Chapter Forty-Two: The Thirteen Guardians Battle Mengla’s Ironclad Troops

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Zhao Dahur: "Boss, why didn’t you reveal your identity to them just now?"

Lin Shize pulled out some rations he carried and warmed them over the fire.

“That Chu Luolong is just a fool. If we told him we were here to take him back, he might run off somewhere. Let’s wait for the brothers to arrive tomorrow and then tie him up and take him away.”

Dahur and his men gathered some branches and placed them at the door to hide the firelight. At night, the glow from a campfire can spread far and easily reveal their location.

Chu Luolong’s group, however, had no such worries. The entire courtyard blazed with firelight, and loud laughter and chatter echoed far into the distance.

Lin Shize kindly went over to warn them but was met with mockery and ridicule.

Back in the courtyard, Lin Shize thought that if the Mengla people really came, then let them die—kind words are useless on damned ghosts. After arranging the night watch, Lin Shize lay down on the dry grass, just about to fall asleep.

But then he heard a faint vibration through the ground, like the pounding of warhorses.

He rolled over and pressed close to the ground to listen carefully, then stood up and drew his war knife.

"Enemy attack!"

Lin Shize stepped out the gate and climbed atop the earthen wall, spotting several torches racing toward them from afar.

By the dim firelight, Lin Shize could see figures clad in sheepskin coats—it was undoubtedly the Mengla people.

The soldiers had already extinguished the campfire and concealed themselves along the earthen wall.

Seeing the Mengla riders nearing the village entrance, the fools inside the courtyard were still shouting loudly.

Lin Shize casually grabbed a broken tile and flung it.

It landed exactly in the campfire, sending up a shower of sparks.

The closest man with flying knives got singed.

"Who! Who’s throwing things around? I swear, I want to beat you to death!"

Zhao Shantong hissed sharply, "Something’s wrong! Grab your weapons—be on alert!"

She immediately pushed Chu Luolong inside for protection, while the others hurriedly drew their weapons and peered out toward the courtyard.

After waiting for a moment without a sound, just as they were about to exhale in relief, a thunderous sound of galloping hooves came charging straight at them.

Zhao Shantong’s expression changed. She turned to the flying knife man and said, "Number Two, Number Three, go out and see what’s happening."

The flying knife man and the square-faced man nodded and pushed open the gate, charging out.

A squad of Mengla cavalry burst into the village entrance. They had originally been looking for a place to rest but spotted the firelight here. The armored Mengla leader decided to investigate.

The flying knife man had just stepped out when he looked up and saw ten Mengla horsemen charging swiftly toward him.

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"Great, finally the Mengla have arrived.

Kill!"

The flying knife man excitedly threw two flying knives, then drew a dagger and charged.

The armored Mengla leader did not dodge but stood firm. The knives struck his armor and fell lifelessly to the ground.

He raised his long sword and charged straight at the flying knife man.

With a roar, his blade flashed coldly, striking the dagger in the flying knife man’s hand.

Clang!

The sound of metal clashing rang out. The flying knife man’s dagger was knocked away. Alarmed, he leapt to the side, barely dodging the long sword from the enemy behind.

"Number Three is tough! Let’s go!"

The flying knife man then ran back into the courtyard.

The square-faced man heard this and hurriedly ran back as well, but how could two legs outrun four?

The armored Mengla leader spurred his warhorse forward, appearing behind the square-faced man.

The war sword whistled through the air.

The square-faced man glanced back just in time to see a cold gleam rushing toward his neck. He had no time to raise his sword to block and let out a pitiful scream.

The war sword slashed his neck. The world spun wildly before his consciousness plunged into darkness.

His headless body fell beside the earthen wall, his head casually grabbed by a Mengla rider and hung on the saddle behind.

The flying knife man heard the scream behind him but dared not look back. The recent clash had taught him he was no match; best to return and bring more men.

Their strength lay in numbers, after all.

"Brothers, the Mengla are here!"

The flying knife man dashed into the main courtyard, picking what he thought was a safe spot and telling others to guard the gate and prepare to fight.

Just as everyone was settling into their ambush positions, they felt a slight vibration in the ground.

Boom!

The weathered wooden gate was smashed to pieces instantly, splinters flying everywhere and hitting faces.

The Mengla riders did not stop but charged straight ahead.

The sudden assault stunned everyone—they had not expected the Mengla to crash in so boldly.

Zhao Shantong sharply commanded, "Stop them!"

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Two men rushed forward to block the Mengla riders, waiting for the others to surround them.

Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves came from both sides outside the earthen walls.

Crash!

The walls on both sides were suddenly broken down by charging warhorses, even trapping a Taibao who couldn’t escape in time. Several Mengla riders stormed into the courtyard over the rubble.

Chu Luolong counted, "One, two, three... nine. Only nine of them, and we have thirteen. Hey, where’s the guy who went out with you earlier?"

The flying knife man stammered, "He’s lying in ambush outside."

Chu Luolong had great confidence in Zhao Shantong and the Thirteen Taibao. Usually, even the best soldiers from the Great Qi army were no match for them, so a few Mengla men were no trouble.

But Zhao Shantong felt uneasy; they had already lost two men early in the fight.

Chu Luolong shouted excitedly, "Nine heads as trophies! When I get back, I’ll make those cowards take a good look!"

Zhao Shantong wanted Chu Luolong to stay safely inside, but he insisted on standing outside to watch the battle.

"Hurry up and attack!"

At Chu Luolong’s words, the two closest to the gate charged first, aiming to sneak up on the Mengla riders in the courtyard and show off in front of their young master.

The Mengla riders turned around with grins, their horses rearing proudly. The leader swung his war sword down in a mighty strike.

This blow carried the full force of both man and horse.

The Taibao, relying on his large build, raised his sword to block, trying to hold the Mengla’s attack so his comrades could strike.

But the moment their blades met, he felt a tremendous force surge through him.

Pfft!

He spat a mouthful of blood and was sent flying backward, crashing into his comrades and knocking them down.

The Mengla on both sides laughed heartily, clearly deciding no one else needed to intervene—the armored leader alone was enough.

Chu Luolong, seeing the two fall so easily, felt embarrassed and furious.

“A bunch of useless fools! Two men can’t handle one barbarian?

“You guys always brag about how strong you are—why are you such weaklings now?!"

Hearing their young master’s roar, a burly man stepped forward with a war axe.

“I’ll go!”

"Charge, Fifth Brother! Kill him and make the brothers proud!"

Those around him cheered him on.