Chapter 215: Like a Demon Lord Descending from Heaven, Truly a God of the Mortal World

The iron‑bone bud in his hand slipped free and flipped several times in the air.

With a "Snatch!" it struck the ground a few zhang away.

The Northern Yuan soldiers present hadn't yet restrained their delighted expressions when Ha Dan had already turned into a heap of shredded flesh and blood mist.

This scene left all the Northern Yuan soldiers who had never seen Jia Jing act in a stunned uproar, their eyes wide with shock.

The Northern Yuan troops at the front involuntarily swallowed their saliva and all stepped back together.

Meanwhile, Jia Jing still stood unmoving, his spear returned to its original position, and his expression never changed from start to finish.

The scene fell silent for over a dozen breaths; for a moment only the rustling of the Han Army's red flag in the wind echoed.

Jia Jing's bravery caused most of the Northern Yuan soldiers present to shrink back, yet some loyal ones still wished to continue rescuing their Great Khan.

The second to act was a Hundred-House Commander.

His name was Wu Lan, an expert archer who could hit a running yellow goat from a hundred steps away, a famed sharpshooter in the Northern Yuan army.

He slipped behind the crowd and quickly climbed onto the half‑collapsed tent roof about fifty steps away.

Crouching on the felt, he drew a wolf‑tooth arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and slowly drew the bow.

The seven‑dou bow curved like a full moon, its tip aimed at Jia Jing's nape, ensuring a lethal strike.

Wu Lan held his breath, inhaled deeply then exhaled, and gradually released his finger.

"Whoosh…"

The arrow sliced through the air, swift as a meteor, heading straight for Jia Jing.

Jia Jing's expression hardened, he still did not move, but snapped his left hand backward like lightning, seizing the arrow shaft of the wolf‑tooth arrow firmly in his hand.

With him on full alert, attempting a sneak attack was undoubtedly a fool's dream.

The modest power of a seven‑dou bow posed no threat to him.

This scene made the Northern Yuan soldiers present shrink their pupils, cold sweat streaming down.

The Xue army soldiers began to stir; some unconsciously tightened their knives, others stepped back a few paces.

Is this Han General even human?

Fear spread like plague, while anger and resentment also grew.

At that moment, Wu Lan's scalp tingled; his second arrow hadn't been nocked yet when a flash of cold light appeared before his eyes.

He saw the wolf‑tooth arrow he had shot being hurled back by the Han General with his bare hands.

The wolf‑tooth arrow, bearing a force of several thousand jin, whistled across fifty steps and drove straight into Wu Lan's chest.

"Poof!"

The arrowhead entered his front chest, exited his back, passing straight through Wu Lan.

Blood spurted from Wu Lan's mouth corner as his body fell backward, sliding down from the tent roof with a muffled "bang".

And just as Jia Jing turned to throw an arrow, dozens of prepared Northern Yuan soldiers from all directions lunged straight at him.

"All together!"

"No matter how strong he is, he's just one man!"

"Use the horse‑tether! Capture him!"

"Save the Great Khan!"

……

Forty to fifty Northern Yuan soldiers shouted and charged at Jia Jing.

Some wielded knives, some axes, some flailed horse‑tethers, attacking Jia Jing from all sides.

Blade flashes, axe shadows, ropes whirling, a dense net sealed every angle.

Forty to fifty horse‑tethers shot out simultaneously from above, the sides, and behind, covering the sky like a massive net.

Jia Jing's eyes turned cold.

He first used his left hand to fling Ba Tumonke onto the ground, stamping his foot on it.

Then his right hand gripped the bright silver Dragon‑Gall spear, his waist and horse unified, and he swept it out fiercely…

"Boom…!"

A thunderous blast rang out from nowhere.

The over‑hundred‑jin heavy spear, wielded with several thousand jin of force, swept forward; as the shaft passed, the air was ripped open, a visible semi‑transparent shockwave surging outward.

The incoming horse‑tethers were caught in the spear wind, twisted together, snapping instantly, fragments scattering.

The dozen or so Northern Yuan soldiers at the front, struck by the spear, couldn't even scream before being cut down.

Their bodies exploded like straw men struck by a giant hammer.

Flesh and blood flew, bones shattered, limbs and arms with blood mist splattered in all directions, crashing into the crowd behind.

Those a short distance away, struck by the splattering gore, were hit as if by a heavy blow, instantly spitting blood and collapsing.

Within a radius of five zhang, the strike instantly cleared a vacant space.

The ground was littered with shredded meat, broken bones, shattered weapons, and twitching remnants.

The Northern Yuan soldiers who had just been shouting and charging forward vanished in an instant; many left not even a whole corpse.

The area around the golden tent on the mountain slope fell dead silent instantly.

Even the distant shouts of battle seemed halted by that spear.

The Xue army crowd seemed frozen, each staring wide‑eyed, mouths agape, watching the blood‑splattered void.

Someone's knife clanged to the ground, another's legs gave way and they knelt, while another's lips trembled, unable to speak.

This… are they truly fighting humans?

And at that moment, Ba Tumonke beneath Jia Jing's feet froze completely, collapsing on the ground, hair standing on end, face ashen, limbs trembling.

He suddenly began to understand why Ba Ya'er called this Han General a demon god!

Watching Jia Jing's murderous god-like appearance, Ba Tumengke gulped hard, his heart pounded violently.

At this moment, he gazed at Jia Jing's tall and straight posture, and a phrase involuntarily sprang to mind:

Like a heavenly demon-subduing lord, he is truly the Tai Sui god of the mortal realm!

Such martial prowess—how could it be merely human strength!

Jia Jing gave Ba Tumengke beneath his feet a cold glance, a flicker of contempt flashing in his eyes.

I thought he was a stalwart, but I didn't expect him to be of the same ilk as Ba Ya'er.

These frontier barbarians won't learn unless we show them some might.

Jia Jing gave a fierce glance at the incessantly retreating two thousand-plus Qixue troops before him; these wave after wave of attacks also made him a bit weary.

Jia Jing kicked Ba Tumengke toward Zhu Que, then, gripping the Longdan Bright Silver Spear, he charged straight into the Qixue troops.

I gave you a chance, but you didn't leave; then… you all… stay here!

Jia Jing gave the Bei Yuan soldiers no time to react, his expression cold as he swiftly plunged into the crowd.

The Bright Silver Dragon Gallbladder Spear turned into a silver flash.

Every sweep of the spear sent dozens flying;

Every strike down turned several into blood mist.

He was like a meat grinder; wherever he passed, flesh flew and screams shook the heavens.

He pressed forward, slaughtering all the way.

The silver spear was like a dragon, overturning rivers and seas.

Blood spattered, severed limbs flailed, and cries rose and fell.

In just a few dozen breaths, corpses piled up layer upon layer on the ground, blood flowed like rivers, gathering into pools of various sizes.

The Qixue troops were utterly terrified by this carnage, crying for their mothers and fathers as they fled in all directions, no one thinking of rescuing their great khan.

The living stepped on corpses as they ran, but after just a few steps they were caught and turned into new corpses.

In the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, another three hundred corpses littered the ground.

Jia Jing was drenched in blood, his Western Sichuan red brocade hundred-flower robe soaked through, and the beast-face swallowing-head linked armor on him was even more vividly red.

He stood amid the mound of corpses like an Asura crawling out of a sea of blood, only his eyes remained bright, calm, and as cold as winter ice.

And the remaining Qixue troops had completely collapsed.

Those who could run did so; those whose legs gave out dropped their weapons, knelt on the ground, and dared not show the slightest sign of resistance.

Some were so frightened they burst into loud sobs, their bodies trembling, daring only to bury their faces in the dirt, unable to lift their heads to face the gruesome, bloody scene.

Jia Jing did not pursue; after a brief stretch, he lifted his spear and walked back step by step to beneath the banner.

The spear tip dragged on the ground, drawing a line of blood that stretched from the corpse pile to the flagpole.

Jia Jing planted his feet firmly, then slammed the Bright Silver Dragon Gallbladder Spear into the ground with a dull 'thud'; the shaft sank half a foot, standing steady.

Beneath the banner, the red flag fluttered.

Only Jia Jing and Zhu Que stood beneath the flagpole.

Before them lay rows of kneeling Bei Yuan soldiers, the ground awash in blood and the broken corpses of Bei Yuan troops…