Chapter 2937

But he hadn't taken five steps when there was another swish-swish-swish, three soft sounds, and two more arrows shot from the woods, hitting his left leg and right hand respectively.

Especially the last arrow, which directly pinned his right hand to a crack in the stone, impossible to pull out!

Zhao Shuo's sharp, agonized cry echoed through the woods, startling who knows how many night birds.

Zhao Huanrong's heart also clenched violently, pain unbearable.

He was drenched in sweat, one hand pressed over his heart.

His heartbeat was too fast—thump-thump-thump-thump—pounding so hard his temples felt like they were about to burst.

He had long suffered from serious heart and lung ailments; cultivation had improved things somewhat, but he hadn't expected to show weakness at such a time.

What's in the woods?

The answer was revealed at once:

In the mist-drifting woods, a blood-red piebald beast charged out, its rider clad in red armor and helmet, wearing an evil dragon mask on his face.

As soon as she appeared, her powerful aura pressed Zhao Huanrong's breath to a stop, and even the wind around them seemed to halt.

Zhao Shuo was even more like seeing a ghost, pointing at her and shouting hoarsely:

"Red, red, red..."

Such an appearance, such a look, such an aura—only possible for the legendary Red General!

The Zhao uncle and nephew had heard that in the past seven days, the victorious armies of Cangyan and Shen Guo had, among their ranks, the shadow of the Red General.

But she and her slaughterous Wind Army had already perished two hundred years ago!

If the Great Emperor of Nine Abysses dares to bear the name "Nine Abysses," can he truly summon the killing gods of the netherworld back to the world?

Between the Red General and Baling, there truly is a deep blood feud! Her incursion into Baling's capital this time is precisely to take revenge.

The Zhao uncle and nephew fled during the city's fall, having once caught a distant glimpse of the Red General, seeing her casually pin a Baling officer to the wall.

Rumors throughout the capital say she enjoys torturing and killing the living—looks like it's true!

The Red General only said two words:

"Still running?"

Then a Wind Army soldier stepped forward, pressed down on Zhao Shuo, and meticulously snapped his limbs.

A series of crisp crack-crack sounds, accompanied by Zhao Shuo's incessant agonized cries.

Zhao Huanrong was already drenched in cold sweat, trembling like a sieve; hearing those few chilling sounds, he jerked violently, his eyelids flipped white as he toppled backward.

Hu Min rushed forward two steps to probe his carotid artery, then pressed his chest and abdomen, and reported:

"Liver and gallbladder shattered. General, he was frightened to death."

Zhao Huanrong's lifetime of suffering, fright, and fear, added together, doesn't even amount to one-tenth of what he endured in the past seven days. Having grown old, he couldn't hold out even before leaving the city; seeing this scene before him, thinking of his own fate as the instigator—only worse than Zhao Shuo's—he was frightened to death on the spot.

He died cleanly. The Red General gave a faint smile: "Too easy for him."

A few guards behind her silently raised their thumbs—no wonder she's the general, frightening another to death.

The Red General pointed her whip at Zhao Shuo: "Take him back, don't let him kill himself."

"Yes!"

Zhao Shuo, still in a state of shock, his mind blank, the words "kill himself" ironically reminded him. But before he could even bite his tongue, the Wind Army soldier beside him moved to dislocate his jaw.

……

The night deepened, the clamor in the palace city finally subsided. After He Lingchuan took over Baling's capital, everything here would be handled by designated personnel. As the Great Emperor of Nine Abysses, he only needed to issue a few directives on important matters.

His injuries were far from fully healed, so he remained in deep seclusion within the army, rarely going out; the past few days' assault on Baling had been commanded by the Red General. Nominally, He Lingchuan was the emperor holding the fort, but in reality he was so idle that even logistics were managed by specialists like Shi Chuchu.

Rarely does a war find him personally at the front, yet still able to be this leisurely.

Now, He Lingchuan stands on the viewing terrace of the landmark project of the Da Ling works, observing the capital's darkest hour of the day.

After seven days of recuperation, he has basically recovered the freedom to walk, occasionally able to run a few steps, but his meridians remain very fragile, unable to withstand the jolting of horseback riding.

The Battle of the Earth Mother Plain drained him terribly; forcing himself back to life, he was barely more alive than a corpse. Even with the help of Hundun, even after consuming the remaining vitality of the Jiaolou Heaven, if he wants to return to the state of mounting his spear and horse, he still needs to wait a while.

After experiencing tonight's earth-shaking upheaval, the entire capital of Baling has fallen into an eerie silence. Though it is a city of hundreds of thousands, now it is dimly lit, only some noble mansions still have lights unextinguished.

The wind blowing onto the viewing terrace is unusually refreshing. This is the high platform built by former kings of Baling for themselves, already over a hundred years old, said to be for observing celestial phenomena and drawing close to nature.

But He Lingchuan thinks this explanation is just nonsense. The sole purpose of the former Baling kings building this high platform was to construct a wonder in the palace city to display their national power and authority.

He knows this well, because he himself enjoys doing just that.

Kings, after all, just like standing on high ground, pointing at the rivers and mountains, looking down upon the world.

This viewing terrace is over thirty zhang above ground, magnificent and grand, but the top is only about a hundred square meters, resembling an immortal's dojo—likely meant to learn the immortal's way of detached seclusion and peak enlightenment.

However, the Baling kings never gave up worldly enjoyment, so within this dojo, they also installed high beds with soft cushions, incense, and gauze curtains.

In the past, whenever the Baling king came up to the viewing terrace, he would sit on a soft cushion, carried up by attendants. He Lingchuan, injured as he is, doesn't want to climb the stairs, so he ordered people to set up a teleportation array between the ground and the platform, allowing instant transit up and down.

He was personally drafting an agreement when the wind outside changed. The Red General, wearing an evil dragon mask, passed through the white jade steps before the corridor and walked over quickly.

"Caught him?"

He Lingchuan looked up and smiled at her, his brush never stopping.

"Yes, caught him." The Red General walked to his side, turned her back, lightly pressed with both hands, and sat down on the table.

The two were less than half an arm's length apart. He Lingchuan could even smell a wisp of blood carried on the wind.

"Just killed someone?"

The Red General shrugged: "Yeah, right before entering the palace gate, a guy with about thirty lackeys ambushed me."

There are still such clueless people, daring to seek their own death? He Lingchuan raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe because his father and brothers also died at my hands." The Red General spoke carelessly, swinging her right leg over her left, "Still remember the Qingniu General I unhorsed with a spear three days ago? That was his father."

Her battle armor fit her perfectly; just this one movement outlined the long lines of her legs.

He Lingchuan noticed that even though she was slightly hunched, her waist was very slender, Shao Yingying could not even encircle it with one hand.

She pointed at her temples: "How's your head?"

This guy's gaze, looking at me, is much clearer than when he first woke up seven or eight days ago, the bewilderment gone, replaced by a good deal of confidence.

"I've been piecing together many memories continuously." He Lingchuan set down his pen, pressing his Qingming acupoint, "The more I organize, the more I realize my past memories are as vast as smoke and sea."