Chapter 308: One Strike, One Kill

At this point, there were still more than twenty Xun Province boats on the river that had not made landfall.

“We can win!” Zhao Pan’s heart settled. He threw his head back and laughed. “Boys, drive these wretches back to the river! I want to watch that old dog Nian jump in himself!”

With that shout as a trigger, the Yuan soldiers finally pushed past those first waves of panic and began to steady, regroup, and counterattack.

The army shifted from retreating inward to pushing outward, inch by bloody inch, forcing the enemy back to the north.

Every step forward left a river of blood on the ground.

Yet instead of falling back toward the riverbank, the Xun Province troops began yielding ground toward the west, bracing themselves against the mounting pressure and withdrawing that way instead.

The terrain there rose higher, and beyond that lay a broad, open plain.

They understood perfectly well that if they were driven back to the river’s edge while still unable to win, only death would await them.

He Lingchuan swung the Rising Dragon spear in a sweeping arc, cutting down another man, then another. A strangled scream nearby drew his eye. A Yuan soldier had been caught by a cannon shot. Half his skull was gone, scalp dangling off one ear and flapping as he swayed. In the flicker of firelight, Lingchuan could see red and white leaking from the exposed cranium.

The man collapsed and did not rise, but did not die right away either. He simply reached a trembling hand toward the others, wailing in broken sobs.

In the end, He Lingchuan could not harden his heart. He leveled his spear and thrust.

The tip punched clean through the man’s throat. He died on the spot, at least freed from that torment.

As he yanked the spear free, He Lingchuan took the chance to glance over the battlefield at large.

Everywhere he looked, it was nothing but surging seas of men. Shouts, screams, and wails tangled together. Cannonfire and boulders from the catapults smashed into earth and flesh alike, sending dirt, stone, and bloody fragments flying.

The whole scene was hell on earth.

Only then did it truly hit him that, whether it be in the waking world or in the dreamscape, this was his first time witnessing a full-scale battle with his own eyes. Together, both sides had tens of thousands of men locked in combat.

In such a clash, chaos was the main melody. Individual strength was so small as to be almost meaningless.

He had just formed that thought when suddenly, from a stretch of woods not far behind the Yuan lines, a group of over a hundred cavalry burst out, charging straight at the Yuan command.

The closer they came, the faster they accelerated.

The horses were excellent, and the riders’ horsemanship even better. Any Yuan soldier who failed to react in time or had only just lifted his blade was neatly cut down in passing.

In the middle of this vast melee, the hundred-odd riders were like a spear stabbing directly into the Yuan army’s heart. At the very tip of that spear rode a warrior whose presence was terrifying, cutting down enemies like vegetables, tearing through the chaos as if no one else existed on the field.

On his path, there were soldiers who had not even managed to get near him before a wave of force slammed into them and sent them flying.

In just a few breaths, that wedge of cavalry, trampling through dust and uprooted earth, punched a ragged gap through the outer layer of the Yuan defenses.

He Lingchuan took one look over his shoulder, and his pupils shrank sharply. He immediately spurred his mount toward the high ground.

The rider at the very tip of that formation, who else could it be but Hong Chenglue?

His timing was flawless.

The Xun Province soldiers were being pushed back step by step. Naturally, the Yuan army had to divert troops from the center to pursue toward the riverside, thinning the ranks around their leadership.

Yet even thinned, that inner ring still had four or five hundred men, all of whom were elite troops.

No one noticed the small object that left He Lingchuan’s hand and flew toward that crowd of men.

Hong Chenglue, for his part, acted as if no one else on the battlefield existed. The personal guards roared and surged forward to bar his path, but he only squeezed his legs against his horse’s flanks.

The steed lunged, its speed increasing yet again. Hong Chenglue took that moment to raise his arm and hurl his spear like a javelin.

The ferocity and speed of that throw were absolutely on par with the Gale Army’s best.

Blue light crackled along the shaft as it flew, bursting with sparks. Lightning wrapped itself around the weapon as if it were alive.

It moved so fast that two elite guards who tried to intercept it could only swing at empty air.

The point of the spear was aimed straight at He Chunhua, who was standing in the shelter of that crowd.

Hong Chenglue had held back in the woods for half the night. Even as the Xun troops faltered and retreated, he had ignored it all, waiting for this one perfect moment to settle the score with the man who had pushed his wife to death.

He Chunhua turned just in time to see the flash of lightning, so bright it seared his eyes and nearly blew his soul out of his body.

He tried to dodge, but the spear’s crushing aura locked onto him, pinning him in place. He could not move, and he could not even turn his head.

Hong Chenglue had condensed the origin energy of over a hundred riders into his own body.

This throw was meant to kill in one strike.

The spear closed the distance in an instant, about to punch straight through He Chunhua’s skull.

But then, at that precise heartbeat, yellow light bloomed a pace in front of him. A towering figure loomed up like a mountain, blocking him completely.

The spear hit that figure with a metallic thunk, went in through the front and out the back, impaling it clean through.

The spear still had power left. It tried to keep going, to punch through He Chunhua as well, but the figure grabbed the tail with one massive hand, yanked the weapon free, and flung it aside.

No blood spilled from the wound. Lightning rampaged over its body, crawling here and there in a web of white fire, yet the figure still stood tall, facing Hong Chenglue head-on.

Around them, soldiers gasped in unison, then whooped in relief.

Sweat rolled down from He Chunhua’s temples at last.

The thing standing in front of him was a golden-armored copper man over sixteen meters tall.

He knew exactly what it was. This was the new toy his son had built. He had just seen it stomping through a small grove days ago. He had not expected it to pay off so quickly.

Without this copper man as a shield, even surrounded by layers of guards, He Chunhua’s head would likely have been taken all the same.

The copper man had blocked his view, so he had not managed a good look at the attacker’s appearance. But he did not need to. He knew in a heartbeat who it had to be, and his heart turned cold as ice.

His days of unease had borne fruit. Hong Chenglue had come.

The hatred between them now was so deep that only one of them would be leaving this field alive.

The golden-armored copper man had appeared from nowhere, crushing two Yuan cavalry underfoot. Now there were only about ten meters between it and Hong Chenglue. At their current speed, this distance was barely a moment.

In full view of the watching soldiers, Hong Chenglue and his horse plowed right into the copper man’s chest.

The shock of the collision was enormous. Even with its solid stance, the copper man staggered, feet skidding back as it took a step to catch its balance.

Of course, under He Lingchuan’s control, it was not about to waste the opportunity. Its thick arms swept inward in a bear hug, trying to crush Hong Chenglue against its chest.

He had learned that move from Meng Shan.

Unfortunately, Hong Chenglue’s response was just as fluid as his had been back then. The horse’s bones cracked, tendons snapping as it smashed against the metal-plated torso and screamed in agony. But Hong Chenglue himself used the impact to leap, and his waist saber flashed from its scabbard.

The vicious gleam of that blade was hard to put into words.

The golden-armored copper man’s movements froze. A long crack opened across its thick neck.

If it had been human, that would have been the moment its blood sprayed to the sky.

Springing off its shoulder, Hong Chenglue launched himself once more toward He Chunhua.

The moment he had seen the copper man take the hit for him, He Chunhua had spun around and bolted the other way, running flat out with no thought for his dignity.

But the press of bodies around him became an obstacle instead of a shield.

He swerved behind two tall soldiers, using their bodies as cover.

Hong Chenglue slashed when he reached them. Whatever courage those men had was meaningless; one swing, and both were severed clean in half at the waist.

Just then, a glint of cold steel flashed at the edge of his vision. A changdao was flying straight toward him, point first.

Its murderous intent was fierce, so Hong Chenglue did not dare take it lightly. He had to break off the killing strike he had been gathering, turn his wrist, and knock the thrown blade aside.

A sharp clang rang out as Fleeting Life was sent spinning through the air.

He Chunhua used that moment to pull something from his sleeve.

Hong Chenglue barked a laugh, his body blurring. In the space of a blink, he was behind He Chunhua, his blade hacking in a backhand arc.

Bursts of light from the activation of protective magical artifacts flared on He Chunhua’s body one after another, three or four in a row, flashing to life only to shatter the next instant.

It was just enough time for him to lunge one more step forward.

“Father!” He Lingchuan had only just reached the high ground on horseback. He caught sight of the scene and felt his heart seize.

He watched Hong Chenglue’s blade pass across the side of He Chunhua’s neck.

It was light, quick, and utterly merciless.

He Chunhua’s body lost balance at once. One hand went to his neck, and he toppled.

Hong Chenglue was just about to step in to confirm the kill when the faint whisper of wind brushed the back of his head.

He jerked sideways and saw that same changdao coming again from the sky at a strange angle.

There was no one at that angle.

So this weapon can circle back and chase a target?

In that instant, he knocked it away again.

The changdao spun twice through the air and flew straight back into He Lingchuan’s hand.

The saber had a simple rule. It would not rest until it drew blood, but its master had summoned it back for defense.

The moment the weapon slapped into his palm, the bo beast lunged forward, and He Lingchuan and Hong Chenglue passed each other in a blur.

Metal shrieked. The clash rang with a clear, drawn-out note, the shockwave blasting soldiers on all sides off their feet.

Even He Lingchuan, high in the saddle, was knocked backward, his grip torn open until blood seeped from his mouth.

He had thrown everything into that strike—rage, body, origin energy, and the full acceleration of the bo beast—and finally unleashed the most perfect Wave-Cleaving Slash he had ever performed.

Essence, qi, spirit, everything had come together perfectly.

The tent behind Hong Chenglue, which was over three meters away, had its main pole, which was thicker than a rice bowl, sheared clean in two.

And yet that blow had felt like cleaving into a pillar sunk deep into the riverbed. Instead of slicing Hong Chenglue in half, it was He Lingchuan whose hand tore, whose five viscera felt like they had been pounded with iron hammers.

Mind you, Hong Chenglue had been standing on solid ground, going from stillness into motion, and had taken the blow head-on.

One exchange, and He Lingchuan had his answer.

Hong Chenglue’s skill was no weaker than Officer Xiao’s.

Hong Chenglue himself had to retreat three great strides, each step planting deeper into the mud than the last. Only then did he manage to bleed off the force enough to keep from landing flat on his backside.

He Lingchuan was hurting, but Hong Chenglue was not doing so great either. His treasured saber almost flew from his grip. The force that came through the blade from that clash was like fire and ice together, burrowing into his meridians.

If he did not address it soon, it would cause serious trouble.

Only he knew that his chest felt like it was churning, his blood and qi roiling. His internal organs had taken a real shock.

This young man’s slash was flawless. His spirit was strong, angle lethal, and killing intent unwavering. If anything was lacking, it was only that the strike hadn’t been tricky enough.

If I let him grow, Yuan would have another grand general within five years.

The thought made Hong Chenglue’s killing intent spike.

He knew the young man. Back at the negotiation at Baiming Gorge, this same young man had stood at He Chunhua’s side.

This must be his eldest son, He Lingchuan.

Baili Qing lost an arm to him. Judging by this exchange, his defeat had been anything but unjust.

What a pity. For someone like He Chunhua, a scheming official to his core, to have such a fierce, promising son... He doesn’t deserve it.

The delay, however, had cost him. Yuan soldiers surged in like a flood, surrounding him in layers and pushing him farther away from the He father and son.

Hong Chenglue could only spare He Lingchuan a regretful glance.

He Lingchuan, for his part, had no time to go chasing after him again. He vaulted from the saddle straight to the ground and rushed to He Chunhua’s side.

“Father!”

Since transmigrating into this world, he had lived with the He Family for months. His relationship with this new father of his was complicated—part wary distance, part grudging acceptance. But the moment he saw He Chunhua struck at a vital point and collapsing, his heart squeezed up into his throat.

He Chunhua was the supreme commander of Xia Province’s army. He could not fall here, not now.