Sun Jian's agonized scream was like the tripping of a switch, plunging the battlements into utter bedlam. Driven mad by terror, the soldiers no longer cared about princes, marquises, generals, or chancellors; they slashed at anyone in their path. Scalding blood sprayed through the air, mixing with the frigid rain in an eerie, grotesque spectacle.
"Your Majesty, take cover first!"
Seeing severed heads flying and mangled limbs littering the horse ramp, Liu Bei and his two brothers hastily sheltered Liu Hong off to the side, abandoning any further push forward.
Paralyzed by the carnage, Liu Hong went limp. Dragged by Liu Bei into a relatively secluded corner, he gasped for breath, his wits scattered.
In all his years as the supreme and exalted emperor, he had never witnessed hundreds, even thousands of men butchering one another in a blind frenzy. In such madness, even the Son of Heaven or high ministers and dukes could easily take a blade or two!
"Your Majesty, it's over! Luoyang is finished!"
Before Liu Hong could steady his nerves, Grand Commandant Deng Sheng stumbled before him in utter disarray, his graying beard and hair caked with grime, his brocade robes soaked in dark red gore, weeping piteously.
"The Moth Rebels haven't even stormed the walls, yet chaos has erupted along the ramparts! Luoyang cannot hold!"
Hearing this, Liu Hong wanted nothing more than to curse him: *Back then, it was you, old dog, who stubbornly refused to let Us flee west to Hongnong! You prated on about how the eight passes were perilous and Luoyang was impregnable, insisting We stay to defend it! And now look at you, having the gall to come weeping before Us!*
Yet seeing Deng Sheng's heartbroken, wretched state, Liu Hong swallowed his fury after all. He turned toward Liu Bei instead. "Xuande, is there any way?"
Liu Bei shook his head helplessly. "Your Majesty, the horse ramps are blocked. We cannot even descend the gate tower..."
Even with an escape route prepared in advance, they had no way to take it!
Unless they could fly down like God Huang Tian, their only option was to stay dutifully atop the wall.
Liu Hong slumped against the cold, hard masonry in utter despair. "A realm so vast... how did it come to this?"
"Curses! I never should have come to Daxia Gate! If only I had broken out through Dongyang Gate earlier!"
Sheltered by a handful of personal retainers in a corner of the wall, Yuan Shao looked out at the riotous battlements, consumed by bitter regret.
"To think I still harbored delusions that Luoyang could be held! Foolish! Utterly foolish!"
He wiped the rain from his face with one hand. "Must I, Yuan Shao, truly perish here in Luoyang today, dragged into the grave alongside the Great Han?!"
He refused to accept it!
He was born of the Yuan clan, renowned for four generations of Three Excellencies. Though not strictly from the primary lineage—which caused that brat Yuan Shu to look down on him—his years of cultivating a noble reputation and striving relentlessly had ultimately won him the respect of countless people.
"Paragon of All Under Heaven," Yuan Benchu!
Bearing such an illustrious name, he had been filled with immense ambition, eager to accomplish monumental deeds, surpass Yuan Shu, and become the most accomplished figure the Yuan family had ever seen!
And yet...
Yuan Shao tilted his head back, gazing up at the downpour cascading from the sky, a silent roar echoing in his chest: *Does Heaven truly wish my ruin?! Does Heaven wish to destroy me?!*
Huang Tian took note of the bedlam atop the walls of Luoyang, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he closed his eyes and quietly sensed the qi signatures between heaven and earth.
In a single breath, he snapped his eyes open, lightning flashing through his gaze.
Orthodox Wutu Thunder!
Resonance with Heavenly Thunder!
He raised his right arm high. At his gesture, the dense clouds churned violently as rumbling thunder rolled across the heavens, and purple lightning ripped across the celestial canopy like a sprawling spiderweb.
A "thunder spear" slowly coalesced in the air above his right hand. Viewed from the ground, it appeared as though Huang Tian, standing atop the earthen terrace, firmly grasped a blazing, dazzling spear of the thunder god!
The shaft of the spear was forged from blinding white light, while countless fine tendrils of purple lightning writhed and hissed wildly along its length, crackling with scalp-numbing pops.
An incomparably ferocious power was tightly compressed within the spear, which spanned roughly a zhang in length. It warped the surrounding air, its scorching heat vaporizing the torrential rain pouring from above before the droplets could even strike.
"The Holy Sovereign's might is boundless!!"
"The Yellow Heaven descends! The Blue Heaven perishes!"
"..."
Seeing this mythical spectacle, tens of thousands of Yellow Turban soldiers fell into a frenzy of worship.
Meanwhile, atop the walls of Luoyang, Liu Hong and his officials froze in stupor. Riding clouds and mist was something they could just barely grasp, but wielding a spear of lightning, summoning thunder and whipping lightning across the sky shattered their very sanity. Overwhelmed and utterly at a loss, they could only mutter incoherent words.
Even the soldiers who had been madly hacking at one another began to regain their senses before such a divine and monstrous presence, only to be plunged immediately into deeper terror.
Were they truly supposed to fight against such a celestial deity?
Paying no mind to the fanaticism or horror around him, Huang Tian bent his elbow. Bearing the most unyielding, supreme might in the world, the thunder spear drew back slightly, and then...
His gaze bridged the distance between the high terrace and Luoyang's battlements, locking onto the towering wall.
There was no roar, no proclamation.
Only a single throw infused with all his spiritual power and will!
*Boom—!!*
Hurled from his hand, the thunder spear instantly transformed into a searing white meteor streaking through the downpour. Its brilliance was so intense that it almost blotted out every other speck of light between heaven and earth, rending the air and trailing a deafening roar like rolling thunder.
Time seemed to stretch out endlessly in that instant.
Liu Hong, Yuan Shao, Deng Sheng, He Jin, Liu Bei, and the others widened their eyes in sheer terror, watching the divine spear crash toward the colossal rampart beneath their feet at a speed that outstripped thought.
In the blink of an eye, a searing sphere of light detonated violently against the city wall. With it came a terrifying, deafening roar capable of tearing through mountains.
Colossal stones, tiles, timber beams, and everything else in its path proved as fragile as a sandcastle before the destructive might of a celestial being. A visible shockwave expanded madly in concentric rings, hurtling upward with dust and pulverized rubble into a swelling mushroom cloud.
The ancient wall, towering several zhang high and standing so majestic, crumbled rapidly in the extreme fury of the lightning, reduced to sheer powder.
The reverberating roar echoed endlessly, hammering against the depths of everyone's soul.
When the blinding white glare and the swirling dust finally dispersed, the Yellow Turban soldiers looked up to see a massive breach torn into the rampart stretching several li. At the gap lay charred earth, broken masonry, and the surviving officials and Han soldiers, gasping for breath on the brink of madness.
All was silent.
Only the sound of the rain remained, softening to a gentle drizzle.
The light patter felt remarkably tender, like a beauty caressing the face of her lover.
Yet the horrific sight before them held not a shred of tenderness—only a profound, chilling dread.
And the author of it all, Huang Tian, calmly looked upon the ancient city he had shattered, then spoke with absolute serenity:
"Enter the city!"
The moment his words fell, the host of tens of thousands of Yellow Turbans boiled over.
"Enter the city!"
"Enter the city!"
Brandishing their weapons, they surged toward the breach blasted open by the thunder spear like a tidal wave. Anyone who resisted was skewered by a forest of spears, though in truth, none stood in their way. Every surviving Han soldier had been frightened out of his wits, slumping to the ground to await capture by the Yellow Turban Army.
Luoyang, capital of the realm.
It was settled!
Chapter 36