Chapter 850: Blood stains the Black Wind Pass, iron cavalry arrives in the night

A second horse bandit lunged from the side. Zhao Tiezhu's left hand seized the man's wrist, and his right hand swung his iron mace in a follow-through, crushing the man's head and helmet into a mangled shape.

"For the Pillar of State! Kill!"

His roar rolled through the firelight and blood mist, like a cornered beast making its final cry.

But there were too many enemies.

Two arrows flew from the darkness; one nailed into his left shoulder plate, the other pierced his right thigh.

Zhao Tiezhu knelt on one knee on the gravel ground, bracing himself with the iron mace. The dark red badge on his chest was stained a glaring, vivid color by the splashing blood.

He looked back at his brothers still fighting desperately behind him; two had already fallen into pools of blood and would never stand again.

Wang Erniu hacked down a horse bandit in front of him and rushed to Zhao Tiezhu's side, his face covered in blood.

"Brother Tiezhu!"

Zhao Tiezhu grabbed Wang Erniu's arm, pulling him close, and with his other hand, he ripped the blood-soaked dark red badge from his chest and shoved it firmly into Wang Erniu's palm.

"Break through and report the news!"

Wang Erniu's eyes turned red instantly, his voice hoarse and distorted.

"Brother Tiezhu, I'm not leaving!"

Zhao Tiezhu slapped his chest armor heavily, raising his voice to a level that drowned out the sounds of slaughter.

"This is an order! I'll lead the men to cover the retreat; you get the message to the Pillar of State!"

He shoved Wang Erniu toward the west, the weakest point in the bandits' formation, then turned around, raised his iron mace high, and charged head-on into the surging bandits.

"Come on! I'll fight you all to the death today!"

Wang Erniu clutched the scorching badge, tears mixing with blood rolling down his face, his teeth grinding together.

Two brothers rushed out from the sides, blocking his front, their horizontal blades hacking toward the bandits in the west.

"Erniu, go! We'll open a path for you!"

Wang Erniu vaulted onto his horse, gripping the badge tightly in his palm, and squeezed his legs against the horse's belly. The chestnut horse let out a long whinny and charged toward the gap torn open by his brothers' flesh and blood.

Behind him came two short, sharp screams, followed by the dull thud of curved blades hacking into bone.

Wang Erniu did not look back.

He lay low on the horse's back, his many knife wounds stinging in the night wind. Blood seeped from the wounds, dripping down the saddle and leaving a broken, dark red trail on the gravel road.

His fingers gripped the badge so hard his knuckles cracked. A voice squeezed out from the depths of his throat, choked with tears but with every word enunciated heavily.

"I will deliver the message!"

The side wall of the ruined temple collapsed into the flames with a roar; burning rafters smashed onto the gravel, sending up a spray of sparks.

Zhao Tiezhu's back was pressed against the remaining half of the earthen wall. He had snapped the shaft of the arrow in his left shoulder, but the broken stub remained in his flesh; every movement caused blood to surge from the gaps in his armor.

The arrow wound in his right thigh was deeper; the arrowhead had pierced the leather layer of his leg armor and lodged into the muscle beside the femur. His entire leg below the knee had lost all sensation.

He knelt on the gravel, bracing himself with the iron mace. The dark red badge on his chest was smeared into a mass of deep crimson by the blood spray; only a blurred shadow remained of the crossed swords' outline.

There were three men left behind him.

Lao Zhou leaned against the other side of the broken wall, his left hand clutching the gash in his abdomen where a curved blade had sliced him open. His intestines bulged through his fingers; he had tied his belt tightly around the wound, and his right hand still gripped a horizontal blade with a curled edge.

Xiao Chen crouched to Zhao Tiezhu's right, his face blistered by the heat of the flames. Half of his right ear had been sliced off, and blood flowed down his neck into his armor collar, but his hands still held the last repeating crossbow, with only two arrows left in the groove.

Liu San stood at the outermost edge. Most of his armor plates were shattered, revealing the tattered inner lining slashed by blades. His left arm hung limp from the elbow; the bone was broken, held only by a layer of skin and flesh, but his right hand still gripped a half-broken long spear, a shred of black cloth hanging from the spear tip.

Four men.

Facing at least one hundred and fifty horse bandits.

The firelight illuminated the cliffs on both sides of the canyon in a deep red. The bandits reined in their horses fifty paces away, forming a semicircular encirclement, the blades of their curved swords and spears reflecting a dense, cold glint in the firelight.

The bandit leader rode a tall black horse. His triangular eyes beneath a black cloth stared at Zhao Tiezhu, his voice filled with the sinister malice of one provoked.

"Just these few men, and they killed over thirty of my brothers."

He tapped his curved blade against the saddle, shaking off the blood droplets.

"Capture them alive. Don't kill a single one; Lord Zhao wants them alive."

Hearing the words "Lord Zhao," the arc of Zhao Tiezhu's mouth, mostly obscured by blood, curved even deeper.

He tilted his head and looked at Lao Zhou.

"Did you hear that? Sent by that old dog Zhao Chongde."

Lao Zhou's voice squeezed through his teeth, carrying a heavy scent of blood.

"Tiezhu, I guessed it long ago. These bastards' curved blades are military issue; where would horse bandits get military-issue curved blades?"

Xiao Chen aimed the repeating crossbow at the bandit leader, his voice trembling violently, but not a word showed retreat.

"Brother Tiezhu, the last two arrows—tell me who to shoot, and I'll shoot them."

Zhao Tiezhu pushed himself up with the iron mace, shifting his weight onto his only functional left leg, swaying twice before steadying himself.

His gaze swept over the one hundred and fifty bandits, then turned back to the three brothers behind him, all covered in blood, none showing a hint of retreat in their eyes.

"Brothers, we probably won't make it out of this trap today."

Liu San planted his broken spear on the ground, his voice as coarse as grinding iron.

"Brother Tiezhu, so what if we don't make it out? Before I became a soldier, I was a beggar. It was the Pillar of State who gave me land, gave me food, and gave me this armor. This life of mine was already the Pillar of State's; it's no loss to return it today."

Lao Zhou grinned, the smile distorted by the excruciating pain in his abdomen.

"Tiezhu, there's just one thing I can't let go of. My wife is still carrying one. If you can make it out alive, help me tell the Pillar of State to save a spot for my child to enter the Lecture Hall."

Zhao Tiezhu's Adam's apple bobbed; his voice was so hoarse it was nothing but the sound of air rubbing against vocal cords.

"Lao Zhou, the Pillar of State won't forget your child."

He switched the iron mace to his left hand and pulled the last dagger from his waist with his right. The word "Loyalty" was carved into the hilt—it was what Chen Yan had personally issued to every political commissar upon graduation from the Lecture Hall.

"Brothers, we are people of the One Heart Society. While the badge exists, we exist; if the badge is shattered, we are shattered."

He held the dagger across his chest, raising his voice so that even the bandits fifty paces away could hear.

"Today, let these dog bastards see how a political commissar of the Pillar of State dies!"

The bandit leader's triangular eyes narrowed, and he waved his curved blade forward.

"Charge! Dismember their arms and legs, but don't hit vital spots. Lord Zhao wants them alive."

Over thirty horse bandits cut out from the semicircular encirclement, splitting into three groups and pressing in from the front and both flanks. Their hooves beat a rapid rhythm on the gravel.

The string of Xiao Chen's repeating crossbow snapped.

The first arrow pierced the throat of the first bandit charging from the front. The man tumbled from his horse, his body rolling twice on the gravel.

The second arrow followed closely, nailing into the second bandit's shoulder armor. The force was insufficient, only causing the man to sway, but he did not fall.

The crossbow was empty.

Xiao Chen threw the empty crossbow to the ground, pulled a short blade from his boot, and let out a roar he had never heard from himself before.

"Come on!"

The bandits on the left flank arrived first.

Liu San thrust his broken spear out with his functional right arm. The tip pierced beneath the neck of the first bandit's horse. The warhorse let out a miserable whinny, its front hooves buckling, throwing the rider from its back.

But the second rider followed immediately. A curved blade slashed down. Liu San had no time to retract his spear; the blade hacked into his right shoulder. The sound of shattering armor plates mixed with the dull thud of breaking bone.

Liu San's body staggered back a step but did not fall. He wrapped his broken left arm tightly around the bandit's waist, dragging him from the horse, and both fell onto the gravel ground.

"Brother Tiezhu, go quickly!"

Liu San's voice emerged from the gravel pile, carrying a hoarseness that made one's teeth ache.

Zhao Tiezhu did not go.

He raised his iron mace high and met the bandits charging from the front. His right leg, pierced by an arrow, dragged a trail of blood across the gravel; every step felt like treading on knife blades.

The iron mace swung in a full circle, smashing into the chest armor of the first bandit to reach him. The armor caved in; the man and his horse retreated two steps, and he sprayed a mist of blood.

The second bandit's curved blade slashed from the side. Zhao Tiezhu had no time to retract the mace; the dagger flipped from his left hand, its blade tracing a short silver line in the firelight, precisely slicing the bandit's wrist.

The wrist snapped, and the curved blade flew from his hand.

But the third bandit's spear had already arrived.

The spear tip pierced Zhao Tiezhu's right rib, through the armor plate, through the lining, through the muscle between his ribs, and out his back.

Zhao Tiezhu's body stiffened for a beat the moment the spear pierced him. He vomited a mouthful of blood, which sprayed from the corner of his mouth onto the dark red badge on his chest.

He looked down at the spear shaft piercing his body.

Then he smiled.

The smile was mostly obscured by blood and mud, but in the firelight, it was still recognizable—an arc that sent a chill up the spine of the spear-wielding bandit.

Zhao Tiezhu's left hand seized the spear shaft, pushing his body half a foot forward along it. In that half-foot distance, his right-hand iron mace completed its final swing.

The mace smashed into the bandit's face.

The sound of shattering facial bone was extremely clear in the night wind.

Zhao Tiezhu's body slid off the spear shaft, his knees hitting the gravel ground. The iron mace fell from his hand, rolling twice on the gravel.

He knelt there, body leaning forward, hands bracing the ground. Blood surged from the wound beneath his ribs, pooling into a small dark red puddle on the gravel.

The bandit leader rode up to him, looking down at the man covered in blood who still hadn't fallen.

"What exactly are you people?"

His voice carried a tremor he hadn't even noticed himself.

"Ten men killed over fifty of my brothers. Are you human or ghosts?"

Zhao Tiezhu's fingers slowly curled on the gravel, clutching a handful of stones. His voice squeezed out from the depths of his throat, every word laced with blood foam.

"I am a political commissar of the One Heart Society, the blade of the Pillar of State."

He flung the handful of gravel toward the bandit leader. The stones struck the black horse's face mask, making a few light sounds.

"If you kill me, the Pillar of State's blade will mince you into meat paste."

The bandit leader's triangular eyes narrowed, the tremor in his voice suppressed by a surge of rage.

"Stubborn. Your Pillar of State is far away in Lingzhou. By the time he gets the news, your bones will have rotted."

He raised his curved blade, the edge reflecting an orange-red arc of light in the fire.

"Lord Zhao said, alive is best, but dead will do. Dead men don't talk anyway."

The curved blade was raised to its highest point.

Zhao Tiezhu's eyes stared fixedly at the descending blade, the arc of his mouth, smeared with blood, not disappearing.

His voice was so soft only he could hear it.

"Pillar of State, your subordinate has not disgraced the badge."

The curved blade began to slash downward.

Then the earth shook.

The tremor came from the west of the canyon, first a faint humming, as if something were crushing the earth from far away, then quickly turning into a clear rhythm, knocking against everyone's chest, one beat after another, denser and heavier.

The bandit leader's curved blade stopped in mid-air.

His black horse began to grow restless, pawing the gravel twice with its front hooves, tossing its head toward the west of the canyon, two jets of white vapor spraying from its nostrils.

All the bandits felt it.

The warhorses beneath them began to turn in circles uneasily at the same instant. A few horses even let out fearful whinnies, as if sensing something they instinctively feared approaching.

The bandit leader turned his head abruptly, his gaze piercing through the firelight, through the cliffs on both sides of the canyon, staring fixedly at the end of the official road swallowed by the night in the west.

The horizon lit up.

Not with sunlight.

But with the light of torches reflecting off iron armor.

A black torrent of steel crushed forward from the western entrance of the canyon. Five hundred warhorses, four abreast, filled the entire canyon road, the gravel and dust kicked up by their hooves forming a yellow-earth curtain behind them that blocked the sky and sun.

At the lead, in black military uniform, the cold glint of the long spear in his hand traced a straight silver line in the night.

Ye Zhuxi.

Half a horse-length behind her, a black steed's hooves flew. The figure on its back, wearing purple robes and a gold belt, showed a clear silhouette in the firelight, the hilt of the horizontal blade at his waist making a soft metallic clink as he jolted. ===== CHAPTER 851 =====