With a single blade, Fu Shanlie was turned into a skewer.
He even gripped the hilt and twisted outward, widening the wound, while that familiar voice rang in Fu Shanlie's ear:
"I told you I'd offer your blood to my blade!"
This person was, of course, He Lingchuan!
What he had executed was not a technique learned in Panlong City, but the Moqi uncle and nephew's trump card: Shadow Follows Form.
Back then, Moqi Song had ambushed He Lingchuan, crossing a distance of thirty feet in a single stride from the roadside to get behind him.
Had the ground not been open and had He Lingchuan not possessed a counter, he would have taken a Black Tiger Steals Heart straight to the chest.
After such a useful combat art was revealed, He Lingchuan had naturally asked Moqi Feng to teach it to him.
The barbican's array banned escape techniques, but it could not stop a combat art like this.
Ever since unblocking his upper dantian, his thoughts were unobstructed and his true power flowed freely. His overall strength was a cut above what it had been during the river battle, and he concealed his killing intent so flawlessly that by the time Fu Shanlie noticed him, the general was half a beat too late.
That half-beat was the difference between life and death.
Slanting his blade upward instead of pulling it back, He Lingchuan carved straight through Fu Shanlie's left shoulder. Fusheng cleaved through his collarbone, tearing free from the flesh and blood!
This was tantamount to slicing Fu Shanlie halfway down the side. A piercing agony forced a bellow from Fu Shanlie's lungs.
Amidst spraying blood, Fusheng surged with murderous intent and struck for his throat!
Yet Fu Shanlie gritted his teeth against the agony and twisted his torso, somehow producing a pestle out of thin air to parry the blade with a loud clang.
The chilling saber gang etched a line of blood across his neck, but in the end, it failed to decapitate him.
By then, Fu Shanlie's personal guards realized He Lingchuan was there, howling as they slashed at him with their blades.
He was encircled in the enemy formation; a single blade from each of them could chop him into mincemeat.
He Lingchuan dared not be careless. He grabbed that meat shield from earlier and swung him violently in a wide arc.
A whole row of the nearest enemies was bowled over.
The remaining four or five strikes were parried on the spot.
Before the enemy could press another assault, He Lingchuan pulled out a rectangular heavy shield and slammed it down in front of him with a loud crash.
Immediately after, battle cries shook the heavens as Meng Shan charged forward leading a dozen Gale Army elites to relieve him.
Once the Yuheng Army surged past He Lingchuan like flowing water, the crisis naturally dissolved.
Someone in the Yuheng Army immediately roared, "Fu Shanlie is dead! Fu Shanlie is dead!"
One voice roared, then hundreds joined in, the sound shaking the highest heavens.
By this point, the command banner of the Xiji puppet troops had already fallen. The hundreds of soldiers who had charged forward were already disoriented in the darkness, and hearing the shouts that Fu Shanlie was dead, their will to fight vanished.
Yet outside the barbican and the South Gate, the Jintao army was still pressing in. Those trying to enter could not get in, and those trying to leave could not get out, reducing the passage to utter chaos.
"He Lingchuan is here! Yuheng Army, hear my command: all forces attack!" He Lingchuan snatched a spear from the ground, leveled the tip forward, and roared like spring thunder: "Cut down anyone in our way without mercy!"
With two strides he reached the front rank and hurled the spear like a javelin, impaling several men in a row.
The barbican was packed tightly, perfect for this kind of display.
Over the past six months, he had drilled the Yuheng Army countless times. The moment the soldiers heard his voice, their spirits soared. All hesitation and doubt vanished into thin air, and they gripped their weapons tightly, charging forward behind their leader.
Led by He Lingchuan, the dozen Gale Army elites thrust like a blade into the enemy, tearing their formation apart.
Two hundred Yuheng troops flooded in to fill the gaps, engaging the enemy in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
The barbican was cramped to begin with. Seeing blade-wielding enemies on every side and hearing the deafening war cries, the Xiji puppet soldiers felt their scalps tingle with terror.
Even so, Fu Shanlie's trusted retainers managed to drag him out beyond Yuheng City's walls.
He could barely stand, and his confidant hurried to support him.
Clutching his chest, Fu Shanlie rasped, "Charge back in! He Lingchuan doesn't have many men!"
If anyone else had been stabbed through the heart and had the blade carved back and forth inside them, they would have dropped dead on the spot. But a ba was a ba—an undead creature to begin with. Though severe, the wound was not immediately fatal.
Though the situation was chaotic and he was grievously wounded, his mind remained clear.
He Lingchuan had indeed returned in the nick of time, but the Yuheng troops at the South Gate numbered merely three hundred. The combined forces of the Xiji puppet troops and the Jintao army numbered fully three thousand!
So long as they weathered this wave of He Lingchuan's assault and cleared the bottleneck of the barbican, once the main army poured into the city's streets and alleys, Yuheng City would still be in the palm of his hand!
Ah, it hurt so much.
However, the barbican was shaped like the neck of a bottle, where one man could hold off ten thousand. And He Lingchuan was that very cork, plugging the barbican gate tight. Every expert who charged up from their ranks was thrust right back.
The numerical superiority of the Xiji troops and the Jintao army could not be brought to bear at all.
Yuheng City troops also climbed onto the gatehouse, raining cold arrows down from above.
The stalemate dragged on for more than fifteen minutes. The Xiji troops could not advance an inch, and instead were pushed back step by step.
With Fu Shanlie heavily wounded, there was no general left in their ranks who could match He Lingchuan.
After a few dozen more breaths, earth-shaking battle cries erupted from the western slope as an army charged toward the gate—
The eight hundred infantrymen led back by Cai Qiyong had finally arrived.
He Lingchuan's spirits lifted at the sound, and he ordered the forces inside the city to press forward.
Before reinforcements had arrived, the inner troops focused on defense. With eight hundred infantry on the scene, they immediately shifted from defense to offense.
With Fu Shanlie severely injured, morale between the two sides swung in opposite directions.
Though he tried his utmost to command, he simply lacked fierce generals.
Coordinating from inside and outside, the Yuheng Army steadily shoved the enemy out of the barbican and drove them down the trestle bridge.
Seeing that victory was slipping away, Fu Shanlie sighed heavily and had no choice but to order a retreat.
The Yuheng forces from inside and outside merged into one and pressed their advantage, pursuing the enemy all the way to the Jintao border before He Lingchuan finally recalled the troops.
Thus danger was turned to triumph. The Xiji puppet troops and the Jintao army collapsed like a falling mountain, fleeing in panic while the Yuheng Army hunted them down.
By dawn, the Yuheng Army had killed or wounded over one thousand three hundred enemies and taken more than four hundred captives.
The enemy had assembled over two thousand eight hundred troops in total, and in this single battle, they lost the vast majority.
Without waiting for his subordinates to tally the spoils, He Lingchuan rode his horse back into the city.
The Pilu insect demon remained trapped beneath the bell. The men did not disturb the massive bronze bell, instead reinforcing it with more arrays to prevent the demon's escape.
The thorny matter of dealing with the insect demon would be handed over to Panlong City.
This monster was powerful and bizarre, likely a registered greater demon back in Beijia, and the apothecaries of Panlong City would find it of great interest.
Combat engineers were already busy repairing the gate mechanism and the trestle bridge, while Willow and the other wounded were carried to the nearest inn for emergency treatment.
When He Lingchuan arrived, Willow occupied a private room to herself. White bandages were wrapped around her neck and shoulder, and her broken arm was splinted.
She looked utterly exhausted. Though her clash against Fu Shanlie and the insect demon had been brief, it was the greatest peril she had faced in her entire life, demanding total concentration without the slightest margin for error.
Seeing He Lingchuan enter, Willow smiled at him. "Did we win?"
"Of course."
A'luo chimed in from the side, "Medicine was administered in time, and with Emperor's Flowing Dew taken both internally and applied topically, it will do wonders for her wounds."
This night had been so long that the descent of Emperor's Flowing Dew had not even ended yet. Using the freshest Emperor's Flowing Dew to treat the wounded yielded twice the result with half the effort, producing wondrous effects.
Chapter 1043