Chapter 755: Mad dogs out of the cage wash Jinshan in blood; repeating crossbows break the formation in a death battle without end

The crackling bonfire burned wantonly at the foot of the empty Jinshan Mountains. The jumping orange-red flames licked the half-lamb on the rack, roasting the pale yellow grease until it dripped with a ticking sound.

The grease fell onto the red-hot charcoal, stirring up a series of white smoke, carrying a rich meaty fragrance and permeating the surroundings.

A dozen Turkic soldiers wearing rough leather armor sat around the campfire, holding large coarse pottery bowls filled with mare's milk wine, their rough laughter spreading far away along the dry and cold night wind.

An old Turkic soldier with a long scar on his face raised his neck, poured the sour-smelling wine liquid into his throat in a large gulp, and then raised the back of his hand to wipe the wine stains on his beard messily.

"This mare's milk wine is really strong."

The old soldier let out a hiccup with a mutton smell, drew the short blade at his waist to cut off a piece of meat dripping with oil, used the tip of the blade to pick it up and send it into his mouth, chewing loudly.

"Those soft-legged shrimps in Rouran have long had their royal court burned to ashes by us. I don't know which sand nest they are gnawing on grass roots to satisfy their hunger now."

A younger Turkic new soldier echoed, putting down the wine bowl and reaching out to grab the roast meat, his face full of the arrogance and contempt of victory.

"They couldn't even protect their own women, this kind of waste tribe without eggs should have been removed from this grassland long ago."

These words caused a burst of even more unbridled laughter from the surrounding Turkic soldiers. They were completely immersed in the joy of victory after just looting the Rouran Royal Court, and their defense was so lax that even the night sentries leaned against the obstacles and dozed off.

In their cognition, which was blinded by arrogance, the Rouran people's spine had been completely broken. Let alone organizing a large army to counterattack, they were afraid they couldn't even gather a mouse that could run.

On the distant horizon, a black sandstorm that connected heaven and earth rolled up without warning. The rolling black clouds mixed with violent cold wind pushed toward the direction of the Turkic tent at a destructive and terrifying momentum.

No desolate warning horn sounded, nor did the war drums of neat formations beat before the battle. Ten thousand Rouran main forces wearing tattered leather armor revealed their ferocious outlines from the sky-filling yellow sand silently.

They didn't care about any formations that looked after each other at all. The face of every Rouran soldier hung with a crazy look of losing reason, like vengeful evil ghosts crawling out of the abyss of hell to demand life.

Wen Gexi rode a tall green warhorse and rushed to the very front. The purple sable fur coat on his body fluttered backward in the violent wind.

His rough hands, which were covered in calluses, held that brand-new horse saber firmly. The blade refracted a chilling dark blue cold light under the dim sky light.

This grassland hegemon, who was once arrogant, was blood red like blood at this moment. The corners of his eyes were cracked into tiny blood openings due to excessive force, and scarlet blood flowed windingly along the texture of his cheeks.

He held that horse saber that could cut iron like mud high above his head, the blade splitting the incoming sand and wind, and a hoarse roar like a wounded beast came from his throat.

"No prisoners."

Wen Gexi's voice tore and changed in the violent wind, carrying monstrous hatred and determination to destroy everything.

"No survivors."

He clamped the horse's belly with his legs, letting the giant iron hooves of the warhorse trample heavily on the dry and hard mud at the foot of the Jinshan Mountains, shaking up large pieces of yellow dust.

"Take the heads of Turkic dogs to sacrifice to our ancestors."

This military order, full of bloody smell, instantly detonated the anger that had been suppressed to the extreme in the chests of the ten thousand Rouran main forces. The revenge army covering the mountains and plains followed their Khan and launched a hysterical death-defying charge toward those Turkic camps that were still drinking and eating meat.

In the huge tent that occupied a wide area in the center of Jinshan, Turkic Crown Prince Moheduo was sitting cross-legged on a soft couch covered with expensive snow leopard skin.

His slender fingers slid slowly on a sheepskin scroll, his mind calculating how many hundreds of top-grade warhorses and boxes of gold and silver he should send as a heavy promotion gift to that Great Zhou Wei Duke Chen Yan, who was far away in Tongwan City and had just been promoted to Xia Prefecture Governor.

The continuous sound of shaking the earth and mountains outside the camp penetrated the heavy felt, mixed with chaotic and terrified screams, instantly breaking the tranquility in the tent.

A trace of vigilance appeared on Moheduo's deep-contoured face. He threw away the sheepskin scroll in his hand, grabbed the wolf-head curved saber placed on the desk, put on a light chain armor extremely neatly, and rushed out of the tent.

He stood on the high camp watchtower, and the cold wind mixed with bloody smell blew the hair scattered on his forehead into a mess.

As far as the eye could see, the brand-new standard weapons in the hands of the Rouran vanguard soldiers, which were shining brightly in the sun and couldn't even find a gap, broke into his eyes extremely blindingly.

A chill instantly surged in Moheduo's heart. He knew the family background of the Rouran people too well. That group of savages he had just looted could absolutely not produce such a large number of refined standard weapons out of thin air overnight.

His sinister eyes swept across the battlefield quickly, and he pieced together a terrifying context in his mind instantly. He realized that it must be a massive third-party force that had secretly handed this extremely sharp killing butcher knife to this group of stray dogs.

"Very interesting."

Moheduo's five fingers holding the hilt tightened slowly, his fingertips rubbing back and forth on the cold leather texture, a cold and ruthless smile floating on his lips.

Before Moheduo could issue the military order to meet the enemy, Turkic general Su Nong Tu Tun had already rushed out from the left wing of the camp impatiently.

This grassland butcher, who was famous for being bloodthirsty and cruel, was bare-chested, his sturdy chest covered with ferocious knife scars, and he was carrying two heavy mountain-opening axes stained with dark black blood.

Su Nong Tu Tun let out an extremely arrogant laugh, which sounded particularly harsh on the periphery of the camp where screams were continuous.

"This group of Rouran waste actually dares to run back to die."

He mounted a black steed that was not wearing any protective armor, and the two heavy mountain-opening axes collided in mid-air, sparking a string of dazzling sparks.

"Children, follow me!"

Su Nong Tu Tun directly led three thousand Turkic light cavalry who didn't have time to put on leather armor and rushed up head-on, trying to rely on the overwhelming combat power advantage accumulated in previous battles against Rouran to crush this group of scattered sand into powder under the horse hooves with the most simple and rude charge.

Batu, who was charging at the very front of the Rouran formation, looked at the Turkic light cavalry getting closer and closer, and there was no retreat or fear on his rough face covered in wind and frost.

He didn't choose to raise his curved blade to shake the enemy's edge like in the past, but extremely calmly took out a white bone whistle polished very smoothly from his arms.

Batu held the bone whistle between his dry lips, his cheeks bulging high, and blew the long sound representing the baptism of death forcefully.

The sharp whistle penetrated the noisy battlefield, and the ten thousand Rouran death warriors in the front row who had long since put life and death out of their minds stopped their steps in unison.

They extremely skillfully straightened their arms, and the repeating crossbows sent by the Qi State dark agent Li Yu in their hands refracted a chilling, dark metallic luster in the sun.

The soldiers pulled the precise and complex metal triggers with their rough fingers, and the harsh sound of the machine mechanism ejecting gathered into a heart-palpitating death movement on the empty plain.

Tens of thousands of armor-piercing crossbow arrows were like a storm covering the sky and the earth, carrying a shrill whistling sound that tore through the air, covering the Turkic light cavalry formation that Su Nong Tu Tun led.

These sharp weapons created by top craftsmen of the Central Plains dynasty showed hair-raising lethality.

The sharp three-edged arrowheads penetrated the thin and rough sheepskin armor on the Turkic soldiers without any resistance. Accompanied by bursts of tooth-aching skin and flesh tearing sounds, large batches of Turkic cavalry didn't even have time to scream before they were shot through the heart and lungs on the spot.

Su Nong Tu Tun's unmatchable contempt made him pay an extremely painful price in blood.

In just a few breaths, those three thousand light cavalry who were showing off their power just now fell in pieces like cut wheat.

Together with the people and horses, they rolled and smashed toward the ground under the huge inertia. The crisp sound of broken bones and the painful neighing of warhorses intertwined, instantly dyeing the wasteland at the foot of Jinshan into a shocking piece of mud.

The Turkic front defense line, which was originally full of momentum, collapsed and disintegrated instantly under this dimensionality-reduction strike-like arrow rain washing the ground.

Su Nong Tu Tun waved his mountain-opening axes to block a few crossbow arrows shooting at his face, looking at the robes who were dead and wounded beside him, a look of unbelievable shock finally appeared in his copper-bell-like eyes.

Following the gradual cessation of the repeating crossbow's mechanical sound, all the arrows in the crossbow box were shot out, and the two massive cavalry armies of both sides were like two surging floods, colliding together with destructive kinetic energy.

The deafening metallic collision sound rushed straight into the sky, and broken limbs and arms were scattered everywhere in mid-air along with warm blood.

Rouran general Qiu Sheng Tou's curved blade had long since curled its edge. Looking at the Turkic fierce general Qibi Ge Leng who was hacking wantonly in the chaotic army, a crazy flame of not stopping until death ignited in the bottom of his eyes.

Qiu Sheng Tou stepped on the stirrups with his feet, and his whole body jumped up from the horse's back like an arrow leaving the string, rushing directly toward Qibi Ge Leng a few steps away with a determined posture of going forward.

He completely abandoned all the moves used for defense, letting the extremely sharp curved blade in Qibi Ge Leng's hand hack into his left shoulder without mercy.

The extreme pain of the blade cutting open the collarbone and getting stuck in the bone seam made Qiu Sheng Tou's face twist and deform, but he didn't even let out a groan.

He stretched out his left hand covered in blood, firmly grasping the rough leather reins of Qibi Ge Leng's tall white horse, his fingernails deeply digging into his palm due to excessive force.

At the same time, the curled curved blade in Qiu Sheng Tou's right hand carried a violent and rigid force of dying together, extremely ruthlessly stabbing into the carotid artery where the white horse's defense was weakest.

The boiling horse blood sprayed on both of them in a jet shape. The white horse let out an extremely shrill long neigh, and its massive body collapsed toward the side, heavily pressing Qibi Ge Leng, who couldn't dodge in time, into the mud puddle.

On this bloody plain that had lost all tactics and room for maneuver, the battlefield evolved into the most primitive and unreasonable beast slaughter.

A Rouran veteran, whose legs had been hacked off by Turkic cavalry, rolled in the mud in agony; looking at the Turkic soldier who had just thrust a spear into his abdomen, he summoned a terrifying, monstrous strength from somewhere unknown.

The old soldier supported his body that only had half left, lunged forward on the grass, and opened his mouth, which was yellow due to years of wind and sand, firmly biting the extremely fragile throat of that Turkic soldier.

The Turkic soldier threw away the long spear in horror, his hands frantically beating the old soldier's face, but he couldn't shake the mouth that was biting like iron pliers at all.

The sharp teeth tore open the warm skin and flesh, biting off the jumping blood vessels. The two rolled and entangled on the grass covered in blood until the giant iron hooves of the warhorses charging from behind fell ruthlessly.

A dull sound of flesh breaking sounded, and both of their heads were trampled into a puddle of red and white meat mud under the horse hooves. Until the moment the old Rouran soldier breathed his last, his teeth had not loosened by half.

As the battle line continued to advance, the Rouran army was like a blood-stained sharp knife, deeply cutting into the edge hinterland of the Turkic camp.

A terrifying Jingguan, piled up with countless heads of Rouran women and children with their hair braided in the traditional Rouran style, was exposed to the vision of all Rouran soldiers without any cover.

Those familiar faces, each with extreme fear and despair before death, were like sharp knives with barbs, cruelly stabbing into the heart of every Rouran man.

Hatred completely crossed the boundary of reason at this moment. There was no possibility of any control.

Rouran soldiers burst into bursts of shrill sorrow. They began to frantically take down the thick pine torches used for night lighting from their horse backs.

The ignited pine torches were like a meteor fire rain, thrown ruthlessly onto those Turkic tents covered with dry grass and felt.

The soaring flames spread rapidly under the help of the violent wind, turning that continuous camp into a sea of fire.

Some Rouran soldiers had their chests pierced by Turkic long swords, but relying on their last breath, they tightly hugged the Turkic soldiers who wanted to retreat.

The two rolled shrilly under the engulfment of the flames, until they were burned into pieces of black charcoal emitting a burnt smell in the soaring fire column together.

Moheduo, standing on the watchtower, looked at the Rouran remnant soldiers who didn't care about the cost of casualties and were even using their lives to trade for lives, the muscles on his face twitching due to anger.

He showed the extreme coldness and decisiveness that a superior should have when facing life and death.

This young Turkic Crown Prince did not issue any military order to send troops to support the defense line that was crumbling at the front.

He turned around and issued a cruel order that was cold to the extreme to the messenger soldier who was trembling with fear beside him.

"Immediately go and drive out all the ten thousand old, weak, sick, and disabled people of the two vassal tribes in the west camp. Don't give them weapons, just drive them to that mountain valley entrance that was broken through with whips."

The messenger soldier widened his eyes in disbelief, but ran to convey the order while scrambling under Moheduo's cold, man-eating gaze.

Ten thousand unarmed Turkic old and weak were forcibly filled into that mountain valley passage that was not spacious under the whip with barbs drawn by the supervisory troops.

Moheduo was using the lives of these clansmen who had no ability to resist to pave a flesh-and-blood defense line, in order to forcibly drag down the charging speed of the Rouran army that had already fallen into a state of madness.

Rouran's iron hooves trampled on those crying old and weak without mercy, but these dense flesh-and-blood bodies indeed made the charging momentum that was originally like a broken bamboo appear a short-term stagnation as Moheduo calculated.

Watching the Rouran army stepping on the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, about to completely tear apart the last defense line in front of the Jinshan Royal Tent.

Moheduo stood on the high steps, his sinister eyes without any panic, and he slowly drew the gold-handled curved saber inlaid with expensive gems at his waist.

Following his raised arm holding the saber, in the shadow behind him, a heavy and neat sound of metal armor collision sounded.

That was the most elite force of the Turks, five thousand people who had been hidden in the dark and never used, with both people and horses wrapped in heavy iron armor.

The Royal Court Golden Wolf Guard finally took off all their disguises, and at the moment when this grassland's once-in-a-century meat grinder battle was about to reach its climax, they revealed the cold fangs that were enough to cut through everything. ===== CHAPTER 756 =====