CHAPTER 219: FRAIL AND FEEBLE

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The soundless barking echoed in Ji Yang's ears. He answered instinctively.

"Woof!"

The vast army of dog heads surged forward, marching grandly into the unknown. Ji Yang's consciousness was pulled along with them, and for the first time he saw beyond the place where he had grown up.

Still desolate. Still lonely.

The world was cloaked in shadow, endless gray mist stretching in all directions. Yet the haze here seemed thinner than the suffocating fog of his birthplace, and from this vantage he could see farther than ever before.

The dog-headed horde pressed onward, tireless and unyielding. After countless miles, a new target appeared before them.

Atop a mound of earth drifted countless wandering souls, broken bodies hanging in tatters. They circled aimlessly, yet clung together in a single wretched mass.

Ji Yang did not halt his army. Wherever the dog heads passed, the mound was reduced to rubble. The fractured spirits were swiftly consumed, their remnants devoured by the Hellhound legion.

Flames in their eyes flared brighter, and their bodies grew more robust with each soul absorbed.

The march did not end. The army advanced without pause. Soon, their pace slowed. Ahead stood a host clad in silver armor—half-human, half-horse figures, countless in number.

Ji Yang recognized them instantly: Shadows of War.

Though his Hellhounds numbered in the thousands, the enemy before him was no less formidable. Yet Ji Yang did not shrink back. These Shadows of War did not stir fear in his heart—their forms were of a size no greater than his Hellhounds.

"Woof!"

At his command, the three-headed hounds hurled themselves forward, slamming into the enemy line.

"Huff, huff!"

The Shadows of War roared their strange cries and charged to meet the onslaught. The clash of the two armies shook the ground, dust clouds rising high.

Ji Yang stood upon a hillside, three dog heads raised proudly as he surveyed the chaos below. The Shadows of War were powerful, but his army pressed them hard with sheer numbers. The Three-Headed Hellhounds tore into the enemy ranks, their triple jaws biting with savage strength.

After a brutal exchange, Ji Yang's forces slowly gained the upper hand, driving forward step by step. Death claimed many, but the Hellhounds knew no fear, no pain.

The battle seemed on the verge of victory—until the distant mist trembled with the thunder of hooves and a piercing, inhuman cry.

The sound drew closer. Then, through the gray veil, it appeared.

A towering Shadow of War, its height spanning dozens of meters. Silver armor gleamed upon its vast frame, though cracks scarred its surface. In its hands it bore a long-handled scythe, half the blade broken, yet still glimmering with a deadly chill.

Ji Yang stiffened. Damn!

It was the same Shadow of War he had faced before. Wounded, weakened—but still alive. And with its arrival, the battlefield changed at once. Not even the Three-Headed Hellhounds could slow its charge. The massive scythe swept in a single arc, and countless dog heads toppled to the ground.

Ji Yang's heart went cold. He had believed he could fell this broken giant with the might of his hounds, but now it seemed more likely he would be the one cut down.

As retreat filled his thoughts, the towering Shadow of War turned. As though it had sensed him, it wheeled about, iron hooves pounding the earth as it charged straight toward the hillside.

The scythe carved through the battlefield, clearing a path with every swing. Nothing could bar its way.

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