When the Deed Was Done, They Brushed Off Their Sleeves, Hiding Both Body and Name

The first to charge forward were two constables from Six Gates.

The Horizontal Blades collided with the Mountain-Cleaving Axe, sparks flying. The axe-wielding leader barely withstood three strikes before being cut down.

The other constable was entangled by a leader wielding an iron staff. The two fought in a knot before the tent, blade light and staff shadows crossing for seven or eight exchanges before the constable finally thrust his blade through the man's belly.

Wang Chong leveled his iron spear and met a leader wielding twin blades.

Spears and blades flashed back and forth, and five or six moves passed in the blink of an eye.

Wang Chong had come from the border army, and his spearwork was solid. But the leader was no slouch either; his twin blades were vicious and tricky, and for a moment they were locked in a stalemate.

Just then, a gust of blood-foul wind rushed at him.

A leader wielding a Ghost-Head Blade suddenly lunged in from the side. His blade shrieked through the air as it came chopping down at Wang Chong's head.

Chen Jing was closest to Wang Chong, and he stepped forward in a single stride.

Before the Ghost-Head Blade had even fallen, Chen Jing's Butcher Knife had struck first despite moving later. A flash of blade light—and the leader's sword arm flew off at the elbow.

The leader let out a miserable howl. Before he could recover, Chen Jing slashed his throat with a backhanded stroke.

Splat.

A gash deep enough to expose bone opened across his neck, blood spraying out like a fountain.

Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique proficiency +40

Wang Chong had just skewered his own opponent and turned back in time to see it.

"Good lad. You saved my life."

There was no time for pleasantries. The cries of battle ahead rose once more.

The group had already broken through the leaders' blockade and was pressing straight toward the largest tent.

Before the tent, a burly man in leather armor and a helmet with a red plume stood surrounded by over a dozen guards.

He stood a head taller than the leaders around him, his face covered in flesh. One eye was hidden behind a black eyepatch, while the other bulged like a bronze bell.

He gripped a long-handled Horse-Chopping Blade, its edge still stained with blood that had not been wiped clean.

This man was clearly the bandit chief.

"Kill them all!"

The chief roared sharply and swung his Horse-Chopping Blade forward. The guards at his side charged as one.

But it was already too late.

With a sweep of his eyes, Li Dingfang burst bodily from the flashing blades and swords, his Horizontal Blade whirling before him into a silver-white curtain of light.

The bandits blocking his path fell in an instant, severed limbs and blood paving a road of gore behind him.

He cut down several men in one breath without slowing his feet. When he reached the tent, his entire body soared into the air.

His cloak snapped in the firelight like the wings of a great roc spreading wide, and he landed steadily before the bandit chief.

The chief's pupils shrank sharply as his Horse-Chopping Blade came whistling down.

Li Dingfang slipped aside. The blade chopped into the mud, cleaving a deep trench.

His Horizontal Blade twisted with the momentum, knocking the Horse-Chopping Blade away with a clang. Then he struck with a backhand slash, his edge sweeping across the chief's neck.

Splat.

A head still wearing its red-plumed helmet flew into the sky.

Li Dingfang caught the head and raised it high.

Firelight fell across his lean, stern face, while blood ran down from his wrist.

He looked around and shouted in a ringing voice:

"The bandit chief is dead."

"Why do you not surrender at once?"

His resounding shout crushed the cries of battle across the field.

It was as though the entire battlefield had suddenly been paused.

The bandits who had been fighting desperately all looked up. At the sight of that head held high in the air, what fighting spirit could they possibly have left?

They flung aside their helmets and armor, wailing for their fathers and mothers as they fled into the woods, hating only that their parents had not given them two more legs.

"Kill!"

Wang Chong roared, sweeping his iron spear.

He led his brothers in relentless pursuit.

Only after killing another dozen or so bandits who had fallen behind did Wang Chong withdraw his spear and order the men not to chase any farther.

The night was too deep, and the forest too treacherous. A desperate enemy was not to be pursued.

The jungle gradually returned to silence.

The dying embers of the bonfires still crackled, casting flickering light over the corpses strewn across the ground.

The air was thick with a blood stench so dense it could not be dissolved.

Li Dingfang stood on the raised platform before the tent, holding up the bandit chief's head. His gaze swept over the blood-soaked veteran militiamen as he said in a clear voice:

"You defended your homes with your own hands. You did very well!"

"I will report your merits!"

Wang Chong panted heavily. He was covered in blood, his face, arms, and chest crusted with dried gore. It was impossible to tell how much belonged to the bandits and how much to himself.

He looked around at his own brothers, who were still dazed, then raised his arm and held his iron spear high. "Brothers, we won!"

"Are you all fools? Cheer!"

Only then did the young men, immersed in the bloodshed, gradually come back to themselves. They raised their arms one after another, bursting into deafening cheers.

Once the excitement had passed, Wang Chong began counting the casualties.

Of the forty veterans, seven or eight had fallen. Five or six were seriously wounded, and nearly everyone else bore injuries.

Chen Jing sat on a charred log, his Butcher Knife resting across his knees, the blood on its blade not yet wiped clean.

He had no idea where he had lost his White Wax Pole. Both arms ached and swelled, much like how he felt after using Tiger Valiance.

He opened his panel and took a look.

Basic Spear Technique proficiency had risen by 110 points, while Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique proficiency had risen by 120 points.

Basic Spear Technique (Minor Accomplishment: 440/500)

Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique (Entering the Hall: 362/2000)

In this battle, he had stabbed and hacked his way through no fewer than twenty bandits. By the end, he had gone numb from all the killing.

After a brief rest, they gathered the bodies of the fallen and laid them onto makeshift stretchers.

Those who had survived supported one another as they retraced the mountain road by the light of the sinking moon.

By the time they reached the entrance of Shuang'an Town, dawn was already breaking.

The tension in everyone's nerves finally eased a little.

Li Dingfang and the other eight stopped at the town entrance. They had no intention of entering the town and were preparing to leave directly.

Wang Chong froze for a moment, then hurried forward.

"My lords have fought through the night. Why not rest a while before continuing on your journey? There is hot soup and hot food in town. At least allow us to do the honors as hosts."

Li Dingfang shook his head without hesitation.

"The official army and the Western Rong are locked in fierce battle at Chuanbei Pass. We must quickly deal with the bandits along this route, lest unrest break out in the Shu Region."

"Besides Shuang'an Town, reports have also come back of bandits causing trouble in Baishui, Shanghe, and other places. We do not have much time."

Wang Chong suddenly understood. So that was it.

He wanted to urge them to stay, but the words reached his lips and would not come out.

He was not someone who failed to understand priorities.

Chuanbei Pass was at war. The Shu Region could not be allowed to descend into chaos.

Six Gates had not come specifically to save Shuang'an Town. They were here to stabilize all of North Chuan.

Wang Chong clasped his fists with a sharp clap. Behind him, the blood-covered young men did the same, bowing in salute.

"Farewell, my lords!"

Chen Jing stood among the group and bowed along with them.

He saw Li Dingfang tug his bamboo hat lower, concealing most of his face, before turning and striding away.

The other eight Six Gates constables followed close behind.

Nine cloaks snapped in the mountain wind. Their footsteps made no sound, and soon they disappeared into the depths of the mountain forest, where the morning mist had yet to disperse. Before long, there was no trace of them left to see.

When the deed was done, they brushed off their sleeves and left, hiding both their achievements and their names.

Those two lines of poetry suddenly surfaced in Chen Jing's mind. They could not have suited the sight before him better.