Chapter 65

Bai Lang wielded two weapons, sprinting toward the peasant army's line; he paid no heed to whose troops they were, he only cared about killing. The peasant army did not send cavalry to block him, but deployed spearmen and archers to meet him—this man was out of sync with the cavalry behind him, and how could light cavalry charge straight at the front of a formation? Normally one would keep probing, repeatedly feign a charge or simply skirt the front to seek the flank—since the enemy was almost all light cavalry, that was exactly what should be done.

Yet Bai Lang barreled straight ahead; he neither dodged nor evaded the arrows shot from the foot‑bow, instead using his long‑handled broadsword and iron spear to deflect the bolts aimed at his warhorse. Though the horse wore armor, it was not Bai Lang—its heavy armor still allowed free movement and stamina to keep up. Bai Lang crossed sword and spear in front, blocked the forward spears, and then crashed in.

A storm of death rose on both sides; Bai Lang swung his right hand horizontally from front to back, and his left hand did the same, then reversed the motion again. The whole movement was like spreading wings for a high flight, but it brought a torrent of blood and heads rolling. The flanks of Bai Lang were cleared; within six feet of his horse everything was dead. The warhorse then kept charging, and wherever Bai Lang's sword cut or spear thrust met a man, he killed him, causing the entire infantry line to collapse into a chaotic rout.

The opponent they faced was simply not human; how could anyone possess such strength, such reflexes, and be impervious to sword and spear, killing at such speed? Naturally everyone panicked and fled. The situation was no different from pouring hot water on ants; the peasant infantry line shattered in an instant, and at that moment the imperial light cavalry arrived, beginning a wholesale slaughter of the disordered foot soldiers.

Bai Lang ignored that; he barreled straight into the enemy cavalry, clashed head‑on, and after a burst his horse gave out… its strength was spent and it had several wounds. Bai Lang himself was fine, and he cut down about ten cavalrymen along the way. Need I say more? He switched horses. An unclaimed warhorse flipped onto its back and kept fighting. Meanwhile the enemy, having lost morale, turned and fled.

The peasant army of four or five thousand fell apart in less than a quarter‑hour. Three thousand imperial light cavalry pursued and slaughtered them along the way; the peasant corpses stretched ten li. Anyone who managed to run ten li without being killed was left alone by the imperial troops for safety reasons, but such survivors were few… The imperial side suffered almost no loss; losing a few dozen riders compared with the bounty was negligible. The problem arose—what to do with the heads? Over two thousand heads, each with a holder? Clearly impossible; who would let the heads they cut be taken by others?

Bai Lang didn't care how many heads they had taken—at his rank, military merit was no longer counted by the heads he personally cut, but by the army's overall spoils and the heads taken collectively; sometimes even cutting a head himself would draw criticism… As a senior commander, he wasn't expected to go into the front line to hack skulls. Bai Lang simply said, "Keep up, we're not done yet."

His voice was not loud, but it rumbled with echo, and the light cavalry dared not say another word… the contest for heads seemed to be paused. Yet some still chattered; Bai Lang rode over and slashed that soldier with a single stroke. "Move!" he shouted, mounting his horse and riding off without regard. The guerrilla commanders hurried to gather their troops, unwilling to speak further, and followed Bai Lang—this right‑commander before them was truly a law‑less brute; if they violated orders, he would certainly kill them.

Moreover, during the earlier charge, these men had witnessed Bai Lang's bravery; even a glance at such a fierce general made their hearts race… At this moment Bai Lang was cutting down people like hemp, his killing aura rare in this world—perhaps only his clan‑mate, the martial noble Bai Qi, could compare. Bai Qi killed far more than Bai Lang, yet Bai Lang may have slain more with his own hand, and both of them fought primarily on the battlefield, giving them a solemn, heroic killing aura far beyond those who mindlessly slaughtered civilians.

This is true killing aura charging like a bull; Bai Lang's Tiger Form True Meaning merges with that solemn killing aura, forging a White Tiger aura that sows dread on the battlefield. Anyone who can read aura would surely see a killing aura soaring from Bai Lang like a plume of smoke. "Just now we cut through that wave; we don't even know who the bandit leader was… he ran pretty fast. Fine, now we can only see where Li Chuang's main force is."

Soon a scout reported that Li Chuang's main camp lay dozens of li away, outside Kaifeng city. This spot was also the decisive battlefield designated by Governor Sun. "Don't dawdle any longer; go straight to Li Chuang. Send a few of you to inform Commander Sun that we're ready to attack Li Chuang's camp!"

Outside Li Chuang's camp there were naturally roaming troops, and when Bai Lang's force drew near, the forces of King Li Zicheng also learned that a Ming army was pressing forward, even knowing who led it. The peasant commander whose troops had been shattered by Bai Lang's strike fled back to the old camp, meticulously reporting the earlier battle to the generals inside. "Right‑commander, Pacifying‑West General Bai Lang…" they all exhaled at length.

The reputation of this Ming general's bravery had already spread, and now they could see Bai Lang's martial prowess firsthand. "Did a single man really spearhead the charge?" Liu Zongmin asked again, though he had already inquired. "One man broke the formation; the infantry stepped on his path and the whole army scattered." The returning commander sighed, still trembling slightly, "Could it be that the Ming's destiny is not yet exhausted? Is the White Tiger Star deity descending to the mortal realm?" Superstitious folk were not scarce here, and hearing that this Ming general was impervious to sword and spear led them to speculate about supernatural strength.

"Imperial troops are approaching!" the scout reported, and the peasant commanders rushed out to observe. Indeed, a soaring tiger flag with a huge "Bai" character hovered ten li outside Li Zicheng's main camp. Numerous troops had already been deployed in that direction, firmly guarding the cavalry's route toward Li Zicheng's camp. The cavalry in front did not set up a camp; instead they circled here for an hour before departing.

An aide‑officer accompanying the army advised that Bai Lang should first establish a camp before launching an assault: "It will take the commander two days to reach this spot, and three days to set up a camp; please be patient, commander. However, you may lead a small contingent of cavalry to repeatedly strike and wear down the enemy…" Given Bai Lang's martial prowess, this tactic was actually ideal. Bai Lang knew he lacked skill in directing cavalry charges, yet leading a few riders in repeated assaults suited him perfectly.

Li Zicheng's forces could not block him at all; although Bai Lang could not simply charge the main camp, the series of outlying small camps and remote battlefield outposts could not stop his onslaught.