At the third quarter of the Chou hour, dark clouds obscured the moon.
After reorganizing, the cavalry withdrew the front units and replaced them with the elite of the first charge. The torches they held suddenly went out, and the cylindrical drums that had sounded through the night also fell silent. Outside Danzhou City, everything was instantly plunged into darkness. Without torchlight, the archers on the wall could not see the moat across the way. Scouts climbed onto the remaining watchtowers, mustering courage as they stepped on the railings, stretching their necks to survey from high above.
“I can’t see,” sweat streamed down the scout’s temples as he gestured toward the wall, “it’s too dark!”
The single-arm cannons and trebuchets also stopped their fierce bombardment. Aside from scattered hoofbeats, no other information came from inside the city. In this rare silence, the defending troops lightened their steps, as if afraid to disturb something. They stood at their posts, faintly sensing an approaching storm.
The garrison in the passage began to withdraw outward. They dragged away the cleared corpses, making way for the Jinyi Cavalry. Water was poured over the blue stone pavement, washing over horse hooves and dispersing the thick stench of blood.
The cavalry’s horizontal formation moved. They were about to cross the reinforced passage boards, forming a wall in front of the city gate. After repeated probing, they had grasped the Jin Yi Cavalry’s methods: to pierce steel needles, one must form a thick brick to smash it apart!
The defenders on the wall did not dare wipe their sweat. Their throats rolled as they listened to the hoofbeats, silently counting down.
The cavalry charged toward the moat.
Horse hooves stepped onto the passage boards, and a thunderous sound instantly echoed across the moat.
Now!
The defenders waved their flags and shouted hoarsely: “Push—!”
Heavy stones on the wall rolled along wooden chutes, tumbling over short tracks, striking edges and flying outward like rain, smashing into the moat. Hidden in the darkness, the cavalry could not withstand the ambush from above; riders and horses were struck and toppled. The passage boards immediately broke in large sections, and countless cavalrymen fell into the moat.
The city gates were already wide open. With Shen Zechuan at the center, Qiao Tianya and Fei Sheng on the flanks, the three units charged together. The scattered cavalry formations had countless gaps; the Jin Yi Cavalry exploited every opening, tearing apart the charging formation from the moat upward.
The stone-dropping units on the wall were replaced by archers. Hot oil was poured onto arrowheads, wrapped in ragged cloth, and ignited before being fired downward. The cavalry had no infantry shield formation and no armor protection; fire arrows ignited their clothing upon contact. The entire moat lit up instantly.
Fei Sheng’s right flank had already crossed the moat via the Sand Edge passage boards. In the rushing wind, he leaned forward, whipping his horse forward. As he passed Yin Chang’s position, he suddenly slid down, using one arm to pull out the old man’s saber. The moment he grasped the hilt, he turned his head and rubbed his cheek hard against his shoulder, then inserted the saber into the empty scabbard on his back.
Fei Sheng reined his horse in the wind, turning toward the southeast beacon tower.
The cavalry noticed a light cavalry unit breaking through the darkness. Before they could block the gap, Shen Zechuan, who had also crossed the moat, seized their throats and dragged them through. The central and left flanks of the Jin Yi Cavalry were only there for support, fighting desperately in the rain of arrows with their backs to the burning moat.
The scattered cavalry quickly regrouped, but the Jin Yi Cavalry was just as fast. Mounted on horses, neither side had advantage in mobility; it came down to whose blade was faster.
Qiao Tianya was splattered with blood until his face was barely recognizable. He wiped his blade with his sleeve, whistling as he followed Shen Zechuan.
“My lord,” Qiao Tianya said after cleaning his blade, “is my blade still usable?”
In the black night bursting with sparks, Shen Zechuan said, “As fast as Wangshan Snow.”
Qiao Tianya’s torn sleeve exposed his arm; he wore no arm guard, like an unsheathed blade. He suddenly tilted his body and said, half-true half-false, “Don’t say that in front of Yuan Zhuo, it’ll cause misunderstandings. I’m not fast.”
“Then I am truly,” Shen Zechuan reversed his grip on Wangshan Snow, blocking a sabre strike behind Qiao Tianya, blood splashing across Qiao’s face as he calmly said, “very happy for Yuan Zhuo.”
The Jin Yi Cavalry behind them regrouped. Shen Zechuan stopped speaking, pulled Wangshan Snow, turned his horse, and galloped toward the direction of the single-arm cannons.
A messenger in the cavalry waved a small flag, shouting: “Withdraw the cannon!”
But the Jin Yi Cavalry was too fast. A man named Scorpion guarding the single-arm cannon raised a heavy hammer toward Shen Zechuan. Shen Zechuan reversed his grip on Wangshan Snow, and just before the clash, he suddenly rolled off his horse. Feng Ta Shuang Yi immediately veered away with raised hooves. Scorpion’s attempt to smash its legs failed, and as he turned, he cursed in Bisha language: “Cunning—”
Shen Zechuan kicked off the ground and pounced. Scorpion was tall and strong; Shen Zechuan clung to his back, twisted his neck with one arm, exposing his throat. Wangshan Snow slid across that exposed flesh.
His right arm was weak—this strike missed, failing to sever the throat.
Blood sprayed from Scorpion’s neck, but his hammer still swung. He let out a inhuman gasp and grabbed Shen Zechuan from behind.
Blood from Shen Zechuan’s brow streamed down. He resisted the weight, then dragged the blade back again along the same wound like butchering livestock, sawing until the throat was completely torn apart.
Even the Jin Yi Cavalry behind him felt their scalps go numb.
Scorpion collapsed with a crash, his hammer and Shen Zechuan both falling away.
Feng Ta Shuang Yi had already circled back. Shen Zechuan rose and mounted again. Qiao Tianya kicked up the hammer with his toes, caught it, and smashed it hard against one support leg of the single-arm cannon. The leg instantly cracked and broke, the entire cannon tilting.
The sound of wood exploding rang in their ears, and fire immediately spread.
Fei Sheng held a torch, his right flank already approaching the beacon tower. He gasped, nearly stumbling as he dismounted, then climbed upward with both hands and feet.
Pursuing cavalry roared in. The Jin Yi Cavalry fought them again at the base of the tower.
Fei Sheng ran up the steps and threw the torch into the fire pit. The dry structure erupted into flames. He stepped back twice and said, “It’s done…”
The defenders on the wall burst into tears, shouting downward: “It’s lit!”
Feng Ta Shuang Yi retreated. Shen Zechuan ordered: “Fall back!”
The beacon tower’s fire rose high. In moments, the eastern beacon towers would ignite in sequence. Fei Sheng wiped his chest, but wind and rain mixed with ash blurred his vision. After a night of gloom, the sky began to crack—droplets fell as a prelude. Before cheers could rise in Danzhou, a heavy rain poured down onto Fei Sheng’s face.
It was raining.
The fire on the beacon tower was beaten by the downpour, like a fragile flower struggling under water droplets, slowly dimming.
Fei Sheng rushed forward, shielding the rain with his hands, and roared in fury: “Damn heavens!”
After many days of clear skies, Danzhou was bound to face a storm. The rain poured down; the moat would not lack water, but the beacon towers could no longer be lit.
“It’s lit—damn it! I curse your ancestors!” Fei Sheng wiped his flint stone, but his hands were soaked, unable to strike a spark.
It couldn’t ignite.
This rain came suddenly—violent, but short-lived. If they withdrew into the city, there would still be a chance.
Shen Zechuan hardened his resolve and waved his blade toward the southeast: “Fall back!”
Fei Sheng’s vision blurred. He thought it was from the rain. Like a madman, he kept striking flint, watching the sparks flicker.
Old man.
His fingernails, torn during the door scraping, were bloody. Trembling, he reached into the beacon pit and pulled out the dry grass that had not yet burned.
Becoming a hero is too hard.
Fei Sheng widened his bloodshot eyes, pulled a record book from his chest, and stuffed it into the fire pit. He leaned in and blew, nearly suffocating from smoke.
In this life.
He blew until a small flame appeared, letting it catch the book. The fire suddenly flared up, almost burning his hair. He collapsed to the ground and spat.
Just this once—self-sacrifice!
The beacon fire reignited in the rain, not rising high, but it was enough. A faint light appeared in the southeast, followed by countless fires lighting in sequence, forming a long serpentine dragon across the beacon towers, flickering through the rain.
Fei Sheng stepped forward, about to jump down, but the words stuck in his throat. He stepped back instead.
The cavalry outside the beacon tower surged like a tide, leaving no gap. The Jin Yi Cavalry’s right flank was like a thin needle in front of them.
Soaked through, Fei Sheng looked at his chipped sabre and said to the rain, “I told you long ago, heroes never end well.”
The rain beat against him as if arguing back.
The blood on Fei Sheng’s face was washed away. He threw down his sabre, stepped on the edge of the beacon tower, and suddenly drew Yin Chang’s blade, shouting toward Danzhou: “My lord!” His chest heaved. “Give me a monument—engrave ‘Loyal and Righteous Fei Lao Shi’. I will face Tea Stone River with the old man and guard Danzhou for ten thousand years!”
Shen Zechuan rode through the rain, droplets striking his brows and eyes.
Danzhou.
Zhongbo.
He was no longer a passing cold wind. Countless figures stood behind him. That heavy weight pressed onto his shoulders, forcing the wandering Shen Zechuan back to the ground. He stood upon this land. He could not—
The lord raised his face in the storm and roared: “Break out!”
Fei Sheng leapt down from the beacon tower, rolled, then sprang up and cut the forelegs of a small horse, charging into the mass. Cavalry swarmed like ants. The right flank was scattered under the charge.
Wangshan Snow cut through rainlight as hooves trampled corpses toward the southeast.
Fei Sheng was forced back by his curved blade. In a split second, through the rain, he heard an explosion. He fell into the mud, rolled once, wiped his face, and shouted joyfully: “Reinforcements!”
Another blast erupted on Danzhou’s southern side. Huo Lingyun led a path through the cavalry using the Jin Yi Cavalry’s fire muskets, blasting open a route. He reloaded without wiping the rain, firing as he charged into the enemy ranks.
Behind him, Dan Taihu could no longer hold back and drew his blade, shouting: “Damn Bisha bastards—your Lord Hu is here!”
The advance troops of Dunzhou’s garrison had arrived.
The sky was covered in dense clouds. When the rain stopped, the city gates were closed again.
Shen Zechuan gasped for breath; even his fingers had turned pale from soaking. When he dismounted, water squeezed out of his boots, making a squelching sound as he stepped. He said, “Disarm and rest.”
The Jin Yi Cavalry dismounted one after another, taking food from the defenders, replacing their chipped blades, and resting under shelters at the base of the walls. Time was precious—they did not even change clothes, only wrapped themselves in thin blankets, drank hot tea, and leaned against the walls to sleep.
Dan Taihu removed his helmet and went up the wall with Shen Zechuan. Huo Lingyun followed closely.
“I followed north along Tea Stone River. On the way, I found Luo Sha Post Station slaughtered. I originally intended to return to Danzhou to report, but there were too many cavalry, so I went west and lit Dunzhou’s beacon tower.”
Shen Zechuan’s wet hair clung to his cheek. “How is the battlefield situation?”
“The horse road has been cut off,” Dan Taihu said. “Judging from the current situation, the battlefield is not optimistic either.”
They reached the wall and sat behind a preserved parapet under a simple shed, relatively dry.
Shen Zechuan unfolded the military map, casually removed the muddy agate from his right ear, and placed it into his chest. After a moment, he said, “With the rain, the ground is muddy. Cavalry supply carts will sink in. They won’t attack easily before the sun rises.”
“But they won’t stop long either,” Qiao Tianya pointed toward Dunzhou. “They already know reinforcements from Dunzhou are coming.”
“The garrison is infantry. Their march is slow. It will take a night for the main force to reach Danzhou,” Dan Taihu touched the scar on his eye. “My advance force only has two thousand men.”
Fei Sheng was nearly collapsed, holding Yin Chang’s blade, too exhausted to shout. His voice was hoarse: “The southeastern beacon towers are lit. If we hold through the night…”
“Cavalry is fast,” Huo Lingyun interrupted. “If Hasen wants to intercept Dunzhou reinforcements, he can still move south now. We can’t gamble everything on tonight.”
Hasen’s advantage was knowledge of Zhongbo terrain. Dunzhou’s troops were infantry—they relied on foot speed. If intercepted, they could be stalled behind Danzhou, delaying rescue.
“We must hold until border reinforcements arrive,” Huo Lingyun traced the route on the map. “When the Second Master went south, he said that if Hasen moves, the Grand Commander will circle back and strike his rear at Gerdale. No matter what, Hasen cannot stay long in Danzhou. The city walls are strong and supplies are sufficient—we can hold at least two more days.”
Two more days.
These words weighed heavily on everyone present.
Qiao Tianya turned toward the battlements. “…A battle of desperation.”
The sky was shrouded in gloom. Tea Stone River, once magnificent, had turned into pale tattered strips. The city walls darkened after being soaked. The defenders continued cleaning the battlefield; corpses from both sides were stacked together. Those faces were equally pale, lying in the mud like dried grass deprived of water.
Shen Zechuan went alone down the steps to the water vat and washed his face. He supported himself with one arm and looked at his right hand, then submerged it in clean water. Blood on the cloth dispersed instantly.
A Ye’s handkerchief was dirty.
Shen Zechuan untied it; his fingers were swollen from the binding. He sat down, wrung the blue cloth dry, and laid it across his knees, tilting his head to stare at it.
The wind moved the nearby trees, scattering fallen leaves across the ground.
Leaning against the water vat, Shen Zechuan fell asleep.
Hasen scooped up river water with his hands. He buried his face in it, facing the east, making his farewell. At his feet, severed heads were strung together in a line; his curved blade was stained red with blood. The newly tailored leather coat exposed both his wrists, and in the sleeve pouch was the red ti flower Duolan had given him.
The aged wise man cupped river water and poured it over Hasen’s head, saying, “May the Heavenly God bless the eagle of the Fierce Serpent Tribe.”
Hasen lifted his dripping face. He looked at the wise man and asked, “Will I win?”
The wise man bent down and stroked Hasen’s forehead. In his clouded eyes flowed rivers; he seemed older than the Chaishi River itself, his wisdom far beyond what Bayin could match. He knelt, holding Hasen’s cheeks, and slowly said, “You have already stood in a place we have never reached.”
“There is still a wolf guarding ahead,” Hasen said. “I killed his father.”
“The Wolf King bit your brothers and sisters to death,” the wise man’s aged face was like barren dunes in the great desert. “The mercy granted by the Red Ti Heavenly God comes with pain. He has taken away the grasslands and the blue sky. Between us, it has long been a fight to the death.”
Water dripped from Hasen’s chin. He was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, “I will win.”
Shen Zechuan was jolted awake by a booming sound. The moment he opened his eyes, he felt chilled all over. Amid the chaotic footsteps, he quickly wrapped his headcloth back on and stood up.
“Light the fires!”
The torches around him flared up at once. Shen Zechuan stepped up the stairs and climbed onto the city wall.
“There are still cavalry crossing the river,” Fei Sheng gazed into the distance. “They are gathering toward Duanzhou.”
Shen Zechuan drank the ginger soup Qiao Tianya handed him and said, “Hasen has arrived.”
“The cavalry has split into wings,” cold sweat broke out on Fei Sheng’s back. “Not good—they’re going to charge from three sides!”
The cavalry was like an eagle spreading its wings. The central force gathered into a mass, far more numerous than in daylight, while the two wings, holding torches, circled rapidly.
“Notify the south and north gates,” Shen Zechuan smashed the bowl and raised his voice. “Defend to the death!”
Before his words had even finished, the battlement in front of him collapsed with a “bang.” The Imperial Guards and garrison soldiers on the wall all began to run. The archers braced themselves against the broken battlements and drew their bows.
Hasen’s central force did not move like the two wings. He brought up all the catapults and single-arm trebuchets, and heavy stones poured down onto Duanzhou’s walls, smashing stones into flying debris; the archers could not hold their bows steady.
The cavalry beside Hasen raised their banners. The cavalry behind abandoned the barrel drums and instead raised horns and blew them loudly. The two wings had already reached the south and north gates. The north gate released a volley of arrows, while the south gate could only rely on throwing farm tools.
The teachers at the training ground were resting when suddenly they heard the gate crash with a heavy “clang.” The women and children in the field immediately panicked and cried, huddling together.
“They’re attacking the city!” Gao Zhongxiong trembled, clutching his papers.
The battering ram failed once. In less than a moment, another heavier crash sounded, and the outermost city gate broke open immediately. The shouts of the Biansha cavalry came through the portcullis. The people in the field were thrown into chaos, desperately pushing backward.
The garrison soldiers leapt down from the wall, drew their blades, and shouted toward the field, “Run into the alleys!”
Before he finished speaking, the portcullis exploded with splintering wood, smashed open by the ram.
The soldier raised one hand, panting heavily, sweat and tears streaming together. The moment the lower part of the portcullis was directly knocked away, he was the first to run, charging out with his blade and shouting, “Kill the enemy!”
Kong Ling pushed a four-wheeled cart. The teachers followed behind the civilians, surging toward the residential district.
The garrison could not withstand the cavalry’s charge. The curved blades swept through like harvesting, taking heads. The sound of hooves never stopped, charging straight toward the fleeing crowd.
The teachers had already reached the alley entrance, but it was clogged with civilians. A woman had to pull several children and carry an elder; the able-bodied men were all at the portcullis. Those left here had no power to fight the cavalry.
Gao Zhongxiong’s papers slipped down his arm. His legs shook, his whole body trembling. Before he could squeeze in, his collar was hooked, and his entire body was dragged away by a cavalryman. He screamed in terror, snot and tears streaming.
The cavalryman said something and spat at Gao Zhongxiong.
At the end of his rope, Gao Zhongxiong didn’t know where he found the strength; he spat back and shouted, “A scholar may be killed, but not humiliated!”
With a thud, the cavalryman fell off his horse. Kong Ling swung a door bar he had picked up and urged, “Quick, Shenwei, run!”
The cavalryman clutched the back of his head, got up, and reached for his curved blade.
Gao Zhongxiong had already retreated a few steps, but seeing Kong Ling falling behind, he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the bundle under his arm—inside were his brushes and inkstone—and smashed it at the cavalryman’s head, knocking him back to the ground.
Kong Ling didn’t drop the door bar. Lifting his robe, he pushed Gao Zhongxiong forward, and the two continued running into the alley. Gao Zhongxiong kept turning his head, looking at his bundle, crying as he said, “My—my brushes and inkstone are expensive!”
Qiao Tianya galloped past, leading a squad of Imperial Guards straight into the cavalry. In the pitch darkness, both sides began fighting. The civilians in the alley covered their mouths and noses, only daring to sob quietly, not wail. The sounds of slaughter were brutal, and garrison soldiers kept rushing past.
Yao Wenyu turned the four-wheeled cart. He leaned against the edge but could not hear any sound from Qiao Tianya.
After half an hour, torches suddenly lit up at the alley entrance.
Qiao Tianya wiped the blood from his chin, raised his head slightly toward the inside, his gaze sweeping over Yao Wenyu, then looked at Kong Ling and said, “Sir Chengfeng, please take everyone to the residence.”
Kong Ling agreed repeatedly, finally throwing away the door bar in his hand and hurrying forward, calling for the civilians to follow. Gao Zhongxiong quickly bent down to pick up his papers.
Amid the crisscrossing firelight, Qiao Tianya stepped aside and approached Yao Wenyu.
Yao Wenyu said, “Prefect—”
The four-wheeled cart lightly knocked against the wall. Yuan Zhuo braced the handle with one hand, but Qiao Tianya held his face and pressed him into a kiss in this dim corner. The kiss was not gentle at all; in the bloody taste was an overwhelming desire.
Qiao Tianya suddenly released Yao Wenyu. He wiped the blood from Yuan Zhuo’s chin, quickly stepped back, mounted his horse, and left, leaving Yao Wenyu covering his chin in shock.
Hasen cracked his whip. Leading his elite troops, he broke through the moat, charging with mud toward the east gate, the battering ram following behind him.
Dantai Hu raised his arm and said, “Prepare.”
On the wall, the bed crossbows clacked into motion. Over a dozen soldiers mounted the long bolts. These powerful weapons could only be used against Hasen, but the timing was difficult—they had to force Hasen back first.
The water in the moat trembled. As soon as Hasen’s horse landed, a blade came at him head-on. He raised his curved blade to block it steadily. Through firelight and dust, he saw Shen Zechuan.
In their first exchange, neither gained advantage; in the instant they parted, each weighed the other.
Hasen’s red hair tilted slightly. He turned his curved blade, pointing the edge at Shen Zechuan, as if aiming, and said precisely, “Shen Zechuan.”
Shen Zechuan lightly brushed his blade. Fengta Shuangyi circled around Hasen, and he suddenly sliced off the head of one of Hasen’s accompanying cavalry.
Hasen thought of Xiao Chiye. Xiao Chiye had sent back Achi’s head—that was an insult, just like how he had taken away Xiao Fangxu’s head.
Neither side could retreat. Steel clashed repeatedly. The cavalry pushed the Imperial Guards back; the Imperial Guards stubbornly pushed forward again. Their horses’ hooves tangled in the mud, people constantly falling, turning into mire.
On the wall, the garrison pushed down the remaining heavy stones. Even those knocked down were replaced—like they could never be killed off.
Shen Zechuan and Hasen faced different kinds of opponents. In such a fierce assault, Shen Zechuan still retained his reason. He might not be as strong as Hasen, but he was cunning enough. Hasen’s brute force strikes landed into emptiness—that sense of grasping nothing made this opponent the most troublesome.
Hasen drew his arm back, retrieving his curved blade, and shifted into a spike attack.
Burning oil splashed from the walls, flames erupting everywhere. Hasen moved first. His spike blocked the inevitable path of Yangshan Xue’s slash. His warhorse lunged forward, crashing against Fengta Shuangyi, forcing Shen Zechuan toward the city gate with brute strength.
Breakthrough!
Yangshan Xue nearly slipped from Shen Zechuan’s hand. The hilt pressed against his two fingers, nearly bending them backward. Yet Shen Zechuan felt nothing. He forcibly twisted the hilt, gripping it with his remaining three fingers, letting the blade’s spine press against his forearm—like Yin Chang’s move—twisting his body and using his elbow to drive the blade toward Hasen’s throat.
Hasen ducked low. The spike reversed in his grip and slammed into Shen Zechuan’s chest. Shen Zechuan grabbed Hasen’s wrist, but lacked the strength. In that life-and-death instant, he forced the spike downward so it pierced only his side, avoiding his vital point.
“Prefect!” Dantai Hu shouted from the wall, his soul nearly leaving his body.
Hasen struck Shen Zechuan’s waist and tried to withdraw, but found the grip on his wrist like iron nails. Shen Zechuan’s eyes were cold as he said, “Push.”
Behind him, the seemingly chaotic Imperial Guards instantly regrouped, retreating with Shen Zechuan’s central force and surging toward Hasen’s unit.
A trap!
Hasen pulled out his spike, but the Imperial Guards’ horses had already crashed in. His vanguard was forced back, the rear horses falling into the moat. The bed crossbows were ready—but still not enough.
Shen Zechuan shouted sharply, “Push again!”
The planks over the moat were mostly broken. Water splashed wildly; flaming rain still fell from the wall. Hasen’s charge had scattered. As he retreated, he dragged Shen Zechuan down from his horse with him.
Shen Zechuan fell into the mud, not even wiping his face before rolling away to create distance. He was filthy, indistinguishable where he bled; the blood mixed into the mud, hidden under the thunder of hooves.
Hasen seized the moment. In their exchanges, he had already seen through Shen Zechuan—this man’s stamina was exhausted; he was no match in strength. Like a wolf, he lunged, slipping through splashing mud and instantly appearing before Shen Zechuan.
Shen Zechuan blocked with his blade but was knocked back half a step. Before Hasen could stabilize, Shen Zechuan kicked out, sweeping him down. Hasen supported himself with one hand, flipping up immediately, the spike spinning deftly between his fingers. Shen Zechuan dodged as Yangshan Xue clashed rapidly with the spike.
Dantai Hu had a sudden idea and shouted, “Use fire to cover the Prefect!”
The soldiers on the wall braved the bombardment to draw their bows. Hasen retreated slightly, then realized the deception—the wall had no more burning oil. Before he could react, his chest suddenly sank; Shen Zechuan had kicked him backward. As he fell, Hasen grabbed Shen Zechuan’s ankle, dragging him down as well.
Mud splashed everywhere. The headcloth came loose. His three functioning fingers failed to hold Yangshan Xue, which fell aside. Shen Zechuan coughed up blood, trying to rise but failing.
Hasen sprang up swiftly. Seeing Shen Zechuan reaching for his blade, he dragged him backward by the ankle. Shen Zechuan grasped at empty air, then decisively abandoned Yangshan Xue, pressing his injured waist with one hand and flipping himself up.
These few moves were deadly.
Shen Zechuan panted heavily, smashing his elbow into Hasen’s face. The Ji family fist struck fiercely, forcing Hasen to release him. But Hasen reacted quickly—his spike slipped from his right hand to his left and stabbed unexpectedly toward Shen Zechuan’s throat.
Shen Zechuan could not block with one arm. He clamped Hasen’s left arm between both arms, leaning back slightly, the spike stopping inches away. Blood seeped from Shen Zechuan’s teeth. With that metallic taste, he twisted Hasen’s arm and, as Hasen leaned toward him, drove his knee into Hasen’s chest.
Hasen fell.
Shen Zechuan spat out blood. As Hasen lifted his head, he punched, knocking Hasen’s head aside. Hasen turned his face away, grabbing Shen Zechuan’s forearm barehanded, flipping him and slamming him into the mud again.
Shen Zechuan’s right arm dislocated. As he hit the ground, he grabbed Hasen’s collar and shouted, “Dantai Hu!”
Dantai Hu roared, “Fire!”
The sparks around the bed crossbow scattered. The long bolt shot out with a fierce wind, rushing straight toward Hasen! Hasen grabbed Shen Zechuan and rolled backward, plunging into the moat. The bolt crashed into the water, raising waves.
Shen Zechuan swallowed a few mouthfuls of filthy water, choking and dizzy. Hasen never let go, dragging him up the opposite side of the moat.
“Your head,” Hasen drew his curved blade again, “I will give it to Xiao Chiye.”
Shen Zechuan tilted his neck back, spitting out mud, and laughed. His affectionate eyes half-lidded, carrying a sinister charm, he said, “The wind has come.”
Hasen hooked his blade, but Shen Zechuan suddenly raised his leg, stomping hard onto Hasen’s chest. Pinning him, he drew a dagger with his left hand from his thigh, locking Hasen’s blade.
The curved blade jammed. Hasen strained backward.
Shen Zechuan had already landed. Hanging onto the blade, he struck Hasen’s face again as Hasen retreated. Hasen staggered sideways, then imitated Shen Zechuan’s earlier move, crouching and sweeping his leg.
Shen Zechuan did not fall!
As Hasen braced to rise, at that very moment, the air split again with a tearing wind. Sharp arrows, accompanied by thunderous blasts, struck beside Hasen amid the rain.
The Overlord Bow was drenched in rain.
That was not thunder from the sky, but thunder from the ground. Heavy cavalry pounded forward, their charge so fierce it flung aside even the rain, like savage beasts bursting out of the black night. Langtao Xuejin broke through the curtain of rain. Covered in blood, Xiao Chiye was like a bolt of black lightning, charging from the horizon into the battlefield.
A killing frost swept through.
The wolf had come.