Fight Enemies, Risk Life—Great Qin Martial Guard

The slanting sun was like blood.

The shattered Bluestone City Wall reflected mottled blood-red hues beneath the sunset, exuding an added chill of solemn killing intent and desolation.

Wind passed through the broken walls and ruins, raising a cold, mournful howl tinged with the bloody scent.

"Cough, cough..."

Smoke from burning buildings rushed into his lungs, coughing awake the young soldier in gray-black leather armor who lay by the side of the broken wall.

His name was Zhang Yuan. He had just turned sixteen and inherited the post of his father, who had died in the line of duty, becoming a newly recruited Ninth-rank Black Robe Guard in Luyang Prefecture of Great Qin.

Now, he had been conscripted by the Crimson Scale Army stationed in Fengtian County of Luyang Prefecture to defend Fengtian County City to the death.

Twenty thousand Yan State soldiers had surrounded the city for three months. Of Fengtian County's three thousand defenders, fewer than eight hundred remained.

In an encounter battle half a day ago, Zhang Yuan had been separated from his comrade-in-arms. He had fought desperately through the enemy, fled into the ruins of the streets and alleys, and hidden there.

While he had slept unconscious from exhaustion just now, his consciousness had unexpectedly fallen into a hazy dream.

Within that dream, he had become another Zhang Yuan, dressed in a dark blue military uniform and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, living in a place called Huaxia.

Huaxia had chariots that spat flames.

Huaxia had iron birds soaring through the nine heavens.

Huaxia had Dongfeng Divine Arrows that would fulfill their mission without fail.

Huaxia fought for every inch of land, its soldiers like a torrent of steel.

In that dream-memory, the Flying Ship Zhang Yuan rode had crossed the void, only to crash into a colossal bronze coffin ten million zhang tall and halt abruptly.

"Huaxia, Great Qin..."

Pain coursed through his muscles and bones, and life slowly returned to Zhang Yuan's eyes.

Pain meant he was alive.

Pain meant the illusion had scattered, and he had returned to reality.

There was no Huaxia here. There was only Great Qin.

A Great Qin no less dazzling than Huaxia—perhaps even more incomparably magnificent!

"Right. My name is Zhang Yuan. My father was a Ninth-rank Black Robe Guard of Luyang Prefecture..."

"I am a Black Robe Guard of Great Qin. Inheritance from father to son, from elder brother to younger brother. I am a Great Qin Martial Guard who would die a hundred deaths without regret for Great Qin."

Zhang Yuan raised his head and looked towards several figures approaching from the alley entrance ahead. The scenes from that dreamlike experience sank into silence within his mind.

His hand tightened around the hilt. Zhang Yuan held his breath slightly, relaxed his body, and disguised himself as a corpse, hoping to evade their search.

With three Yan Army soldiers before him, he had no confidence in escaping their encirclement and slaughter.

"These Black Skin Dogs really have hard bones. We've besieged the city for three months, and they're nearly dead to the last man, yet they still won't surrender."

"Indeed. The one I killed just now had half his neck severed, yet he was still staring at me with his eyes wide open. That look in his eyes..."

"Old Qin folk, after all. We used to count as Qin folk too, but what a pity..."

The three black-armored soldiers spoke in low voices. They seemed to have truly taken Zhang Yuan for a corpse, and the sound of their advancing footsteps gradually faded away.

Yan State had been founded three hundred years ago when Murong Zhao, Marquis of Yanbei of Qin State, had been beguiled by demons and evil spirits into rebellion. He had occupied a prefecture and established Yan.

For the past three hundred years, Yan State had continuously invaded and pillaged Qin Territory.

Only after the footsteps had vanished did Zhang Yuan finally let out a long breath. Just as his body, pressed against the side of the broken wall, was about to stand up, he suddenly shuddered and rolled forward with all his strength.

"Clang—"

The sound of a long spear piercing the broken wall rang out with a resounding crash.

"Haha, this Black Skin Dog even knows how to play dead!"

"If you're going to play dead, don't grip your saber so tightly!"

The Yan Army soldier wielding the long spear laughed loudly, drew back his spear, and swept it across.

"Whoosh—"

The long spear swept toward Zhang Yuan's waist with a shriek.

Zhang Yuan did not dare use the saber in hand to block the swinging shaft of the spear and could only retreat again in a miserable scramble.

An inch longer meant an inch stronger. A spear thrust by a military fighter could smash a bluestone the size of a head; it was not something Zhang Yuan's Three-foot Steel Saber could withstand.

Beyond the broken wall stood two Yan soldiers, one holding a short saber and round shield, the other gripping a heavy axe, their gazes sweeping about vigilantly.

These streets and alleys were a place of chaotic battle near the city gate. Soldiers from either side could appear at any moment.

After retreating three steps, Zhang Yuan's back struck an icy wall corner. The hard walls made the muscles in his back tense.

Ahead, the black-armored soldier wielding the long spear shook out a spear-flower the size of a bowl and advanced step by step, forcing Zhang Yuan into a dead end.

Watching the trembling spearpoint, the soreness in Zhang Yuan's body vanished. He could even no longer feel his own breathing.

This was the moment between life and death.

His eyes stared intently at the spearpoint, while the hand gripping his saber hilt slowly relaxed.

The veteran of the Crimson Scale Army who had once trained him had told him that when facing a long spear, he had to watch the spearpoint closely and strike at the instant it thrust forward.

To break a spear with a saber, there was only one chance.

That veteran had died two months ago.

His throat had been pierced through by a long spear.

"Hum—"

The quivering long spear thrust toward Zhang Yuan's chest. From the faint whistling it carried, he could tell just how swift the strike was.

Such a rapid blow would absolutely pierce through his leather armor and punch through his body.

In an instant, the spearpoint was two feet from Zhang Yuan.

Zhang Yuan could feel the icy chill brought by the spear blade, as well as the arrogant killing intent in his opponent's eyes.

In military combat, a single strike decided life and death.

The spearpoint was one foot from him!

The coldness radiating from the spearpoint seemed ready to pierce Zhang Yuan's chest and abdomen.

Now!

Zhang Yuan reversed the long saber he had been holding straight, turning it horizontal with the blade facing upward, then lifted it forward with an arm that had long been poised to strike.

"Scrape—"

The blade grazed the spear shaft, and a piercing screech sounded.

The spearpoint trembled and was lifted two feet upward, passing over Zhang Yuan's head before plunging into the broken wall with a "ding." Sparks flew in all directions, blasting up shattered bricks and stones.

Having missed with his strike, the black-armored soldier let out an angry roar, withdrew his spear, and prepared to thrust again.

How could Zhang Yuan possibly give him another chance to thrust!

If he thrust again, Zhang Yuan would surely die!

"Kill—"

With a low shout, Zhang Yuan stepped forward with his left foot in the instant his opponent withdrew the spear. His left arm shot out and seized the man by the throat.

This was a variation of the military boxing art, Ironclad Fist. A punch meant for the chest had become a grabbing lock, gaining the additional reach of five outstretched fingers.

His grip was so powerful that the instant he caught the man's neck, he tore through the skin, leaving five bloody marks.

His fingers clamped around the man's windpipe, making the black-armored soldier's face instantly flush blood-red.

The black-armored soldier tried to retreat, but Zhang Yuan's horizontally gripped saber had already slashed diagonally across his waist.

"Pfft."

The blade dragged through a gap in the soft leather armor at the man's waist, bringing up a spray of blood.

The black-armored soldier groaned in pain, released his long spear, and grabbed Zhang Yuan's arm with both hands.

Beyond the broken wall, the black-armored soldier wielding the heavy axe had already noticed that the battle was going wrong and charged over with an enraged roar.

Zhang Yuan's hand around the man's neck refused to loosen. He raised his right leg and drove a flying knee into the man's waist and abdomen, striking the bloody wound his saber had just opened. Blood and entrails burst apart and splattered everywhere.

"Bang—"

That blow made the man's entire body convulse. He collapsed forward, and the hands gripping Zhang Yuan's arm fell slack as well.

Zhang Yuan withdrew his left hand, gripped his saber with both hands, and raised it high.

"How dare you—"

The black-armored soldier wielding the heavy axe bellowed and rushed at Zhang Yuan.

Zhang Yuan did not halt his blade and brought it down in one strike.

"Pfft—"

The blade cut through neck bone with a tooth-grinding sound. Blood burst forth in a scarlet spray, while the severed head rolled away and the body crashed down. The sounds intertwined, carrying the battlefield's unique grandeur and tragic beauty.

Before the armies, one strike decided life and death.

Fight enemies, risk life.

Great Qin Martial Guard.

A new book set sail—time to kill once more.