Chapter 43: The Difference Between Jianghu Folk and Soldiers

Facing the menacing Third Brother, the armored Menggu soldier merely gave a disdainful smirk and raised his battle saber once more.

No matter how dazzling and intricate Third Brother's attacks were, the soldier used only the simplest slashing motions, yet he suppressed Third Brother completely and utterly.

Clang!

Blade and axe collided once again. Bang! Third Brother staggered back several steps, slamming into the earthen wall of the courtyard. The battle axe had long since slipped from his grasp, and the webs of both his hands had burst open, dripping with blood and trembling uncontrollably.

"This barbarian possesses immense strength!"

Zhao Shantong felt a chill of secret alarm. The Menggu warrior was shockingly formidable; several of the Sworn Brothers had taken turns charging at him yet failed to inflict even the slightest scratch.

She deftly drew her longsword and strode forward toward the armored Menggu soldier. The other Menggu cavalrymen remained in their spots, laughing and jeering as they watched the spectacle in the courtyard.

Zhao Shantong moved with light steps, her longsword giving off a crisp hum as she flicked it. Instead of attacking the soldier, she thrust directly toward the warhorse he was riding.

She had realized that the Menggu soldier's strength stemmed largely from the height advantage of his mount. Therefore, she intended to neutralize the warhorse first to level the playing field.

The armored Menggu soldier let out a soft snort of surprise. He had initially thought this woman was merely a decorative vase, only to find her remarkably clever.

Yet, that was the extent of it.

Without even glancing at Zhao Shantong's incoming blade, the armored soldier slashed downward directly at her back.

While Zhao Shantong might pierce the warhorse, she herself would be cleaved in two by the descending saber.

Never before had Zhao Shantong encountered such a reckless, life-for-life combat style. With no other choice, she flicked her sword upward to intercept the soldier's blade.

Following a heavy, bone-jarring impact, Zhao Shantong took a single step back and forcefully steadied her stance.

The Menggu soldier had not expected this seemingly frail woman to possess such considerable strength; his battle saber was violently deflected upward.

"Shantong! Brilliant!"

Seeing this, Chu Luolong clapped and cheered, while the others hurriedly chimed in with words of encouragement.

Among the dozen or so people, Zhao Shantong was unquestionably the most formidable.

Zhao Shantong drew a deep breath. Although her hands felt somewhat numb, she was otherwise unhurt.

Just as she prepared to charge at the armored soldier once more, the man caught her off guard. Utilizing the momentum of his deflected blade, he unleashed a flurry of slashes at an even more ferocious speed.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each strike from the Menggu warrior came faster than the last, raining blows down toward Zhao Shantong's face and forcing her into a desperate, continuous defense with her raised sword.

The warhorse beneath the Menggu soldier pressed steadily forward. The shattering sounds of clashing metal echoed relentlessly through the air, piercingly painful to everyone's eardrums.

With every blocked blow, Zhao Shantong was forced back a step until her heel struck the stone steps of the doorway, making her realize she had run out of ground.

With a sharp cry, she poured all her remaining strength into deflecting the soldier's saber, then lunged forward with her sword in a desperate final thrust.

Whoosh—Thud!

Her longsword spun through the air and embedded itself deep into the ground some distance away. Zhao Shantong's legs grew weak, and she collapsed helplessly to the earth. Before she could even attempt to crawl away, a cold blade was pressed against her neck.

The other Menggu soldiers let out wild, howling cries, mocking the group without restraint.

Hiding in the corner, the throwing-blade specialist watched as their strongest fighter was subdued by the enemy. Recalling the frontier troops' warnings about the ruthless, merciless nature of the Menggu warriors, panic gripped his heart.

Quietly, he drew a throwing blade, intending to assassinate the armored soldier and use the chaos to escape.

To his dismay, his petty movements did not escape the notice of the Menggu cavalrymen in the distance. Before he could act, a Menggu soldier had already drawn a bow and notched an arrow, aiming straight at him.

The throwing-blade man's breath hitched, and he immediately threw himself to the side in a desperate roll. However, the arrow pierced straight through his lower leg.

"Ah!"

With a miserable shriek, the man was quickly approached by a nearby Menggu soldier who brought down a blade and severed his head.

Staring at the blood-soaked head rolling on the ground, Chu Luolong was thoroughly dumbfounded.

Zhao Shantong, their greatest fighter, had been captured alive by the Menggu soldiers, and the rest were either dead or severely wounded.

Only now did he realize that the Menggu warriors were far more terrifying than he had ever imagined, and he himself was plunging headlong into mortal peril.

With a trembling finger pointing at the armored soldier, he stammered, "You... you guys, go get him!"

The few surviving men exchanged pale, terrified glances, none of them daring to make a move.

"Even the strongest one is lying on the ground now. How are we supposed to fight?"

The armored Menggu soldier turned his head, a sinister grin plastered across his face as he barked, "Kill them all! Leave no survivors!"

The only reason he hadn't immediately slaughtered these Daqi people was to indulge in a game of cat-and-mouse. Whenever they encountered Daqi citizens, the locals invariably fled in terror; having finally stumbled upon some who dared to fight back, he naturally wanted to toy with them for a while.

Yet, that privilege had reached its end.

However, the woman before him was worth keeping alive. The flickering firelight danced across Zhao Shantong's exquisitely delicate profile, causing the armored soldier to chuckle lewdly.

With a flick of his wrist, his battle saber shifted, slowly slicing open her garments to reveal a vast expanse of fair, flawless skin.

Chu Luolong let out a furious roar and lunged forward, only for a nearby Menggu soldier to kick him brutally to the ground. Heavy boots rained down upon his body. If not for the fact that he was considered a valuable captive to be sold for a profit, he would have been beheaded long ago.

The armored soldier laughed heartily, dismounting from his horse and pressing down upon her.

Feeling the chill of the night air against her chest, Zhao Shantong let out a startled cry, her hands striking out wildly against the soldier's body.

In response, the armored soldier struck her across the face with a fist. A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of her mouth, and her hands dropped limply to her sides. Her head buzzed numbly; though she felt the soldier tearing relentlessly at her clothes, she was powerless to stop him.

Two trails of silent tears rolled down and dripped onto the ground.

In the courtyard, people cried and wailed beneath the iron hooves of the Menggu horses, entirely helpless to save themselves.

The armored soldier relished the slaughter unfolding across the courtyard while slowly stripping away Zhao Shantong's remaining garments, thoroughly savoring the process.

His hands moved ceaselessly until Zhao Shantong was almost entirely stripped bare.

Crouched in a ball on the ground, Chu Luolong closed his eyes in agony, unable to bear watching any longer.

Back at the military garrison, his thirteen sworn brothers had commanded respect wherever they went. How had they now ended up like slaughtered dogs, their heads severed and tossed upon the dirt?

Despair consumed Chu Luolong. It was too late for regrets now; his thirteen brothers were nearly all dead, Zhao Shantong was about to be defiled by the enemy, and his own fate would undoubtedly be no better.

If only he hadn't been so willful and left the garrison; if only he had brought more men; if only he had returned to camp earlier... Alas, there were no "ifs" in the world.

The arrogant Menggu soldiers in the courtyard failed to notice a pair of eyes, as cold and malicious as a wild wolf's in the pitch-black night, quietly observing everything from a rooftop in the distance.

Lin Shize lay prone atop the rooftop. Zhao Daha and his men had already crept stealthily around the perimeter, their bows drawn and arrows nocked, awaiting nothing more than Lin Shize's command.

Because of this simpleton Chu Luolong, they had been dragged into a mountain of troubles. If he had his way, Lin Shize would have preferred the Menggu soldiers to cleanly behead Chu Luolong so they could simply turn around and leave.

Yet, a soldier's primary duty was absolute obedience to orders. Since this was a mission, personal feelings had no place in it.

Lin Shize slowly raised his bow, but his arrow was aimed squarely at the Menggu soldier looming over Zhao Shantong.

The armored soldier's hands paused for a split second, as if sensing an impending premonition. Just as he started to push himself up, an arrow whistled through the air and pierced directly through his chest.

The armored soldier collapsed heavily onto the ground, stirring up a thick cloud of dust.

Suddenly feeling the oppressive weight lift from her chest, Zhao Shantong forced her blurred vision to focus, only to see the armored soldier lying motionless beside her with an arrow protruding from his chest—already a corpse.