Chapter 267: Breaking the Formation

The bandits' weapons were of all kinds; ordinary bandits usually carried large iron swords, spears, sabers, and bows and arrows, some also brought lassos or fishing nets, and the armor they wore was varied—most had no armor at all, at most a piece of hardened leather to protect the torso plus a leather cap offering slight head protection. 'They're all poor folk; the money the bandits loot goes to the boss, and what's left they struggle to maintain their horses and gear...' Bai Lang felt great sympathy for them, so he prepared to give them a release.

The warhorses ridden by the charging bandits were just so; thanks to the era, Bai Lang saw that these people's horses were on average a bit better than those of the Ming Dynasty and the Qing Dynasty. He casually stuck his Divination Character Halberd into the ground beside him and drew the iron truncheon from his waist.

The bandits' horses arrived quickly; Bai Lang saw the spear thrust coming, blocked it with his left-hand iron truncheon, and the spear was knocked aside, leaving the bandit's tiger's mouth split open and his defense wide open. Bai Lang then raised his right-hand truncheon and struck downward, smashing the bandit's head and sending him flying off his horse. That horse had already been halted; seeing this, the few bandits behind could not rein in their mounts and simply crashed forward, brandishing their swords and sabers in a chaotic hacking barrage.

Bai Lang merely made a thrusting motion with his left-hand truncheon; as his wrist shook, a large blossom of force erupted, and then he swept his arm around, enveloping his whole body in protection. He leveled his right truncheon and struck out, directly knocking another bandit off his horse—this time a blow at the waist that split him in two. As he moved his feet, his posture shifted unpredictably; when he lunged or sidestepped, his speed exceeded that of a galloping horse. Having just broken one bandit, he next lifted his left truncheon, spearing the last bandit upon it.

That thrust had actually shattered the man's chest ribs to pieces, and even his internal organs and flesh were pierced through by the truncheon's pointed tip; Bai Lang casually flicked the corpse away, and in this way he directly captured three horses. He picked one, vaulted onto it, squeezed with his legs to turn toward the bandit horde, casually pulled the Divination Character Halberd stuck in the ground to hold before him, and urged his warhorse into a trot toward the bandits to slaughter them.

In the span of a breath he had slain three—still on foot against mounted foes, and not even by shooting them down with bow and arrow but by close‑quarters combat, a hair‑raising way to fight. Seeing this, the bandits clamored, grabbing their bows and arrows and taking up defensive positions. Yet they saw Bai Lang advancing with his halberd held sideways; the bandits whistled repeatedly, shifting left and right, drawing their bows to take aim and turn Bai Lang into a porcupine. 'Such martial skill is still inferior to that of Ge Bu Xian Chao Ha from years past.' Bai Lang snorted coldly and urged his warhorse straight ahead.

His goal wasn't to kill how many bandits, but to take the heads of the Four Great Bandits' leaders—any of those chief‑level bandits would do; after scattering this group of bandits he planned to trade that for a fine horse to join the army. Scattering the bandits wasn't hard, after all they were just a rabble of a gang; Bai Lang figured that killing at most a hundred or so would cause this band of bandits to disperse in panic—the key was to kill ruthlessly, to display an aura of invincibility in the present age.

'It's a pity I have no troops behind me; if I could have a hundred horsemen following, I'd probably break the morale of this bunch of good‑for‑nothings even faster.' Bai Lang could still think idly while meeting the enemy. The bandits loosed their arrows; their archery varied in skill, but all qualified as competent horse‑mounted archers, 'You ought to be using heavy arrows.' Bai Lang muttered, raised his spear and casually swatted, plucking each arrow aimed at his warhorse out of the air—despite a volley from dozens of mounted bandits, not a single shaft struck the horse beneath him.

As for himself, he couldn't be bothered to block such soft bows and light arrows; swaying on his horse he had already dodged many of them, and even the arrows that struck his body were utterly useless—let alone the fact that half of them couldn't pierce leather armor, and even those that did penetrate were stopped by the aura emanating from Bai Lang's body—even the Tartars' armor‑piercing heavy arrows, resembling small javelins, could not penetrate his divine bodyguard skill, let alone these light arrows.

Bai Lang had six or seven arrows stuck in his body, and thus he plunged straight into the bandits ahead. These bandits, having no way to avoid, were forced into a head‑on clash with Bai Lang—normally they would have scattered left and right to attack from the flanks, but who made Bai Lang charge straight toward the banner? Some bandits had no choice but to meet him head‑on. 'Plant the banner, sell the head!' Bai Lang gave a cold snort; his halberd merely traced left‑and‑right flourishes, and its sharp blade, backed by immense strength, already tore through human flesh and warhorse alike.

This was achieved without relying on horsepower, purely through the circulation of force from Bai Lang's Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist, with inner energy penetrating the spear to make it happen. 'It should be easy enough; if not for the world's restrictions, I would have long ago whipped up an endless gale to tear apart these good‑for‑nothings.' Bai Lang urged his horse over the corpses on the ground, trotting toward the Four Great Bandits' banner. Many bandits closed in, yet once they stepped into the spear's attack range they were easily cut down, and shooting arrows was useless—these bandits could no longer withstand Bai Lang.

One had to be a martial‑arts master to pull that off, and sure enough someone came charging, leaping from his horse's back like a diving eagle, his claw‑energy ripping the air with a hiss. 'You think you're an old eagle?' Bai Lang snorted, made no move, simply lifted his head to gaze at the man swooping down like a falcon or hawk, drew his brows together, and shouted a great cry. This shout was the 'Southern Dipper Fierce Tiger Roar'; having cultivated the Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist, he naturally possessed various chuuni‑style technique names—used as they arise, the names shift with the variations, depending on Bai Lang's memory.

That roar scattered the opponent's claw energy and at the same time made the man before him bleed from all seven orifices; see, the fellow flopped to the ground with a pat, groaning, his inner energy thrown completely off balance by the shout, unable to catch his breath. Bai Lang grimaced, urged his warhorse forward, and with a clatter‑clatter the horse's hooves crushed the man's sternum amid his screams—whether he lives or dies is up to heaven.

Bai Lang continued to urge his warhorse; before his spear no unit could withstand him, his striking power was simply too strong—no bandit master, however skilled, could block it. 'Bandits forming a battle array?' That's a joke not worth mentioning; seeing Bai Lang charge straight ahead, it was far easier than the array of the two rebel leaders Tu Zhang and Li from years past. The bandits had thrown themselves into chaos; upon seeing Bai Lang's slaughter they fled the line on their own—how many had Bai Lang killed? Only twenty‑odd, but he deliberately projected an aura of being impervious to blades and spears, and his killing moves were so fierce and brutal that the bandits had no wish to throw away their lives.

After that eagle‑like diving man was knocked down, it seemed no other masters came to block Bai Lang. This left Bai Lang a little puzzled; he had now penetrated deep into the bandit army, while the bandits behind scattered and fled, and the banner ahead was also close. 'What exactly are they trying to do? They've made a mess of it, a tiger's head and a snake's tail...'