Chapter 22: Long Saber
A large mass of dark figures came accompanied by heavy footsteps, rapid breathing, and fearful cries.
After the initial victory, Pei Yun’s fiercely pounding heart calmed considerably. She turned her head worriedly and said in a low voice, “Qinghe, there are too many people opposite us. Just shooting arrows won’t stop them.”
Pei Qinghe had fought in countless battles big and small, rich in experience and seasoned. With one glance, she knew what was happening: “No need to worry. The ones in front are genuine refugees, acting as meat shields. The real enemies are those strong men holding weapons. There should be fewer than Hundred Men.”
“First loose arrows, kill as many as possible. When they rush into the posthouse, we’ll use weapons for close-quarters fighting to the death. In this battle, we cannot retreat, there is no surrender, fight to the death.”
Pei Yun gripped her bow and arrow tightly, two clusters of flames igniting in her eyes.
Pei Yan nodded forcefully, squeezing out a few words fiercely: “Fight to the death, fight to the death.”
Pei Qinghe had already drawn her bow, silently calculating the distance.
Pei Yan and Pei Yun also drew their bows together, quietly waiting for the enemies to enter range.
They had no time and no mood to pity these refugees. On the battlefield, there were only enemies and us; mercy was the greatest taboo.
Swoosh!
Pei Qinghe’s bowstring twitched, and an arrow sliced through the night sky. One unlucky ghost fell straight down stiffly.
The Big Soldiers with bows and arrows in hand watched with boiling blood, all following suit and loosing arrows.
The refugees forced to act as meat shields by long sabers and spears were hit by arrows, falling to the ground and dying in despair and unwillingness. A few were so terrified by the hellish scene before them that they turned and ran, only to have their heads chopped off by the fierce ghost-like strong men behind them, collapsing into pools of blood.
Forward was death, backward was also death.
One broke down in loud crying, desperately running forward all the way to the posthouse wall. Before he could rejoice, a flying long saber pierced his chest.
Captain Sun’s face was dark as he cursed the square-faced Big Soldier: “You bastard! You threw away your weapon, let’s see what you do next!”
The square-faced Big Soldier hadn’t even had time to grin when he was cursed viciously, shrinking his neck and not daring to make a sound.
The Dark Guards directly raised refugee corpses to block in front of them, swiftly rushing to the posthouse gate. The posthouse gate wasn’t very sturdy to begin with; with one chop from a long saber and a hard kick, it shattered with a clang.
The first Dark Guard to rush into the posthouse was nine feet tall, with a ferocious face and surging killing intent—it was Wu San.
“Kill for me!” Wu San raised his arm and shouted.
The Dark Guards behind him all had murderous glints in their eyes, raising long sabers as they charged into the posthouse.
The Big Soldiers under Captain Sun were the main force, all waving weapons to meet them head-on. In the first clash, three were hacked down.
On one side were the Dark Guards carefully trained under Prince Wei, brave and valiant, each one savage.
On the other side were the most ordinary Big Soldiers from the barracks, sloppily trained on ordinary days, with mediocre martial arts.
As soon as both sides clashed, it was like stone meeting egg, or chariot wheel crushing mantis. No need to doubt, the Big Soldiers were the eggs that shattered on impact, the mantises that died under the wheel.
Five Eastern Palace Guards joined the battlefield without a word.
Their five had much stronger skills, fiercely exchanging moves with the Dark Guards.
Pei Qinghe leaped down from the wall, her long saber already swinging in mid-air. With a flash of blade light, one Dark Guard’s head flew up. Upon landing, another slash, and another figure fell.
Pei Yun and Pei Yan threw away their bows and arrows, drew their weapons, and closely followed behind Pei Qinghe. Their skills were not weak, just lacking in real combat experience, missing ferocity and guts.
Following behind Pei Qinghe felt much more secure. Pei Qinghe’s long saber danced in her hand, blocking all frontal attacks… no, it should be said she killed all enemies in front of her.
Blade lights, blood shadows, severed limbs and remains crashed into view, incessant screams filling the ears.
Pei Yun’s pretty face turned pale, but she swung her saber at the enemy without hesitation. After the long saber pierced the opponent’s body, all her fear miraculously vanished.
Pei Yan adapted to the battlefield even faster than Pei Yun.
Mao Hongling, gripping her spear, felt her throat tighten repeatedly. She wanted to shout, but her throat seemed glued shut, unable to squeeze out a sound.
“Everyone don’t panic, five per group, kill!”
A familiar voice drifted into her ears.
It was Pei Qinghe.
While swinging her saber to kill, she didn’t forget to oversee the overall situation, shouting commands loudly.
Mao Hongling steadied her mind, waved her spear, and squeezed out a shout: “Kill!”
Weapons were limited; in each group of five, only one had a weapon. The other four held crude wooden sticks. Following Pei Qinghe’s previous arrangements, they tried their best to avoid masters among the Dark Guards, either attacking lone Dark Guards or surrounding frail and panicked refugees.
No fancy moves—the simpler and faster the better. On the battlefield, killing was the first principle. If you couldn’t kill at once, aim for the lower body. Make the opponent unable to move, and you win.
Mao Hongling recalled Pei Qinghe’s instructions in her mind; the spear showed no flourish, stabbing out like a venomous snake.
Pfft!
The sharp spearhead stabbed into a Dark Guard’s thigh, blood spurting. The Dark Guard cried out in agony, staggering a step, then the spear flashed, piercing his chest.
What does it feel like to kill for the first time?
The whole person floats light and airy, like stepping on clouds. The moment blood splatters, the person instantly falls to the ground. No time to vomit, no time to think more.
Mao Hongling finally managed to make a sound: “All follow me, continue killing.”
Wu Xiuniang’s group wasn’t faring so well. After killing one refugee, they encountered a tall, powerful Dark Guard. The Dark Guard sneered, his long saber dancing; Wu Xiuniang’s long sword only blocked a few moves before faltering and retreating.
My life is over!
Despair flashed in Wu Xiuniang’s heart.
A figure arrived like lightning, barely blocking that saber.
It was Pei Qinghe.
Wu Xiuniang’s spirits lifted, retreating two steps. The several Pei Clan female dependents behind her over forty years old gripped their wooden sticks tightly.
Not good, this is a tough opponent!
A true killing expert knows the difference as soon as they start. The Dark Guard who had been sneering smugly the moment before sank to the bottom in the next.
The girl before him, not yet of age, had cold cruel light in her eyes, her blade techniques sharp and vicious, each slash faster than the last, more ferocious than tiger or leopard, swifter than fox or wolf.
He was no match!
Everyone’s life mattered. Retreat intent rose in the Dark Guard’s heart; he swung his saber while retreating, not forgetting to shout for aid: “There’s a tough opponent here…”
Pfft!
The long saber pierced through his chest.
The Dark Guard’s voice cut off abruptly.
Pei Qinghe withdrew her long saber, stepping over the Dark Guard corpse, continuing to swing her saber and kill: “Pick up the weapon.”
Wu Xiuniang reacted, hurriedly crouching to pick up the long saber and handing it to the woman beside her. The woman gripped the sword hilt tightly, courage surging up. She proactively swung the saber, killing a refugee.
Pei Qinghe was like a merciless killing weapon, ceaselessly reaping the Dark Guards’ lives.
Wu San had consecutively killed two Big Soldiers when he finally spotted the real formidable enemy, sneering as he lunged over.
