Captain Wen Mao led two thousand soldiers in a menacing encirclement, only to run headlong into over a thousand men fleeing for their lives.
Every one of them looked terrified, panting like oxen. They were clearly exhausted, yet still ran as if their lives depended on it.
Some tripped and fell, but kept scrambling forward on hands and knees.
Worse still, some ran while pissing and shitting themselves, as though they had encountered some unspeakable terror.
The thousand or so men ran while howling like ghosts and wolves, shouting strange things about a Sha Star and Yama.
The scene was both eerie and absurd.
Wen Mao's face darkened to the extreme, and anger surged through him.
"Truly, a bear of a general makes bears of his men! Over a thousand soldiers were frightened into a wretched rout by a single enemy spy. What kind of disgrace is this? You've thrown away every last shred of face!"
"Where is Du Shuang!? Come out and accept your punishment!"
The soldiers who had come to reinforce them also jeered at the Night Patrol Battalion men as they fled.
"They've been cooped up inside the city so long they've gone soft. How can a thousand men be scared like this by one person?"
"Heh, no wonder they sent them to patrol the city at night. With courage like that, if they went up on the walls and saw the endless Qin Army, wouldn't they be so scared they'd fall right off?"
"Some of them actually pissed their pants. How can there be cowards like this among us Han? It's an utter disgrace!"
The reinforcements looked down on the fleeing Night Patrol Battalion soldiers and sneered.
But the fleeing soldiers had no time to care. If they ran any slower, they would die. They only thought of escaping past the reinforcements.
Some of them even tried to warn the reinforcements out of goodwill.
"Don't go! You'll die! Hurry and bring the main army to kill him!"
Wen Mao was absolutely furious. He bellowed, his voice full of authority.
"All of you, stop! Anyone who takes one more step in retreat will be executed on the spot!"
His men immediately drew their swords. The sound of blades leaving their sheaths rang out in a chorus, brimming with murderous intent. Sure enough, the fleeing soldiers no longer dared to run, but instead clustered around the formation, as if they might find some semblance of safety there.
Wen Mao demanded again, "Where is Du Shuang!?"
Someone answered, "Commander Du is already dead. That fiend killed him."
Wen Mao snapped, "What kind of nonsense is this about a fiend? Speak properly! What exactly happened?"
"How many men did the enemy send in?"
A Centurion among the fleeing soldiers answered, "The enemy sent only one man, but he's like a demon. He just won't die, and his archery is godlike. Every arrow he fires kills someone."
"He burned down the Government Office, then sat there alone to hold it. Hundreds of our brothers attacked the Government Office, and every one of them died inside. Commander Du led the charge, but the moment he stepped inside, an arrow killed him."
"Hmph!" Wen Mao sneered. "You're puffing up the enemy and undermining our own morale. Do you think if you make him sound scary enough, you'll get a lighter punishment?"
"A bunch of useless trash!"
"What use are you!?"
The fleeing soldiers didn't dare argue. They were ashamed, but more than that, they were afraid.
At that moment, a thunderclap of a bowstring rang out from the distant darkness!
Then four or five men at the rear of the fleeing soldiers, who had almost reached the army formation, fell one after another and lay still.
The fleeing men shrank back, clutching their heads. "He's here! He's here!!"
Wen Mao roared, "How dare this wretch act so arrogantly!!!"
"With our formation right in front of him, he still dares to kill men in front of me! Surround him!"
"Let these cowards from the Night Patrol Battalion see what our garrison can do!"
His fury seemed to infect the entire army. Two thousand men surged forward at once, their morale soaring!
On the roof of a house in the distance.
Zhao Cheng stood in the darkness, watching the reinforcements surge toward him. He smiled.
Firelight danced in his eyes. He silently pulled out a piece of cloth and wrapped it over his face.
"Then let's have some fun."
He carried five powerful bows on his back and two full quivers of arrows at his waist.
As the army surged toward him like a tide, he calmly nocked an arrow and drew his bow.
At ease yet swift, he kept shooting down the enemy soldiers!
One reinforcement after another fell, but it seemed to kindle their fighting spirit. Their morale rose instead of falling.
Men cursed as they rushed forward. "You bastard, come down here if you've got the guts!"
"Fuck! If I get my hands on you, you'll pay for it!"
"Come on, don't run!"
Zhao Cheng moved with nimble speed. Each time they nearly surrounded him, he managed to break through.
He darted through the city like a leopard, shooting down the garrison soldiers pursuing him from behind.
His quivers emptied at a rapid pace, while the lifespan count in the system kept climbing.
[Current Remaining Lifespan: 4865 years] [Current Remaining Lifespan: 5237 years] [Current Remaining Lifespan: 5596 years]
Wen Mao directed his forces in a relentless encirclement, and the battlefield stretched from the north of the city to South City.
Countless bodies were left in their wake, each pierced through the throat by a single arrow. Not one had a second arrow lodged in it.
Wen Mao's expression grew grimmer and grimmer, and sweat gradually beaded on his forehead.
How could this guy be so slippery!?
On that point, the fleeing soldiers hadn't been wrong. This guy's archery truly bordered on Spirit Communion.
But how long could his arrows last? With such rapid firing, how long could his arms hold out?
After watching him repeatedly, Wen Mao realized that the man had been replenishing his arrows from the bows and quivers carried by the Night Patrol Battalion soldiers.
As soon as he realized this, he ordered his men to remove their bows and arrows and collect all the weapons from their fallen comrades.
Then he had the fleeing soldiers, who were too afraid to join the fight, carry all the bows and arrows away.
With that, Wen Mao was certain of victory. "Let's see how long you can last when you run out of arrows!"
"With no arrows left, how can an unarmored man possibly fight his way through two thousand armored soldiers?"
Zhao Cheng was burning through his arrows at an incredible rate. With no way to replenish them, he soon ran out.
But with those two quivers and the arrows he had picked up afterward, he had already killed nearly four hundred men.
The system had now taken more than six thousand seven hundred years of lifespan.
He could just about call it a worthwhile trade.
He loosed one more arrow, then felt inside his quiver. There were no arrows left.
So he stretched, tossed away his last strong bow and quiver, and loosened up his muscles. They cracked like firecrackers.
Primordial Qi surged through his sturdy frame, and boundless strength coiled within him like dragons and tigers.
"Warm-up's done. Now let's get serious."
The garrison soldiers charging after him from below were still shouting insults, trying to goad Zhao Cheng into coming down.
Some sharp-eyed men noticed him throwing away his bow and burst into excited laughter.
"Haha, he's out of arrows! Now he's a toothless tiger!"
"You're finished, kid! Just wait to die!"
"I've put up with you long enough! With a bow and arrows, you're somebody. Without them, what are you!?"
Worse still, while Zhao Cheng was stretching, one man quietly climbed over a low wall and scrambled onto the roof, then swung his sword at Zhao Cheng's back.
Zhao Cheng turned, seized the sword, and kicked in one fluid motion.
The kick sent the man flying more than ten zhang. He traced a perfect arc through the air and crashed into the alley, knocking over several Han soldiers. When he hit the ground, his chest and abdomen had caved in. He was as good as dead.
In the darkness, the Han soldiers hadn't even had time to see what was happening when Zhao Cheng pounced down like a tiger on its prey.
One sweep of his blade felled several men, clearing a space in the tightly packed alley.
The Han soldiers had been simmering with pent-up rage ever since Zhao Cheng had led them on this chase. Now that he had finally come down, they didn't think twice before charging at him.
That was exactly what Zhao Cheng wanted.
In an alley fight at close quarters, he could not only kill more efficiently, but also hone his art of killing.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
Zhao Cheng's blade glinted coldly, moving like petals scattering in all directions as it precisely cut down every Han soldier who came within three paces.
He was absorbed, immersed, unhurried.
He strolled amid a sea of soldiers, sword blossoms bringing forth blood blossoms, scarlet and cold light flashing again and again through the darkness.
The enemies in the alley were cut down in patches, leaving spaces that were soon filled again by Han soldiers who had no idea what awaited them.
The night was deep, and the alley darker still. Many Han soldiers could barely see what lay ahead. They charged forward on anger and reckless courage, only to die by Zhao Cheng's sword.
Zhao Cheng's movements grew faster. The arc of his blade became straight and simple, plain and unadorned.
At first, anyone who managed to come within one pace of him was cut down.
Gradually, everyone who came within two paces died.
Soon, the space within five paces had become a dead zone.
The moment anyone stepped into it, Zhao Cheng's blade appeared at their throat as if it had eyes.
Piercing through, or cutting open.
He walked forward, and the enemies within five paces fell at a rapid pace.
Six paces.
Seven...
He moved faster and faster, the empty space around him growing wider and wider. No one could get close, whether in front of him or behind.
Only blood kept flowing, filling the alley, staining the earthen walls red, and surging out toward the street.
The first to realize something was wrong was Wen Mao, who was directing the operation outside, preparing to catch the enemy like a turtle in a jar.
The sounds of fighting inside gradually quieted, so he assumed they would soon take the alley.
But as time passed, more and more Han soldiers entered the alley. That alley, barely a dozen zhang long, seemed like a bottomless pit that could never be filled!
Meanwhile, the men he had stationed outside the alley were growing fewer and fewer.
A feeling of dreadful terror rose in his heart, then swelled until cold sweat broke out across his back.
"What's going on?"
"No... something's wrong!!"
"Bring me a fire arrow."
A subordinate handed him a fire arrow wrapped in oilcloth and already lit. Wen Mao immediately shot it high above the alley.
The fire arrow streaked across the sky above the alley. Its light illuminated the entire passage, letting the Han soldiers, who had been charging with their heads down, see what lay inside.
Corpses piled like mountains, blood flowing like a river.
The narrow alley was packed with the bodies of countless comrades, making it look like hell itself.
The stones they had thought were tripping them up were clearly the heads of their comrades!
Through gaps between the soldiers ahead, they could see one friend after another falling without end.
The "divine archer with no arrows left" was like Yama incarnate. He had nearly fought his way from the depths of the alley to its entrance.
Anyone who came within seven paces of him was sure to lose their head.
His sword broke swords; armor could not stop it!
Drenched in crimson, his killing intent blotted out the heavens!
The Han Army's dazed morale shattered in an instant beneath the fire arrow's light...
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