Chapter 1242: That Damn It! [Seeking Monthly Tickets]
"Did it thunder?"
Rumble— Rumble—
Explosions erupted overhead, the sounds reaching the ears of many soldiers who mistook them for thunder. Just as they were about to look up at the sky, a dark shadow crashed down from the heavens. Large and small pebbles landed either in unoccupied open areas or struck the makeshift tents.
The camp then collapsed.
The soldiers inside the tents were unlucky; some were smashed to pieces while still asleep, unable to even utter a scream. Others were slightly luckier, only crippled. The excruciating pain jolted them awake, their piercing screams echoing throughout the tents.
"Is it a thief star?"
A meteorite from outer space bombarded the camp?
The soldiers, caught off guard, were thrown into disarray.
If it truly is a thieving star, then even Heaven itself is sabotaging their plans; going against the will of Heaven never ends well. Before the soldiers could even voice this speculation, a military officer stepped forward to make an example of them, using his iron fist to intimidate the crowd. The officer, enraged, gathered his strength and used his power to amplify his voice, which resounded throughout the surrounding area: "What thieving star? It's clearly an enemy attack! Those who spread rumors and mislead the masses will be killed without mercy!"
The enemy has gotten too close and is running rampant!
The military commander quickly brought the situation under control, but his heart was filled with rage.
Are these scouts all good-for-nothings? And the guards patrolling the camp today are useless too. Several scout teams have mysteriously disappeared at the front, clearly having met with misfortune, yet they dared to be negligent and let the enemy in! Useless!
The military commander ordered his men to go up the mountain and clear out the uninvited guests.
If we can capture him alive, we'll skin him alive, make flags from his skin, and burn his flesh and fat to light sky lanterns—that will be enough to vent our hatred! Tonight, the enemy seems to be deliberately going against him; he had just stabilized the situation when another unexpected event occurred. Suddenly, a large number of fires lit up outside the camp, and the sound of horses' hooves was deafening.
This army appeared suddenly, without any warning.
Warhorses neighed, and the enemy soldiers at the forefront rode tall horses, clad in heavy armor, and wielding long spears and shields. Their synchronized charge resembled a moving, imposing wall. This wall not only moved and charged, but also extended ten-foot-long spikes from its surface.
The sharp spikes silently emitted a chilling light under the moonlight.
"Barricades!"
This night raiding cavalry force was unstoppable, their morale instantly coalescing into a sharp, impenetrable barrier along their charge path. This barrier surged directly towards the southwestern Allied camp, catching them completely off guard. They scrambled to defend themselves but could only watch helplessly as the enemy, with unstoppable momentum, breached two lines of defense in quick succession. It wasn't until the third line that they managed to hold them off for a brief moment, buying precious time.
Using the buffer distance of the third and fourth lines of defense, the Allies finally erected a solid defensive line before the enemy could arrive.
The two armies clashed, their battle cries shaking the heavens.
A blade of light flew out without any warning.
Yang Gong didn't use any fancy moves or unnecessary actions. He gathered all his strength and condensed it into the blade, transforming himself into a ball of light blue flame. Dragging the blade energy infused with boundless killing intent, he directly slashed at the enemy's shield wall. With a crack, the shield wall shattered.
A hearty laugh accompanied the sound waves that spread.
"Hahaha, you bastards, your Grandpa Yang is back!" This single strike severed the decade-long slump and frustration of the past decade, restoring his former vigor. Yang Gong had never felt his body so light, his arms so strong, or his blade so sharp. At this moment, only one thought occupied his mind—he needed more heads to sharpen his blade!
"Old friend, you think so too?"
The sword in his hand seemed to respond to Yang Gong's words, its blade humming as a surge of pleasure coursed through his entire body, causing his muscles to tremble with unparalleled ecstasy. His eyes were saturated with crimson battle intent, and his ears could only register the incessant shouts of battle.
"Arrogant!"
A figure charged out from the Allied forces, heading straight for Yang Gong's head.
He immediately noticed that the raiders lacked a powerful martial artist in command, consisting only of Yang Gong, whose cultivation level was one rank lower than his own. Such a useless piece of trash, leading such a small group, dared to come and cause trouble for him? They were courting death!
Zheng—
The expected beheading did not occur.
Not only did he fail to take the enemy general's head amidst a sea of soldiers, but he was also sent flying several feet backward by the immense force of the blade's energy, his boots dragging two furrows in the ground before he finally came to a stop. Due to his carelessness, the tiger's mouth covered by the scale armor gauntlets was torn and painful, and his meridians and martial energy were in disarray.
The ear-piercing metallic clanging sound almost made my eardrums explode.
Allied generals were in turmoil.
Even if he underestimated his opponent, his attack just now had been at 70% of its power, yet not only was it blocked by Yang Gong, he also suffered a hidden loss at Yang Gong's hands. This result far exceeded his expectations!
Yang Gong did not give him a chance to be shocked.
To take advantage of someone's illness and kill them.
Leave your shock and astonishment for when you're in the underworld!
Yang Gong charged ahead, roaring as he wielded his massive blade, charging towards the allied general. Despite his second period of training and the fact that his martial prowess hadn't fully recovered, his mental fortitude had improved dramatically over the years, allowing him to easily unleash power far exceeding his apparent strength. Any careless enemy would only become his victims. He swung his blade down: "First one!"
"Tsk, what a pity."
If the cut goes astray, half of the shoulder will be sliced off.
Fresh blood spurted from the wound, splattering half of Yang Gong's face.
"One more cut!"
With one strike from you, one strike from me, what enemy can't we kill?
Yang Gong's greatest achievement over the years has been his increasingly composed character. He possesses the patience to wear down his enemies and the patience to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike decisively. Upon seeing blood, Yang Gong's aura surges like a monstrous wave, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression. In contrast, the allied general is on the verge of death, battling his injuries and narrowly escaping death several times, leaving him with numerous wounds.
Suddenly, Yang Gong's eyes lit up.
The Allied generals felt a chill in their hearts.
A strong sense of death crept up his neck.
His premonition was only half correct.
Half right, the invitation from the King of Hell was indeed already on his forehead. The other half wrong, however, was that what took his life wasn't Yang Gong's blade, but a blow that pierced his heart from behind. Before his consciousness faded, he caught a glimpse of something protruding from his chest—a hammerhead with a sharp point, the handle as thick as an adult's arm!
The hammerhead smashed through half of his left chest, leaving a gaping hole. The eerie winds of the underworld howled through this opening, whipping at his soul and stealing all the warmth from his limbs…
He was dumbfounded and died in a completely daze.
Yang Gong was furious, wishing he could cleave the attacker in two with a single stroke.
He roared, "You son of a bitch, what kind of human thing are you doing?"
After several rounds of fighting, the battle was just one strike away from ending it, when suddenly a Cheng Yaojin appeared and stole the victory.
How could he not know that Wu Zhaode was so shameless?
Is there no martial virtue left?
Wu Xian almost didn't recognize that the person in front of him was Yang Gong, but that didn't stop him from feeling the surging anger emanating from the other man.
He said awkwardly, "Hehe, yes—"
Wu Xian's apology was interrupted by enemy soldiers who came to reinforce him, so he quickly said, "Here comes the head, I'll give you one in return!"
He had served as the Duke of Lu for at least two years.
Before Wu Xian embarked on his "family tour of Kang Kingdom," he had formally attended court assemblies for a period of time. Though few in number, it was enough for him to experience the culture of the Kang Kingdom's court. The civil officials were preoccupied with overtime work, while the military generals were consumed by thoughts of heads—it was so bizarre that Wu Xian questioned his existence. He was a warrior himself, after all; why didn't he see anything good about heads? Killing too many people meant sharpening one's blade.
I was once amazed by Shen Youli's amazing brainwashing skills.
Later I learned that Kangguo's national fortune was truly prosperous.
The national fortune allocated to the Six Ministries was more than the entire Gao Kingdom received in a year, not to mention the astronomical sums for the generals with outstanding military achievements. Wu Xian couldn't even imagine how enormous those figures were. Shen Youli not only received her share, but she received the full amount. No matter how much national fortune a general earns, it's nowhere near as much as it comes from fighting on the battlefield.
A head of an enemy general is really expensive.
The head Wu Xian obtained through the sneak attack was that of a mid-to-high-ranking general, which was even equivalent to a year's salary for this leisurely Duke.
In the blink of an eye, he settled the score.
Fearing that Yang Gong might stab him before he could kill the enemy, Wu Xian slid to his knees on the spot—as a mascot, this first-rank Duke of Lu had no real power, only a fixed salary, and received a consolation prize from Shen Tang at the end of the year, with no other source of income from the national fortune.
If Yang Gong were to demand compensation for his losses, he would not be able to pay.
It's never too late to mend the fence after the sheep are lost.
With this thought in mind, Wu Xian wielded his mace, creating sparks and lightning as he charged forward, clearing a path with explosive force. He performed beyond his usual level, giving it his all, and led the charge against the enemy. When Yang Gong advanced, he retreated, providing solid support.
Yang Gong: "..."
What's wrong with Wu Zhaode?
I don't know, but now is not the time to pursue that.
The Allied general, caught in the crossfire, was in deep trouble. All he could do was curse and wish Wu Xian and Yang Gong's ancestors would come to life! These two madmen relied on brute force, each stronger than the last, their blows heavier than the last. Even though his skill level was slightly higher than theirs, he could only struggle to keep up. His arm, beneath his armor, swelled and hardened like a rock. The fine blood vessels beneath his skin cracked, leaving a patch of bruises.
He took every blow head-on, not even caring when his arms went numb.
All he knew was that his arms felt as heavy as if they were filled with molten lead, and a warm, viscous liquid oozed from the base of his thumbs. Driven by his survival instinct, he mechanically parried and fought back, oblivious to when death kissed his Adam's apple. Before his consciousness faded, his body, like a kite with a broken string, lost its balance. His back slammed against something hard, and he heard the faint cracking of his vertebrae. He didn't even have time to feel the pain before his consciousness was swallowed by endless chaos…
He was dead, and Wu Xian breathed a sigh of relief.
That was close; I almost incurred a huge debt.
Yang Gong's mission was to escort Wu Xian. Now that the Duke of Lu had been received, he had no reason to linger in the battle. However, given the current situation, the opportunity was rare, so perhaps the retreat order should be postponed? With eighty percent of the Dan Palace empty, he felt the pressure was too great, which was why he withdrew his troops.
Wu Xian: "...Still able to fight!"
Yang Gongdao: "It's not worth fighting again!"
The rate of casualties on his side has clearly increased, indicating that the enemy has stabilized and begun a counterattack. While he could continue to expand his gains, the numerical disparity between the two sides is too great. Trading one of his own for three of the enemy's is not a worthwhile trade.
Wu Xian had no choice but to retreat with him.
The Southwest Allied forces sent men to pursue him, but Yang Gong used the terrain to his advantage to shake them off and escape successfully. Completely safe, Wu Xiancai belatedly realized that his chest was burning with pain, and he couldn't breathe through his mouth and nose, almost collapsing onto his horse.
"Ouch—my back—"
Once I calmed down, I realized that my back was throbbing with pain.
The bond forged through their shared battles quickly brought Yang Gong and Wu Xian closer together. He was in high spirits at the moment: "Lord Lu's injuries are quite severe. We need to stop the bleeding first and then have the army doctor treat him when we get back. We don't want him to develop any lasting health problems."
Wu Xian clasped his hands in thanks: "Thank you, Brother Yang, for saving my life."
Yang Gongdao said, "It was my duty, so there's no need for thanks. If it weren't for your daughter risking her life to tell me, I wouldn't have had this opportunity to make a contribution."
The matter of stealing kills has been put behind us.
The two were in high spirits and withdrew their troops back to the city.
Some people are in a good mood, while others are feeling gloomy and depressed.
In the southwestern kingdom of Lu, a discreet carriage drove past the fields. More than a dozen guards stood beside it, and the one leading the way cracked his whip occasionally to signal pedestrians to give way. The carriage swayed and jolted, and a few slender fingers lifted the curtain, revealing a gap.
Following the seam, one can see a pair of eerie white eyes.
"Stop first."
With a whoosh, the carriage gradually came to a stop.
"Your Highness, please give your orders."
The owner of the white-eyed voice was as cold as winter snow and as clear as a mountain spring. Each word flowed through the heart, making the listener feel relaxed: "I just saw someone working in the fields, but they disappeared as soon as I got closer?"
The implication is that they drove them away without authorization?
The other person said, "They've all squatted down."
He then added, "It was not our doing."
"You squatted down?"
The owner of the white-eyed man thought that someone had leaked her whereabouts, which was why the believers were kneeling and worshipping from a distance, and he was somewhat displeased.
A commotion arose outside the carriage.
Someone pulled people out of the field to prove their innocence.
"Explain clearly, why did you squat down just now?"
The owner of the white-eyed carriage peered through the gap in the curtain, his heart tightening.
The woman whose arm was being grabbed had messy hair tied back with hemp rope. She was thin, and anyone could see her protruding ribs. Her belly was sunken from hunger.
Why can you see it at a glance?
Because she was only covered by a few pieces of withered grass, when she was dragged out by her arms, she struggled and looked extremely embarrassed, trying to cover her emaciated chest with her hands. The struggle was so great that she also covered her lower body with her hands.
A woman who is almost half-naked.
The owner of the white-eyed person almost forgot to breathe.
His voice was hoarse as he said, "Put a coat on her."
Having lived in the prosperous Kangguo for several years, she had almost become accustomed to the fact that everyone there had clothes to wear and rosy cheeks. She forgot that the kind of life in Kangguo was heresy, and that the normal state of things was to be dressed in rags, barely able to cover one's body, and to be out working and taking care of things while almost naked.
When the woman was first brought out, she thought she was in grave danger. It wasn't until a garment with the scent of soap was draped over her shoulders that she realized she had met a great benefactor, and she immediately knelt down to pay her respects.
The man who grabbed her said, "You've had good luck. His Highness the Holy Son has personally blessed you. Good fortune is coming your way, and you're sure to prosper next year."
Upon hearing this, a terrifying light flashed in the woman's eyes.
The white-eyed master ordered the carriage to continue its journey, while the woman remained kneeling, repeatedly kowtowing in the direction of the carriage, muttering some religious doctrine. Other hiding tenant farmers also emerged one after another; some of them were even more scantily clad than the woman.
They gathered together, kneeling on the ground, yearning for blessings.
They prayed that the eternal gods would bless them.
To help them escape the suffering of this life in their next life.
The owner of the white-eyed person clenched their fists and gritted their teeth.
(=ω｀=)
Kangguo's element is wood (actually, according to the royal court's past practices, metal and fire would be more suitable, but considering Tangmei's attributes, wood was finally chosen).
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