We have fought to the Arctic Circle, and you want me to inherit the throne?

As soon as the fire started inside, smoke followed.

Dorje Tsering tore off a piece of cloth from his body, soaked it in the dirty water in the corner of the room, tightly covered his mouth and nose, and then silently stuck it behind the door into the shadows.

The rough linen, once soaked, carried an earthy smell, but it kept out the pungent smell of smoke that first wafted in.

The two soldiers guarding the gate soon smelled the burning odor. At first, they didn't pay much attention, assuming that someone in the camp was burning garbage again.

But the smoke grew thicker and thicker, turning from gray to black, carrying the pungent smell of burning that went straight into my nose.

"What does it smell like?"

One of the younger soldiers sniffed, turned to look at the thick smoke seeping from the crack in the closed door, and his expression changed instantly.

"Oh no! It's inside...it's on fire inside!"

The two exchanged a glance, both seeing panic in each other's eyes.

The prisoner locked up in this room is Dorje Tsering, a wanted criminal whom the general specifically ordered to be kept under close watch!

The older soldier spat, hurriedly opened the door, and shouted angrily inside, "What are you doing? Trying to roast yourself alive?!"

The door was pushed open, and thick smoke billowed out. The older soldier choked, tears streaming down his face, but he squinted and rushed inside, yelling, "Come out! You bastard..."

Before he could finish speaking, an arm as strong as an iron hoop emerged from the shadows behind the door and ruthlessly tightened its grip on his neck.

With his other hand, he gripped a sharp-edged piece of wood and thrust it diagonally into the gap between his neck armor and helmet without hesitation.

"Ho!"

The soldier could only utter a short, sharp sound before collapsing limply.

Blood mixed with smoke and dust spread a dark patch on the muddy ground, and he instantly passed away.

The young soldier behind him was terrified when he saw his comrade fall. He turned and ran away, opening his mouth to shout.

Dorje Tsering's actions were even faster than his thoughts.

He had already bent down and picked up the waist knife belonging to the dead soldier from the ground. The blade flashed in the dim light, drawing a cold arc, and brought a muffled sound of flesh and bone being torn apart.

The warning the young soldier hadn't had a chance to utter was forever stuck in his throat; a head rolled to the ground, and the headless corpse fell forward.

Dorje Tsering didn't even glance at the mess on the ground. He pulled off the wet cloth from his face and quickly searched the older soldier's body.

They removed the helmet and armor from his body and hastily covered themselves with them.

He then took out a lighter, rubbed it hard with his thumb, and with a soft 'click', a tiny flame leaped out.

The tents were old, the felt was dry, and the fur lining, the piles of hay, and even the soldiers' casually discarded clothes were all excellent tinder.

Dorje Tsering's eyes were as cold and hard as a rock as he brought the cluster of flames closer to the nearest pile of junk.

The flames first licked timidly, then, as if they had tasted the sweetness, they suddenly swelled up.

Climbing along the dry felt wall, they emitted a joyful yet terrifying burning sound, quickly forming a continuous mass.

As the heatwave rolled in, Dorje Tsering's messy hair instantly curled up.

Without further delay, he crouched down and rushed out of the cell, which had turned into a fiery inferno, disappearing into the shadows cast by the tents like a lithe snow leopard.

The small metal tinder in his hand kept opening and closing, and clusters of flames burned on piles of hay, flags that had not been put away, open tents piled with weapons, and even ropes hanging from the gaps in the tents.

At first, there were only a few isolated fires, flickering in the night wind.

But as the wind shifted, the fire, fueled by the wind, suddenly burst into a roaring sea of ​​fire.

"It's gone!!!"

The piercing screams finally broke through the night sky above the Tibetan camp.

In an instant, the entire camp exploded like an anthill being smashed into a boulder!

Flames shot into the sky, turning half the night sky a menacing orange-red.

Thick smoke descended like a demon's giant hand, obscuring the stars and moon and swallowing up all directions.

The scorching heatwave rolled and baked every inch of the air.

The soldiers, awakened by the shock, tumbled out of their tents shirtless, only to be met with a wave of heat and stinging sparks.

Many people were still in a daze when they were knocked down by the panicked crowd.

The sounds of trampling, crying, cursing, and the crackling of the burning camp blended together.

"My knife! My armor!"

"Horse! The horse is startled!"

"Don't push, run that way!"

"Ahhh! It's so hot, it's burning me!"

"Help!"

The chaos escalated rapidly. Some people tried to put out the fire, only to find that the water buckets they used to fetch water had been overturned somewhere.

The canal was already crowded with people whose clothes had been set on fire, frantically fighting for water.

They pushed and shoved each other, punching and kicking, turning the clear canal water into muddy sludge.

Many more people scurried about like headless flies, or moved like headless ghosts in the flickering firelight. The officers' shouts were completely drowned out by the deafening roar.

The startled warhorses broke free of their reins and charged wildly through the camp, neighing.

Horse hooves trampled over the fire, kicked up burning wood, and spread chaos to even more distant corners.

The supply wagons loaded with provisions were set ablaze, producing a loud bang, and sparks rained down, igniting more tents.

The firelight illuminated distorted faces, sweat and soot mingled together, only the whites of their eyes and teeth stood out.

The once orderly camp has now been completely transformed into a burning hellish battlefield.

Dorje Tsering lay hidden behind a heavy pile of supplies in the shadows, his cold eyes reflecting the raging inferno he had set on fire with his own hands, his face expressionless.

He didn't care even if the people in front of him were his compatriots.

The flames danced in his pupils, as if burning in his heart as well.

Burn it! Burn it!

Only when you are burned to ashes can my family and I live!

. . . . . .

Meanwhile, several miles west of the camp, beyond the ridgeline of the wasteland, a heavy darkness seemed to gain weight.

Suddenly, a row of sharp silhouettes slowly emerged from the darkness.

It was a troop of elite cavalry, all clad in armor, silent as iron, with only the occasional snort of the horses turning into white vapor in the night wind.

The leading silver-armored general in white robes reined in his warhorse, his deep gaze piercing through the night and landing on the Tibetan camp in the distance, which had been transformed into a raging inferno.

The towering flames cast a dark red glow on the low-hanging clouds, and cries and screams drifted on the wind like the prelude to hell.

"Generals," Yue Yun said slowly, "we will act according to orders."

To his left and right, Ma Zhong, clad in black armor, and Luo Yueniang, in dark blue soft armor, simultaneously bowed on horseback, the armor plates rustling softly.

"Here!"

Your Majesty's calculations are accurate; dawn is when people are most tired.

And this towering flame was the signal to launch an attack.

Li Che didn't send many people with them. When it comes to raiding a camp, it's not about having a lot of people; in fact, the fewer the better.

An attack on a camp often leads to chaos, where having more people becomes a disadvantage, while having fewer people allows for greater flexibility in movement.

It is better to have quality than quantity. 1,500 elite cavalrymen are enough, with each person having a squad of 500 elite soldiers.

"drive!"

Yueyun spurred his horse, and the magnificent white steed beneath him shot off like an arrow across the wilderness.

Behind him, five hundred iron cavalrymen seemed to merge with him, and they roared into action.

The horses' hooves began with a dull thud, then quickly coalesced into a thunderous roar that shook the earth as they swept toward the brightest point of the fire.

At the camp gate, the Tibetan soldiers on night watch were already terrified by the chaotic scene behind them, and were craning their necks to look around in bewilderment.

Hearing the thunderous hoofbeats approaching from the darkness, he was terrified.

"Enemy attack——"

"Close the gate! Close the gate now!" a centurion-looking officer roared hoarsely, his voice distorted.

Several Tibetan soldiers scrambled towards the two gates and struggled to push them open.

The gate creaked shut with a sickening groan as it slowly closed inward.

Just as the door was about to close, leaving only a narrow crack—

call out!

A tiny, cold star streaked across the sky, moving faster than the human eye could perceive.

The centurion, who had been roaring, froze, a fletched arrow already lodged in his throat, trembling on its own.

His eyes bulged out, and he collapsed, clutching his neck.

Almost simultaneously, a silvery-white meteor flew out of Yue Yun's hand.

It wasn't an arrow, but his gleaming silver spear!

The spear transformed into a straight white line, piercing through the gap in the gate with unparalleled precision just as it was about to close.

With a 'thud,' the sword pierced the chest of a Tibetan soldier who was desperately pushing open the door, pinning him to the ground.

The momentum had not yet waned, and the spear tip was deeply embedded in the other side of the door panel!

"Kara!"

The sturdy shaft of the spear withstood immense force, suddenly bending into a breathtaking arc, yet firmly preventing its closing motion.

The heavy gate, blocked by this inhuman force, let out a groan of unbearable strain and could not be completely closed.

"kill!"

With a cold, sharp shout, Yue Yun had already darted to the gate like a silver lightning bolt.

He stretched out his long arm, grasped the trembling gun barrel, and exhaled.

The next second, he used the gun as a lever and violently swung his arms!

boom--

The gate, which was already stuck, was pried open with such force that it created an even larger gap.

Amidst the flying sawdust, the iron chain securing the door hinges emitted a grating scraping sound.

Yue Yun drew his spear, and the white horse reared up, its iron hooves, as big as bowls, slammed into the gaping door, completely opening a passage.

He spurred his horse and leaped in, sweeping his spear across the doorway, sending several stunned Tibetan soldiers flying.

"Gentlemen, follow me and break through the camp!"

Five hundred iron cavalry followed closely behind, like a torrent of steel bursting through a breach, surging in from the gap.

This raid did not involve carrying flintlock muskets, which are only effective when fired in formation and are extremely heavy and inconvenient to carry.

Each man had several torches hanging from his side, and his leather pouch at his waist was stuffed with dark hand grenades.

Such flammable materials are the best choice for raiding a camp!

The cavalrymen who rushed into the camp quickly scattered, throwing torches at anything flammable along the way.

Tents, supply wagons, mountains of hay, and even clothes drying in the sun.

Some with exceptional strength even pulled out the fuse of a grenade, estimated the time, and threw it into the air towards the area where the Tibetan soldiers were gathered.

"boom!"

"Boom!"

Flames exploded one after another, and the deafening roars echoed across the chaotic camp, unleashing a new wave of fear.

The burning tent, like a giant torch, was blown away by the blast wave, scattering sparks everywhere.

The Tibetan soldiers, who had just been forced to flee in disarray by the internal fire, were now attacked from behind, causing them to completely collapse and lose all organization. They wandered aimlessly in the sea of ​​fire like headless flies.

Yue Yun took the lead and ventured deep into the heart of the camp.

In his hands, the gleaming silver spear transformed into a raging dragon, its strikes—pointing, stabbing, sweeping, and smashing—exquisitely skillful yet ruthlessly merciless.

Wherever it went, the Tibetan soldiers who tried to form a defensive formation were torn to shreds like rotten wood, and none could withstand its spear.

More cavalrymen, carrying long spears, followed Yue Yun deeper into the camp, causing bursts of blood to erupt.

On the other side, Luo Yueniang's five hundred cavalrymen also fiercely wedged into the left flank of the camp.

She wielded an iron spear with incredible speed and swiftness, her moves were extremely concise yet each strike aimed directly at a vital point.

The spear tips flashed like cold stars, specifically targeting gaps in the enemy's armor and their throats and faces. Accompanied by the Tibetan soldiers' short screams, corpses fell from their horses one after another.

The cavalry behind her showed no mercy either, hacking and slashing, further escalating the chaos.

Slightly to the right of the center, Ma Zhong took the lead, crashing through a fence and bursting into a densely packed area of ​​tents.

He charged into the camp, but did not rush into a blind attack. Instead, he slightly reined in his horse and asked Duan Rui, the deputy general closely following him, "Old Duan, which way would it be more fun to stir things up?"

Duan Rui's gaze swept quickly across the camp ahead, where the firelight flickered, paying particular attention to the ever-growing stream of Tibetan soldiers.

He then extended a stubby finger and decisively pointed to a slightly higher area in the northeast corner:

"General, did you see that? The fleeing soldiers are retreating over there, and there are also sheathed messengers running that way. It's probably a big fishpond. Let's go smash the pond and catch the big fish!"

Ma Zhong grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "I'll listen to you! Men, follow me, and we'll kick down their nest!"

"Roar!"

The cavalry suddenly turned, like a red-hot iron chisel, and fiercely chiseled towards the central area.

When they encountered scattered enemy troops along the way, they did not linger, but simply used torches and grenades to clear the way and create greater panic.

As a 'fishing squad,' their main objective was to strike at the heart of the enemy's territory.