Chapter 42

The first to greet Bai Lang were the White Banner soldiers, who drew their strong bows and readied their heavy swords. These well-trained veterans fired straight at Bai Lang rather than loosing volleys—and since he was alone, there was no point in trying volleys or multiple rounds. They might as well fire one straight shot from fifty paces. Judging by the situation, they should be able to get off another round, too. Within thirty paces, the White Banner soldiers had great confidence in their powerful bows and armor-piercing arrows—and they could even aim for his face.

Bai Lang swung the Polished Purple Gold Mace, knocking aside one heavy arrow after another. Each arrow could easily pierce a person, and might even punch through ordinary chain mail or padded armor. Bai Lang picked up the pace. His Golden Bell Shield technique should be able to stop arrowheads that made it through his armor, after all—he was wearing mountain-pattern armor and chain mail. As Bai Lang gradually began using his lightness skill, he sprinted almost as fast as a heavily armored cavalryman. Abahai and the others, watching from the sidelines, were no longer surprised. Men of such martial prowess were immensely capable; running at full speed in heavy armor was nothing unusual for them.

Even so, their mouths still tasted bitter. Their losses this time were bound to be heavy. That would be acceptable if they could capture this man, but if they failed, it would be a tremendous waste, and they would have to think of something else. Just then, the second volley of direct shots rang out. Bai Lang felt a slight jolt even when he blocked them—the impact was that strong. The Purple Gold Mace weighed sixty-four jin, and the White Banner soldiers before him regularly trained their strength and martial skills with stone locks, heavy sabers, and other equipment of similar weight. The heavy arrows they now loosed with all their strength had reached a truly frightening level of power.

If a Ming Army soldier took one of these arrows, it would likely pierce his helmet along with his head. But Bai Lang kept batting the arrows aside with sharp smacks. At least every arrow aimed at his face was knocked away. He couldn't block every shot aimed at his body, though, and several arrows struck him. They pierced his mountain-pattern armor and passed through his chain mail, embedding themselves a few inches into his flesh. Yet hardly any blood flowed. The pain still roused Bai Lang's bloodlust, and with a roar, he sped up again.

Swinging both maces, Bai Lang charged headlong into the line of Tiger Spears and large shields that had been set in position. He swept his mace across them. The Tiger Spear heads snapped off at the joints or bent outright, and the White Banner soldiers holding them let go in time, or their hands would have been badly injured. The shield-bearers surged forward, both hands on their shields, huddling behind them as they tried to squeeze away Bai Lang's room to move. Behind them, the Ge Bu Xian Chao Ha began preparing to throw grappling hooks and lassos, determined to snare the Ming general and drag him to death with a team of horses.

Bai Lang let out a shout and suddenly retreated, driving forward with his thigh and slamming his shoulder into the shield behind him. The power of his Golden Bell Shield technique ignored the spikes jutting from the shield. With a tremendous burst of force, he sent the shield-bearer flying backward. An elite soldier formation could truly withstand a brute like Bai Lang—at least for the first few exchanges. But if Bai Lang used his speed to force the relatively cumbersome formation to turn, openings would appear.

The head of the Polished Purple Gold Mace was shaped like a four-sided armor-piercing spike, though it wasn't especially sharp. Under Bai Lang's powerful repeated thrusts, it soon broke through a large shield. But he had no time to kill the White Banner soldier behind it—the other shield-bearers and the soldiers who had picked up their weapons were closing in. Bai Lang had already dodged several lassos. Though they were in a sorry state, these Bayala had held on until now.

"It's time to show my real skills!" Bai Lang made up his mind. He drew a long breath and sped up the circulation of his inner force. Taking a great stride, he leaped into the air and planted a heavy foot on the shield in front of him. He put the force of a shock into that step. The power went straight through the shield into the Bayala's arms, snapping both arm bones. The shield kept forcing its way backward with a series of cracking sounds, carrying the broken arms with it as it drove into the White Banner soldier's chest and abdomen.

Blood and entrails erupted everywhere. The man fell backward, clearly beyond saving. Bai Lang seized his chance and brought both maces down together. The second shield-bearer's large shield buckled inward, leaving a huge dent and cracks. It was a heavy shield covered in iron, weighing dozens of jin, and the blow had all but ruined it. Bai Lang immediately swung the Purple Gold Mace in his right hand again, smashing it down on the soldier in front of him and killing him with a single strike.

Bai Lang flipped his wrists, slipped both maces behind his back, and threw himself into the chaotic mass of men through the breach, bringing with him a wave of bloody fury. These elite soldiers, who had honed their formation skills between the White Mountains and Black Waters, knew that bloody fury well. It was the aura of a tiger—a living beast that had leaped right into their midst. Bai Lang's movements became incredibly swift yet immensely powerful. As he darted about, he seemed like a tiger made flesh.

The power of his twin tiger claws was probably no less than that of the Purple Gold Mace. He turned his claws into fists. A grab with his left hand sent one soldier staggering out of position. Bai Lang seized the Tiger Spear in the man's hand and yanked it toward himself. The sharp blade couldn't even cut his hand. In the next instant, his fist shot out and slammed into the soldier's chest. The chest caved in, and his back bulged outward. If his chain mail and padded armor hadn't held him together, his back bones and organs would likely have burst out entirely.

Bai Lang paused, then lengthened his stride, reaching the Ge Bu Xian Chao Ha behind the soldiers in an instant. These armored warriors and their horses quickly threw their grappling hooks and lassos. Bai Lang snatched at them with both claws in midair, catching several hooks and ropes in his hands. Then he gathered his breath and let out a sound unlike a tiger's roar, more like a bell. Using the sound to bolster his strength, Bai Lang pulled both arms in and dragged the men and horses toward him.

Bai Lang pressed down, then lifted himself, using the pull and recoil to leap high into the air. He drew his arms in again, curling into a ball as he flipped in midair. When he unfurled, he used the momentum to deliver a spinning kick. The armored man on horseback wasn't quick enough to do more than block with his heavy sword. But Bai Lang's leg was like cast iron. It snapped the sword in two and bent the armored soldier's body into a grotesque right angle.

To him, these heavily armored cavalrymen in two layers of armor were like firewood, easy to snap apart. Bai Lang put more force into his foot, and the dead Ge Bu Xian Chao Ha fell from his horse. The next moment, the startled horse tried to bolt, but its neck snapped too. Bai Lang planted a foot on the horse's neck, crushing it as he used the momentum to pounce at the second Ge Bu Xian Chao Ha. Now that Bai Lang had revealed his true lightness skill, he had completely confounded the Bayala, Niulu Zhangjing, and Fende Bosiku.