Chapter 66: Chapter Sixty‑Seven

Before Governor Sun's main force arrives, Bai Lang has several days to play—after all, Li Zicheng won't run; his purpose in surrounding Kaifeng Prefecture is just to besiege the city, send reinforcements, and finally crush Kaifeng, right? And Li Zicheng certainly can't flee; his army is huge, so if he tries to execute a retreat in front of the enemy—Kaifeng's garrison is only able to defend and basically lacks offensive power, but if during the retreat Bai Lang charges in with three thousand light cavalry to smash the camps? That could end in a disaster, a defeat as massive as a mountain collapsing, bodies strewn for hundreds of li.

This kind of game is pretty good; Bai Lang leads a few dozen riders to assault those camps, and the camps really can't hold them back. Bai Lang doesn't stay on horseback; after dismounting and smashing the camp gates with foot combat, he rushes in through the gates and scatters the soldiers behind, while the cavalry seize the chance to charge in and slaughter. At this moment Bai Lang hardly joins the killing himself, but watches with his arms folded. Very few of the camps dare to resist Bai Lang; seeing a man like him charge forward, shattering or pulling down the gates in a few blows, who would dare to stand against him? Everyone just runs away.

Especially now Bai Lang's murderous aura soars to the heavens, his tangled sideburns exploding outward, his eyebrows grown into hanging arches, the flame‑like, chaotic brows making him look domineering and arrogant—though he doesn't seem to invite a fight… Who would dare to strike him? Bai Lang also looks at himself in a mirror and discovers that he is indeed Xu Moumou, the twin brother who plays Ao Shaobao, only his beard is less exaggerated and his hair less messy—by the way, that hairstyle of Ao Shaobao would have been a death sentence in that era, right?

Bai Lang launches several attacks a day, leading different cavalry units, smashing multiple camps, and within a few days almost wipes out the small outposts far from Li Zicheng's camp. Bai Lang's reputation for bravery spreads among the peasant army—it's not that no one sent troops to try to block his onslaught, but without exception they all fell apart after their commander was slain, the remnants scattering in flight. Bai Lang faces no comparable generals, and such valor gives Li Zicheng and the others a serious headache.

Such a thing probably only exists in storybooks; among the Ming troops and officers, as well as the peasant army's own commanders, there has never been anyone like this—single‑handedly capable of scattering an entire formation… what the hell, invulnerable to swords! Could it be that a celestial star has descended? Nevertheless, whether official troops or bandits, there are martial‑arts masters here; at Li Zicheng's side there are experts from Mount Hua—though they have no soldiers under them, their superb skills make them excellent as guards.

Among them, the highest‑ranking is a junior disciple of the current Mount Hua sect master, who has become a Third‑rank Fruit‑Will General among the bandits; many of his nephews also serve in the bandit army, and they have gone to observe battles, exclaiming, "Horizontal training! Yet to reach this level! Probably the best in the world!" That is the Mount Hua master's view. "Qin Shishu is among the official troops…" General Yuan sighs, "What a pity for Qin Shishu…"

Qin Wujiu has no time to worry about what his 'nephew' thinks; he has already defected from Mount Hua's gate, and with opposing stances they naturally won't stand together. In his view, Mount Hua has become a nest of treacherous rebels, but if he were to meet his former senior brother… that's hard to say. "Our teacher always said Qin Shishu's martial arts are the best of Mount Hua, both literary and martial," General Yuan casually tells his nephew.

"We can't discern the horizontal training of this imperial general before us; perhaps we should test it a bit…" a nephew says, but General Yuan, in front of the other bandit generals and Li Zicheng, replies, "This is a martial art of the battle formation; we cannot just charge in. Instead, after we scout their camp tonight, we'll go test it."

Bai Lang doesn't know anyone is planning a night raid, but his camp tents are never concealed; the whole camp is empty around, though the thousand‑household officers still assign patrol soldiers. As for Bai Lang himself, he sits in the tent on a great horse with a golden saber, candles lit on lanterns at both ends illuminate the whole tent, a spread of wine and liquor before him, and he reads a miscellaneous book while eating and drinking—what could it be? It's just the *Journey to the West* tale of releasing calamities.

He feels very relaxed, because the previous assassination proved his martial skill isn't frightening in this world, so Bai Lang swells with arrogance, becomes overbearing… He wears an open‑chested robe, his two thighs exposed as he eats and drinks—already bathed, he'll eat then sleep, no need for full armor.

Bai Lang puts the book down; the vertically stacked volume feels a bit unfamiliar, but it's fine. He gulps the wine in his other hand in one swallow, "Since you're here, don't hide, just step out!" Bai Lang's voice roars like a low‑bellowing tiger, a force that shakes the heart and lungs. "By the way, come in through the doorway! Don't cut the tent so I can't sleep!" he says gravely.

Three people appear before Bai Lang, "Don't come any closer, I'll deal with these three bandit scoundrels myself!" Bai Lang shouts, and the soldiers who were rushing forward halt. The three are young, unmasked, each holding a long sword; the leader's sword looks odd. "Snake‑flame sword? You're using a German cross sword?" Bai Lang's words clearly confuse them. "You are all treacherous rebels, trying to assassinate a court general… indeed, you won't die without acting!"

Bai Lang's words even carry a smile; then he stands up. At about 1.8384 meters tall, Bai Lang towers over any of the thieves before him. In the flickering candlelight inside the tent, his figure looks even more imposing. His joints crack, he squints slightly, a chilling white‑tiger aura rises from his body, and General Yuan, the Third‑rank Fruit‑Will General, immediately perceives a huge beast before him.

The three are startled, their qi rushing up the high tower, sword blossoms flashing from three directions. Bai Lang's muscles bulge beneath his loose robe; he slaps both palms outward, each palm meeting a long sword. The swords cannot advance an inch, forced to stop against his palms; the two swordsmen quickly withdraw—if they kept channeling Internal Force, the swords would likely bend. The court general before them is as solid as refined steel; even their Internal Force, like a sword, cannot pierce his meridians.

But the serpentine sword does not thrust; it slices diagonally—its curved blade could make a terrifying wound, yet it only produces a sour‑tooth sound, leaving just a thin line of blood between Bai Lang's neck and shoulder. "Hmm? I could tell the sword's color was different, never thought it was truly a treasure! It can break through a certain family's Thirteen Tai Bao Golden Bell Shield technique! Too bad it ends here…"