Chapter Twelve: The Heavenly Blade's Defeat and Retreat

Page (1/3)

Against Song Jue, a master of the highest order, Zhu Wen had managed to hold out for dozens of exchanges despite never having undergone prolonged, systematic martial training. To have endured this long and arrived at such a knife-edge crisis was already something of which he could be proud.

What sustained him, naturally, was the hot blood and defiant spirit of youth, along with an ironclad conviction that he would never bow his head before a man like Song Jue.

Yet his splintering shoulder blade and the blood boiling within him, ready to burst from his body, both told him the same thing: he could hold on no longer. Perhaps this day would be his last.

Fine streams of blood had already begun to trickle slowly from the corners of Zhu Wen’s eyes. If he continued resisting, then even if his legs did not snap beneath him and force him to kneel as his warhorse’s had, Song Jue’s mountain-crushing strength would surely make him bleed from all seven orifices, leaving him powerless to resist. In the end, Song Jue would cut him down with the Heavenly Saber.

The pure-white tiger in his heart let out a furious, unwilling roar. His teeth ground together with a harsh creak, and sweat poured from every pore of his body. Zhu Wen steeled himself, almost ready to make a certain decision.

During his years as a wandering young knight, he had learned a secret art that could burn the strength of one’s bloodline for a short time, granting physical power far beyond one’s limits. The price, however, was one’s life.

Once this forbidden blood-burning technique was used, the body would ignite from head to toe after the burst of power, turning into a heap of flying ash beyond all hope of salvation.

But Zhu Wen refused to submit. He would rather die in such a manner than be shamefully slain by Song Jue. He had already begun calculating whether, if he used the forbidden art and fought to the death, he might be able to kill Song Jue—or at the very least inflict a grievous wound that would severely cripple the man’s fighting strength, allowing his brothers in the righteous army to avenge him.

Yet hesitation remained in his heart.

Not merely because he still had too many attachments in this world, but because of a trust and instinct that came from the depths of his soul.

Those people would not abandon him. The moment they discovered that he had ventured too far after underestimating the enemy and had vanished from their sight, they would come to save him even at the cost of their own lives!

With a sharp crack, Zhu Wen’s left arm broke cleanly. He was left holding his saber in his right hand alone, and in the next instant Song Jue’s Heavenly Saber had already closed in. It was about to slide along the edge of the Great Xia Longque and sever Zhu Wen’s head.

Yet a look of utter exhilaration suddenly spread across Zhu Wen’s face. There was no trace of pain from his shattered bones and broken arm.

His contemptuous gaze still expressed profound mockery toward Song Jue, as though he were watching the ridiculous performance of a clown.

Song Jue could never understand how a child from a humble household could possess such pride from the very depths of his heart before a man of the aristocratic clans like himself.

At that moment of supreme peril, a javelin came hurtling through the air with a shrill whistle. It struck Song Jue’s Heavenly Saber with tremendous force, like a comet crashing into the moon, knocking the blade sharply aside and causing the attack to miss.

“Meng Juehai has arrived! You old cur, keep your hands off my junior brother!” Meng Kai roared.

Seeing the blood streaming from Zhu Wen’s eyes and his broken arm, Meng Kai was consumed by fury. He swung his Eight Trigrams Flower-Pattern Battle Axe straight at Song Jue’s neck.

“You old cur! Let me cut off that dog’s head of yours!”

Meng Juehai hurled himself into battle, calling Song Jue “old cur” at every turn. Did he have no regard at all for the dignity of a general of the imperial court?

Page (1/3)

Page (2/3)

Song Jue prided himself on his skill in fighting on foot and would certainly not have feared Meng Kai. After all, Meng Juehai might be brave, but he was still young and lacked sufficient tempering and experience.

However, Meng Kai had no intention of fighting Song Jue alone.

From one side, Zhu Wen’s broad-shouldered, barrel-chested second brother, Zhu Cun, shouted, “Third Brother, are you all right? That old bastard over there dared bully my little brother? He must have nine heads, and even those wouldn’t be enough for me to chop off. Take this!”

As he spoke, he swept his long spear across, stabbing toward Song Jue’s face.

Another rider came charging fiercely into the fray. The man on horseback was lean, with a straight nose, an oval face, phoenix-shaped eyes, and a firm, slightly broad chin. His facial features were sharp as blades. He wore a suit of bright silver armor and radiated a heroic vigor as intense as the blazing sun.

He was Meng Kai’s deputy, Ban Fanlang.

Ban Fanlang wielded a heavy patterned-iron sword. The designs upon its surface flashed and reflected like snowflakes dancing through the air. His swordplay surged like the tide rising across a green sea. As he urged his horse forward and swept out his blade, cold radiance gathered and dispersed, transforming in an instant into a rain of light that filled the sky.

Meng Kai and Zhu Cun attacked from the front while Ban Fanlang struck fiercely from the flank and rear. Song Jue’s warhorse had already been slain by Zhu Wen, making battle on foot inconvenient. In truth, he could no longer unleash the full might of the Eight Methods of Bloody Combat.

After resisting for only a few exchanges, he was already unable to hold on.

“Damn you, you ignorant little thieves who do not know when to die…” Song Jue’s face was smeared with blood, his features twisted into a hideous mask. But he knew that the fight could continue no longer. Zhu Wen’s life would have to be spared for now. If he delayed any further, Huang Chao might personally lead his chariot corps in pursuit.

Moreover, not far away, a rugged, purple-faced man was riding rapidly toward them, holding a gilded great spear. His presence was deep and imposing, and he was clearly a formidable warrior.

This man was Dai Xiaolou, a fierce general under Huang Chao.

“Wash your necks and wait! Once my elder brother’s army sweeps through this place, we shall slaughter your entire clan—not a single chicken or dog will be spared! Not a single one! Pinglu cavalry, withdraw with me!”

Song Jue sprang away like a rabbit startled into motion or a falcon diving upon its prey, leaping clear of the melee. With a wave of his hand, the armored Pinglu cavalry formed a tight formation and advanced in single file, leaving not the slightest opening. Song Jue followed the galloping horses on foot, his steps flying so swiftly that he did not fall behind in the least.

The cavalry Meng Kai had brought was not numerous. Huang Chao’s chariot corps had yet to arrive, and it had taken the combined assault of only a few men to defeat Song Jue and cow the Pinglu cavalry. Thus, no one dared pursue them. Zhu Cun was concerned about Zhu Wen as well and had no wish to give chase.

“Fortunately, Battalion Commander Zhu has suffered no serious harm,” said Dai Xiaolou, the rugged, purple-faced man.

Meng Kai immediately had them find a litter. They placed Zhu Wen upon it and crudely bandaged him with white cloth boiled in hot water, intending to use precious bone-setting medicine once they returned to camp. Otherwise, with his shoulder blade shattered, his martial skill would likely be ruined.

“Senior Brother, Second Brother, thank you for coming to save me,” Zhu Wen said with a sigh, casting a grateful look at Meng Kai.

Today, he owed Meng Kai a debt of gratitude.

Zhu Cun shook his head. “Third Brother, you are still young and hot-blooded. The battlefield is not the wandering world of knights. How can you treat your life as a joke? If anything had happened to you, what would Mother and I have done? And how much grief would it have caused your master? Have you ever thought about that, you brat?”

Guilt showed on Zhu Wen’s face, but Meng Kai clapped Zhu Cun on the shoulder and laughed loudly.

“There is no need for Second Brother Zhu to rebuke him so harshly. If a young man is not reckless, what is youth for? How can one tread cautiously as though walking on thin ice at every moment? In the end, when the carriage reaches the mountain, a road will appear; those who survive great calamity will have blessings to come. I, Meng Juehai, have always charged forward and slaughtered to my heart’s content, setting life and death aside. I have wandered countless times along the gates of hell, and am I not still alive and well?”

Zhu Wen knew perfectly well that he possessed nothing like Meng Kai’s skill. Yet he could not afford to lose face, so he laughed.

“Whether the battle itself was satisfying or not, I can say this much: cursing that ‘Heavenly Saber Song Jue’ today was immensely satisfying.”

As they spoke, the rapid clatter of hooves rang out like a shower of rain. A light cavalryman from the rebel army came galloping toward them and shouted, “General Meng, this is bad! Lady Duan left camp to escort the military provisions and encountered several dozen scouts under Song Wei. She has been surrounded!”

Meng Kai was instantly startled. “Junior Sister… Why have you come back?”

Page (2/3)

Page (3/3)

The cavalryman replied, “Our men were ambushed and scattered. I saw that continuing the fight would certainly get me killed, so I broke through and came back to report. Lady Duan is still battling over there…”

Zhu Wen’s expression changed abruptly. “I remember that when she left camp, she took fifty cavalrymen to escort the provisions, and every one of them was skilled. The enemy had only a few dozen men. From what you are saying, you did not fight with all your strength, nor did you even try to help her break through. You simply abandoned Junior Sister and fled back here?”

The cavalryman answered sheepishly, “The enemy’s martial skill was not truly exceptional, but their coordinated charges and formation fighting were extremely disciplined. They routed us in a single clash. I panicked, and so…”

Before he could finish, there was a sharp smack. The cavalryman received a heavy slap across the face, leaving five red marks on his cheek, which swelled instantly like a hill.

A fierce glint flashed in Zhu Wen’s eyes. With his still-functioning right arm, he lunged forward and struck the soldier hard across the face.

“If that is so, what use are you?”

The blow was exceedingly powerful. It pulled at Zhu Wen’s wounds, and pain like a thousand blades tore through his entire body. Blood seeped once more from the corner of his mouth, but he clenched his teeth and endured it.

The rider was struck senseless. When he recovered, he saw the ferocity in Zhu Wen’s eyes and was filled with fear.

“It was my fault! Battalion Commander Zhu, spare my life!”

Meng Kai had been angry as well that the man had fled in the midst of battle. Yet seeing Zhu Wen lash out with such force awakened an inexplicable pity in him.

“Junior Brother, enough. He is only a wandering fellow trying to make a living among our ranks. The imperial army has military laws for abandoning one’s commanding officer in battle, but our army does not. Besides, if the enemy truly was formidable, then his escape to bring us word was not necessarily a bad thing.”

Dai Xiaolou, the purple-faced general who wielded a tiger-headed, gold-inlaid spear, also tried to mediate.

“He was at fault, but Battalion Commander Zhu has already given him a slap. That should be enough.”

Only then did Zhu Wen realize that the man had not abandoned them entirely. At least he had accepted responsibility and returned to report what had happened. Perhaps Zhu Wen’s action had indeed gone too far.

He had simply felt an instinctive surge of anger and, without thinking, struck the man hard across the face.

But Zhu Wen was proud by nature and had no desire to admit fault. After a pause, he said, “But Junior Sister usually relies on her bow and arrows and is not skilled in close combat. If she has been surrounded by the enemy, then wouldn’t that mean…”

“Er…” Meng Kai scratched his head. “Who said she was not skilled in close combat?”

“You said so yourself last time, Senior Brother. How could you have forgotten?” Zhu Wen remembered that the last time they had sat drinking tea in camp, Meng Kai had visited Wang Xianzhi’s camp to watch a performance of music and dance. When he returned, he had told Zhu Wen as much.

“I said she is afraid of pain. A young woman does not wish to be wounded and does not like fighting at close quarters, but that does not mean she is unskilled at it… I still remember the day I met her with perfect clarity. It feels as though it were only yesterday…”

Meng Kai spoke slowly, his eyes filling with the tide of memory.

Page (3/3)