Chapter 193: Zhu Ying, Sealed at Langjuxu, Supreme Glory! [1]

“Brothers!” Zhu Ying’s voice exploded like thunder over the battlefield.

“Today is the day to win glory!”

“After this battle, the northern frontier of our Great Ming shall know peace for years!”

“After this battle, the Northern Yuan will cease to exist—the northern threat will be ended!”

“For Huaxia, for the Great Ming—follow me and kill!”

Zhu Ying roared with boundless valor.

His tiger-head greatsword whirled with ferocious force; each swing sent a shower of blood and gore, cutting down enemy soldiers like grass.

As always!

On this brutal battlefield, Zhu Ying was an invincible war god.

Around him radiated a chilling aura, unstoppable and overwhelming.

Even Xiang Yu, the mighty Western Chu Overlord famed for his unmatched martial prowess and strength to lift cauldrons, could not match Zhu Ying’s terrifying combat power.

Zhu Ying now stood this powerful, this terrifying.

At this moment, Zhu Ying had fully become a killing god.

Lost in mad slaughter, his blade’s glow was razor-sharp, slashing wildly through the air.

Each flash of blade light brought a blinding spray of blood, deepening the battlefield’s horror.

“Slain Northern Yuan soldier—gained 1 point of internal qi…”

“Slain Northern Yuan soldier—gained 1 point of strength…”

System prompts echoed incessantly in Zhu Ying’s mind.

Various attributes surged onto him continuously through each kill, along with added lifespan.

Zhu Ying’s goal was clear—his eyes locked on the direction of the Yuan commander’s battle standard, and he charged forward without hesitation.

Though surrounded by chaos, with screams and flashing blades all around him,

high above, the golden eagle watched with invisible eyes, guiding Zhu Ying precisely to the Yuan commander’s position.

This was Zhu Ying’s unique advantage—one of the keys to his invincibility on the battlefield.

At this moment!

Hearing Zhu Ying’s inspiring roar,

Every Ming soldier and officer burned with passion, their morale soaring to its peak.

“We follow the General to the death!”

“Kill—slaughter every last Tartar!”

“Kill them all!”

“Kill…!”

Countless Ming soldiers roared in unison, their thunderous cry rising to the heavens.

Supported by their own formidable strength and soaring morale, amplified further by Zhu Ying’s command bonus of double power, their combined might was undeniable—visible across the entire battlefield.

Five lines of cavalry, like roaring beasts, charged wildly through the battlefield.

Wherever they went, the already crumbling Yuan formations shattered into fragments of fleeing troops.

In an instant!

On the grasslands, corpses piled like mountains. Crimson blood gushed, staining the vast land a horrifying red.

From the Yuan camp, screams rose and fell without end.

The scent of slaughter filled every inch of air. Faced with this sudden, ferocious Ming cavalry assault, the Yuan army—once numerically superior—had no defense, shattered and scattered completely.

“General!”

A Yuan officer stumbled to Ma Erker, face pale with terror, voice trembling: “The Ming cavalry are brutal—we cannot hold! Our infantry are useless against such a charge!”

At these words,

Ma Erker’s face darkened with fury and disbelief.

He raged: his steppe warriors had always ruled the world through cavalry.

In the past, their overwhelming mounted strength had conquered Central Plains lands, built the vast Yuan Dynasty, and crushed the Han for over a century.

Now, fortune had turned—yet they were being crushed and slaughtered by the very Han they once deemed weak and easy to dominate.

How could he swallow this humiliation?

As for confusion—he simply could not fathom why Zhu Ying had abandoned attacking the Yuan court and instead targeted his formation.

This bizarre move completely shattered his expectations, plunging him into deep confusion and panic.

“Retreat!”

Ma Erker wrestled within himself for a moment.

Seeing the unstoppable Ming cavalry before him and his own troops collapsing into chaos, he gritted his teeth and shouted the order:

“Retreat north! Send fast riders to warn the cavalry stationed to the north—to meet them!”

“General’s order: retreat! Retreat!”

Surrounding Yuan officers screamed the command at the top of their lungs.

Yet!

Before the army could begin orderly withdrawal, Ma Erker himself turned his horse and fled northward, panicked and disheveled.

“Protect the General!”

His personal guards rushed after him immediately.

In this life-or-death moment, Ma Erker cared for nothing but survival.

With his retreat order given, the Yuan army—already reeling from the Ming cavalry’s assault—plunged into utter chaos.

Like ants on a hot pan, they scattered in every direction.

“Retreat! The General ordered retreat!”

“Run! These Ming soldiers are madmen!”

“Escape! We can’t stop them—if we don’t run, we’ll die…”

The retreat order triggered a chain reaction, shattering morale further.

Yuan soldiers panicked, abandoning weapons, scrambling northward in a desperate rush.

The army’s discipline collapsed completely.

Seeing this, Zhu Ying smirked.

“Trying to flee north to link up with the other Yuan forces?”

“One fleeing soldier can drag ten, ten can drag a hundred.”

“Your nearly hundred thousand fleeing troops will scatter any army they encounter, rendering them utterly useless.”

“This Yuan commander is truly a worthless fool.”

“But it suits me perfectly.”

Zhu Ying secretly rejoiced at the Yuan army’s collapse.

Originally, to crush these Yuan troops completely—even with Ming valor—would have taken time,

and while fighting, the Yuan still had two other armies on their flanks.

If the two sides became fully entangled, the Ming risked being surrounded.

But now? This Yuan commander was so stupid he ordered a retreat outright.

He was digging his own grave, destroying his own army with his own hands.

Worse, this collapse might drag down the northern Yuan forces too.

If so, why wouldn’t Zhu Ying seize this perfect opportunity?

“Brothers!”

Zhu Ying raised his battle blade and roared again, deafening: “Hold them! Don’t charge too hard—kill!”

“We obey the General’s order!”

Chen Heng and Zhang Wu, from the rear, answered in unison.

Having followed Zhu Ying so long, they understood every command he gave on the battlefield.

This order, for instance—they knew Zhu Ying wanted them to slow their charge, to cling tightly to the fleeing Yuan troops.

To inflict maximum slaughter while minimizing their own casualties.

With this order given, the Ming cavalry continued their assault.

But compared to their earlier storm-like charge, their speed had noticeably slowed. Like ghosts, they clung to the Yuan rear, weaving through the chaotic ranks, slashing mercilessly.

In this pursuit, Ming soldiers suffered almost no casualties.

The Yuan troops were now consumed by terror—every man thought only of escape, with no will to fight back.

Seconds ticked by.

Countless Yuan soldiers died with every instant.

A time of hell.

On the grasslands east of the Northern Yuan court, the brutality of war grew ever more horrifying. As far as the eye could see, corpses littered the ground, rivers of blood flowed.

The earth seemed covered by a thick crimson carpet.

Yet!

The sounds of slaughter showed no sign of ending.

The Yuan fled ahead like birds startled by arrows, while tens of thousands of Ming troops pursued relentlessly, never letting go.

The two great armies seemed fused together, where they passed, the earth trembled, and cries of agony and screams intertwined, echoing to the heavens.

In this chaotic and tense situation, countless Yuan generals had already lost their composure.

Unaware of the grave danger brought by the fleeing troops, they continued to blindly flee northward in frenzy.

Meanwhile!

The Yuan forces stationed to the north were no more than a few li from the royal court.

The swift riders dispatched by Ma’erke’er arrived without pause.

“Hurry!”

As soon as the riders reached the front line, they screamed at the top of their lungs.

“Grand General’s order: cavalry, prepare for battle!”

“The Ming army has bypassed the royal court and is charging toward our eastern defensive lines—prepare at once!”

At the front line stood the Yuan’s thirty thousand cavalry.

“What?”

“The Ming army bypassed the royal court and headed straight for our eastern lines? How is this possible?”

Upon hearing this shocking news, the Yuan generals stationed to the north stared in stunned disbelief, their faces etched with utter incredulity.

But there was no time for them to ponder.

At that moment, a deep, earth-shaking rumble surged rapidly from the south.

Like rolling thunder, drawing nearer.

The sound grew louder, as if countless thousands of cavalry were charging toward them.

When the Yuan generals instinctively looked ahead, their faces turned deathly pale.

There, Ma’erke’er’s battle standard flapped in the wind.

Beneath it, over a thousand personal guards clustered around Ma’erke’er and other Yuan generals, fleeing in disarray.

Behind them surged an endless tide of fleeing Yuan troops, dense as a flood.

The entire earth trembled violently under the weight of this massive current, as if trembling at the horror of this collapse.

“This… what do we do?”

The lead Yuan cavalry commander, staring at this despairing scene, lost all sense of order.

For as far as the eye could see, the entire land was obscured by the surging tide of fleeing Yuan soldiers.

They knew clearly: if they charged forward now, they would be like moths flying into fire—colliding directly with their own fleeing troops and plunging into irrecoverable ruin.

“Charge at once! Order your men to attack!”

But Ma’erke’er, at this moment, seemed to have lost all reason.

He screamed hysterically at the cavalry ahead, as if he saw nothing behind him—the nightmare tide of fleeing troops.

“Your Highness, what shall we do?”

With no other choice, the Yuan cavalry commanders turned their desperate gazes toward Prince Dai, Dali Ma.

After all, he was the supreme commander of the northern front; in this crisis, they could only hope he would devise a solution.

“This… this…”

But Prince Dai, Dali Ma, gazing at the scene ahead—completely obscured by fleeing troops—felt his scalp tighten, his heart in turmoil.

Yet the situation was dire; he had no time for further thought.

“Clear the way! Open a passage!” Dali Ma gritted his teeth and roared.

“Let the fleeing troops retreat first—only then can we stand and fight!”

“Prince Dai’s order: split left and right, open a passage!”

The Yuan commanders immediately shouted the order down the ranks.

But as the northern Yuan troops began to obey, splitting left and right to carve a path, they realized it was already too late.

The next instant!

The flood of fleeing troops, like wild horses broken free, crashed straight toward them.

“Get out of the way! Move aside!”

Seeing the northern Yuan troops still trying to form ranks and block their path, the terrified fleeing soldiers screamed themselves hoarse, utterly irrational.

Though some passages had begun to open, and some fleeing troops managed to surge through,

as more and more Yuan troops poured in from behind, the situation collapsed instantly, spiraling beyond control.

Nearly one hundred thousand fleeing Yuan troops surged like a breached dam, merging violently with the northern garrison forces.

The once relatively orderly northern Yuan lines were instantly shattered, thrown into utter chaos.

And at the rear!

Zhu Ying led the Ming troops like wolves chasing sheep, relentlessly pursuing the Yuan forces.

“Frontline troops, charge and slaughter! Rear troops, prepare bows—fire!”

Zhu Ying swung his battle blade, engaging in fierce combat—or rather, massacre—with the charging Yuan soldiers, while bellowing commands to lead the entire army.

His voice thundered across the battlefield.

“By your command!”

“Archers, ready!”

“Kill, kill, kill…”

Officers and soldiers alike responded in unison, their voices loud, disciplined, brimming with determination and bloodlust.

At this moment!

For every Ming soldier under Zhu Ying’s command, a profound sense of exhilaration filled their hearts.

Since the battle began, they had smashed through enemy lines like a storm, crushing the Yuan forces.

Then, like autumn wind sweeping fallen leaves, they had pursued them nearly ten li, slaughtering countless foes.

With only fifty thousand men, they had driven a hundred thousand Yuan troops into panicked flight like beaten dogs.

What a magnificent, heroic spectacle!

They knew well: when news of this victory reached the Great Ming, it would shake the entire world.

The slaughter continued without end!

At this moment, every Ming soldier held but one conviction: pay any price to slay the enemy before them.

They were like ignited gunpowder barrels, unleashing unprecedented combat power, slaughtering wildly across the battlefield.

Frontline troops surged forward, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat.

Their weapons flashed with cold light; each swing sent sprays of blood flying. Rear troops swiftly nocked arrows and loosed volleys like rain upon the Yuan ranks.

The Yuan troops, now tightly packed and in utter chaos,

became perfect targets for the Ming arrows, which struck them with deadly accuracy.

Countless arrows fell like a dense downpour, instantly drenching the Yuan ranks in blood and carnage.

“Ah… ah…”

“Run, run!”

“Ah…”

As the arrow rain struck, countless Yuan soldiers, crushed together, had no time to dodge—they were pierced through and collapsed into pools of blood.

The scene was horrific, grotesquely bloody, like a living hell.

“Foolish Ma’erke’er!”

Dali Ma, watching the chaos before him—his own lines shattered—could only curse in fury and helplessness: “He brought the fleeing troops with him! Our Great Yuan is utterly defeated!”

Originally,

the situation had not been so dire.

Had Ma’erke’er held his ground against the Ming advance, Dali Ma’s northern army could have swiftly reinforced him—and possibly encircled and annihilated the Ming forces.

But now, all was ruined by Ma’erke’er’s cowardice and flight.

Their defeat had become inevitable.

For this,

Dali Ma could only curse in rage—there was nothing else he could do.

The situation had reached utter despair; his only option was to order a retreat.

After all, the fleeing troops were already smashing into the battle lines; his own forces were dissolving into chaos, with fleeing infantry and frontline cavalry hopelessly entangled, inseparable.

Under these conditions, to refuse retreat meant only to wait for death.

“Retreat!”

“Fall back!”

Dali Ma gritted his teeth, filled with bitter rage, yet had no choice but to roar the order.

Without hesitation, he wheeled his horse around and, under the protection of his central guard, fled desperately backward.

As his retreat order rang out, the hundred thousand northern Yuan troops—including their cavalry—scattered like birds startled by arrows, fleeing in disarray.

At this moment!

Only the rearmost formations, slightly distant from the fleeing tide, still retained some semblance of order; the front-line troops had already been utterly shattered by the flood.

Upon hearing the retreat order, they abandoned all restraint, fleeing northward as if their parents had given them only two legs instead of four.

One hundred thousand troops, without ever engaging the Ming army in direct combat, had already collapsed—destroyed not by the enemy, but by their own fleeing comrades.

Zhu Ying, of course, sneered without end.

"Brothers, kill! Kill every Yuan soldier!"

Zhu Ying let out another earth-shaking roar, his battle blade slashing faster than ever, like a storm of rain and wind, furiously cutting down the enemy before him.

Before his eyes now lay a dense mass of enemy troops—an unparalleled opportunity, beyond any he had ever known.

He had already set his ambition: he would break through all his attributes to seven thousand or higher in this very battle.

Thus, amidst the chaos of battle, he unleashed his full power, erupting with a strength never seen before.

The blade in his hand moved so swiftly it blurred the eye; to ordinary observers, it seemed but a single slash—yet in that instant, he had already struck over a dozen times.

Wu Feng screamed as if sensing its master’s battle fury and resolve, charging forward wildly.

Zhu Ying became a reaper from hell, and wherever he passed, wave after wave of Yuan soldiers fell beneath his blade.

Wu Feng trampled over piles of corpses, relentless and tireless, charging forward as if determined to crush every enemy before him into dust.

"Follow the General! Kill!"

Liu Lei roared loudly, leading seven hundred personal guards in close pursuit of Zhu Ying, charging forward with fierce determination.

Though they fought with all their might, wielding strength beyond ordinary men, they still fell far short of their general, who seemed like a god of war.

Under these conditions, they could only give everything they had, striving to keep pace with Zhu Ying, hoping to ease some of the burden he bore in this brutal battle.

"The Yuan commander!"

Zhu Ying’s eyes glinted with cold killing intent and burning ambition.

"Kill him, and today’s victory is ours."

"And beyond, Mount Langjuxu—that is the greatest symbol of glory for a Han Chinese general."

"Today, I shall set foot upon it!"

Through Zhu Ying’s piercing gaze, the fleeing Yuan general’s figure stood clear; behind the Yuan ranks, Mount Langjuxu lay as his ultimate target.

At this moment,

Zhu Ying had gone completely mad.

"Kill!"

A thunderous bellow.

He charged forward, wild and unrestrained.

Alone on horseback, he plunged deep into the chaotic Yuan ranks.

The fleeing Yuan troops scattered like startled ants, jammed together, unable to move an inch.

Zhu Ying swung his tiger-headed greatsword, unleashing endless blades of light; each strike sent showers of blood into the air, slicing flesh, endless slaughter, endless massacre.

Time slowly passed.

The cries of battle around him blurred into a distant roar—only the drumbeat of his own heartbeat rang clear in his ears.

He did not know how long he had been slashing and killing.

His armor was soaked through with blood; he had become a man drenched in crimson.

Finally,

In Zhu Ying’s line of sight, the Yuan commander’s banner flickered amid the panicked rout—now less than a hundred paces away.

"Kill!!"

Zhu Ying roared, utterly unconcerned that he stood completely surrounded by enemies.

He spurred his horse; Wu Feng reared up with a shriek, its front hooves crushing a Yuan soldier’s corpse beneath them, charging straight for the enemy banner.

Zhu Ying’s cold, sharp gaze locked onto Ma Erker, trapped ahead beneath the banner.

As if sensing Zhu Ying’s stare,

Ma Erker whirled around. In that instant their eyes met, the air froze.

He faced the man whose eyes, stained with killing intent, burned blood-red.

In that moment,

Ma Erker shuddered, as if plunged into an ice cave—his heart seized with dread, a chill racing up his spine to the nape of his neck, making him shiver uncontrollably.

"Zhu Ying... the Ming general Zhu Ying..."

Ma Erker’s voice trembled, thick with unspeakable despair.

"Run!"

"Run, now!"

"Run—"

Ma Erker screamed at the top of his lungs, voice filled with terror and hopelessness; he whipped his horse wildly, but all around him were packed, panicked troops—the horse could not budge an inch.

Seeing the crush of fleeing soldiers before him, Ma Erker, though mounted, could not move.

He screamed in panic, glancing back again and again.

He could only watch helplessly as Zhu Ying slashed and slaughtered his men with wild fury.

The once-fierce Yuan warriors fell before Zhu Ying’s blade like straw—utterly unable to stop him.

He could only watch as Zhu Ying drew nearer.

He knew.

This warrior before him was the man who had killed his father—the very man he had longed to tear apart limb from limb.

But now,

(End of Chapter)