In the military camp, blood had already turned the ground into a river. Ye Hongyan led from the front, charging ahead. Just then, a soldier thrust his spear at him. Spears were the weapon most commonly used in the army, and the soldiers had trained with them until the movements were second nature. This thrust shot out like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, precise and disciplined.
Ye Hongyan knocked the spear aside with his blade and pressed in close. The soldier's movements faltered, and he began to flounder. Ye Hongyan smiled. He knew that the army trained mainly in spear formations, with saber-wielders and archers protecting the flanks. In formation, they were unstoppable; anyone who charged them would die. But on his own, once an enemy got inside his reach, a spearman had trouble bringing his weapon to bear. That was the drawback of long weapons.
Ye Hongyan's eyes turned cold. He swung his hand, and the soldier's head flew several yards before hitting the ground, his eyes wide with what looked like resentment.
Ye Hongyan stood tall, blade in hand, and swept his gaze over the camp like a tiger surveying its prey. Some soldiers who had picked up weapons couldn't help but take a step back. Others loosened their grip, and their weapons hit the ground with a thud.
By then, the retainers behind him had formed the simplest of ranks and charged in.
Ye Hongyan barked an order: "Storm inside!" He led his men straight into the camp. They knew they couldn't give the other side a chance to react; they had to strike straight at the heart of the enemy! Yu Dacheng was already dead. All that remained were a few battalion and platoon officers who still commanded some respect and had personal guards. Capture