Chapter 73

Bai Lang's punches and kicks grew heavier; even a giant snake would soon be torn apart by him— the snake wasn't a green water python, it couldn't beat a big cat... Moreover, the big cat wasn't a leopard but a Bengal tiger, the apex of the ecological niche. General Yuan was also clever, realizing the situation was hopeless, and the most urgent thing now was to run away. But where could they escape so easily? Fortunately the Miao woman had a method—she tossed a small sphere that exploded into dense, choking smoke, and she also hurled out many poisons.

The poisons were almost instantly crushed under hooves, yet they still caused chaos, especially the smoke that made people tear up and sneeze... Humans could endure it, but horses could not, bolting outward or jumping wildly. General Yuan seized the chance to feint and make a dash, but Bai Lang seized his wrist—whether his desire to run dulled his focus or Bai Lang had already broken his stance, his wrist was firmly held.

General Yuan proved decisive, drawing the serpentine, snake‑flame dagger from his waist and cutting off his own hand at the elbow! "Run!" he roared, dragging the woman and the Miao woman into a frantic escape. Bai Lang did not pursue; even with the Thirteen Tai Bao Golden Bell Shield, his eyes would still water when clouded by smoke. "He's decisive, knows to amputate and flee. Could this be the bearing of a tyrant?" Bai Lang dropped the severed arm he held; the wrist he had seized had its bones already shattered, and even without the arm the bones could not be restored.

At least in this world's medicine, there is nothing that can be done for such pulverizing fractures.

Bai Lang turned over, mounted his horse, and shouted, "Weapons!" He then snorted, and the long sword lodged in his back was ripped out. He again seized an iron spear and a long saber, forming a formation. Although many of the light cavalry behind him failed to keep up after a smoke bomb—still busy handling their own horses—there truly were no soldiers left to block them. The only thing stopping Bai Lang was a deep trench and high rampart, a fortification set by Li Zicheng, which meant Bai Lang had completely pierced through Li Zicheng's front‑line central army formation...

The central army was breached, and the left and right wings already wavered. The official army's main force had originally planned a two‑wing breakthrough; now, seeing the chance, the central troops surged forward, and Li Zicheng's army collapsed. Fortunately Li Zicheng's main camp still stood; with its defenses and the late hour, it could hold out for a while. That day Bai Lang never left the battlefield, swapping twelve horses and eighteen weapons, bearing fourteen wounds, and from dawn to dusk broke through dozens of formations, slashing countless enemies.

The light cavalry behind him lost over a hundred men, and as Bai Lang rode slowly back to his own camp, the official troops on both sides stepped aside, staring at him as if he were a deity. Governor Sun, of course, rode out three li to meet Bai Lang; Bai Lang quickly dismounted, clasped his fists and said, "I have not failed the commander's trust; today we finally shattered the enemy's great formation! The rebel Li's downfall is only days away." Governor Sun laughed heartily, exhilarated—seeing the bandit chaos that had plagued the world for decades on the brink of being quelled within days, even Governor Sun could hardly contain himself.

"General Bai truly has the courage of a snarling tiger, like a reincarnated King Xiang; today's defeat of the rebels should be credited to you!" Governor Sun declared, and none of the other generals dared to claim credit. Bai Lang was drenched in blood, his silver mountain‑patterned armor turning almost dark red; the murderous aura that had once surged skyward had now subsided considerably—Bai Lang had finally broken through some barriers and could now control his own murderous aura. "This Tiger Form True Meaning may advance further; perhaps I can begin to comprehend the western White Tiger's killing aura."

Bai Lang entered his own tent; with the help of his personal soldiers he began stripping off his armor, while the medic on duty prepared to treat his wounds. Red water poured from the tent's drainage ditch; just washing the blood off Bai Lang required several buckets, and the stains inside his armor seemed impossible to fully cleanse... He had cuts and punctures, but none were deep, so cleaning and bandaging would suffice.

The upcoming battles should require little of Bai Lang's involvement. The rebel Li suffered a crushing defeat today, his forces badly broken. Because Bai Lang shattered the central army, Li Zicheng's troops that had left the camp for battle collapsed entirely, several of his subordinate commanders fell in battle, and the veteran camp's troops and horses were scattered like stars—on this day, the other camp heads alone claimed thousands of decapitations, and the surrendered bandits numbered in the tens of thousands. Li Zicheng dared not open the camp to let the fleeing troops inside—otherwise his own head would likely be there now.

That day at least thirty percent of Li Zicheng's army had fled, and almost all were elite troops that had risen with him; many bandit leaders, sensing the bad omen, also shouted and fled under cover of night. Under Governor Sun's orders, the official army also began moving its camp, trying to block the bandits' escape routes.

On the second day no fighting occurred; both sides rapidly readjusted their deployments, and Li Zicheng clearly intended to flee... On the third day, a cannon blast sounded, the official camp gates flung open, the large "Bai" banner and the winged flying‑tiger flag fluttered together, and Bai Lang once again donned his armor, rode his warhorse into battle, with still over a thousand cavalry behind him—this time Governor Sun had replaced his subordinates with elite cavalry, all armored, even recruiting several generals' retainers for the purpose.

There were no bandit troops in sight; they had all retreated into the main camp, their entire effort now focused on escaping. Bai Lang led his army until they neared the enemy's main camp, only then encountering a blocking force—of course the enemy could not let him approach the camp unopposed. Yet under Bai Lang's tiger aura, how many would dare to stand before him? The answer: none. Bai Lang merely charged on horseback, without even killing anyone, and the opposition scattered like a snowdrift doused with hot soup.

"Ten swings, ten decisions? A long charge straight in? Hmph!" Bai Lang chuckled, "I never expected the rebels to lose heart! Today is the day we crush them, follow me!" Bai Lang scattered the soldiers, rode straight to the enemy's main camp; the arrows shot from the walls were soft and feathery. Bai Lang laughed heartily, galloped forward, flung his hook, latched onto the gate and gave it a pull. "It won't work; get the big cannon over here quickly, we'll use a small cannon to blast it open, slowly, slowly…"

The Ming army was slowly moving the French cannon forward, and at that moment Li Zicheng's main camp had opened its rear gate and begun to flee. However, those people were quickly blocked, now reduced to a few minor leaders, and they were soon beheaded and hung around the camp to dampen morale. That night, Li Zicheng's camp suddenly erupted in flames; the official army dared not approach, and Bai Lang paid no heed. The next day Bai Lang learned, "They ran, fled overnight? The question is, can they get away?"