The Central Hall of the Prefectural Yamen.
Ren Ye broke through the door with a single stroke of his sword. The soldiers lying in ambush around the courtyard instantly surged out like a tide, swarming around him with spears, steel sabers, and shields.
The soldiers first glanced at Acting Commander Zhang Wu on the ground. His breastplate was cracked, and he was covered in blood, clearly gravely wounded and dying.
At the same time, before the three Daoists from the Celestial Surveillance Bureau inside the room could even act, their bodies had been sliced into several pieces by a single stroke. Their blood and innards covered the floor; their deaths could hardly have been more gruesome...
Wasn't... wasn't this wastrel only supposed to know some Soul-Gathering Art?
When had he become so formidable?
For a moment, fear crept into the soldiers' hearts.
How did that saying go? Fighting without conviction was mostly a matter of gathering for profit, but profit alone could not forge the resolve to die in battle.
That was true of both the Court Party and the Prince Huai Party.
That was also why Li Yan had said that if they gained momentum, they could trample Qingliang Prefecture beneath their horses, but if they failed, they would all die under a flurry of blades.
Aside from the old veterans of the Prince-Protection Party, the soldiers rebelling on the battlefield had also gathered for personal gain. Some wanted riches, and others wanted to stay alive... they had been forced into it. Once that momentum collapsed, these men would certainly scatter.
At the courtyard entrance, Feng Xing, who had been laughing just moments earlier, now stood frozen, his eyes full of bewilderment.
Clever men often trusted only their own judgment. He had already been very cautious. Knowing Prince Huai