Some emotions stemmed from his original self—or rather, from the resonance of shared blood. Normally he kept them suppressed, but caught off guard, they would still surge to the surface.
Hong Chenglüe forced down the churning blood in his chest and suppressed the true power thrashing wild inside him. Slashing down several men in passing, he glanced back toward He Chunhua.
The corrupt official's figure was swallowed by the dense press of men, impossible to make out clearly.
In truth, there was no need to look. He had complete faith in the power of that blade strike—it had cut through at least half the dog official's neck.
The sensation of a sharp blade severing throat and bone was something he knew all too well.
Just then, wind howled above his head.
The massive gold-armored bronze automaton moved once more, throwing a fist straight at his head—swift and ferocious.
Hong Chenglüe dodged only by rolling across the ground. Scrambling to his feet, his eyes locked with He Lingchuan's. The young man had blood at the corner of his mouth and a chillingly cold stare.
He had already sliced the automaton's head off—why could it still move?
Just then, the gold-armored bronze automaton actually scooped its head up from the ground, mounted it back onto its neck, and resumed its pursuit of Hong Chenglüe.
What others did not know was that this thing had four control cores: the main core in the heart, and three secondary cores located in the head and both knees. The gold-armored bronze automaton was shaped like a human, so opponents would typically target the head and heart just as they would against a person, but it was utterly useless. Cast from alloy, so long as all four cores were not destroyed, it could still move, at most losing some agility.
Meanwhile, the rock wolf emerged from nowhere, circling around from behind to focus its attacks on Hong Chenglüe's lower body.
It was extraordinarily nimble, retreating whenever a strike failed to land, waiting for another opening before darting in again.
Hong Chenglüe swung his saber twice, shearing off nothing more than a few tufts of wolf fur.
One wolf and one bronze automaton—one agile, one ponderous—coordinated with uncanny synergy. Add in the besieging Yuan soldiers swarming around them, and Hong Chenglüe was plunged into a desperate struggle.
Fortunately, nearly a hundred Xunzhou cavalrymen behind him charged in at this moment, greatly relieving the pressure on him.
Hong Chenglüe took the opportunity to survey the battlefield. Yes, it was time.
Keeping watch in all directions was second nature to a commander; even while locked in hard battle against He Lingchuan, he could still monitor the broader field.
Right then, he scooped up a spear, leapt onto a horse, and rode westward without looking back, the Xunzhou cavalry carving a path for him with all their might.
Because he did not belong to Nian Zanli's direct command, his unit's origin power had not been stripped away. Every rider was an elite, boasting formidable combat prowess, and they hacked out a bloody path through sheer force.
At the same time, Hong Chenglüe produced a horn and blew into it with deep, mournful blasts.
The sound resembled an owl's screech amplified tenfold—piercing, shrill, cutting straight into the ears of even blood-crazed soldiers.
The Xunzhou troops had already been fleeing west, and upon hearing the horn, they ran even faster.
Zhao Pan, who had been pursuing them the whole way, noticed that the enemy's disciplinary squads were not executing routed soldiers at all—instead, they were running even faster than the rout...
Heading west!
What was going on?
Having sounded the horn, Hong Chenglüe roared with thunderous force, "General Nian, release the water! Now!"
Channeling his true power, the sound wave rolled far and wide, reverberating over the entire battlefield.
Water?
Wu Shaoyi, who had just hurried to He Chunhua's side, suddenly looked up toward the riverbank behind the main camp, a chill running down his spine.
The terrain there was two zhang higher than the main camp where everyone stood.
Behind the rocks, a dozen-odd figures had emerged at some unknown point, standing in eerie silence. Leading them was the Governor of Xunzhou, Nian Zanli, who had not shown his face throughout the entire battle!
He wore the ordinary leather armor of a Yuan soldier; with his head down, he could easily blend into the ranks.
Evidently, he had slipped in here with his personal retinue under cover of the earlier chaos.
Hearing Hong Chenglüe's shout, he looked down at the riverbank below, hesitation clear on his face.
Seven or eight Xunzhou boats had yet to land, and on the open ground along the embankment, numerous soldiers were still fleeing west.
Between the river and the bank, there were at least twenty-three to twenty-four hundred men.
These were his own troops, men he saw every day, many of whom he had personally greeted.
No matter how ruthless and decisive he had always been, he could not bear it at this moment.
Hong Chenglüe sensed Nian Zanli's hesitation and roared again, "Governor Nian, time waits for no man! If we do not succeed, we are ruined!"
That word—ruined—struck Nian Zanli with a jolt of terror.
Indeed. They had already charged onto the south bank; there was no way back.
If this desperate, bridge-burning gambit failed, Nian Zanli would lose everything, down to his last copper!
Hesitating no further, he silently chanted an incantation.
Seeing even Hong Chenglüe flee, Wu Shaoyi's heart skipped a beat, and he had already dispatched men to charge toward Nian Zanli. Meanwhile, He Lingchuan, watching Hong Chenglüe retreat while blowing his horn, barked an immediate order: "Pursue! After Hong Chenglüe, all of you!"
Whatever wicked scheme this bastard was cooking up, staying right on his heels was the right move.
Shan Youjun immediately led the Xiazhou contingent in pursuit of Hong Chenglüe.
Hong Chenglüe rode toward the heights as arrows rained down from behind, unhorsing several of his outriders.
Fu Xin was galloping just behind him to the flank. Seeing this, his eyes darted, hoping to seize the chance for revenge.
Who would have thought Hong Chenglüe seemed to have eyes in the back of his head? Suddenly pointing a finger at him, he commanded, "Fu Xin, take your men and hold the rear!"
Fu Xin was startled, then furious, unable to believe this bastard had preempted him with petty retribution. Yet it was a military order, brooking no defiance. He could only slow his horse and lead his men to cover the rear.
Naturally, a dozen men were no match for hundreds or thousands. Finding an opening, Fu Xin slipped away down another path, wounded.
***
Meanwhile, He Lingchuan looked down at He Chunhua. Though many soldiers crowded around, none dared touch him. Just as He Lingchuan went to pry his father's hands away from his neck to examine the wound, his brow furrowed.
He realized with a shock that there was no blood between He Chunhua's fingers.
He had witnessed the power of Hong Chenglüe's strike with his own eyes. His father's neck had been cut at least halfway through; blood should have been gushing like a fountain.
Yet there was none.
He did not see a single drop of blood.
Instead, a guard not far away clutched his neck and collapsed with a thud, red froth bubbling from his mouth as blood sprayed from his throat.
But this was a battlefield where blades and arrows showed no mercy, where men were wounded every passing second. What was more, everyone's attention was fixed on He Chunhua. Even if someone noticed that unlucky soldier dropping dead, they would only assume he had been struck by a Xunzhou sneak attack and think nothing more of it.
From the middle of the Han River, a speck of white light suddenly emerged, taking to the air as if on wings, and landed in Nian Zanli's hand.
It looked like a flask.
Then Nian Zanli tipped the opening downward and made a motion of pouring water forward.
Two incoming arrows whistled in one after the other, both deflected by his bodyguards.
Immediately afterward, torrential water poured from the flask's mouth!
Nian Zanli was already positioned on higher ground than the Yuan soldiers. Tipping the Verdant Flask upside down, the river water it had absorbed for nearly half a shichen came rushing out in a mad stampede.
When this flask took in water, it could slow the Han River to a sluggish trickle; when it poured it out, it could turn high ground into a raging riverbed!
The surging torrent charged forward with the momentum of ten thousand stampeding horses, cascading down from the heights. Nian Zanli's hands trembled slightly as he held the flask, and he took two steps back, as if he could barely hold onto it.
Wu Shaoyi roared hoarsely, "Retreat! Head west!"
In truth, there was no need for him to shout. What living soul did not cherish his life? Seeing an ocean of water suddenly erupt across dry land, the Yuan troops let out a collective clamor and ran west with every ounce of strength they possessed, wishing their parents had given them two extra legs.
Seeing the floodwaters surging forth from the flask and shaking the earth, the rock wolf tucked its tail and dashed outward, running far faster than any human.
Even He Chunhua's personal guards took to their heels. With their lord dead, they naturally had to fight for their own survival. As for He Chunhua's anomaly, in that brief scramble of shoving bodies, how many could have seen clearly?
He Lingchuan pinched a hand seal, and the gold-armored bronze automaton shrank back to the size of a doll and leaped into his pocket. Scooping up He Chunhua, he swung onto his bo horse and bolted into the distance.
No one noticed He Chunhua's eyelids twitch twice.
The only reason everyone still had the leeway to flee was that the Yuan main camp's tactical formation bought them precious time.
Yet this barrier, which even cannon fire could not shatter, teetered on the verge of collapse beneath the onslaught of the roaring floodwaters. The faint green barrier representing the formation flickered like a candle in the wind.
When the first true crest of the flood arrived, the tactical formation could endure no longer, popping and vanishing like a soap bubble.
No barrier remained between the deluge and the fleeing humans as it swept in, grinning fiercely.
He Lingchuan watched sky-scouring muddy waves swallow the despairing soldiers ahead without mercy, and then it was his turn!
The wave crested three zhang high, crashing down head-on toward him.
At that moment, the bo beast was still fourteen or fifteen zhang away from the safety of the high rock ledge.
A distance that normally took just a few strides now seemed hopelessly out of reach.
What to do? They wouldn't make it across.
Just regaining consciousness, He Chunhua sat bolt upright in terror. "Ah...?"
How was it that the moment he opened his eyes, he was falling into a river?
He Lingchuan had already suspected he wasn't dead, and seeing this, he snapped immediately, "Hold steady, Father!"
His old man truly had hidden life-preserving tricks up his sleeve.
He Lingchuan shoved something into He Chunhua's belt.
Hold steady?
Though He Chunhua was stiff with fright at the oncoming torrent, hearing those words left him instinctively baffled.
The next second, He Lingchuan grabbed him by the shoulder and hurled him toward the jutting high rock ledge like a sandbag.
He possessed prodigious strength, and putting all his true power behind the throw, He Chunhua went sailing through the air as if riding the clouds. Looking back, he saw a colossal wave crash down, swallowing his eldest son, horse and all, sweeping them away without a trace.
"Chuan'er!" He Chunhua's heart tore with grief.
That was his son—a child he had watched grow up, whom he had spent thousands of days and nights with!
Just as he was two zhang from landing, a shrill shriek pierced the air above. A strange bird swooped down from midair, hooking its talons firmly into him.
Dong Rui!
That scoundrel had vanished without a trace after suffering a setback at He Lingchuan's hands last time. It turned out he had been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity for revenge.
His method of dealing with He Chunhua was simple enough: toss him back into the flood.
And so the strange bird wheeled in midair, preparing to drop He Chunhua. But He Chunhua was no fool either; grabbing one of the bird's talons with one hand, he raised his scabbard with the other and struck at the bird's neck.
If he struck the right spot, he might force the strange bird to fly back toward land.
How could Dong Rui let him have his way? Chanting a brief incantation, he prepared to cast a spell at him.
Yet right at that moment, directly in front of He Chunhua and beneath the strange bird's talons, a figure materialized out of thin air.
The moment he appeared, he began to plummet, but he was quick on his feet, grabbing hold of He Chunhua's legs and immediately reaching up to seize the strange bird's other talon.
Water dripped from his armor, mud smeared his face, and twigs tangled in his hair.
Yet that face was one He Chunhua knew better than any other:
"Chuan'er!"
He was overjoyed.
The strange bird sank violently under the sudden weight, causing Dong Rui to lurch forward and disrupting the spell he was forming.
Chapter 301