Hemmed in by a thousand blades, Pei Xinyong found himself trapped in a desperate plight.
Lu Yao wanted his life!
Begging for mercy now was useless. He knew Lu Yao had to cut him down where he stood if he hoped to handle the crowd of more than a thousand men outside.
Wu Shaoyi had sent word warning him to guard against a sudden strike from Lu Yao. In the end, he had still underestimated his foe.
Pei Xinyong had no time for regret, for another of his bodyguards collapsed beside him with a wretched scream, skewered to death by a thicket of spears.
Encircled by overwhelming numbers, the enemy had no need for martial honor. Thrusting their long weapons at will, they would skewer Pei and his men like pieces of meat sooner or later.
Pei Xinyong glared fixedly at Lu Yao, fury flashing through his eyes. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a little brass figurine, bit the tip of his tongue to spray a mouthful of blood across it, and hurled it toward the opposing crowd with a roar, "Grow!"
The figurine was barely as long as his middle finger, resembling a toy made of sheet brass. Its surface was pitted and marred by several patches, looking like worthless junk no one would bother picking up from the roadside.
Seeing him throw something indiscriminately, the nearest rebel reflexively raised a blade to bat it away. Lu Yao was sharp-eyed and barked in alarm the instant he saw it, "Get back!"
Too late.
The object expanded the moment it caught the wind. Not even three inches long when it left his fingers, it ballooned wildly in midair until the rebels felt a vast shadow blot out their vision.
It struck the ground with an earth-shattering boom.
The little brass figurine had transformed into a Bronze-Armored Celestial Soldier, standing four zhang—some thirteen meters—tall! Not only was it clad head to toe in heavy armor, but sabers and halberds struck against it with dull clangs, unable to leave a scratch.
It was solid, pure metal.
Lu Yao's face drained of color. "The Holy Master gave his Bronze-Armored Celestial Soldier to you?!"
The moment the Celestial Soldier appeared, a sweeping kick followed by two heavy punches sent the rebels around it flying in disarray. Several unlucky wretches were swept clean off the mountain path, plummeting into the hundred-foot-deep gorge with continuous, blood-curdling screams.
With it covering their front, the pressure on Pei Xinyong and his men eased significantly. The Bronze-Armored Celestial Soldier moved slowly, but every blow carried terrifying weight, and its body was impervious to weapons. On the narrow mountain road, the rebels found it an impossible adversary to counter.
A sudden warning flared in Pei Xinyong's instincts, and he sprang backward.
Right where he had been standing, two or three hard stalagmites burst from the ground, shooting up four feet before stopping, their tips tapering into needle-sharp points. Had he retreated half a second later, he would have been impaled through the groin.
One of his guards was not so lucky, impaled and screaming in agony as blood gushed uncontrollably.
Pei Xinyong clutched his breath at the sight and pointed forward. The Bronze-Armored Celestial Soldier turned sideways, scooped up one of the men in the crowd, and hurled him straight into the sky.
The man plummeted into the gorge with a final scream—Lu Yao's sorcerer, the very one responsible for the earth spikes.
A gap was punched through Lu's encirclement by the Celestial Soldier, and Pei Xinyong's subordinates charged bravely through, desperate to rescue their master.
Seeing that this ambush was on the verge of failure, Lu Yao gritted his teeth and drew the Ghost Eye Bow. Spurning the aid of his men, he drew the string himself and aimed squarely at Pei Xinyong, murmuring, "Sure strike—two years of my life!"
The ghostly eye at the front of the bow snapped open, locking onto Pei Xinyong.
Having just smashed an enemy to death, Pei Xinyong suddenly felt a prickling tightness between his brows, as though marked by some monstrous terror.
He cast a hasty glance forward just in time to see the wide-open eye on Lu Yao's bow, and a streak of light shot forth.
The Ghost Eye Bow!
His hair stood on end. Without a second thought, he threw himself sideways.
The arrow arrived just as the Bronze-Armored Celestial Soldier swung its arm across.
With a dull blast, nearly half the Celestial Soldier's forearm shattered into pieces, sending bronze shards flying that blinded several men. But the arrow was knocked off course.
Yet it possessed the trait of hunting its quarry. Banking sharply in midair, it righted its path and locked onto Pei Xinyong once more.
A loyal guard leaped forward, using his own flesh as a shield.
A cloud of crimson erupted from his back.
Passing cleanly through the man's torso, the arrow did not stop, continuing its pursuit of its ultimate mark.
The Ghost Eye Bow had once been Hong Xiangqian's prize, and Pei Xinyong knew its traits well: the first strike was the strongest, the second was weaker, and the third was the weakest. Seeing that it had already struck twice yet barely lost any speed, he had no time to seek cover. Channeling every ounce of strength into his right arm, he swung his flanged mace across.
The strike was miraculous in its precision and terrifying in its risk. With a sharp clang, the arrow landed squarely on one of the mace's flanges.
A split second earlier or later, and the arrow would have driven straight between his brows.
The impact tore the flanged mace from his grip. It rebounded into his left shoulder, driving its master back three staggered steps. The webbing of his right thumb tore open, blood running down the weapon's hilt.
Yet the arrow had indeed been knocked away, not returning a second time.
The triple attack was spent. Pei Xinyong's left collarbone was shattered and his left arm crippled, unable to hold a weapon.
The instant the arrow had left the string, Lu Yao cast aside the bow, raised his battleaxe, and charged.
Pei Xinyong's retreat from the arrow's impact happened to carry him out of range of Lu's opening horizontal slash.
The two clashed again, glaring at each other through ragged breaths.
One was wounded, the other spent.
"You are the murderer who killed the Holy Master!" Pei Xinyong could only fight back with his right hand, cursing through the pain. "Men of the Wu clan, listen well! Your General Wu is still alive!" In his panic earlier, he had forgotten to shout out the truth to sow discord among the enemy!
A stir broke out among Lu Yao's rebels.
More than three hundred men under Lu Yao had been absorbed from Wu Shaoyi's force. Shaken by this revelation, they wavered in doubt, their swings losing their earlier conviction.
"He's spouting nonsense! Don't let him throw you into confusion!" Lu Yao shouted back, cursing himself for being blinded by foolish ambition. Why hadn't he returned to Desheng Town to gather his own men first, instead of chasing that dog official He straight into the mountains?
Only having numbers from his direct line was the true path to power. What good were these turncoats who changed sides at the drop of a hat?!
Just then, a prick of warning flared in his heart, and a sudden chill ran down his spine.
Not good!
A veteran of countless battles, Lu Yao flattened himself forward over his saddle without hesitation.
Whoosh!
Something grazed his back so closely it cut the air. Had he not flattened himself in time, his heart would have been gouged out.
No sooner had Lu Yao pushed himself up than he saw the object execute a brilliant turn, whipping back around to strike straight at his face.
The blow was blindingly swift and vicious. Before Lu Yao could even blink, a bone-chilling cold was already pressing against his brow.
A boomerang?
Forgetting Pei Xinyong, he swung his axe to deflect it.
A crisp crack rang out, and a finger-sized notch chipped out of his axe blade.
Only then did Lu Yao see clearly what he had knocked away—a broken sword?
No, a broken saber.
Who threw that?!
Yet dealing with the broken saber left his chest wide open. Seizing the opening, Pei Xinyong brought his mace down heavily against Lu Yao's left chest!
Within thirty feet, every man heard the dull crunch.
Vomiting a mouthful of blood, Lu Yao tumbled from his mount.
Pei Xinyong's furious strike crushed the left side of his chest inward, snapping two ribs that drove straight into his heart!
The heart was the wellspring of qi and blood. Lu Yao struggled to rise, but the wound in his chest felt like a bottomless vortex, endlessly draining away his strength.
Fortunately, his personal guards rushed in, fighting desperately to shield him.
As long as they could push north back onto the main road, Lu Yao could continue westward to regroup with his men in Desheng Town.
Just then, the blare of a horn sounded nearby. A troop charged out from the dense fog, shouting at the top of their lungs, "Die, rebel Lu!"
Both warring rebel factions froze.
Things were already chaotic enough—now a third party had come to muddy the waters?
Still, since the newcomers were looking for "rebel Lu," Pei Xinyong's men instinctively fell back a few paces, not wishing to be caught in the crossfire.
Seizing the moment, Lian Deng burst out from the ranks and yelled at the top of his voice, "General Wu is still alive! Brothers of the Wu clan, follow me!"
He was a veteran from Wu Shaoyi's inner circle, having served for over six years, and the Wu rebels recognized his familiar face. When Pei Xinyong had shouted the news earlier, they had been skeptical at best. But with Lian Deng stepping forward in person, the truth was all but certain.
A large number of Lu's rebels instantly lost their will to fight, switching sides on the spot and rushing toward him.
On the ground, Lu Yao was so enraged he nearly coughed up another mouthful of blood. Yet survival came first. He fished a paper talisman from his breast and swallowed it without even chewing.
Ordinary talismans were yellow paper with cinnabar ink, but this one was black paper inscribed in red.
The sudden turn of events stunned Pei Xinyong as well. Fresh reinforcements had indeed arrived, but could these really be Wu Shaoyi's men? They were clearly wearing the standard armor of government soldiers!
Yet Lian Deng was standing right among them.
The sheer confusion of the battlefield left even a seasoned commander like him momentarily dazed. But he reacted swiftly, barking orders, "Raise the blue flags! Kill the Lu rebels!"
Once the blue flags were raised, Pei's men would gather beneath them, preventing friendly fire from their allies. This had been standard practice for Pei's army for years, an ingrained habit. As more than ten blue flags unfurled, the Pei soldiers immediately pulled back into their respective squads, clearly distinguishing themselves from Lu's forces.
The arriving government troops pressed forward with renewed vigor, directing their attacks exclusively against Lu's rebels.
Supported by his guards, Lu Yao was already being hauled back. But he had taken only two steps when he coughed up another mouthful of blood, his legs gave out, and he collapsed headlong. This time the blood was not merely black; it contained dark clots—shattered fragments of his internal organs.
His eyes filled with sheer disbelief.
Why hadn't the swallowed talisman taken effect?!
At that very moment, a gust of wind swept past, and the fog began to dissipate at a visible pace.
The mist's duration had expired.
With Lu Yao down and the fog clearing, his men could see the scene with absolute clarity.
Someone in the crowd began screaming frantically, "Lu Yao is dead! Lu Yao is dead!"
The tide had already turned against them. Hearing the cry and seeing their leader fallen, many rebels lost all nerve to resist. They turned on their heels and fled, unable to withstand the pincer assault from Pei Xinyong and the government forces.
A few stubborn retainers still hoisted Lu Yao up, trying to mount him on a horse to flee.
To the government soldiers, these heads were walking military merits. How could they let them go? Pushing their pursuit relentlessly, they scattered this last band of holdouts in short order.
Jolted back to consciousness by the jostling, Lu Yao's face was pale as gold leaf, his eyelids barely able to stay open.
He had fought to the death against Wu Shaoyi and Pei Xinyong, chased the Auxiliary Army in between, and was already battered and exhausted before taking Pei Xinyong's fatal blow. With old wounds and new injuries flaring together, he could hold on no longer.
Commandant Zhao of the Hebei Garrison Command strode forward, demanding harshly, "Are you the man-eating demon king, Lu Yao?"
Lu Yao didn't even spare him a glance. He merely glared at Pei Xinyong with a sneer of derision. "In the end, it was you who went over to the government dogs... you who betrayed the Holy Master!"
His mouth was full of blood, while Pei Xinyong's face turned ash-gray.
How did it come to this? How could it end like this?
Lu Yao tried to say more, but Commandant Zhao charged forward, his blade descending in a single flash, not bothering to waste another word on him.
A bowl-sized stump was left where his neck had been.
Blood sprayed furiously as his wide-open eyes remained fixed in a final, unyielding stare in death.
Chapter 146