Chapter 675: Who Did the Grand Tutor Appoint as Chief Commander to Lead the Grand Army to Summer Prefecture?

These over a hundred Private Soldiers are all elite troops personally trained by Wang Zheng, their armor light yet sturdy, weapons sharp, and they know the alleyways well, charging forward without any hindrance.

The three hundred Qi army soldiers surrounding Wang Xiong were already panicked and their formation loose because Wang Zheng appeared; facing the Private Soldiers' Iron Cavalry rushing like a tiger descending a mountain, they had no time to react and were instantly scattered.

Hooves trampled, swords slashed and spears thrust, and cries of agony rose and fell.

The Marquis Estate Private Soldiers fought ruthlessly, each strike lethal, with no hint of hesitation.

Someone rode forward brandishing a sword, cleaving a Qi soldier's Long Spear in one blow, then slashing the neck, spraying blood.

Another crouched beside his horse, thrust a short blade into an enemy's waist, flipping the victim onto the ground.

Some cavalry charged straight on, hurling the unsuspecting Qi soldiers into the air, slamming them onto the Qingshi Shiban, the sound of bones cracking audible.

The Qi troops that had just been ferocious and pressing the siege were reduced by the Marquis Estate Private Soldiers' thunderous assault to paper‑thin, utterly unable to withstand a blow.

In but a moment, the Qi army besieging Wang Xiong was slain, bodies strewn everywhere; the few survivors fled in terror, discarding armor to escape, only to be caught one by one by the Private Soldiers and cut down.

In just a few breaths, the Qi forces surrounding Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang were all annihilated, a fresh layer of blood staining the Shiban, mingling with earlier gore into a large dark‑red smear.

The leader of the Marquis Estate Private Soldiers was an old general nearing fifty, surnamed Chen, who had followed Wang Zheng since childhood and watched Wang Xiong grow from a swaddled infant into a capable commander.

He tightened his reins, dismounted, hurried to Wang Xiong's side, and gazed at him drenched in blood, armor shattered, wounds crisscrossing his body, each breath a painful gasp.

His rugged face, hardened by countless battles and rarely showing emotion, instantly filled with anguish and dread; his hands trembled slightly as he cautiously reached out to help Wang Xiong, his hoarse voice choked: "Prince..."

"Your wounds are countless, bleeding so much—how many hardships have you endured!"

Wang Xiong leaned against the cold wall, his Chang Qiang braced on the ground, barely supporting his collapsing body; days of fierce fighting, exhausted stamina, and agonizing wounds had pushed him to the limit, and if not for his father's reinforcements sparking his fighting spirit moments ago, he would have already fallen.

Hearing Chief Chen's words, he forced a sliver of strength, waved his hand lightly, forced a faint smile, and, though hoarse, spoke firmly without any delicacy: "Uncle Chen, it's fine—just superficial wounds, I won't die!"

His gaze swept over the corpses of fallen comrades, over Hong Xi, already lifeless in the blood pool, a fresh wave of pain rose in his chest; then he turned toward the alley where his father faced Ding Weize, his eyes reigniting with battle resolve: "Don't worry about me, go aid my father in slaying the enemy, annihilate these Qi dogs, and avenge our fallen brothers!"

"Prince, rest assured, I've got it!" Chief Chen nodded gravely, a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes, then turned, gesturing to his Private Soldiers: "Leave ten to guard the Prince; the rest, follow me to support the Marquis and wipe out the Qi army!"

Over a hundred Private Soldiers obeyed; ten riders stayed to firmly protect Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang, encircling them in a tight defensive circle.

The rest turned their horses and galloped toward the main battlefield where Wang Zheng and Ding Weize were clashing, joining the melee.

At the alley's main battlefield, Wang Zheng had already led a thousand elite cavalry of the Left Martial Guard against the Qi army under Ding Weize.

Ding Weize, astride his warhorse, watched Wang Zheng split his forces and surge forward, instantly scattering the soldiers besieging Wang Xiong, and observed the unparalleled bravery of the Marquis Estate Private Soldiers; his complexion grew darker and his inner unease intensified.

He stared fixedly at Wang Zheng, seated on a White Horse with a commanding aura, feeling the overwhelming killing intent and pressure radiating from him; knowing this was no ordinary Zhou general, he tightened his grip on his Great Sword, raised it horizontally on his horse, and shouted loudly, his voice cutting through the battlefield and reaching Wang Zheng's ears: "Declare your full name!"

"Under my blade, I will not spare nameless ghosts!"

Wang Zheng slowly raised his hand, drawing from the side of his horse a horse spear over ten feet long, its tip gleaming with cold light, making his face appear even more icy.

He gripped the horse spear with one hand, his arm's veins bulging, eyes swirling with endless killing intent like a coiled beast; he coldly glanced at Ding Weize, his tone detached yet arrogantly unforgiving, each word icy: "You, a dying Qi dog, are unworthy of knowing my title; accept death peacefully!"

Those words, like the sharpest blade, pierced Ding Weize's pride.

As a Great Qi general who had besieged cities and captured forts for years, how had anyone ever belittled him so?

He instantly erupted in angry laughter, snorted coldly, and with a disdainful smirk said: "Ha! Such big talk!"

Before the words finished, Ding Weize gripped his Great Sword tightly, squeezed his horse's belly with both legs, the warhorse whinnied and surged forward, he roared, his voice shaking the surroundings: "Sharp words are useless! Then prove yourself in combat; today I will cut down you madman!"

Wang Zheng's murderous intent surged, unflinching, and he also charged on his horse; the White Horse and Ding Weize's warhorse collided instantly, both riders sprang up, their horses' long whinnies piercing the air.

The next second, a massive clang of metal rang out like an explosion!

Wang Zheng swung his horse spear horizontally with thunderous force, the sound of it cutting the wind as it headed straight for Ding Weize's neck.

Ding Weize hurriedly blocked with his Great Sword; with a "clang" the impact made the sword violently tremble, its hilt cracking, blood streaming down the blade, and he was jolted backward on his horse, his complexion turning pale.

Their horses tangled, and within moments they exchanged several rounds, the clashing of horse spear and Great Sword never ceasing, sparks flying, a fierce wind sweeping the surroundings.

The surrounding soldiers dared not approach, fighting only on the flanks; shouts, weapon clashes, and cries interwove, turning the alley instantly into a Rensheng Jianyu.

Wang Zheng wielded his horse spear with divine skill.

Each move was ruthless and pressing; the spear tip flicked like a venomous snake, targeting Ding Weize's vital points—stabbing, thrusting, sweeping, smashing—with unmatched force and precise technique, leaving Ding Weize no chance to breathe.

He rode a thousand miles into battle; though dust swirled, it cost him little stamina, and his son's peril sparked an even greater fighting power, his surrounding killing intent thickening.

The horse spear swung so fiercely it seemed impervious to wind and rain, crushing Ding Weize completely.

Ding Weize, who had led his troops in a fierce assault on Gancao City for days, personally fighting atop the walls, had already exhausted much of his strength and bore several minor injuries, already at the end of his strength.

Now, fighting a top‑tier general like Wang Zheng, after only dozens of exchanges he gradually fell behind; his Great Sword grew heavier, his movements slower, focusing on defense rather than attack.

He could only clumsily block, retreating step by step, his chest heaving, breathing rapid, cold sweat covering his forehead, muttering angrily to himself: "Damn! Who on earth is this Zhou general?"

"To wield a horse spear so skillfully—its force, technique, and speed are all top‑tier..."

The more he fought, the more panicked and frantic he became; his weapon was nearly flung away several times by Wang Zheng's horse spear.

His shoulders and arms were struck by the spear's wind, his armor cracked, flesh grazed, blood seeping out, the excruciating pain making his movements even more sluggish.

He knew that if this continued he would inevitably be defeated, perhaps even die here; he sought a chance to withdraw and rally troops for a counter‑attack, but Wang Zheng's horse spear clung to him like a festering wound, offering no chance of escape.

Wang Zheng observed Ding Weize's exhaustion and panic, his murderous gaze intensifying, without hesitation, giving his opponent no breathing room or chance to counter.

He suddenly tightened his warhorse's reins, the White Horse rider sprang up, using the horse's momentum to channel all his strength into his arm, raising his horse spear high and bellowing, his voice like thunder shaking the Qi soldiers' spirits: "Qi dog! You harmed Great Zhou soldiers, besieged my son; today is your death! Meet your end!"

As his words faded, Wang Zheng spurred his horse into a wild gallop, the horse spear flashing like a silver lightning, bearing immense force as it thrust fiercely at Ding Weize!

Ding Weize's pupils contracted, his soul seeming to waver; he mustered his last ounce of strength, trying to block with his Great Sword, but already exhausted, his motion lagged; as the sword rose, Wang Zheng's horse spear pierced through the blade's defense, striking his chest hard!

"Pfft—"

The sharp spear tip of the horse spear pierced Ding Weize's armor, through his chest, hot blood gushing along the shaft, splashing all over Wang Zheng.

"Ah—!"

Ding Weize let out a heart‑rending scream, the mournful sound echoing through the alley, his Great Sword clanging "clang" as it fell to the ground.

He clutched the spear shaft with both hands, trying to pull it out, but lacked any strength; his body convulsed violently on the horse, his face turning ashen, eyes filled with resentment and despair.

His head tipped, breath gone completely, his body slipped softly from the horse, crashing heavily onto the Shiban, blood instantly staining the ground red.

The renowned Qi general Ding Weize was cut down on the spot by Wang Zheng's formation!

When Ding Weize died, the Qi soldiers under his command were stunned, all frozen, weapons hanging mid‑air, faces filled with disbelief and terror.

With their commander slain, the Qi army was leaderless; already exhausted from the siege and low on morale, their spirit collapsed instantly, formations shattered, no will to resist remained, only endless panic and thoughts of fleeing.

And under Wang Zheng, a thousand Left Martial Guard cavalry, seeing the Lord slay the enemy commander, instantly let out earth‑shaking shouts, eyes flashing with ferocity, murderous intent soaring, all shouting in unison, their cries soaring to the heavens: "Lord, mighty!"

"The Qi dogs' commander is dead; kill all these Qi dogs!"

"Avenge the heroic martyrs of Great Zhou who died for the nation!"

"Repay the hatred for the slain brothers of Gancao City!"

These shouts, bearing endless grief and fierce bravery, like a charging horn, ignited the fighting spirit of all Zhou cavalry.

Over a thousand cavalry held back no longer, spurring their horses, brandishing horse spears and Great Swords, like tigers entering a flock of sheep, they rushed madly toward the scattered Qi army!

The Marquis Estate Private Soldiers, numbering over a hundred, arrived in time, linking up with the Left Martial Guard cavalry, forming an encirclement that trapped the remaining Qi army in the narrow alley, sealing the gate and killing them like dogs, leaving no survivor.

Qi soldiers already suffered a shattered morale, and being trapped in the narrow alley with nowhere to flee, they could only passively take the blows.

Zhou cavalry, leveraging their horses and armor advantage, charged recklessly, slashing with swords and thrusting spears; each charge took several Qi lives.

Wails, moans, and pleas for mercy rose and fell, yet the buried fury in Zhou soldiers' hearts had already burned to the limit.

They looked at the corpses of Zhou soldiers strewn on the ground, at the carnage in Gancao City, at Ding Weize's previous ruthless cruelty, which would never give the Qi army any chance to surrender or beg for mercy; every move was lethal, decisive.

Qi soldiers were slain, discarding helmets and armor, bodies lying everywhere; the blood on the Shiban gathered into a stream, flowing through the alley's cracks, reddening every inch of ground.

Someone tried to kneel and surrender, but was cut down by a Zhou cavalryman with a single sword slash.

Someone attempted to scale the wall and flee, but was pierced in the back by an arrow from the Marquis Estate Private Soldiers and fell heavily.

People trampled each other, killing one another, in utter chaos.

Previously, the Qi army under Ding Weize had already suffered heavy casualties from days of siege, exhausted, morale at rock bottom; now that their commander was beheaded, they had no resistance left, like lambs awaiting slaughter, ruthlessly cut down by Zhou cavalry.

In less than a Half Hour Rest, the Qi army in the alley was wiped out cleanly, with no survivor.

Corpses littered the ground, piled like a mountain; blood soaked the Qingshi Shiban, and the air was thick with the heavy scent of blood, gunpowder smoke, and death.

The once narrow alley, now like a human furnace of hell, finally returned to dead silence.

Wang Zheng halted his White Horse, the horse spear in his hand hanging down; the spear tip, stained with blood, dripped slowly along the cold spear shaft, splashing tiny ripples in the blood‑filled pits of the Shiban.

The entire long spear remained sharp and bright, showing no trace of clotted blood, only the specks of crimson that fell to the ground, testifying to the ferocity of the thunderous strike just now.

He slowly turned his head, his gaze passing over the haphazard piles of Qi corpses, over the smoke and blood in the air, and precisely landed on Wang Xiong, who was firmly guarded at the core by the Marquis Estate Private Soldiers.

Those eyes, which moments ago surged with murderous intent as cold as a blade, now melted like ice, all layers of hostility dissipating, leaving only an inextricable tenderness and gentleness.

It was the softness unique to a father, shedding all authority and battlefield harshness.

The White Horse beneath him seemed to understand humanity, stepping slowly and steadily, treading over the corpses and viscous blood, its hoof‑iron striking the Qingshi Shiban with a dull yet clear sound, each step feeling as if it stepped on Wang Zheng's heart.

It also caused the Zhou soldiers nearby, who had just finished the melee, to unconsciously hold their breath.

Only a few yards away, Wang Zheng walked extremely slowly; he wanted to scrutinize his son, to see the young man who once rode out of Chang'an in bright clothes and a raging horse, now drenched in blood, armor shattered, wounds crisscrossing, yet still standing upright.

Reaching Wang Xiong, Wang Zheng dismounted smoothly, his movements swift yet unable to hide his urgency; a light call slipped out, his voice slightly hoarse, shedding the earlier battlefield authority, leaving only father‑son affection and concern: "Ah Xiong!"

Wang Xiong, already mustering his last ounce of strength, watched his father approach step by step; his eyes were already blood‑red, hot tears mixing with the still‑wet blood on his cheek, streaming down his jaw; hearing the call, he could no longer hold back, choking out: "Father!"

His voice was hoarse and broken, yet carried the scorching heat and dependence of a survivor after catastrophe.

Wang Zheng heard this, his heart suddenly softening, he hurried forward, opened his arms, and tightly embraced his eldest son in his chest.

He could clearly feel the frailty and tremor of the child in his arms, could feel the blood‑soaked, already hardened armor on his back, could touch the varying depth wounds on his body still oozing blood…

A heart that had hung for a thousand miles and been carried for days finally dropped heavily at this moment, letting out a long sigh; the tenderness in his eyes nearly overflowed, his tone full of post‑catastrophe relief, repeatedly murmuring: "All right, all right… Father did not arrive late, did not arrive late…"

He held on tightly, as if to melt all the worries of the past, the burning anxiety of a thousand‑mile chase, the lingering fear from just seeing his son in a desperate plight, into this single embrace.

Wang Xiong leaned into his father's warm, broad embrace; the fatigue of endless battles, the sorrow of comrades fallen, the resilience of survival in dire straits, all collapsed at this moment, leaving only the fragile safety of being a son.

He clenched his father's arm tightly, his knuckles whitening, lifted his blood‑stained face, looked at the new frost on his father's temples, and loudly declared, his tone resonant, bearing a soldier's pride and sincere heart: "Father, I haven't disgraced you, haven't disgraced Chen Zhuguo!"

"Gancao City, I held it, not a single inch yielded, didn't let the Qi army advance any further!"

Those words summed up all the hardships and glory of the lone city's desperate defense.

Wang Zheng heard this, his body trembling slightly, his hand patting Wang Xiong's back pressing a bit harder, his eyes full of emotion and pride, his voice unable to hide a tremor: "Good, well done!"

"My son!"

Wang Xiong inhaled deeply, suppressing the surge of emotions, his gaze sweeping over the fallen comrades strewn on the ground, over Hong Xi's body lying in a pool of blood, then toward the ruined streets of Gancao City; a thought of the Court's reinforcements flashed in his mind, a hint of urgency in his eyes, and he asked gravely: "Father, now that you have led your troops here, the Court's reinforcements must have arrived in force…"

"I wonder, who did the Grand Preceptor appoint as commander in the Court to lead the main army to rush to Xiazhou?"

He knew in his heart that Gancao City was only a corner of the Xiazhou battle, and only the arrival of the main army could completely crush the Qi army and avenge the dead soldiers and civilians.

Wang Zheng released his embrace, supporting Wang Xiong's shoulder, his gaze solemn, and replied gravely: "The situation along the road to Xiazhou is critical, the people are suffering, soldiers are dying for the nation, the Court is enraged."

"This relief is led personally by Chen Zhuguo, who commands the main army, racing through day and night straight to Xiazhou!"

"Chen Zhuguo!"

Wang Xiong's eyes suddenly brightened, his fatigue and pain seemed to melt away, his voice rose involuntarily, full of joy and exhilaration: "Great, wonderful! With Chen Zhuguo personally stationed, the Xiazhou battle can surely turn around; the blood of Gancao City's soldiers and civilians will not be shed in vain!"

He snapped his head around, scanning the broken walls, the corpses strewn everywhere, recalling the Qi army's post‑siege looting and slaughter, recalling comrades falling before him, his eyes instantly ignited with fierce hatred, his gaze burning, his tone harsh: "With Chen Zhuguo present, we will surely sweep away the Qi bandits, avenge this city's slaughter; the blood debt must be repaid with blood!"

Beside him, Huang Shizhang, already leaning on his Great Sword to stand, heard this and wholeheartedly agreed, nodding heavily; a wound tugged made him grunt, yet his tone remained firm: "Wang Sima is right! Chen Zhuguo's loyalty and bravery are unmatched, his tactics divine; he will surely avenge the tens of thousands of Gancao City's soldiers and civilians, making the Qi army pay the harshest price!"

Wang Xiong's fighting spirit flared again; ignoring the searing pain, he gripped his curved blade Chang Qiang tightly, stepping forward to follow Wang Zheng, urging urgently: "Father, the remaining enemies here are cleared; we cannot linger!"

"My injuries are not hindering, I wish to go with you, to aid Chen Zhuguo, to encircle the Qi army's main force!"

He said this, about to raise his spear and move forward, but Wang Zheng reached out and firmly stopped him.

Wang Zheng looked at his son's strained form, his eyes full of tenderness and unyielding resolve, gently pressed his shoulder, and in a deep voice said: "Ah Xiong, you've been fighting to death for days, your body is riddled with wounds, your stamina exhausted, you must not move any further… Stay here, let the army doctors properly treat your injuries and restore your strength!"

He paused, gazing toward the direction outside Gancao City, a decisive strategic glint in his eyes: "Chen Zhuguo has already set a heaven‑and‑earth net outside the city; no bandit will escape!"