Three Sacred Hall archbishops and two thousand escorting cavalry made for an imposing and grand force.
Of course, this was the battlefield on the northern border, and the Mount Song Army headquarters commanded several thousand black-armored cavalry. If there was truly to be a battle, there was an army there that could fight it.
The problem was that Ning Shiwei and his most trusted subordinates and officers had all died that night in the mountains. The Divine General's seat in the Mount Song Army headquarters was empty. The several thousand black-armored cavalry and the even more numerous ordinary soldiers were all nervous, mystified as to whose orders they should follow.
Most importantly, even if there was someone who dared to command the troops, just who would dare bear the responsibility?
