Peerless Reaping

"Long live the Khan! Long live the Khan! Long live the Khan!"

The cries surged closer from afar like a rising tide. Soon, all one hundred thousand men were shouting in unison, as if heaven and earth were collapsing. A Nine Mao Great Banner was raised high, and beneath the Green Umbrella Yellow Canopy, surrounded by armored cavalry, a force of men clattered forward. It was the Great Khan Mongke, personally overseeing the battle.

When the Mongol Yuan officers and soldiers saw the Great Khan arrive in person, their morale soared. Red flags waved, and the troops beneath the city split to either side as two ten-thousand-man divisions rushed forward to fiercely assault the north gate. These were the Great Khan's personal guards, the most elite troops and fresh forces that had never yet been deployed. Every man wanted to earn merit before the Great Khan's eyes. Hundreds of scaling ladders were raised, and the Mongol Yuan soldiers climbed toward the city walls like ants.

Guo Jing rolled up his sleeves and shouted, "Brothers, today, let the Tartar Khan see with his own eyes what the fine men of our Great Song are capable of!" His voice was full and powerful. Even amid the clamorous shouts of tens of thousands, every man heard him clearly. The Great Song soldiers on the walls had fought for an entire day and were already exhausted beyond measure, but upon hearing Guo Jing's cry, their spirits immediately surged.

"The Tartars have bullied us for far too long. Today, we must let their Khan know how formidable we are!"

At once, everyone fought desperately.

On a distant hill, Fang Xuan carried Zhang Jing on his back and pointed at the bloodshed on the battlefield. "Jing Er, are you afraid?"

Zhang Jing tightly wrapped her arms around Fang Xuan's neck and suppressed the fear in her heart. "As long as Jing Er can stay with brother, Jing Er isn't afraid."

"...What if brother were gone?"

The little arms around his neck tightened, and a voice tinged with tears came from behind him. "Doesn't brother want Jing Er anymore?"

Fang Xuan fell silent for a moment before smiling. "How could that be? How could brother abandon Jing Er? Look, isn't that old grandpa impressive?"

Children were easy to coax. All he had to do was shift her attention.

Following Fang Xuan's pointing finger, Zhang Jing saw an elderly man in green robes amid the battlefield. His hair and beard were white, and he held a green jade flute as he moved through the chaos with the agility of a civet cat.

His movements were graceful and unrestrained. At times, he lightly tapped with his bamboo flute; at others, he flicked his fingers. Every Mongol Yuan soldier who dared approach him fell to the ground, dead.

Zhang Jing was only a six- or seven-year-old girl and knew nothing of martial arts, but Old Eccentric Huang's figure was simply too elegant and unrestrained, especially amid the bloody battlefield, where he stood out all the more.

"Wow, he's amazing!" Zhang Jing said excitedly.

"Do you want to learn?"

"Will Jing Er be as amazing as that old grandpa after learning?"

"Yes."

"Jing Er wants to learn! Jing Er wants to learn!"

"Haha, good. Be good, Jing Er. Wait here for me. Brother will be back soon. Don't run around, no matter what." Fang Xuan reached out and set Zhang Jing down.

"Mhm, Jing Er is very good. Jing Er won't run around."

Fang Xuan placed Zhang Jing in a concealed pit, then strode toward the battlefield.

At this moment, because Great Khan Mongke had been unable to capture Xiangyang, he had built a high platform and used Guo Jing's younger daughter, Guo Xiang, as a threat.

The platform stood over ten zhang high, with a great quantity of firewood piled beneath it. A deep, wide trench had been dug around it, and the excavated earth was piled outside the trench to form a wall of dirt. Shield bearers, spearmen, horse-choppers, powerful crossbowmen, and assault troops stood layer upon layer, surrounding the platform as tightly as an iron barrel.

Fang Xuan looked up at Guo Xiang atop the platform and murmured, "Although I know this is a good way to throw Guo Jing off balance, it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is an ignoble victory, unworthy of a ruler."

He bent down, picked up a Pu Dao from the battlefield at his feet, and swung it twice.

It was decent enough, though a little too light.

Fang Xuan's sudden appearance on the left side of the battlefield naturally drew the Mongol Yuan soldiers' attention.

They were extremely familiar with people like Fang Xuan. In recent days, so-called martial arts masters had often come to raid their camps, usually alone or in groups of two or three.

These martial arts masters might be formidable in single combat, but against an army formation, they could easily be suppressed. The Mongol Yuan soldiers had long developed ways to deal with them.

Six Mongol Yuan soldiers formed a plum blossom formation, holding long spears as they viciously closed in on Fang Xuan from all sides.

Fang Xuan grinned, his eight teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

"Kill!"

With one stomp, his entire body shot into the battlefield like a black streak. He swung the Pu Dao, and the bones of the three Mongol Yuan soldiers before him shattered instantly as they flew backward.

Pfft—

One slash fell. Under Fang Xuan's monstrous strength, the armor on the Mongol Yuan soldiers was like paper, easily split apart, while their bodies were severed at the waist.

The tremendous force gave the Pu Dao terrifying momentum. None of the six Mongol Yuan soldiers could withstand him, and they were easily slaughtered.

After killing those six Mongol Yuan soldiers, Fang Xuan did not rush. He simply walked, step by step, toward the center of the army.

Such a sight naturally alarmed the other Mongol Yuan soldiers. At their shouted calls, several hundred soldiers surrounded him. Before they even drew close, they nocked their bows and fired, arrows raining down like a storm.

For these Mongol Yuan soldiers, who had ridden horseback and practiced archery since childhood, such a distance meant every shot would find its mark.

Faced with the rain of arrows, Fang Xuan's senses within several thousand paces of him, having reached the Spirit Connection Realm, could perceive every disturbance. Even the faint crawling of centipedes and spiders would be reflected in his mind. Nothing could escape his eyes and ears, let alone these arrows.

Fang Xuan did not dodge. He merely waved aside the arrows aimed at his face. As for the rest, the arrows could not break through the feathered robe's defenses at all.

The Yuhua Sect's robes were woven from the silk of five kinds of spirit silkworms and infused with mana. Ordinary blades and spears could not pierce them. Though the arrows were dense, they could not penetrate the feathered robe.

This sight left the Mongol Yuan soldiers stunned. The feathered robe was flowing and elegant, unlike armor, and it only made them think that this "martial arts master" possessed profound inner strength.

"Shield-and-blade men, close in!"

At the Thousand-Man Commander's command, the Mongol Yuan shield-and-blade troops raised their shields and closed in on Fang Xuan.

"Hmph!"

With a swing of his long blade, immense force burst forth. Its terrifying momentum directly severed the five shield-and-blade men before him at the waist, while the soldiers behind them were sent flying.

"That's impossible!" the Mongol Yuan Thousand-Man Commander cried in shock.

Fang Xuan's heart was also surging. In the Eternal Life Great World, he had merely been a small fry in the Body Tempering Realm, timid and cautious in everything he did.

Mystic Divine Realm experts, Underground Demons, supreme magic treasures... which of them could not easily suppress and kill him?

Yet in this Small World, his peerless monstrous strength—thirteen horse-power of terrifying force—made him an unmatched reaper. No one could stand against him.

He could crush everything in his path!

Pfft!

Fang Xuan slashed out. The nearest Mongol Yuan soldier was cleaved in two, followed by dozens more soldiers who were sent flying and crashed heavily to the ground a hundred paces away.

Killing.

Death.

Killing again.

Sweeping through.

Fang Xuan advanced step by step, neither fast nor slow. Everywhere he passed was littered with severed arms and mangled limbs, blood flowing across the ground.

Like an Overlord reborn, an unrivaled demon god, no one could oppose him.

With the strength of thirteen horses, he dared battle even Mystic Divine Realm experts, let alone these ordinary soldiers.