Chariot Counterattack, Alliance Army in Peril

Chen Wuya's gaze nailed itself to that short blade. A flash of cold light—the main control chain snapped in response.

His heart sank sharply. This was not abandoning the fight. It was switching modes.

"Spread out! Fall back ten paces!" he roared, his voice tearing through the battlefield's clamor.

But the instant the order left his mouth, the armor on the chariot's right side blew open. Three shoulder-fired fire crossbows flipped out from hidden compartments and spat flame. Arrows swept out in a fan, borne on scorching currents of air. Within twenty zhang ahead, earth burst apart, grass clippings and shattered stones rising amid charred smoke.

The assault squad charging forward had no time to react. Two soldiers were struck directly by the fire crossbows; their leather armor burst into flame in an instant, and they hit the ground before their screams had even ended. Three others rolled aside, only for the lingering barrage to rake across their arms, leaving flesh and blood mangled. An old veteran had just raised his shield when an iron arrow punched through the wood and buried itself in his shoulder blade, throwing his entire body backward.

The ground's trembling intensified. Four spinning iron spikes silently slid from hidden grooves beneath the chariot, sweeping outward like a meat grinder. Two soldiers who had not yet retreated were dragging away a damaged armor-piercing awl when they were caught off guard and dragged beneath the wheels. The dull crack of breaking bones mingled with the roar—then stopped abruptly.

Chen Wuya's pupils contracted. This was not defense. This was a killing counterattack.

He kicked off hard and shot backward. But the blast wave followed close behind, flinging him to the ground. His back slammed heavily into a half-buried pile of stones. A serrated, dull pain ripped through his