Chapter 10: Save Chen Heng! Zhu Ying Seeks the Glory of Slaying a General!

The two armies were now fully locked in chaotic combat.

At this moment, even the Ming army’s archer units were drawn into the fray.

Then.

“First Battalion Archers, draw your blades, prepare to engage.”

Wei Quan roared out the order.

Many Tartar infantry charged forward, slashing wildly.

“Brothers, stick close to me, follow me and kill!”

Zhu Ying did not hesitate, shouting to the soldiers around him.

“Follow the Squad Leader, kill!”

The ten new recruits shouted with forced courage; though afraid, seeing Zhu Ying before them, their fear lessened.

“Kill!”

Zhu Ying drew his forged steel blade and charged into the Tartar ranks.

Facing him.

A group of Tartar soldiers, upon seeing Zhu Ying, one of them swung his long saber at him.

“Die, you Han dog.”

Zhu Ying raised his blade to meet it.

A sharp crack.

The Tartar soldier’s saber shattered instantly.

Before the Tartar could even register shock,

Zhu Ying slashed again.

The forged steel blade was razor-sharp; a head flew into the air, blood spattered.

“Slain Tartar infantry: +20 Strength.”

Zhu Ying stepped forward swiftly, severed the dead Tartar’s ear, and shoved it into his chest.

This was battle merit—ears were proof.

Zhu Ying was determined to climb upward.

He would not let a single military merit slip away.

“Damn Han.”

“Die.”

After Zhu Ying killed one, several nearby Tartar soldiers glared at him in fury.

Four or five of them immediately surrounded him to kill.

“Protect the Squad Leader!”

The ten soldiers beside Zhu Ying rushed forward, engaging the Tartars in chaotic combat.

“Kill!” Zhu Ying swung his blade again at the Tartar before him.

Another Tartar soldier fell, beheaded.

Blood spurted, the head tumbled to the ground.

“Slain Tartar infantry: +20 Speed.” the system prompted.

Having disposed of that one,

Zhu Ying saw several of his men struggling, rushed forward, and slashed again.

The forged steel blade was razor-sharp, amplified by Zhu Ying’s immense strength—fierce beyond measure.

The Tartar soldier before him could not resist and was cut down instantly.

A few swings later,

He effortlessly slew the five Tartar soldiers before him.

Zhu Ying swiftly severed the ears of the enemies he had killed, then shouted to his men: “Stick close, kill!”

“Yes!”

The soldiers immediately responded, gazing at Zhu Ying as if he were a war god.

Too fierce.

These brutal Tartars were no match for their Squad Leader.

“Kill!”

Zhu Ying charged straight into the chaos of battle.

He swung his blade without pause.

In this life-or-death struggle, technique seemed useless—it was pure, desperate combat.

Zhu Ying’s strength had now surpassed four hundred points—he was a true powerhouse, and with the forged steel blade’s edge, every slash claimed a Tartar soldier’s life.

Each strike, even if the Tartar raised his blade to block, sent violent tremors through his arms; his weapon could not withstand the blow.

Zhu Ying gripped his blade with both hands, slashing wildly, like a god of slaughter, radiating unstoppable might.

The battle raged on.

The Tartar border tribes had deployed all fifteen thousand of their troops, splitting into multiple flanking columns.

Though the Ming army’s total force was half as large, their combat power was no weaker; the two sides clashed fiercely, the Ming refusing to retreat.

Chen Heng, commanding general of this force, rode his horse, sword in hand, slashing wildly at enemy troops.

This was the ferocity of Ming generals—not merely commanding, but charging into battle themselves.

In this Hongwu era, most generals had fought their way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood; the nation’s strength was forged the same way.

“There’s the Ming battle standard ahead.”

“The Ming general is right there—kill him!”

Jin Guda spotted the flag of the Assistant Commandant’s unit and roared as he charged toward it.

With his shout, dozens of Tartar cavalry followed, surging straight for the flag, heading for Chen Heng.

“Ming soldiers!”

“Kill!”

Chen Heng showed no fear, raising his sword and leading his personal guard cavalry forward in attack.

The battle had reached this point: both sides were locked in brutal melee, fighting for morale, for endurance.

All that remained was for reinforcements to arrive, encircle the Tartars, and the outcome would be decided.

“That must be the Tartar commander.”

“Kill him, and I’ll be promoted and rewarded.”

Jin Guda’s roar also reached Zhu Ying, no more than a hundred zhang away.

Seeing Jin Guda charging on horseback, while all other Tartars wore leather armor, this one wore iron armor—clearly a commander.

And behind him, Tartar cavalry carried a large banner.

Realizing this,

Zhu Ying made no hesitation—he locked his gaze on the charging Jin Guda, gripped his forged steel blade, and sprinted toward him.

The battlefield was now a maelstrom; both armies had lost all formation, fighting in chaotic melee.

Whenever Zhu Ying met an enemy, he struck—others grew weaker with each fight, but Zhu Ying grew stronger; every enemy slain added attributes, and he felt his power rising with each kill.

Zhu Ying sprinted forward, closing the distance to Jin Guda.

“Damn Tartar.”

“Kill!”

Chen Heng snarled, leading his cavalry into chaotic combat with the Tartar horsemen.

Jin Guda, meanwhile, raised his sword and charged straight at Chen Heng.

The two generals’ blades clashed in fierce impact.

Just one strike.

Jin Guda realized Chen Heng’s strength surpassed his own—he immediately waved his hand: “Kill this Ming general, and our clan will win!”

“Kill him!”

“Promote him to Battalion Commander, grant him ten Han women!”

Hearing this,

“Kill!”

The surrounding Tartar soldiers, eyes blazing with fervor, immediately surrounded Chen Heng, completing the encirclement.

Chen Heng swung his blade with all his might; numerous Tartar soldiers thrust spears and slashed swords in unison.

Meanwhile, the surrounding Ming soldiers were locked in their own desperate battles, unable to spare a single moment.

“Damn it.”

“Where the hell is Liu Zhen?” Chen Heng cursed inwardly.

At that moment, a Tartar soldier thrust his spear at him.

Chen Heng’s face darkened—he twisted violently to dodge, lost his balance, and tumbled from his horse.

“Kill!”

The Tartar soldiers surged forward, slashing wildly.

“It’s over.” Chen Heng’s eyes glazed with deathly despair.

But just at this moment!

A Ming soldier, drenched in blood, charged forward, slashed once—killing one—and slashed again—killing another.

The Tartar soldiers surrounding Chen Heng were all slain in the blink of an eye.

“Huh?”

Chen Heng stared in astonishment at the figure before him, having narrowly escaped death.

But after the soldier had slain several Tartar troops, he glanced at Chen Heng, then turned his gaze straight toward Jin Guda, charging forward with his bloodied blade.

“Don’t go! You’re going to die!”

Seeing this, Chen Heng leapt to his feet and shouted.

But the next moment, something utterly unexpected happened before Chen Heng’s eyes.

Zhu Ying rushed forward with blazing speed, his battle sword swinging—each strike claiming a life—until several more enemy soldiers fell, and in the space of a blink, he stood before Jin Guda.

……

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(End of Chapter)