Chapter 14: Hidden Dragons and Crouching Tigers in the Dragon King's Temple

O Primeiro Mestre de Fogão da Grande Ming Eletricista 1022 3580 words 2026-08-05 03:24:50

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My backside is about to split into eight pieces.

This was the only thought running through Fan Tong’s mind as he rode atop his towering steed. His weight, two hundred and fifty pounds, caused the warhorse beneath him to emit pained whinnies, each step seeming like a protest against the burden. Rubbing his aching waist, he silently cursed the ancestors of this errand.

“This job’s damn near inhuman,” he muttered under his breath.

At dawn, while the morning mist still lingered, the drill ground of Datong Prefecture’s garrison was already lined with men and horses standing at rigid attention. Five hundred elite soldiers of the garrison, their weapons raised, exuded the distinct grimness of official military forces. Yet, before their ranks stood twenty hulking giants clad in menacing black armor, more like an iron wall than a fighting force, radiating a savage and terrifying aura.

Beside him, Commander Zhang He’s expression was even more complicated than the gray sky. His gaze was fixed unwaveringly on the twenty silent black-armored war demons behind Fan Tong. Their fierce beast-head helmets and heavy iron armor emanated a barbaric and bloodthirsty aura unlike anything in the Ming army. This so-called “Firehead Army” even managed to overshadow the five hundred elite troops under Zhang’s command, forcing them to look downcast.

“Commander Fan,” Zhang He’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke with difficulty, “are we really… going in like this?”

“What else?” Fan Tong grinned, showing white teeth, though his smile was more grimace than joy. “Commander Zhang, your men just follow behind and cheer us on. Time to eat, brothers! Move out!”

The Cao family estate.

Cao Xun held a cup of ginseng tea, listening to his subordinate’s report, a sneer curling his lips.

“Five hundred garrison soldiers? The Datong garrison is nothing more than a bunch of farmers collecting pay. And they add twenty cooks to that?” He chuckled lightly. “Looks like this butcher Fan really thinks he’s somebody. Tell the people in the village not to hold back. Bury this reckless bunch, along with that fat man, in the Dragon King Temple!”

“Master, should we have our men…” The steward made a throat-slitting gesture.

“No need! It’s not time yet. These fools think they can wipe out our private soldiers? Hmph! Childish. When they’re destroyed, they’ll know who rules these lands.”

West of the city, Dragon King Temple.

The long-abandoned temple lay in ruins, walls broken and covered in cobwebs. But as soon as Fan Tong approached, his nose twitched uncontrollably.

The air was thick with the stench of earth, faint hints of blood, and the metallic scent of rust.

Qiao Juren hadn’t lied.

“Bao Nianfeng!”

“Here!”

“Take men and smash the gates open!”

Fan Tong ordered sharply.

Bao Nianfeng sneered, hefting his giant axe taller than a man, and strode forward.

“Boom!”

The temple’s two rotted wooden doors shattered into countless fragments before the massive axe.

“Who goes there!”

Inside, over a dozen men brandished standard long swords, roaring as they charged out. Their eyes were fierce, steps measured—obviously battle-hardened veterans.

But they faced monsters.

Bao Nianfeng didn’t dodge as a long sword struck his black iron chestplate.

“Clang!”

Sparks flew, and the fine steel blade snapped in two!

The guards were stunned, unable to react before Bao Nianfeng’s axe sliced through the air with a roaring whoosh.

“Thud!”

It cleaved through a man’s waist, flesh and blood spraying.

Twenty steel-clad beasts poured into the formation. Where the giant axes struck, limbs flew; where the spiked clubs fell, bone armor shattered. The line before them was as fragile as paper.

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No screams, only dull sounds of shattering bone and flesh.

Within a dozen breaths, the battle was over. The temple held no survivors.

Outside, Zhang He and his five hundred garrison troops watched in stunned silence, their faces turning pale.

Those twenty monsters charging into enemy ranks were like a red-hot iron plow tearing through snow—there was no such thing as a “fight”. The private soldiers’ spears bounced harmlessly off them with a grating clang, never leaving a mark. But every swing of their giant axes and spiked clubs brought bone-crushing, flesh-ripping thuds.

One garrison soldier watched as a spiked club turned a private soldier and his shield into a puddle of meat—without even a scream. His stomach churned violently.

This wasn’t a government army quelling rebels; it was a swarm of demons risen from hell!

Fan Tong entered the main hall and kicked aside a stone statue, revealing a hidden door leading underground.

He raised a torch and descended.

When the light illuminated the subterranean cellar, even Fan Tong gasped.

Piles of swords and spears lay stacked neatly, rows of bows and crossbows lined up, and hundreds of brand-new leather armors… In one corner were dozens of sets of finely crafted heavy iron armor clearly of Yuan dynasty design!

Fan Tong’s pupils contracted sharply. Instantly, he recognized that the style and maintenance of this equipment far surpassed any Ming garrison he had seen. This wasn’t mere smuggling; it was a fully functional, well-organized arms production and storage facility!

What were these Shanxi merchants planning? To arm a force capable of challenging Xu Da’s main field army? They weren’t just plotting rebellion—they were already in open revolt!

“Alarm! Enemy attack—!”

At that moment, a piercing gong sounded from the nearby village outside the temple.

The earth trembled.

Over a thousand private soldiers clad in leather armor and bearing long spears surged out like a breaking flood, charging madly toward the government troops!

“Form ranks!” Zhang He’s face turned ashen. He hadn’t expected such a large private force, nor that they would dare attack the official army first!

“Form ranks my ass!”

Fan Tong roared, bursting out of the cellar. Staring at the swelling tide of private soldiers, his eyes instantly reddened, his fat trembling with rage.

Damn it! I’m just a cook wanting to explore different ways to braise pork, and you bastards force me to work? Trying to smash my pots and cut off my food supply?

“Dare to sand in my rice bowl? All must die!”

That furious roar was the most sincere thing he’d said since crossing over. Activating his “Fearless Aura,” he swung his absurdly massive bone-cleaving blade, charging like a runaway heavy truck straight into the thousand-strong enemy formation!

“Boss!”

Bao Nianfeng and the others bellowed bestial roars in response, forming the simplest and most brutal wedge formation. Like a searing hot iron spear, they plunged into the enemy ranks!

A meat grinder massacre began.

The private soldiers’ spears struck the Firehead Army’s black armor without leaving even a mark.

But every swing of the Firehead’s giant axes and spiked clubs smashed their enemies and armor into unrecognizable mush.

One private soldier leader, skilled and ruthless, spotted an opening and slashed fiercely at Fan Tong’s back.

Fan Tong neither dodged nor retreated, taking the blow head-on.

“Shing!”

His leather armor was cut open, but only barely.

The leader’s eyes flashed with surprise, but the next second his world was drenched in blood.

Fan Tong reversed his blade in a simple, yet devastating “Mountain-Splitting” strike from above! The blade cleaved through the helmet’s center like a hot knife through butter, bisecting man and weapon down the middle!

Scalding entrails and blood splattered, painting a hellish scene.

All the private soldiers who witnessed this were terrified to their core.

How could they fight this? They weren’t facing men—they were facing monsters!

“Monsters!”

A shrill scream broke out. The private soldiers’ morale shattered completely.

They dropped their weapons, crying and scattering in flight.

The garrison soldiers seized the moment, slaughtering or capturing most of the fleeing privates.

In less than half an hour, the battle was over.

The Cao family estate.

The news of the private soldiers’ total defeat returned to the Cao mansion like a death curse. Cao Xun’s cup of ginseng tea fell with a shattering crash.

His face lost all trace of composure, replaced by ashen despair.

“How… is this possible…” he murmured. Their proud private army didn’t even hold for half an hour!

“No! It’s not over!” At the edge of despair, madness bloomed. Cao Xun raised his head sharply, his eyes burning with final hatred. “He wants proof? Once he’s a corpse, there’ll be no proof at all!”

He grabbed a trusted aide, his voice hoarse as he ordered, “Send in the Blood Swallow! Tell them the price doubles! Spare no cost—by dawn, bring me Fan Tong’s head! I want him dead without a trace!”

Turning to the other merchants, his voice grew cold: “Gentlemen, it’s a matter of life and death. Immediately mobilize all connections in town, arm the house guards, and control the four gates! I want Datong Prefecture to become his graveyard!”

Night sank like ink, thickening the scent of blood in the estate. The wind stirred some blood-soaked account papers, sending them swirling through the air.

Nearby, a fallen swing creaked, scattered with children’s rattles.

This was once a prosperous village, now reduced to silence and the scars of slaughter.

Fan Tong returned to the tent requisitioned for temporary use. Bao Nianfeng and the others eagerly cleaned their weapons, faces flushed with the thrill of bloodshed.

“Silence!” Fan Tong growled low, and the tent fell utterly silent.

He walked to a corner, thrust the still-dripping bone-cleaving knife heavily into the ground, and sat cross-legged.

Staring at his hands, stained with blood and brain matter, an intense unfamiliarity surged within him.

Once, these hands were meant for stirring spoons, slicing vegetables, and pursuing perfect cooking.

Now, they only knew how to split skulls more efficiently.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing the tremors from his soul and the savage fury born of his ogre bloodline.

He knew the merchants would not sit idly by.

Tonight would be the toughest dish on this “gastronomic journey.”