Chapter 772: Boundary Monument Slaughters the Liuren, Broken Bodies Weep Blood to the Azure Sky

On that dry, hard wasteland less than twenty li from the Great Zhou border line, tens of thousands of rag‑clad, sallow‑faced Qi State Liuren who had even gnawed the grass roots to nothing were desperately sprinting forward like a pack of fugitives chased by Death itself.

The cold wind cut their frost‑scarred cheeks like a blade, and exhausted elders and children kept collapsing silently onto the blood‑stained frozen earth.

No one dared to stop and help their kin; their muddled yet frenzied gazes fixed stubbornly on the massive Qingshi Boundary Monument that rose like a hill at the horizon, marking the limit of Great Zhou's territory.

For these people driven to ruin by the Qi State Great Clan, that cold stone was the only beacon of salvation in the endless night.

In the far rear of the massive fleeing column, a towering yellow sandstorm suddenly rose on the horizon without warning.

The Qi State general in charge of the border pass received an urgent report that refugees in several border counties had rioted and fled en masse; he was terrified, fearing that the loss of hundreds of thousands would cause the Gao clan imperial house in Yecheng to have his head cut off.

The general, maddened, personally assembled five hundred fully armed Qi State Elite Cavalry, followed the refugees' chaotic footprints, and launched a ruthless, furious pursuit.

The heavy, dense hoofbeats sounded like death‑drumming and quickly caught up with the overcrowded rear of the refugee column.

These Qi State troops, who were supposed to wield swords to defend the nation, now showed no restraint; the general drew his cold‑glinting side‑sword, slammed its back against the horses' haunches, and led the charge.

"I will have every treacherous civilian who wishes to defect slain before the Boundary Monument; not a single survivor shall be left."

The Qi State cavalry surged straight into the unarmed refugee crowd, brandishing sharp sabers and hacking them down like chopping vegetables, cutting the defenseless old, weak, women and children.

The sharp blades tore through tattered cotton jackets into warm flesh, and severed limbs and arms, streaked with glaring blood, were flung into the air over the wasteland.

Crimson blood spilled like an overturned dye vat, instantly staining the dry yellow earth into a nauseating pool, and the wailing screams and desperate cries ripped the black, icy night sky apart.

With only a hundred steps left to the lifesaving Da Zhou Boundary Monument, the usually submissive Qi State Liuren did not crumble under the cavalry's blades but instead unleashed a shocking, savage survival instinct.

Countless gaunt Qi State fathers, ribs visible, wept blood from their eyes; they dropped the wives and children they clutched, grabbed stones and branches from the ground, and resolutely lunged at the towering Qi army iron hooves.

A Qi State man whose back had been slashed by a saber deep enough to expose bone and even faintly reveal lung tissue unleashed terrifying brute strength in his final moments.

He, like a wounded beast, spread his arms and clung with his broken, bloody body to the front leg of a charging Qi State warhorse.

The startled warhorse reared, lifting its front hoof, and the man was lifted off the ground by the force; he opened his blood‑smeared mouth and bit fiercely onto the edge of a Qi soldier's leather boot on the horse's back.

The terrified Qi soldier swung his saber's hilt wildly, smashing the man's nasal bone to fragments, yet the man's clenched teeth never loosened until his last breath.

Such a blood‑flesh barrier that would make even hell's demons shudder bought the women, children and elders ahead a precious extra dozen steps, at the cost of countless lives.

Several Liuren women and half‑grown children, drenched in their relatives' blood, rolled and crawled over the rough Qingshi Boundary Monument, collapsing onto the pebble‑strewn yellow earth of the Great Zhou border, unaware even of their bruised fingertips.

They headed toward the faintly visible Great Zhou Xiazhou border outpost not far away, pounding their heads madly, their hoarse, desperate cries shattering the cold world.

"Great Zhou's Heavenly Army lords, save us, save these wretched common folk!"

The Qi cavalry commander's face was splattered with his own people's blood; his flesh‑filled visage bore a deranged grin, his sanity already shattered by the frenzy of slaughter.

With one hand he reined in the raging warhorse, raised high the saber still dripping dark red blood, completely ignoring the Da Zhou Boundary Monument that symbolized the two nations' inviolable borders.

"Think you can survive by crossing this broken stone? Even if the Zhou State emperor arrives tonight, I will still grind you beasts into mush."

The Qi commander roared, issuing a direct cross‑border pursuit order; hundreds of blood‑shot riders spurred their horses, ready to swing the terrifying killing blade toward the heads of refugees who had fled into Great Zhou territory.

At that hair‑trigger moment, as the killing blade hung poised, three sudden, deep, resonant war drums sounded without warning from the direction of the normally silent Great Zhou border outpost.

The earth‑shaking hoofbeats roared like a series of underground explosions, sweeping in from behind the horizon with a mountain‑crushing terror that made the Qi cavalry's warhorses whinny and circle anxiously.

Lu Ming loomed like an invincible killing Demon God from an ancient battlefield, astride a massive black warhorse as mighty as an elephant.

Clad in Iron Armor, Lu Ming led over ten thousand Xiazhou Elite Border troops, both men and mounts sheathed in fine steel scale armor, surging forward like an unstoppable black cloud.

The army, fifty steps from the Boundary Monument, instantly spread into a massive encircling formation like a flock of geese, their movements perfectly synchronized.

Accompanied by a spine‑tingling metallic clank, thousands of cold, broken‑armor Crossbows were simultaneously drawn to full tension.

Countless triangular, frost‑glowing, broken‑armor arrowheads, like venomous snakes eyeing prey, locked onto the brows and chests of the Qi cavalry who were about to step across the border.

Lu Ming tightened his grip on the horse's belly; the massive black steed stepped forward, halted at the inner edge of the Boundary Monument, its hooves churning a clod of yellow earth mixed with ice shards.

Lu Ming's rugged, brutal face showed no diplomatic bearing of a joint commander; he thrust out his tree‑trunk‑thick arm and ripped from the victory hook the hundred‑jin Bing Tie Horse Spear.

The bulging veins on his massive arm rose like old‑tree roots as he swung the spear's sharp blade over the Boundary Monument, pointing directly at the Qi commander's nose.

Lu Ming let out a roar like a massive bell that rattled eardrums, his supreme war‑cry exploding across the entire border battlefield.

"You Qi mongrels, listen up: these civilians now have both feet on Great Zhou soil; even if their blood is Qi, they now belong to the Xiazhou Pillar State Office."

He halted the spear mid‑air, the violent shockwave cleaving a swath of withered grass beside the Boundary Monument.

"If anyone today dares to step a horse's hoof beyond this Boundary Monument even half an inch, I'll kill you on the spot, no matter what rank you hold."

Thus the two armies faced each other, swords drawn, across the blood‑stained border line, separated only by a rough Qingshi Boundary Monument.

The air, thick with blood scent and killing intent, condensed into a volatile point that could ignite a full‑scale flesh mill, and the Qi commander's palm, gripping his saber, began to sweat cold droplets involuntarily.