Jiang Ziya stood at the edge of the camp, his bamboo staff sunk a hand’s depth into the soaked earth. Behind him, the allied forces of the Zhou breathed in ragged formation—farmers turned soldiers, shamans turned generals, boys with too-big spears and old men who had already buried their sons. Before him, a league away, the walls of Chaoge rose black against a bruised sky. And beyond those walls, King Zhou’s sorcerers had already begun to sing.
It was not enough. He knew it was not enough.
Jiang Ziya looked up at the boiling sky and saw the last of the immortal cranes scatter east, fleeing toward Kunlun. The gods had closed their doors. No reinforcements would come from above.



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Jiang Ziya stood at the edge of the camp, his bamboo staff sunk a hand’s depth into the soaked earth. Behind him, the allied forces of the Zhou breathed in ragged formation—farmers turned soldiers, shamans turned generals, boys with too-big spears and old men who had already buried their sons. Before him, a league away, the walls of Chaoge rose black against a bruised sky. And beyond those walls, King Zhou’s sorcerers had already begun to sing.
It was not enough. He knew it was not enough.
Jiang Ziya looked up at the boiling sky and saw the last of the immortal cranes scatter east, fleeing toward Kunlun. The gods had closed their doors. No reinforcements would come from above.