Chapter Fifty-Two: Transformation in Battle

Chen Mancang saw the bandit’s yellow buck teeth, the savage scar running across his face like a centipede, the hideous, terrifying grin, and the mocking, vicious eyes that held no regard for human life.

“Shields up!”

At the squad leader’s command, the soldier before him raised his rattan shield. Woven from tough vines and soaked in tung oil, the shield was exceptionally sturdy, and it caught the bandit’s broadsword with a heavy thud.

Beside him, Tie Niu—his fellow soldier and fellow townsman—gripped a five-zhang wolf-brush spear and swept it sideways.

The shaft of the wolf-brush spear was made of bamboo. The front end had been shaved into a mass of jagged spikes, with the branches left intact, while countless tiny blades had been lashed among them. It swept toward the bandit’s face like a snarling beast. Anyone struck by it would instantly become a blood-soaked horror.

The blow threw the bandits’ tightly packed assault into disarray, and their momentum faltered at once.

“Thrust together!”

Hearing the familiar voice of his squad leader, Chen Mancang instinctively thrust his spear through the gap between the shields.

With a wet, sucking sound, the sensation beneath his hands was unlike that of piercing a wooden post.

Following the shaft with his eyes, he saw that the man with the savage grin and buck teeth was now clutching the spear. Blood spilled from his mouth, and the whites of his eyes had turned red with bursting vessels. The mocking viciousness was gone.

Chen Mancang pulled out his spear. Its tip was already red.

Strangely, the nervous tension that had gripped him moments before quietly vanished.

“Again!”

As soon as the squad leader spoke, Chen Mancang gathered his strength and thrust fiercely once more.

He had no idea how many times he struck. A sticky sensation appeared along the shaft. He quickly lowered his head and saw blood running down it toward his hand.

His grip was wrapped in strips of cloth, so the spear did not slip.

“No matter how savage a bandit is, once you stab him, he dies.”

The fear he had once felt toward bandits vanished without a trace.

He thrust again, but this time his spear met empty air.

The bandits who had charged so ferociously only moments earlier had lost their nerve in little more than ten minutes.

When had they ever encountered a formation like this, protected by the shell of a tortoise?

Rattan shields blocked them from the front. Wolf-brush spears swept in from the sides and flanks, keeping them at bay. Long spears pierced their bodies like the fangs of beasts.

Their close assault had not only failed to break the enemy in a single stroke; in barely ten minutes, more than half their number had been killed or wounded.

The remaining bandits were terrified out of their wits. How could they dare continue fighting? The same mob that had charged forward in a frenzy now fled in a frenzy.

“Pursue them!”

Zhao Zheng saw that the bandits had been completely routed and gave the order.

The various watches and squads immediately broke into groups of three and set off in pursuit.

The archers were no longer anxious as they had been before. Each was now like a fierce tiger descending from the mountains, brimming with fighting spirit. Their hands clenched the sabers at their waists, and they stared murderously at the bandits as though looking at fleeing prey.

Chen Mancang threw down his spear. His legs carried him forward at a furious pace. Catching up with one of the bandits, he raised his saber and brought it down upon the man’s neck.

The bandit had only enough time to glance back. He saw the blade descending, but it was too late to parry. The saber cleaved halfway through his head. Blood sprayed three feet into the air, and even after he fell, it continued to spurt from the wound with a hissing sound, staining the earth red.

Perhaps because his emotions had risen to a fever pitch, Chen Mancang felt not the slightest fear. Instead, his heart surged with excitement. He called to the two soldiers behind him, and together they covered one another as they continued cutting down the fleeing bandits.

After truly killing a man, he found that the bandits who had once seemed so terrifying were no different from rabbits when they were being hunted down.

One-Ear stood dumbfounded.

He had never imagined that the situation could change so completely.

When they had descended the mountain that morning, he had been dreaming of the future—a world bursting with life, where all things competed to flourish.

When they encountered a group of peasant soldiers, the advantage had still been theirs.

How had everything suddenly become this?

“Where in the world did these soldiers come from?”

One-Ear could no longer believe that these were the archers trained over the past two months in Wuren County.

And they were certainly no ordinary government troops.

They must have been divine soldiers sent from heaven!

Their methods differed from those of the Yu Family Army, but they were every bit as terrifying.

Every soldier of the Yu Family Army was like a fierce tiger descending from the mountains. Each possessed a murderous spirit and formidable strength. Their blades flashed swiftly and viciously, leaving no room for resistance.

If the Yu Family Army was an arrowhead of unrivaled sharpness, then the army before him was like a siege ram.

A siege ram might appear clumsy and ponderous, but every enemy who met it head-on would be crushed without mercy. Nothing could withstand its steady advance.

At that moment, he saw another force charge out of the mountain valley, numbering roughly a hundred men.

The instant they emerged, they scattered across the road in groups of three and pursued the Tuo Mountain bandits, who were fleeing in all directions. They seemed afraid that the men under Commander Zuo would kill every last one and leave them nothing to do. They competed with one another to get ahead, moving with extraordinary zeal.

“Move faster! Don’t let Commander Zuo’s men take all the credit!”

Hu Changshan shouted to the archers of the right battalion charging ahead.

He, too, had not expected the left battalion to rout the bandits upon their very first contact.

Now that they had entered the fight, the bandits were already terrified out of their minds. They had no intention of resisting and thought only of outrunning their comrades and escaping alive.

Enemies like these were hardly more difficult to kill than rabbits.

Seeing this, One-Ear knew that the situation was beyond saving. He no longer had any chance.

But fury burned in his heart.

His bandit stronghold had been built over six or seven years. With so many of his men killed this time, he feared it could no longer be preserved.

In his rage, he decided to rely on his skill and kill several government soldiers to vent his anger. At the very least, he would let the heroes of the underworld know that One-Ear was no coward.

A single victory or defeat meant little. But if his reputation were ruined, it would truly be ruined.

Without a reputation, he could never gather men again, and any hope of rising once more would be gone.

Lying beneath a cart and pretending to be dead, One-Ear gripped the willow-leaf saber beside him. He quietly rolled over and fixed his eyes on a young officer nearby. His toes dug into the earth, and the muscles of his thighs suddenly tightened.

The next instant, tremendous force surged from his waist and abdomen, through his thighs, calves, and ankles, and burst into the ground. As the explosive crack of his bones and tendons rang out, his body shot forward like a cannonball.

Holding the saber in both hands, he swung it through the air. The blade tore out a sharp hum.

His ability to conceal his breath was excellent, and his sudden attack left no time to evade.

By the time Zhao Zheng noticed him, the wind of the blade was already brushing his face.

“Zhao Zheng!”

A furious roar came from nearby.

Zhang Qian, the camp instructor leading the pursuit, slammed into Zhao Zheng and knocked him aside.

With a ringing scrape, the blade flashed. Zhang Qian had only enough time to twist sideways before it swept across his back.

One-Ear was about to continue after Zhao Zheng when the air suddenly began to hum.

A long spear came flying across dozens of yards. The shrill whistle produced by its friction with the air revealed the terrifying force behind it.

One-Ear hurriedly dodged.

The spear flew past so close that it grazed his ear. The force carried along its shaft sent a sharp, needle-like pain through him.

In the next moment, Hu Changshan hurled another spear.

Leaping from his horse, he swung one leg out and kicked the butt of the weapon with the top of his foot. The shaft shuddered violently, then gave forth an even sharper whistle than before. In the blink of an eye, it had reached its target at point-blank range.

There was nowhere to dodge.

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