Jiao Tai and the others sprinted behind He Chunhua, doing their utmost to deflect the arrows raining down from behind.
One arrow flew straight toward a horse's rump, but He Lingchuan knocked it aside with a flick of his arm. Maotao was not so lucky; his mount took a shaft in the hind leg and collapsed with a piteous whinny.
Maotao instantly fell behind.
When He Lingchuan looked back, the man scrambled to his feet and shouted, "Don't worry about me!" With that, he darted into a low house by the roadside. A row of modest dwellings stood there, and after a few leaps, he vanished behind an unknown wall.
The Xunzhou cavalry's objective was the grain transport convoy. They had no interest in bothering with such small fry, and their main force thundered relentlessly forward.
The arrows rained down in an unbroken torrent, far too thick to deflect. He Chunhua simply hurled a round crystal token backward.
The token gleamed with the green light bestowed by the State Token, and the moment it left his hand, it expanded into a wall of ice behind the two horses.
The wall was a finger thick and over ten feet high, shielding the backs of He Lingchuan and his companions completely.
A flurry of dull thuds followed as dozens of arrows struck the ice wall.
The Xunzhou scouts bellowed, leveled their lances, and spurred their horses to ram straight into it.
The ice wall was thin to begin with and riddled with dozens of punctures; the charging mounts slammed into it, and it shattered with a resounding crash.
Yet that brief respite was all He Chunhua and the others needed to burst back into their own camp.
Inside the camp, panic reigned.
Having finished their day of hard labor, the convoy's men had eaten and drunk their fill, and half of them had already collapsed into sleep. Now jolted awake, rubbing their eyes as they scrambled up, they heard frantic screams outside: "Lord Mozhe is dead! Lord Mozhe has been blown to pieces!"
Mozhe Jingxuan was the supreme commander of this grain transport mission. The moment news of his death broke, the force was left leaderless.
Just then, a second explosion shook the restaurant in the east.
Some of the convoy's officers were still groggy with sleep, unable to find their bearings after getting to their feet, while others shouted for men to fall in and set up guards, though with pitifully little effect.
Then the Xunzhou light cavalry arrived.
Seeing the billowing dust and dirt, the sentries outside the camp blew their warning whistles at once.
Only then did the men watching the flames from inside realize catastrophe had struck, and with a unified shout, they all bolted backward. The Xunzhou raiders yelled with all their might, their killing intent soaring to the heavens. A force of two or three hundred men charged with the momentum of a thousand, unnerving even the guards patrolling outside the camp, who clutched their halberds and backed away in fear.
He Chunhua charged into the camp at the head of the pack, his voice booming like spring thunder: "He Chunhua, Chief Administrator of Xiazhou, is here! Who dares to run? Who dares flee?!"
He roared three times in succession, channeling true force into each cry. His voice shook the entire encampment, drowning out even the secondary explosions from the east.
The moment the four words "Chief Administrator of Xiazhou" rang out, the fleeing soldiers slowed their steps.
He Chunhua had not been in office long, but he had already accomplished several major feats. In particular, his three consecutive victories in hunting down Xunzhou forces had made his name resound throughout southern Xiazhou. Most of the convoy's soldiers hailed from the south; hearing those thunderous words, they froze in shock, followed by a mixture of doubt and relief.
The big boss was here? How could that be?
If the Chief Administrator of Xiazhou was personally taking command, what did the dead Lord Mozhe matter? He was merely a Mounted Escort Officer of the state administration!
No longer sharing a mount with his father, He Lingchuan leaped down and seized a horse for himself.
Not far away, he heard someone yelling, "Lord Mozhe is dead! The enemy is upon us!" Tracing the sound, he spotted the man ducking behind a tent, his eyes darting craftily across the grounds as he hollered every few moments—without the slightest hint of panic.
He Lingchuan gave a cold sneer and spurred his horse in pursuit.
The man was not blind; sensing danger, he spun on his heel and fled. His footwork was slippery, deliberately choosing paths littered with obstacles, confident that He Lingchuan could not easily draw near on horseback.
Yet just as he darted past a warehouse, a massive, shaggy black silhouette suddenly loomed before him...
He Lingchuan rode up to see the rock wolf, Lu Xin, lunging out from behind the storehouse. Without a sound, the wolf clamped its jaws around the man and thrashed him violently back and forth.
Everyone knew the speed and force with which a dog shook its head, and a rock wolf was only stronger and fiercer. From a dozen yards away, He Lingchuan clearly heard two sharp snaps—like firecrackers going off—which were in fact the unfortunate wretch's vertebrae dislocating in the wolf's jaws.
Fortunately, He Lingchuan arrived right behind to put an end to his agony.
With a single slash, he took the man's head, caught it by the hair, and rode through the camp bellowing, "Traitors and deserters will be executed, just like this cur!"
The severed head in his hand did not belong to a Xiazhou soldier, but covered in blood, who could tell? He Lingchuan's shouts produced an immediate effect; seeing him approach, many fleeing soldiers hastily turned around to face the enemy.
By then, the execution squad had regained their wits and began carrying out their duty. After they cut down five or six deserters to make an example of them, the convoy's rout was largely checked.
The other man who had been shouting to sow discord was overtaken by Shan Youjun.
These Xunzhou operatives had coordinated their duties with precision: some went to blow up the restaurant to wipe out the convoy's high-ranking officers in one fell swoop; others posed as merchants hiding in the eateries, waiting for a chance to assassinate any commanders who stepped out for a meal; and the main force lay in wait outside the town, using the restaurant explosion as their signal to launch a surprise assault on the grain convoy's camp!
They had even assigned dedicated agitators to throw the troops into disarray, picking two men with exceptionally loud voices—proof of how meticulous the plan was.
Cleverest of all was the Xunzhou force's decision to strike inside the town rather than in the treacherous wilderness as the He family had anticipated, catching them completely off guard. After all, because northern and central Xiazhou had suffered repeatedly from Xunzhou raids, local prominent families had conscripted men to form home guards and local peace militias, meaning Xunzhou forces could easily meet unexpected resistance here.
Yet tonight, the county magistrate was hosting a banquet for Mozhe Jingxuan at the restaurant, and the local gentry had naturally gone along to keep them company, allowing them all to be rounded up and wiped out in one stroke.
Several officers naturally recognized He Chunhua and hurried forward to surround him, some still disheveled, having clearly just scrambled out of bed.
He Chunhua did not reprimand them. He simply barked an order: "Form ranks and counterattack! Pass the word: the enemy has only a hundred riders!"
With the Chief Administrator of Xiazhou present, the officers found their footing. Cursing and shouting, they rallied their men, while heralds relayed the command down the line: "Engage the enemy! Engage the enemy! There are only a hundred riders!"
The Xunzhou cavalry had indeed plunged the camp into chaos when they breached the perimeter. They cut down anyone in their path and set fire to tents and supply wagons, appearing unstoppable. The Xiazhou soldiers had been momentarily stunned, doing nothing but fleeing and hiding.
Seeing this, He Lingchuan pursed his lips and blew a series of sharp whistles—two long, three short—then wheeled his horse around and charged toward the nearest enemy commander.
This was his signal to summon his subordinates. Hearing the whistle, the rock wolf and Shan Youjun dropped the wretches in their grasp and rushed to follow.
Not far off, Jiao Tai had been guarding He Chunhua, but as more and more bodyguards gathered around the Chief Administrator, he immediately led his men to pivot the moment he heard the whistle.
The approaching Xunzhou officer was exceptionally fierce, origin power shimmering across his body. In just two thrusts of his spear, he batted a soldier through the air, then ambushed a frail Xiazhou soldier from the flank while the man was engaged in combat, driving the spear tip straight into his belly.
The spearhead bore a hooked barb; when he yanked it back, he dragged out a coil of intestines.
They called this "flying a kite."
The soldier writhed on the ground, wailing, and none of the surrounding Xiazhou troops dared step forward. The officer burst into laughter, breaking clear of his retinue to cut a bloody swathe through the ranks as if entering an empty field.
He was reveling in the slaughter when wind suddenly stirred behind his head. He Lingchuan had swept in from an angle, bringing his saber down in silence.
There was no supernatural glow around the Fusheng saber; it looked like an ordinary blade, and He Lingchuan wore only a common soldier's armor. The Xunzhou commander sneered and flicked his spear upward in reply.
An inch longer meant an inch stronger. You think you can challenge my spear with a saber? Naive!
His spearmanship was refined to the finest detail. He launched a deceptive thrust aimed at He Lingchuan's throat; if the youth parried, the spear tip would flick downward and plunge into his belly.
He meant to fly another kite.
Right then, an arrow came whistling in from the flank.
Maotao had concealed himself behind a burning storehouse, seizing the opportunity to let fly an arrow aimed straight for the man's eye.
Unable to parry in time, the officer was forced to tilt his head aside. With that shift, his spear drifted two inches off course, robbing him of the chance to play out his trick.
A mere two inches.
His hands were steady enough that leaning backward did not prevent the spear tip from snapping upward, still darting like a venomous snake toward He Lingchuan's chin.
Yet the youth before him gripped his saber with both hands and swept upward in an upward diagonal slash, committing an error typical of greenhorns.
Such a move was thankless. Even if it connected, it would only knock the spear shaft aside; if it missed, the spear would punch a hole clean through his cheek, offering no way to adapt to the opponent's follow-up.
Yet He Lingchuan's motion was swift as lightning—his day-in, day-out practice of the Wave Slash was finally bearing fruit.
Confidence, momentum, power—not a single one could be lacking.
He was determined to deliver a strike that was utterly complete in spirit and force.
The Xunzhou officer's retainers saw the two horses brush past each other, a blinding sheet of white light almost searing their eyes—
The instant the weapons collided, the unassuming saber finally erupted with dense, overwhelming killing intent, like a tiger that had lain in wait for ages and pounced in a single breath.
Both rushed toward each other at full tilt, leaving almost no time to react. In that fleeting instant, the commander felt his hands suddenly lighten, and several objects flew into the air—
An arm;
A fountain of furious blood;
And half a spear shaft, its severed edge astonishingly smooth.
The officer screamed in agony as blood gushed from his ruined shoulder. His opponent was completely unharmed, already wheeling his horse around for another pass.
His retainers cried out in horror: "Lord Baili is wounded!"
"Protect Lord Baili!"
Scores of men surged forward, forming layer upon layer of protection around the wounded "Lord Baili." With an arm severed and blood pouring from his right shoulder, the man slumped over in pain. Had his personal guards not rushed forward in the nick of time, the rock wolf Lu Xin would have ambushed him—the beast had already leaped, aiming straight for his throat.
Both terrified and enraged, the officer did not neglect to spew vile curses at He Lingchuan through his agony.
He had been careless. This youth and his blade had appeared so ordinary, no different from the dozen-odd grunts he had slaughtered earlier, yet he was a wolf hiding in a flock of sheep.
That saber... that saber was unnaturally sharp, effortlessly severing the cold iron spear that had accompanied him for years in a single clash!
Could anyone wielding such a divine weapon be an ordinary figure? Why wear a common soldier's leather armor and mingle among the rabble?
Lord Baili felt as if he had climbed a tree to pick a peach, grabbed hold only to find it was no peach at all, and looked up to find an enraged lion's maw right before his face...
Men of stature were supposed to care about their dignity. Why was this bastard so thoroughly shameless?!
Chapter 257