Beneath the ever-fiercer flames, Hong Yuan ignored the crowds fleeing in every direction. He dragged his spear behind him and strode toward the nearly hundred elite armored soldiers under Guo Zhen's command.
The dark spearpoint scraped the ground, plowing a long furrow with a sharp, grating shriek.
His steady, powerful steps struck the bluestone paving with a thudding rhythm, like dense drumbeats sounding the call to battle.
Those "drumbeats" matched Hong Yuan's breathing. The little strength he had spent charging through hundreds of men swiftly returned, while his fighting spirit climbed higher still.
The nearly hundred armored soldiers facing his advance wore armor, carried fine weapons, and held the advantage in numbers. Yet their hearts hammered wildly, their nerves stretched to the breaking point.
Few who had seen what just happened could remain calm.
One man had charged hundreds of them—sturdy, fierce fighters, including many nimble martial artists—and in moments slaughtered them until men and horses fell, corpses littered the ground, and the rest scattered.
Such martial power was no different from the Demon Beasts in storybooks. Who could fail to be shaken?
That these soldiers could still grip their blades and swords, stand guard around Guo Zhen, and summon courage against such a terrifying foe was enough to call them an elite force.
Linjiang Prefecture had three prefectural forces: the White Scale Guard, the Iron Wall Guard, and the Jintang Battalion.
Together, they numbered over ten thousand soldiers, with each force containing between three and five thousand.
Each was headed by a commander, with left and right commandants beneath him.
As left commandant of the Jintang Battalion, Guo Zhen ranked second only to its commander. He held great authority, including the power to deploy a thousand soldiers at will.
Yet these hundred-odd armored troops were his handpicked men. He