Chapter 146: Full Attribute Breakthrough! Chests Keep Appearing! The Battle Is Decided!

Another volley of arrows fell with a rustling hiss, descending with endless lethal intent.

The various street ambush points the Yuan army had meticulously prepared had now become hellscapes.

Waves of Yuan soldiers were mercilessly riddled with arrows, some collapsing into pools of blood, others contorting their bodies as they writhed on the ground.

A scene of utter horror.

In moments, vast numbers of Yuan soldiers lay dead in pools of blood; crimson streams rapidly spread across the ground, staining the cobblestone streets a deep, bloody red.

“General!”

A Yuan deputy commander, face pale with terror, rushed to Mahawu’s side, his voice trembling with panic: “The Ming army knew our ambush positions—this can’t be coincidence!”

Mahawu frowned, staring fixedly at the direction from which the Ming arrows had come.

Watching another volley of Ming arrows rain down, he understood clearly: the previous barrage had not been accidental.

But.

He was filled with confusion, yet could not fathom how the Ming army had pinpointed his ambush layout with such precision.

A traitor?

Impossible.

There had been no chance to send word out.

But the current situation left him no time for further thought.

“All troops, listen!” Mahawu violently drew his long saber, raised it high, and roared: “Stand and fight! Advance! Shield troops forward! Archers, return fire!”

At his command, the Yuan officers sprang into action.

“Children of the Great Yuan!” one Yuan commander screamed hoarsely: “Fight the Ming to the death! Kill!”

The Yuan soldiers hidden in ambush now surged forth, emerging from every concealed corner.

In an instant, the previously silent, lifeless streets—like a dead city—were flooded with charging Yuan troops; shouts and footsteps merged into a deafening roar.

“There are indeed Yuan ambushes ahead!”

Chen Heng widened his eyes, staring at the suddenly charging Yuan troops, his face stunned as he turned to Zhang Wu: “Our general accurately predicted the Yuan positions—truly astonishing!”

In their hearts, their general’s precision seemed almost divine.

“Archers, keep firing! Advance ten paces!”

Zhu Ying’s expression remained calm as he observed the battlefield, issuing orders methodically: “Shield troops, advance with the spearmen!”

At this moment, the tide of battle had reversed; the Yuan ambush had become their own trap.

Faced with Zhu Ying’s troops’ torrential arrow barrage, the Yuan had no choice but to emerge and fight.

Shiiii!

Shiiii!

Thousands of archers advanced steadily, firing in practiced, rotating volleys.

The sky was now obscured by a dense curtain of arrows, so thick even sunlight struggled to pierce through.

A relentless, indiscriminate storm of arrows rained down upon the Yuan; front-line troops fell in waves—some struck through the throat, dying instantly; others pierced through the chest, blood spurting out.

Yet!

Under Mahawu’s orders, the front-line Yuan troops reacted swiftly, raising shields to form a solid wall; countless arrows slammed into the shields with sharp clangs, sparks flying as they were deflected.

At that moment, within the Yuan shield formation.

“Kill the Ming barbarians!”

“Kill! Fire arrows!”

Dozens of Yuan officers, faces flushed, screamed hoarsely.

In an instant, Yuan archers unleashed a torrent of arrows, dense as locusts, screaming toward the Ming ranks.

Above, the two sides’ arrow volleys clashed in midair; with every moment, lives vanished in the deadly exchange.

Such was the brutality of war.

The instant the Yuan archers moved, Zhu Ying reacted.

He swiftly drew ten arrows from his quiver, nocked them onto his Precious Carved Bow, gripped the bow firmly with both hands, muscles taut, effortlessly drawing the string into a full moon.

“Boom!”

A deep, thunderous crack echoed as the bowstring vibrated violently.

Ten arrows shot forth like ten streaks of black lightning, tearing through the air with immense force, splitting it with piercing whistles.

In the blink of an eye.

“Boom!”

“Boom!”

The ten arrows slammed into the front-line Yuan shield formation.

The overwhelming impact triggered violent explosions, as if cannonballs had detonated amid the troops.

The dozens of Yuan soldiers directly ahead had no time to react—they were blasted backward by the arrows’ force, crashing to the ground, lifeless or unconscious.

“Archers, keep firing!”

“Brothers, follow me—charge!”

Zhu Ying roared, his voice like thunder, echoing across the battlefield.

He slung his Precious Carved Bow over his back, drew his Seven-Star Precious Saber, then surged forward like lightning, charging straight into the Yuan ranks.

“We follow the general! Kill!”

His personal guards shouted in unison, eyes blazing with fervor and loyalty, following without hesitation.

They charged with full force, like a razor-sharp blade stabbing deep into the Yuan formation.

“Follow the general! Kill!”

Chen Heng, Zhang Wu, and other officers were also filled with passion, roaring as they charged forward.

They swung their long sabers, leading their troops like a surging tide, rushing toward the Yuan.

Zhu Ying moved swiftly; each step carried him several meters forward.

His Seven-Star Precious Saber slashed wildly; blade-light flashed, cutting down entire volleys of incoming arrows with lethal precision.

In truth.

This was already Zhu Ying suppressing his true speed—he knew he must not appear too extraordinary on the battlefield, or he’d invite unwanted trouble.

In mere blinks, Zhu Ying had used his astonishing speed to reach the front of the Yuan shield line, now shattered by his own arrows.

“Kill!” Zhu Ying bellowed: “Furious Blade Technique!”

His saber erupted in brilliant light, blades dancing across the sky, blindingly fast.

As his figure flashed past, waves of Yuan soldiers were swallowed by torrents of blade-light; they had barely time to scream before falling, severed and bleeding, to the ground.

“Slain Northern Yuan soldier: +1 Strength, +10 days lifespan.”

“...”

The familiar system prompt echoed repeatedly in Zhu Ying’s mind.

Zhu Ying did not pause; he surged forward, alone, like a death-incarnate demon, charging deep into the Yuan ranks.

His saber rose and fell without cease, mercilessly reaping enemy lives.

His single presence was unstoppable!

Wherever Zhu Ying passed, the ground was littered with Yuan corpses—some mangled, others unrecognizable, the scene horrific beyond words.

In mere breaths, dozens of Yuan soldiers fell beneath his blade; the once-orderly Yuan formation was utterly shattered.

Yuan soldiers panicked, scattering in all directions, eyes wide with terror.

“Kill!”

“Kill every Tartar!”

Zhu Ying’s personal guards and the Danning infantry, led by their officers, surged with renewed morale, charging like a tidal wave into the disordered Yuan ranks.

Throughout the streets of Zhenxiacheng, the Danning border troops and the Yuan forces now clashed in a furious, bloody slaughter.

Shouts, clashing weapons, and agonized screams filled the air without end.

Yet.

The outcome of this battle had been decided from the start—the Ming army held absolute superiority.

This was not only because the Danning border troops were already formidable, but more importantly, Zhu Ying’s command had doubled their combat power, turning this army into a force of tigers with wings, their strength skyrocketing.

One could imagine how terrifying such an army was on the battlefield!

The entire city’s battle had entered its final decisive phase; victory’s scale was tilting steadily toward the Ming.

Zhu Ying, alone, seemed possessed by a war god, plunging deep into the heart of the Yuan ranks.

His personal guards, despite their utmost effort, could not keep pace with his storm-like killing rhythm.

At this moment, Zhu Ying was surrounded by an invisible crimson aura; endless Yuan soldiers surged toward him like waves, yet he showed no fear, his saber slashing wildly, each swing sending forth a storm of blood and gore.

His entire body was drenched in enemy blood; his armor soaked heavy and sticky, his face splattered crimson, blood dripping from him like rain, pooling beneath his feet into a deep red puddle—yet not a single drop was his own.

“Slain Northern Yuan soldier: +1 Spirit, +20 days lifespan.”

“Slain Northern Yuan Battalion Commander: +10 to all attributes, +50 days lifespan.”

“...”

The system prompts continued to echo in Zhu Ying’s mind.

Zhu Ying was lost in the frenzy of slaughter, killing with exhilaration, unable to stop.

Behind the Yuan lines, Mahawu’s face was as dark as water; his gaze locked on Zhu Ying, who was slaughtering wildly amid the chaos, and an involuntary wave of fear rose in his eyes.

He had watched, firsthand, one after another of his soldiers fall like fragile straw beneath Zhu Ying’s blade, seen his elite troops, painstakingly trained, shattered before Zhu Ying like lambs awaiting slaughter.

“Is he… even human?”

Mahawu muttered to himself, his voice filled with shock and terror.

“How could there be a man with such strength in this world?”

He had served the Northern Yuan for many years, enduring countless battles, even serving as a general in the Northern Yuan when the Great Ming was founded.

Over these years, he had killed no few Han generals, and endured many brutal wars—but he had never seen a Han general as fearless and supernaturally powerful as Zhu Ying.

Facing this terrifying Zhu Ying, Mahawu felt deep fear for the first time in his heart.

But Zhu Ying, at this moment, was utterly consumed by the frenzy of slaughter.

The Seven-Star Sacred Blade in his hand moved like a living venomous serpent, constantly flashing cold light; each swing brought screams from Northern Yuan soldiers and torrents of blood.

In his mind, there was only one thought: kill, kill furiously!

Not merely to fight for his country or national righteousness—but to fight for himself.

He knew well: every kill on the battlefield was a precious chance to grow stronger; only by continuously slaying enemies and acquiring attributes could he become more powerful, secure his place in this world, and win more possibilities for his future.

“Monster—he’s a monster!”

“He’s impervious to blades and spears—he can’t be killed!”

“He’s a monster, he’s a demon… run…!”

“Monster…”

Around Zhu Ying, many Northern Yuan soldiers had already been terrified out of their wits by his horrific killing aura.

Zhu Ying merely glanced at them—and the Northern soldiers instantly grew weak in the knees, faces pale, stumbling backward in terror, their eyes filled with despair.

Yet.

Zhu Ying showed no mercy; on this brutal battlefield, pity and kindness only invited death.

His blade flashed with cold light, mercilessly descending, continuing to reap the lives of these cowardly enemies.

Besides his battle-sword, Zhu Ying suddenly drew the Qinghong Sword with his left hand.

In an instant.

He wielded sword in one hand, blade in the other, both weapons dancing in unison, cutting through enemy lines with ease.

The Qinghong Sword was equally razor-sharp, gleaming with cold light, perfectly complementing the battle-sword.

Today,

Zhu Ying fought not merely for battlefield merit—but to elevate his attributes.

He could not afford to miss such a rare opportunity. Both weapons in his hands were ranked artifacts—in this era, absolute treasures.

On this battlefield, no shield or armor could withstand the ferocity of Zhu Ying’s divine weapons.

Even when a shield barely deflected an attack, the immense force behind Zhu Ying’s blows would shatter the shield-bearer’s body, killing him outright.

This was Zhu Ying—ruling the battlefield with overwhelming strength and profound internal qi, unstoppable by any man.

“Don’t break formation!”

“Battlefield enforcers—advance!”

“Anyone who retreats—beheaded on the spot!”

The Northern Yuan’s ten-thousand-commander shouted desperately, face flushed with panic.

He swung his long blade, desperately trying to hold together the shattered ranks shattered by Zhu Ying’s assault.

But his shout did nothing to steady morale—it only exposed his position.

Zhu Ying’s gaze flashed like lightning, locking instantly onto the shouting Northern general.

This scene mirrored the moment before he breached the city gates—almost as if time had repeated itself.

“Kill!” Zhu Ying uttered a single cold word, his voice echoing from the depths of hell, brimming with endless killing intent.

His sword and blade lashed out together, bursting with brilliant light; his entire body shot forward like a cannonball, charging straight at the Northern general.

In an instant,

Sword and blade flashed, limbs flew, and a crimson tide of carnage spread across the battlefield.

Zhu Ying advanced like a breaking dam, unstoppable—a torrent surging toward the Northern ten-thousand-commander.

“Advance! All of you—advance!”

Seeing Zhu Ying drawing near, the Northern general felt the overwhelming killing intent radiating from him—his face turned deathly pale.

In panic, he screamed orders.

But it was already too late.

The shield-bearers and personal guards before him, despite fighting desperately, fell like fragile paper—one after another—crushed beneath Zhu Ying’s furious assault.

The next instant, a blinding flash of sword-light struck like lightning.

“Crack!”

The Northern general had no time to react—his head flew high, severed from his body.

“Slain Northern Yuan ten-thousand-commander. Acquired +50 days to all attributes. Acquired +100 days of lifespan. Reward: Tier-1 Treasure Chest.”

“Congratulations, Host. All attributes exceed 6,000 points. Reward: Tier-1 Treasure Chest.”

As he slew the general, system prompts echoed in Zhu Ying’s mind.

At that very moment, a golden light flashed over Zhu Ying’s body.

Attribute breakthrough.

The sensation of comprehensive enhancement sent Zhu Ying reeling—as if reborn, his body brimming with boundless power.

It was like a major breakthrough in martial cultivation; the surge in all attributes brought him unprecedented euphoria.

The fatigue accumulated from half a day of slaughter vanished instantly, replaced by an indescribable sense of exhilaration.

“All attributes over 6,000—awesome!”

Zhu Ying’s heart surged with excitement; a grin spread across his face, impossible to suppress.

From the moment he stormed the city until now, this was the most joyous moment he had ever known.

Finally—he had broken through this critical attribute threshold. His strength had surged again, granting him greater leverage to survive and compete in this world.

“Keep killing!”

Zhu Ying silently roared in his mind, killing intent undiminished; gripping both sword and blade tightly, he continued slashing with full force.

At this moment, he stood alone, surrounded by the entire Northern Yuan army—yet he alone held them all at bay.

His figure swept across the battlefield like a ghost in an empty land, creating a one-sided massacre; Northern Yuan soldiers fell before him, unable to resist.

“One man has plunged into our ten-thousand-man army—and still we cannot stop him.”

Far away, Mahawu watched his ten-thousand-commander fall—his face darkened further.

Worse still, Zhu Ying had charged into his formation alone. Though Ming troops behind him were also raging forward, to achieve this with just one man—this was beyond ordinary capability, utterly unbelievable.

“General has fully penetrated the enemy ranks!”

Chen Heng cried out in desperation: “Brothers! Don’t let the General fight alone! Kill!”

Watching Zhu Ying fully immersed in the enemy lines,

Chen Heng, Liu Lei, and other officers were filled with dread.

Though they knew their General was invincible, unstoppable,

They were now blocked by Northern Yuan forces and could not reach him in time.

If the General perished, they would commit an unforgivable crime deserving death.

Thinking of this, the officers grew frantic, accelerating their charge.

They swung their weapons, roaring loudly, driving their troops into a mad, reckless assault.

With the furious slaughter of the Danning frontier troops, most of the outer city had been reclaimed by the Ming.

Now, the battlefield shifted gradually toward the junction between inner and outer city.

Behind them, Mu Sheng led his fifty-thousand Huizhouwei troops like a surging tide, flooding into the city.

The arrival of these fifty-thousand fresh troops was like a massive bomb—suddenly shifting the battlefield’s momentum dramatically.

“Soldiers of Huizhouwei!”

Mu Sheng scanned his troops and shouted: “Today is Huizhouwei’s first battle!”

“You all know the significance of this fight!”

“You were once surrendered troops—but by the Emperor’s boundless grace, you’ve been reorganized, paid, and given new life.”

“Today’s battle is your chance to prove to the Emperor and the imperial court whether you truly serve the Great Ming!”

“All soldiers of Huizhouwei—listen to my order: Kill!”

“Kill one enemy—and you earn the full rations and privileges of a true Ming soldier.”

“Follow me—kill!”

Mu Sheng’s voice was fierce, roaring with passion.

Each word struck like a hammer on the soldiers’ hearts.

“Kill!”

His five deputy commanders drew their swords, raised them high, and roared in unison.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

With this roaring cry, the fifty-thousand fresh troops surged forward, eyes blazing with frenzy, delivering the final, deadly blow against the Zhenxiacheng Northern Yuan forces.

This battle was vital for Huizhouwei—not only their first after reorganization, but a matter of their fate.

If they slacked off on the battlefield, they would face Zhu Yuanzhang’s iron-fisted punishment; if they excelled, if they shone, then the three reorganized divisions of Liaodong would remain under Great Ming command—and they would secure a stable future.

With the arrival of Huizhouwei…

This battle, without doubt, was already decided.

The Da Ning frontier troops charged ahead like a sharp spearhead, while the Huizhouwei followed closely as a solid rear shield.

Every soldier surged forward with frenzied morale, slashing at the Yuan troops.

On the battlefield, cries of battle shook the heavens; smoke filled the air, flames roared skyward, painting a horrific scene.

“Kill a Northern Yuan soldier, gain 1 point of strength, gain 15 days of lifespan.”

“Kill a Northern Yuan soldier…”

The system prompts came without end.

Zhu Ying slaughtered without pause.

He did not know how long he had been killing.

Finally, a prompt filled Zhu Ying with even greater excitement: “Congratulations, Host, you have surpassed 8,000 enemy kills. Reward: a Tier One Treasure Chest.”

This meant that nearly two thousand Yuan soldiers had died at Zhu Ying’s hands today.

Yet the smoke of battle still churned violently; the situation was far from settled.

He could still keep killing!

In the distance.

Ma Hawu’s eyes were bloodshot, fixed unblinkingly on the battlefield.

He saw Zhu Ying cutting through the enemy ranks, drawing ever closer, while Ming troops surged forward like an unstoppable tide.

Even as the supervising officers brandished blades and shouted threats of martial law, the Yuan lines collapsed into chaos, their retreat like a breached dam—utterly uncontrollable.

“Sigh.”

“Zhentxiacheng cannot be held.”

Ma Hawu let out a long sigh, heavy with helplessness and resentment, standing out bitterly amid the battlefield’s din.

He knew clearly: this battle was lost.

He had barely managed to regroup nearly thirty thousand soldiers, reorganize them, hoping to hold Zhentxiacheng for several days to buy time for the rear cities—but now, he could not even hold it for one.

“Men of the Great Yuan!”

Ma Hawu drew his saber, face resolute: “Today’s battle—for the Great Yuan, for His Majesty!”

“Death is no regret—kill!”

Ma Hawu roared with the spirit of burning bridges.

With that,

he charged straight into the battlefield, his target: Zhu Ying, who was slaughtering wildly in the enemy ranks.

Zhu Ying heard the roar, a flash of cold light darted across his eyes, locking onto Ma Hawu.

“Good.”

“The Yuan commander of this city.”

Zhu Ying thought to himself.

Without hesitation, he gripped his sword and saber tightly, feet never pausing, charging straight toward Ma Hawu.

Wherever he passed, any Yuan soldier who blocked his path fell with a single slash of blade or sword—clean, swift, decisive.

His figure darted through the chaos like a god of death, slaughtering wildly, reaping mercilessly.

Soon,

Zhu Ying broke through layer upon layer of resistance and reached the vicinity of Ma Hawu.

“Protect the General!”

“Kill this Ming general!”

Dozens of Ma Hawu’s personal guards, seeing this, turned red-eyed, roaring as they charged at Zhu Ying first.

As personal guards, they were death-sentenced warriors, attempting to surround and kill Zhu Ying to protect their commander.

But before Zhu Ying, their resistance was like a mantis trying to stop a cart.

Zhu Ying’s steps were steady, advancing step by step toward Ma Hawu, slaughtering all in his path.

With every step, his sword and saber carved sharp, lethal arcs—cold light flashed, spraying waves of blood mist.

The charging guards were cut down one by one in an instant, utterly unable to halt Zhu Ying.

The next moment,

Zhu Ying stood face to face with Ma Hawu.

Ma Hawu gripped his saber’s hilt tightly, eyes locked on Zhu Ying, filled with complex emotion—anger, resentment, and above all, awe for his opponent.

“Ming warlord—Zhu Ying?”

Ma Hawu spoke, voice low and hoarse, laced with resentment and unyielding defiance.

“Correct.”

Zhu Ying’s expression did not change; he replied in a deep, steady tone, quiet yet clear enough for Ma Hawu to hear, radiating invincible confidence.

“Good!”

Ma Hawu stared at Zhu Ying, drew a deep breath, his chest heaving, then roared: “I am Ma Hawu, Commander of Zhentxiacheng, defending the Great Yuan!”

“Today, I shall fight you to the death!”

No sooner had the words left his lips,

than Ma Hawu’s eyes erupted with lethal intent—his gaze as tangible as blades, as if seeking to carve Zhu Ying into a thousand pieces.

With that,

he stomped the ground, charging like a mad beast, swinging his saber in a straight, screaming arc toward Zhu Ying’s skull, aiming to kill him with a single blow.

…

(End of Chapter)