Chapter 41: Phantasm

　　Part 1: Great Qin　　The blue light flared once more, gathering and swirling in the cavern hall until it solidified into a three-dimensional scene.　　Before me, an ancient army was in retreat, harried by a tide of insects. In the vast chamber, they swiftly reformed into a tight, disciplined square to meet the onslaught. Their ranks were immaculate, armor gleaming—a stark, ordered contrast to the seething chaos of the chitinous horde.　　The giant insects charged, wave after fearless wave. Seeing their arrows dwindling, the general barked an order. The front line locked shields and stepped forward, while the ranks behind lowered their seven-meter spears, impaling the bulk of the creatures at the hall’s mouth. Then, the walls themselves seemed to crack open. More insects poured from the fissures—a clicking, scrabbling flood of legs and snapping mandibles, rising like a living tsunami to crash against the formation from all sides.　　Crisis, yet not a hint of panic. The general’s arm shot up again. Crossbowmen released their final, withering volley. Every bolt found its mark; struck insects fell dead or twitched briefly into stillness. Under this covering fire, the entire force contracted toward the center with drilled precision—a shield-wall perimeter, spears bristling behind it. The vision was silent, yet in my mind, I heard the hiss of arrows and the thunder of war cries.　　Arrows spent, winged horrors descended from above. On command, spears thrust skyward. The air filled with the rain of severed limbs and shattered wings.　　After several grinding assaults, the swarm was decimated. The soldiers’ losses were few. The moment had come. The general raised the battle sta