A flicker of respect flashed through Bilege's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by disdain.
"Chariot Suspension Formation!"
"Charge—!"
After Wang Zhi's departure, Zhao Kang became the only one who had reached Major Achievement in tempering bone. He stood at the very front, gripping his long He Miao blade, and roared at the top of his lungs, "Charge!"
Under the stunned gaze of five thousand enemy cavalry, barely three hundred riders from their side surged forward without the slightest hesitation.
Their gear was simple, but their cavalry formation moved with perfect order—
as they rode, their line twisted into the shape of a massive spinning wheel, its edges gleaming like blades.
"Bilege, let me handle this!"
Another barbarian general at the tempering organs stage stepped forward, commanding his own three hundred iron riders. Their formation spread in a wedge, shaped like the character "人" (ren)—a deadly V-shaped charge.
This was exactly why the barbarians had forced them onto the narrow path.
In tight terrain, sheer numbers meant little.
The barbarian general led the charge, his warhammer—a massive meteor hammer—whirling as he aimed straight for the soldier shouting "Charge!" at the front.
But just as the two forces were about to collide, Zhao Kang suddenly yanked his reins and stopped dead.
From behind him, a white horse shot forward like lightning.
A long spear carried an aura that made the air tremble—it came so fast it seemed to pierce through space itself.
The barbarian general was shocked but reacted instantly, swinging his meteor hammer to block.
He was certain he had parried the attack—but a chill pierced his chest. He looked down to see a gaping hole where his heart used to be.
The main general was dead.
The barbarian cavalry's morale shattered instantly. In the ensuing chaos, over thirty were cut down before the rest managed to retreat, saved only because their reinforcements were close behind.
They regrouped swiftly and reformed their ranks.
"A white horse… a general at the tempering organs stage? A single spear killing strike? Could it be the same one Hall Master Amugu went after? He's still alive?!"
Bilege's pupils contracted sharply. "Where is Hall Master Amugu?!"
"He was slain by Grand Commander Sun!"
Chen Sanshi's voice thundered across the field. "Within half an hour, Grand Commander Sun Xiangzong and the Youzhou Army will arrive! If you refuse to surrender now, there'll be nothing left but death!"
"Sun Xiangzong? The Youzhou Army?!"
Bilege forced a sneer, though his tone trembled slightly. "Ridiculous. You're bluffing! Youzhou is far too busy to send troops here!"
"Because your forces in the three northwestern prefectures have already been defeated!"
Chen Sanshi's words struck like hammer blows. "Otherwise, do you really think we'd dare block your path with so few men?"
"Defeated?"
Bilege stared across the field, shaken by Chen Sanshi's confidence.
Logically, the odds of Sun Xiangzong being here were almost zero.
But still—there was a chance.
The armies in the northwest might have pulled back early; after all, messages always took time to travel. Every report they had was already days old.
Or perhaps… Sun Xiangzong had discovered evidence of the blood sacrifice and came personally to investigate.
Otherwise, why would Amugu—who was far stronger than most—have vanished completely?
"Sun Xiangzong…"
"He's come to Yunzhou?"
"Why would he be here?!"
As soon as that name was spoken, the barbarian troops erupted in panic. Their formation rippled like disturbed water, and fear spread among them.
'The highest form of warfare is to subdue the enemy without fighting—to strike at their hearts.'
Just like back in Poyang, half-truths worked best.
Chen Sanshi knew words alone wouldn't hold them for long—but every minute they stalled was another minute gained.
He hadn't come here to die.
His real goal was to buy time.
Once they dragged things out long enough, they'd look for a chance to break through.
"What are you panicking for?!"
Bilege finally regained his composure and shouted angrily, "You believe every word he says? If Sun Xiangzong really came, would these tattered remnants still be standing here waiting to die?"
"He's right!"
Another barbarian general barked, "They're bluffing! Their last gasp before death!"
"Everyone, listen to my command!"
"Not one step back! Take turns charging! Whoever kills that white horse general will be rewarded with ten thousand head of cattle and sheep, and one hundred slaves!"
"Kill—!"
In a narrow pass, there was no more room for tactics.
"Chariot Suspension Formation—charge!"
Chen Sanshi raised his reed-leaf spear high. His voice was steady, his words clipped and powerful.
As he glanced at the enemy ranks, his eyes locked on several of their officers.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Maybe… there was a chance to live through this after all.
Simple.
If he killed every enemy general, wouldn't that solve everything?
…
Hongze River.
Tens of thousands of civilians finally reached their destination.
Before them stretched a vast, muddy river—its waves rolling like the sea.
Across the water, mountain peaks rose like a line of blue-green brows, and beneath them stood a small city—Huanwen County.
To reach it, they had to cross this river, more than three hundred zhang wide.
Thankfully, boats had been prepared ahead of time, along with ferrymen to guide the crossing.
The refugees from Poyang County lined up in long queues, boarding one ship after another.
"Where are Lord Chen and the soldiers?"
Soon, people began to notice something was wrong.
The troops from Poyang who had escorted them all this way were nowhere to be seen.
"Cross the river! Hurry!"
Xu Wencai, who had finally learned to ride, shouted hoarsely, waving his feather fan. "Why are you all standing around? Start crossing! Only when you're halfway across can Lord Chen and the others withdraw safely!"
"What?"
"When we're halfway across… only then can they leave? Why?"
"…"
"Why do you think?"
Xu Wencai's face flushed red as he shouted, "Because behind you are twenty thousand barbarian soldiers! Lord Chen led barely a thousand men to counterattack—to buy you time to escape!"
"Twenty thousand?"
"That's almost as many people as an entire county!"
"…"
Only at that moment did they finally understand.
When their husbands or sons had returned home not long ago and spoken a few strange words, those words had probably been their final farewells.
It was the sixteenth day of the twelfth lunar month.
That day, it finally snowed in Yunzhou.
The north wind howled.
Snowflakes as large as goose feathers drifted down from the heavens, blanketing the land in white.
At the banks of the Hongze River, over forty thousand refugees trudged forward with their families, supporting the elderly and carrying their children, their cries echoing on both shores without end.
"Hurry—faster!"
On a small boat, Sun Li gritted her teeth and rowed hard. Every movement tore at her wound and brought searing pain, but she didn't dare stop even for a moment.
"Lan jie'er, don't worry," she said breathlessly. "Once we reach the other side, there will be soldiers guarding the shore. I'll try to ask them to send reinforcements!"
In truth, she knew that was just empty comfort.
Not only did she lack the authority to command troops, but even if she convinced them, most of Huanwen County's forces had already been taken away by the Youzhou army. The few thousand that remained would have to travel dozens of li and cross the river again. There was no way they'd arrive in time.
Sun Li wanted desperately to turn back and fight.
But her injuries were serious, and she had already promised to see Lan jie'er safely across first. A promise made had to be kept.
Gu Xinlan sat quietly at the edge of the boat, clutching a small slip of paper her husband had left her.
It bore only five words—"Just call it crossing the river."
"Shi ge'er will definitely come back…"
Gu Xinlan didn't wail or scream. She just stroked her tears quietly and whispered, "If he doesn't, I'll go find him below."
"You there! Where are you coming from?!"
"Reporting to you, sir, we're from Poyang County in Yunzhou…"
As their boats neared the far shore, a deep, thunderous voice called out repeatedly.
On the bank stood a towering general, at least seven chi tall, his frame as solid as a mountain. He wore crimson-and-black heavy armor and held a Fangtian halberd in one hand. To everyone who came ashore, he asked the same question: "Have you seen a woman in red?"
"No, sir…"
"How many people are still waiting to cross behind you?"
"Several tens of thousands."
"Senior brother! You can't!"
A young man nearby shouted anxiously, "Before Master left, he said we must stay in Liangzhou no matter what—not take a single step away!"
"Enough!" the armored general barked. "Yunzhou's in chaos, and Junior Sister Li is caught right in it! How could I not go after her?"
"Senior brother!"
"Move aside."
The general took a single leap—soaring over fifty zhang in one bound.
When he landed on the surface of the Hongze River, it was like a meteor crashing from the heavens, sending up waves several zhang high.
Then he leaped again.
Each time he struck the water, dozens of small boats were overturned by the shockwaves, and scores of civilians tumbled into the icy river.
"Sorry, everyone! I have urgent business!"
"Third brother! Save those people, now! If even one of them drowns, I'll hold you accountable!"
"…"
"Senior brother!"
Watching the scene, Sun Li's eyes widened in disbelief. "What are you doing?!"
"Junior Sister Li?"
The general turned toward her, his face brightening. "Great! You're safe! I was just about to go to Yunzhou to find you!"
This man was Lü Ji.
He tread across the waves and landed on a nearby boat, glancing sheepishly at the terrified people still flailing in the water. "Junior Sister, I don't know any lightness technique. I didn't mean to! I'll help them cross in a moment! Wait—are you injured? Where does it hurt?"
"I'm fine."
Sun Li cupped her fists formally, her tone polite and distant. "Senior Brother Lü, please help me save someone."
Lü Ji frowned slightly at her overly respectful manner but quickly composed himself. "Who does Junior Sister want me to save? Say the word."
"A junior disciple who hasn't officially entered the sect yet."
Sun Li pointed toward the far bank with her sword sheath. "He stayed behind with just over a thousand men to counterattack more than twenty thousand barbarian troops—to buy us time to cross. He won't last much longer. I hope Senior Brother can rally troops to help."
"A junior disciple?"
Lü Ji blinked. "There aren't many soldiers left in Huanwen County. Even if I could gather them, it'd be too late. I'll go myself. Saving one person shouldn't be a problem. By the way, have you seen Master?"
"Father?"
Sun Li's eyes lit up with a spark of hope. "He's here?"
"Not sure. But he's not in Liangzhou. I'm leaving."
"Boom—!"
With only a few massive leaps, Lü Ji crossed the three hundred zhang-wide Hongze River and vanished beyond the opposite shore.
—
Huangtu Ridge.
"Pfft—!"
"Stop him! Stop him!"
Bilege watched in horror as yet another tempering organs general under his command was killed. Panic gripped his heart. "Quick! Fire the signal arrows! Notify the infantry and the other three thousand cavalry to converge here and surround him first! Once he's dead, hunt down the rest of the Sheng soldiers!"
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
They were both tempering organs experts—yet none of his could withstand even three exchanges with that man!
Amid the chaos, Chen Sanshi used the Chariot Suspension Formation as cover to avoid being surrounded. His spear and Mountain-Suppressing Sword were drenched in blood—he had long lost count of how many enemies he'd slain.
His goal was simple.
The enemy commander.
From the first clash, he realized something.
Among the five thousand barbarian cavalry, there wasn't a single Transforming Strength or Meridian-Connecting expert.
That meant—
He had a chance to decapitate the command!
If he could slay the generals, the rest would fall into chaos, and his side might just survive.
He couldn't do it alone.
But behind him were two hundred cavalry and over seven hundred formation grunts. They could hold the enemy's lines long enough for him to strike.
That was all he needed.
"Stop him—!"
No matter how loud Bilege shouted, the white horse general cut through the ranks like a thunderbolt, driving straight toward the command.
Bilege's face twisted in dread. "Ulikhan! Narison! With me! Don't let him kill another general!"
One thousand against five thousand—
and yet that man had already slain two enemy commanders.
Worse still, it wasn't just him.
Even the remnants behind him fought like they didn't fear death.
Their formation spun like a wheel, never breaking rhythm no matter how many fell. When numbers thinned, the formation simply shrank. From one large array, it split into over twenty smaller ones.
Even the formation grunts worked seamlessly with each other, attacking and defending in perfect unity.
No matter how many of their comrades died before their eyes, they didn't even flinch—just stepped forward to take their place.
They weren't fighting to live.
They were fighting to die.
[Blood Oath of the Battlefield]!
Such terrifying combat power and unshakable will—these only appeared among the most elite of elites.
But these people were supposed to be defeated soldiers who'd fled from a small county!
If not for their weak cultivation, Bilege might have mistaken them for one of the Great Sheng Dynasty's Eight Great Garrisons.
The morale among the barbarian troops was clearly faltering.
And with no way to form a full encirclement in this narrow terrain, if they lost another commanding general, it was very possible they'd suffer a total collapse.
"Kill the white horse! Once he's dead, the rest will scatter like rabble!"
Three barbarian generals at the tempering organs stage attacked together.
A curved saber, a wolf-fang mace, a giant axe—three brutal weapons came crashing toward him from different directions, almost at the same instant.
All three were tempering organs – Minor Achievement, not far from Major Achievement.
One man, barely at the entry stage of tempering organs, was facing three near-Major experts!
The white horse general's spear technique was strange and ferocious. Each of them alone couldn't defeat him, but together their combined force was overwhelming—especially when attacking from all sides.
Chen Sanshi blocked the giant axe with his long spear, then twisted his waist to parry the wolf-fang mace with the sword at his hip. In the same instant, he bent in an odd, almost impossible motion, dodging the curved saber aimed for his chest.
He then forcefully rebounded both heavy weapons away. Seizing the brief opening, his spear shot out like a sky-devouring python, lunging straight for the curved saber wielder.
"Clang!"
Bilege hastily raised his weapon to block, knowing full well that if the fight dragged even three rounds, he'd be dead. Fortunately, the other two generals who'd been knocked back earlier returned at that exact moment, their giant axe and wolf-fang mace striking at Chen Sanshi's back.
If he didn't dodge, he'd die instantly.
If he did dodge, he'd be forced to retreat endlessly until exhaustion took him.
As long as they stalled for time, that was enough.
The white horse general's men might not fear death, but they weren't invincible. They were dying—fast.
From the original over one thousand, barely seven hundred remained.
The number continued to plummet, and soon, reinforcements—twenty thousand strong—would arrive after following the signal arrows. Then it would be over.
They'd all be surrounded and crushed, and even that white horse general would be drowned under a sea of steel.
One word summed up their plan—stall.
But what they didn't expect was—
Chen Sanshi didn't dodge.
He let the wolf-fang mace and giant axe crash into his back with a thunderous boom, the sound deep and heavy, like a great bronze bell tolling through the sky.
His insides trembled violently, pain ripping through his organs.
Blood sprayed from his mouth—but the thrust of his spear never slowed.
On the third strike, the tip pierced straight through Bilege's throat.
Swift kill!
He had no right to drag this out.
Only by killing fast could he live!
"Body of Vajra?!"
Ulikhan and Narison were struck dumb with horror.
With Bilege's death, their defensive pressure vanished.
Chen Sanshi—spear in his right hand, sword in his left—charged through the chaos. He endured the attacks of dozens of enemy soldiers, blades and spears raining down from every direction.
In just ten rounds, right before their eyes, he slaughtered the last two generals.
His entire body was soaked in blood, standing like a god of war descended from heaven.
"Clatter—!"
With the enemy's commanders dead, Chen Sanshi became a raging beast unleashed.
No one could stop him.
Like slicing through vegetables, he cut down nearly two hundred cavalry in quick succession—terrifying the rest into total panic.
They broke.
The remaining over four thousand riders fled like a receding tide. In their desperate retreat, horses collided and stumbled, throwing their riders into the mud, trampling and crushing each other to death.
Chen Sanshi turned, glancing at the six hundred men still alive behind him. He spurred his horse forward to open a path.
Wherever he went, the enemy ranks instinctively parted before him. Not a single barbarian dared step forward.
"Break through!"
He roared until his voice cracked.
By his estimation, the timing was right.
At least half of the civilians must have already crossed the river.
If they moved now—before the encirclement closed—they might still make it.
But...
It seemed they were too late.
From the slope behind him came the sound of countless feet—a massive wave of infantry cutting across the hills to intercept them at the crossroads ahead.
Chen Sanshi's wounds still held, and he had roughly half of his blood and qi reserves left to burn.
As long as no Transforming Strength experts appeared, he could still charge through with his speed.
He just didn't know—by the time he reached the river, would anyone still be alive behind him?
A hundred? Ten?
Or just himself?
He gripped his spear tighter, ready for one final desperate fight.
Then suddenly—
The sound of marching behind him stopped.
All at once.
As if the pursuing army had hit an invisible wall.
The battlefield fell into eerie silence.
And somehow, through the chaos and blood, Chen Sanshi's men reached the banks of the Hongze River—and began crossing.
"They're… not chasing?"
Everything went still.
Chen Sanshi stared blankly, his mind reeling, as if he'd just awoken from a fever dream.
…
"Good lad! Good lad!"
"Master, could you slow down?!"
A middle-aged scholar clutched the handles of his wheelchair for dear life, his face twisting as the wind roared past him. "Slower!"
"Did you see that just now?"
The old man in coarse linen grinned with satisfaction. "That boy's got guts! One man at the tempering organs stage holding off five thousand—and he actually pulled it off! Reminds me of my own youth."
"That's not the point!"
The scholar nearly fell out of his seat midair. "The point is, he could've run. He could've saved himself! But instead, he stayed behind to buy time for the civilians to cross the river. Tell me, Master—who in this world still does that?"
The old man's eyes deepened with thought. "Fourth disciple… do you think he'll make it?"
"There's hope," the scholar said quietly.
"Good. That's enough for me."
"Master, are you going to act? Your lifespan—"
"It's fine," the old man said with a faint smile. "I'll just block them for a while. It's nothing."
He looked toward the distant river.
"The one who helped the people cross… deserves someone to help him cross too."
…
Ahead of the ten thousand-strong barbarian army, two figures suddenly appeared on the road.
An old man in coarse robes.
And a crippled scholar sitting in a wheelchair.