo's voice rang out loudly like a thunderclap.
The soldiers instantly turned around in unison, their movements precise as they firmly gripped their weapons. The rhythmic clashing of sheaths and armor echoed as they began to move forward slowly; each step was steady and powerful as they surged forward like a tide toward the gates of Broken Moon Fortress.
As the soldiers' footsteps gradually activated the heavy mech, the mechanical roar vibrated through the air, casting the shadow of the steel beast over the land. Feng Huo stood atop a high vantage point, quietly observing the army that surged like a tide of iron. A determined smirk appeared on his face. He understood that this war, regardless of its outcome, would be a clash capable of altering the very landscape of the continent.
Yan Kong stood nearby, watching the army advance. His gaze pierced through the gaps in their armor, fixating on the distance, his chest feeling as if it were filled with flames. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and took a deep breath, silently telling himself, "This battle will remember my name."
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