Fantasy: After transmigrating, I effortlessly became a god.

In the Imperial Palace's Hall of Audience, Lü Jun sat on the dragon throne, a symbol of supreme power. His gaze was as cold and sharp as the north wind of winter, piercing directly at the Prime Minister Zhao Baicheng and the Grand Marshal Zhang Zhi below.

Inside the entire hall, the air seemed to freeze, with only the sound of time slowly passing by.

The Xuanhu Army's marching route was supposed to be reported every two hours, but four hours had already passed, and still no news of the Xuanhu Army had arrived. This silent wait was putting immense pressure on the two high-ranking officials of the court.

A mocking smile curled at the corner of Lü Jun's lips. His voice was low and cold: "Lü Jin and Consort Mei vanished without a trace in Yan City. Although you failed to find them, I will temporarily waive your responsibility in consideration of your efforts. However, the 50,000-strong Xuanhu Army has also disappeared as if it had vanished into thin air. As pillars of the court, how can you be so helpless in this matter?"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Baicheng and Zhang Zhi broke out in a cold sweat. They knew Lü Jun's temperament well; the current calm was merely the calm before the storm. They lowered their heads, not daring to meet Lü Jun's icy gaze.

Lu Jun's gaze swept back and forth between the two men, as if trying to dig out the deepest fears and anxieties in their hearts. He felt a sense of satisfaction at this moment; he felt regret and deep sorrow for their acts of patricide and regicide.

If I had known being emperor was so great, I should have acted sooner. I wouldn't be sitting on the throne so late now. I regret it so much.

Lu Jun continued, "I gave you enough time and resources to find the whereabouts of the Xuanhu Army, but you have disappointed me. Now, I'm giving you one last chance. Within one hour, I need to hear definite news about the Xuanhu Army. Otherwise, you will bear the consequences!"

Zhang Zhi habitually reached out and stroked his beard, a long beard he had grown for eight years, which he had meticulously groomed.

“There are many ways to conceal a marching route, so it’s understandable that the scouts couldn’t get any information. I suspect that the Xuanhu Army is likely going to ambush the Red Turban Army, since attacking the city would be tantamount to suicide for them.”

Lu Jun's eyes were cold. "Marshal Zhang, you are in charge of the army and have the reputation of Grand Marshal of the Nation. You are fully responsible for annihilating the Xuanhu Army. I am eager to hear your report on the destruction of the Xuanhu Army and the Fenghuo Army."

Zhang Zhi's expression was no longer one of fear or dread. His earlier behavior was merely to satisfy Lü Jun's urge to seize power. Now that he had been specifically mentioned, he exuded a powerful confidence, wanting Lü Jun to believe that he was trustworthy, he explained.

"Your Majesty, the Xuanhu Army is a heavy cavalry force. If they want to ambush the Red Turban Army, the only suitable place is the Gale Grassland. An hour ago, I sent a message by carrier pigeon to the Red Turban Army to proceed with caution and also dispatched 10,000 cavalry to provide support, so as to launch a pincer attack on the Xuanhu Army."

"As for the Beacon Fire Army?" Zhang Zhi continued, "I have already told the local army to put up only a little resistance and let them go. When they reach Yan City, we will wipe out the Xuanhu Army. At that time, the local army and the Poyue Dragon Cavalry will easily surround and annihilate them."

Lu Jin's cold face finally softened a bit. Zhang Zhi's title of Grand Marshal of the Nation was well-deserved; with him commanding the battle, there was no chance of failure.

Now it was Prime Minister Zhao Baicheng's turn to be embarrassed, because he was responsible for finding the Fourth Prince Lü Jin and Consort Mei, but he had no clue at all, so he could only pretend to be stupid and stand there without saying a word.

I was the prime minister of two dynasties. No matter how bad-tempered the newly appointed emperor is, he has to put up with it. Until we find their whereabouts, do whatever you want.

On the Gale Grassland, the setting sun, like a giant fireball, slowly sinks towards the horizon, its afterglow spreading across the entire grassland and turning the earth golden.

Zheng Qian lay on the grass, leisurely enjoying the beautiful scenery, with Zhao Long's 10,000 Xuanhu Army behind him.

Occasionally, a lone bird would fly across the sky, only to be quickly pierced and killed by arrows that flew out from the grass.

The 50,000 Xuanhu Army arrived at the Gale Grassland an hour ago, and Li Ying's cooks arrived two hours earlier. After arriving, each member of the Xuanhu Army received a rice ball and a piece of beef. They were resting on the grassland, waiting for the Red Turban Army to arrive.

Zheng Qian wasn't worried about the news blackout at all; he left it to Feng Zi Kingdom in the Fusion Realm to handle. Feng Zi Kingdom not only dispatched two hundred Shadow Guards but also released three hundred peregrine falcons, ensuring that not even a mosquito could fly across the Gale Plains to deliver information.

Just then, the Red Turban Army's banners fluttered in the headwind, like flames burning brightly. The 150,000-strong army, after a long march, finally arrived at this vast plain. Their faces were weary, but their eyes shone with a resolute light—a yearning for victory and an unwavering commitment to their beliefs.

On the windswept grasslands, warhorses neighed, dust billowed. The cavalrymen dismounted, planting their weapons in the earth, as if announcing their arrival to the land, ready to write the legend of the Red Turban Army. Their steps were heavy, yet each one resounding, a testament to the pride and glory of warriors.

The order to set up camp was quickly relayed, and the soldiers, with clear division of labor, began constructing their tents in an orderly manner. Meanwhile, wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys, and the clatter of pots and pans filled the air. The army cooks were busy preparing a variety of dishes, providing the soldiers with a sumptuous dinner.

Leader Hua Zhongcheng stood at the front of the camp wearing a flame mask, the flames in his eyes burning even hotter than those on the mask.

Yan City was just ahead, and the rewards were within reach; the prospect of being made a king or prime minister was beckoning him.

Immediately, the burning intensity in Hua Zhongcheng's eyes subsided, replaced by pure hatred and murderous intent.

Zheng Qian, the moment I arrive in Yan City will be the moment you die. Just wait, you have one day left to live.

As dozens of teams ventured deeper into the Gale Grasslands, Hua Zhongcheng turned back to the camp to inspect the work.

The mission of dozens of teams was to detect whether there were enemy troops in the Gale Plains. Although he did not think there was any danger in the Gale Plains, he still sent out teams to scout just in case.

"Pass down the order: all soldiers must lead their horses and walk without making a sound," Zheng Qian said to Zhao Long, then led his horse and headed first toward the Red Turban Army's encampment.

After Zhao Long finished giving instructions to the messenger, he turned around and couldn't see Zheng Qian anymore. All he could see was three-meter-high green grass.

"Commander, Commander Zheng," Zhao Long called in a low voice, but there was no response. He could only pull his horse forward quickly, calling out "Commander Zheng" as he went, but still received no reply.

The Gale Plains was a small grassland with a diameter of five kilometers. No one lived there, and only a pipe ran through the middle. The grass was three meters tall, and the leaves were very sharp. Zheng Qian was not wearing armor, so walking in it was very uncomfortable. He simply headed towards the main road.

After two minutes of traversing, he finally arrived at the two-meter-wide road. Looking out, he saw the Red Turban Army soldiers busily cooking in the distance, with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys, creating a lively scene.

At this time, the Red Turban Army was at its most exhausted and hungry. Apart from the soldiers patrolling the camp, the rest of the soldiers were either cooking or setting up tents and had not yet rested.

Looking behind him, Zheng Qian was disappointed to find that no one had followed.

Fifteen thousand Red Turban Army soldiers, yet they dare not follow me in charging? Then I, the commander, will slaughter them all to show you.

As he mounted his warhorse, Zheng Qian's eyes gleamed with fervor.

Da, da da da...

The sound of horses' hooves rang out, and Zheng Qian charged alone against the Red Turban Army.

Since they are my enemies, let them become my source of strength.