Three months later, in the former capital of Lurna, Mozwa.

The morning breeze flows in the air, bringing mist and coolness from afar.

There was silence on the towering city walls, but it was not because there were no people. In fact, the walls were almost full of soldiers and extraordinary people who were ready for battle. They were neatly dressed, holding muskets, with swords at their waists, and wearing the best armor in the Frost Alliance, which was not only light but also had strong defense.

Now the soldiers in the city gathered on the layered city walls that stretched for more than ten kilometers, looking towards the outside of the city.

In the wilderness shrouded in morning mist, one could see the terrifyingly neat square formations from the slightly revealed outlines. Even the occasional tip of the iceberg revealed in the mist showed the huge number of people within.

When 100 people line up and march forward, people will think it is neat and beautiful. When 1,000 people line up, people will think it is heroic. When people line up neatly and march forward, people will feel a heavy sense of oppression. And when 100,000 people line up in a line several kilometers long, filling your vision and trampling on the ground, there will be a shocking feeling of suffocation.

Finally, when the number of people reaches one million, their advancing army will be like a vast army covering all mountains and plains, with no end in sight. The fluttering flags will rise and fall like a real ocean, and the individual's tiny sense of existence will be swallowed up by this almost hopeless vastness.

It is hard to imagine how such a huge army and soldiers could be so neat and unified. Under such terrifying discipline, their upright postures and spears looked like cast iron, and the rows of sharp spear blades and armor reflected terrifying shimmering light in the dim light of dawn, an ocean of steel, waves of blades, and endless layers of military formations.

Even though these armies had not yet attacked and were just standing quietly in the fields outside the city, the feeling of oppression was like the sky falling, weighing on the hearts of all the defenders.

"Do we really want to fight an enemy like this?" a young soldier asked his companion with chattering teeth. Even the newly issued musket and armor could not bring him any sense of security.

"I pray... don't let this happen." The soldier nearby took a deep, trembling breath, then closed his eyes and prayed, hoping the powerful figure above would simply admit defeat. After all, they were all members of the Seven Kingdoms of Xuehua. They wouldn't abuse their opponents like the Cangcui Empire did.

On the other side, on the Twelve Bell Tower of Mozwa, several faction representatives wearing dark clothes watched the scene in the distance.

"Has this day finally arrived?" The voice of a certain mage representative was filled with sadness, loss, and sorrow.

"Clansia's 1.2 million-strong army has surrounded the entire city. We have no way to retreat except to the southern coast."

"The sea route is probably just another abyss. Don't forget our old friends and rivals, the people of the Hinazuki Council, they are definitely waiting for us at sea."

"At this point, even if we ask those Sequence 9 Highnesses to leave, I'm afraid it's too late to save the situation. According to our intelligence and the vague perception outside the city, the enemy's formation also has four Sequence 9s supporting them."

"The new Pope has also arrived. Although the Church cannot interfere in worldly affairs, she can take over the name of the Sages' Council to prevent the fate of several of our leaders."

"In this way, our last resistance seems to have become a joke, haha... cough cough cough." There was bitterness and coughing in the laughter. The mage was afraid of hitting the guardrail in front of him, and tears flowed down his old face at some point.

"Why, why, it turned out like this." There was hesitation, loss and unwillingness in his voice.

"Are the doctrines and ideas that have been passed down for more than ten generations going to be cut off in our hands?" Another mage representative sat dejectedly on a chair beside him, his back against the cold wall, staring blankly at the dome in the tower, scenes from the past emerging in his mind.

The innocence and liveliness of childhood, the pride of being praised by parents in youth, the pride of becoming a master's disciple in youth, the happiness of marrying the teacher's daughter, becoming the new leader of the school, greatly expanding the progress of technology, and the joy of promoting the creations of my own design on a large scale in the country.

Everything was so beautiful and smooth in the past, but it is about to be shattered like a dream and sink into the abyss along with the country.

Unlike the lower-ranking soldiers and ordinary mid-level mages, these faction leaders, the pinnacle of power in Lurna, the instigators and instigators of war, were destined to be unforgivable by the enemy. If the Frost Alliance was defeated, they would have nowhere to hide. Even if they escaped, their companions would be hunted like rats by the enemy until their death.

"No, no, no! We can't accept such a failure. There must be a way. There must be a way." His voice was painful, unwilling, and crazy.

"I'm going to see those two princes." The representative of the faction stumbled down the stairs and ran towards a hidden corner of the city.

——————

Outside the city, as the sun slowly rose from one side of the horizon, a faint glow pierced through the mist on the fields, and the spear tips and armor all over the mountains also reflected bright light under the sunlight.

Poles nearly twenty meters tall were arrayed in the military formation. From the tops of these poles hung banners resembling banners, pure white with golden tassels edging them, and the Clancia emblem centered. On either side of the banners were vibrant red ribbons.

As the sea breeze blew gently, the flags twisted in an arc in the air, their red ribbons tracking the wind and emitting a fierce rustle. Arranged in a line, these banners formed a curtain of wind, drowning out everyone's vision.

Every hundred meters, there is a line of flags, like a curtain of wind, layer upon layer. Below these advancing layers of white flags with golden tassels is an endless iron-cast army formation.

Faced with an army that was too numerous to count as far as the eye could see, many of the defenders began to tremble in their legs and could not stand steadily, as if they would be crushed into mud by this almost hopeless army at any time.

At this point, as the desolate and distant horn sounded, these upright, iron-cast military formations slowly advanced.

tread--

The measured footsteps were like a giant hammer in the hands of a god, striking the uneven earth. As the soldiers advanced, the flags followed suit, like a tidal wave, bringing a shocking pressure.

On the vast plains, the glow of mana connected into one, and the surging magic power was like a boiling sea of ​​fire. Even though there were many magical cannons and mages shooting on the city walls, such attacks were like throwing stones into the sea, and they were immediately crushed and submerged.

Even Roland, the founding king of West Wind, failed to build a grand army, but just a few years after the fall of West Wind, a new country achieved it.

Just as described in the poem.

Flags like the wind formed a white ocean in the wilderness.

And they march towards glory and faith until the end of the world.