Slain on the Field

The chief commander's face was concealed behind a metal visor, revealing no trace of expression, but from behind the faceplate, his eyes were locked unblinkingly onto Chen Chuan. As Chen Chuan vaulted into the air, the commander raised the long spear in his hand, aiming it toward the trajectory of Chen Chuan's descent. To his right, the vice commander—who had already remounted a fresh horse—raised his own spear as well. Flanking from left and right, the two spears almost completely sealed off his path forward. Moreover, faint glints of light began to shimmer from the tips of both weapons. Although Chen Chuan's downward charge had been extraordinarily sudden and caught them off guard, traversing the distance to reach them still took a fraction of time. For men of their caliber, that split second was more than enough to adjust their stance and build up power. They were confident that under their combined assault, even an opponent of their own limit level could never break through their coordinated containment and strike. The previous sacrifices of warriors and soldiers mattered little; so long as the two of them remained, more could always be recruited and conscripted. In their eyes, even ten commissioned warriors could not compare to a single fighter who had reached their limit level. Furthermore, killing this person would drastically improve their chances of breaking through the fissure. To them, such a trade-off was entirely worthwhile. Yet right as they thrust their spears forward, an intense sense of mortal peril surged through both of them simultaneously, making their hair stand on end. And that feeling... was actually coming from behind! After coming down earlier, Chen Bitong had not idled on the sidelines. Instead, he had taken a wide detour, circling around to the rear of these men. Relying on his vast experience and the unique nature of his jin, not a single soul had detected him along the way. And the moment he saw Chen Chuan draw his blade to strike, he knew the opportunity had arrived, striking decisively without hesitation. The commanders had never expected anyone from above to charge down, much less anticipated that an enemy would slip in from their heavily guarded rear at this precise moment. Right now, everyone—including the commanders themselves—had directed all their strength straight ahead, leaving them practically defenseless against an assault from behind. Yet, as martial artists only a step away from transcendence, they did not lose their composure even in the face of such a sudden crisis, reacting instantaneously to save themselves. First, the horses beneath them sensed their urgent intent and surged forward with their hooves. Meanwhile, the commanders squeezed every ounce of remaining strength from their bodies and forced vital essence from their hearts to meet the fierce attack they anticipated. In an instant, two palms struck their bodies respectively, sending a tremor through both men. Yet furious disbelief flashed across their eyes at the same time—the strikes carried virtually no force, like bubbles bursting on contact! Chen Bitong was still in the distance and had not actually rushed forward; the palm strike he had just delivered had been launched by traversing through the fissure. Though he was several kilometers away from the fissure, within this range, it was not impossible for him to use the fissure for evasive translocation. However, the greater the distance, the slower the transition into and out of the fissure became—making it virtually useless in combat against opponents of the same limit level. Yet he had deliberately exploited this very factor, executing a transit from a greater distance and unleashing an attack along the way. Because his spirit and force arrived ahead of his physical presence, the two men felt a sudden threat and inevitably overreacted. By turning what was normally the flaw of delayed transition to his advantage, he achieved a brilliant tactical effect. Following that strike, an afterimage lingered where he had stood, while his actual body truly materialized behind the two men. His palms thrust forward—bang, bang!—slamming solidly into their bodies! The two commanders had never imagined that, in such a critical moment, the attacker from behind would employ a feint. Yet it had been an open gambit; they had not dared to gamble that the enemy wouldn't strike with full force, causing a fatal miscalculation in their tactical adjustments. Now, as the genuine attack struck home, it was too late to recover. A tyrannical force of jin surged into their bodies, setting off a crackling cascade of pops along their spines and limb joints. The power of String-Void Jin ran rampant within them, wreaking havoc throughout their frames. The faint glow at their spearheads instantly dissolved; not only did that gathered force vanish, but the jin coursing through their bodies could no longer be held together. And at that very moment, Chen Chuan's aloft blade finally descended. The arc of the blade flashed and vanished. Chen Chuan brushed past the chief commander. Crossing dozens of meters through the air, his feet planted on the ground with a dull thud. He held his stance firm, frozen in the follow-through of that sweeping slash. Behind him, the chief commander froze for a brief moment. Then, half of his head and torso slid off his body, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. At the same time, the flagpole bearing the chief commander's standard snapped, toppling down alongside him and churning up a great cloud of dust. Only then did Chen Chuan slowly raise his hand to sheath his blade and straighten up. Originally, he had only intended to decapitate his foe. But knowing how unusual these adversaries were—practically transformed into different organisms—he worried that even a severed head might be reattached or transferred to a new vessel. Thus, he had cleaved him vertically in two, using his jin to obliterate the brain tissue within. Meanwhile, with the vice commander, Chen Bitong followed his initial strike by pummeling him with more than a dozen punches in a single breath. Even though String-Void Jin was not focused on lethal force, the man could not withstand such a violent barrage. As the final fist smashed into the back of his head with a sickening crack, the vice commander's eyes burst, and his head lolled limply to one side. Though the suit of armor held his silhouette intact, the body inside had already been reduced to a pulp. Chen Chuan glanced across the battlefield. According to their initial expectations, the best outcome would have been slaying either the commander or the vice commander, likely at some cost to themselves. Never had they imagined their coordination would be so seamless that both commanders would be slain on the spot in a single strike. Originally, to avoid being encircled afterward, they had planned to withdraw immediately upon success. But given the current situation, with both commanders dead, virtually no one on the field could pin them down. Ahead, several commissioned warriors had already been shattered in Chen Chuan's initial charge, stripped of their combat capability, while the rest were gripped by terror. These warriors were the backbone of the army; if they were eliminated, the remaining rank-and-file soldiers would pose no threat whatsoever. Chen Chuan looked toward Chen Bitong to seek his opinion, but Chen Bitong shook his head. Chen Chuan's thoughts shifted quickly. Chen Bitong was vastly experienced; if he disapproved of lingering, there had to be good reason. Chen Chuan had no intention of being stubborn. Without a moment's hesitation, he kept his saber drawn behind him and sprinted back toward the fissure. As he passed the chief commander's corpse, his gaze fell upon the Auxiliary General's sidearm. It had a black hilt and a vermilion scabbard, adorned with intricate engravings, tassels, and jade ornaments—an opulent weapon. On the move, Chen Chuan flicked the Xuejun Saber, adroitly scooping up the saber into his hand. Chen Bitong, for his part, ripped down the fallen banner and dashed back to the fissure alongside Chen Chuan. Not long after they reached the mountaintop, the rumbling roar of artillery echoed from behind. Looking back, they saw shells raining down exactly where they had stood moments before, plumes of flame and black smoke billowing into the air. Chen Chuan asked, "Aren't they afraid of blowing up their own men?" Chen Bitong shook his head. "They must have already learned what happened at the front before deciding on this. If we had stayed there just now and they hesitated to fire, their losses would have been far worse." Chen Chuan considered this and nodded in understanding. Chen Bitong added, "Captain Chen, with their chief commander dead, they will surely turn frantic. Their next assault will likely be an all-out offensive. Prepare to receive them." Chen Chuan gave an affirmative sound. He focused inwardly to check his condition. Having practiced the Spiritual Illumination Reflection Method for so long, and with the quintessence continually permeating his body, his spirit had indeed grown substantially stronger. The preceding bouts of intense, life-and-death combat had vigorously stimulated his spirit. In particular, successfully slaying the enemy commander just now had elevated his spirit by a significant degree. He seemed to sense something on the verge of emergence, yet it fell just short. After a moment of thought, he asked, "Teacher Chen, does that technique of channeling power through spirit have a name?" Chen Bitong said slowly, "An ancient text from the old era records a verse: 'A speck of spiritual illumination reveals my true nature; authentic perception crosses the world to renew my life.' Thus, you may call it 'spiritual perception.'" "Spiritual perception?" Chen Chuan let out a long breath. Just then, the whir of propeller blades reached their ears. Looking up, they saw an airship emerging in the distant sky. Chen Bitong's expression hardened. "Captain Chen, fall back inside." Chen Chuan agreed and retreated without hesitation. Less than five minutes after they pulled back, thunderous explosions detonated across the fissure. Following that, an avalanche of shells whistled through the air, the artillery barrage from behind having crept forward to bombard this position. At this moment, no fewer than twenty artillery pieces rained shells onto the mountaintop simultaneously. By now, Chen Chuan and Chen Bitong had retreated to the rear boundary of the fissure; one more step, and they would have stepped completely outside. Yet they were already safe here. The barrage struck only the middle zone of the fissure; the area near the exit at the other end inside the fissure was not somewhere artillery shells could directly penetrate. Evidently, the death of a general had provoked a ferocious retaliation from the enemy. This bombardment raged on for a full fifteen minutes. Once the bombardment subsided, the airship drew close, its machine guns chattering furiously as tongues of flame spewed downward into the fissure. At the same time, swarms of White Plague creatures surged up the mountain under the cover of machine-gun fire, scrambling into the fissure in a frantic rush.