Chapter 129: Blood Waters Shule, and the Stubborn Grass Grows Thick

Thud! Zhang Zhao raised an iron mace and smashed the howling Divine Warrior in front of him into a bloody pulp with a single blow.

With the next swing, he struck an Askar running past him screaming. Under the tremendous impact, the Askar's skull caved in directly from Zhang Zhao's blow.

His hengdao saber had long since gone missing; this iron mace was already the fourth weapon he had used. Beside him were no longer Dunzhu and Man Xiong, but a Khotan palace guard he did not know and the handsome Captain Liu Zaisheng.

"Ah!" A scream came from Zhang Zhao's left — it was Wang Tongxin! Zhang Zhao's face went numb.

He whipped his head toward the source of the scream. Wang Tongxin was being pinned to the ground by three or four men, and a fat Divine Warrior was hacking at him with a great axe. Fortunately, Wang Tongxin's skirt armor was of excellent quality; otherwise his thigh would certainly have been cut off.

The moment he saw Wang Tongxin in danger, Zhang Zhao, who had been nearly exhausted, suddenly found his whole body filled with strength. With a howl, he lunged forward and sent the fat Divine Warrior, who was about to strike a second blow, flying.

But this Divine Warrior reacted quickly too. As Zhang Zhao landed on top of him, he grabbed the mace in Zhang Zhao's hand.

Although the great axe in his hand had also been knocked away, he quickly pulled a short knife from his waist and stabbed violently at Zhang Zhao.

The first thrust did not pierce through; the second was caught by Zhang Zhao at the wrist. Each held one of the other's hands, and the two wrestled desperately on the ground.

The sounds of fighting came from behind. Liu Zaisheng and the Khotan palace guard were also surrounded by four or five Divine Warriors, and one of them was searching the ground for something — probably looking for a blunt weapon to batter Zhang Zhao, who was wearing heavy armor.

The fat Divine Warrior on the ground was enormously strong. In a pure contest of strength like this, Zhang Zhao could not gain much advantage.

The situation was critical! Zhang Zhao suddenly steeled his heart. He abruptly released the fat Divine Warrior's wrist and quickly reached for his waist, where he still had a zhangdao short sword he had not lost.

Squelch! The fat Divine Warrior's short knife stabbed into Zhang Zhao's waist, and a sharp pain shot through him. But Zhang Zhao's decision had been correct — though it hurt, the other man's short knife indeed could not pierce his armor.

"Die!"

As the fat Divine Warrior stabbed at Zhang Zhao's waist, Zhang Zhao's zhangdao stabbed into his face — more precisely, straight into his eye socket.

"Aiya! Ah! Ya!" The fat Divine Warrior let out a scream that made one's skin crawl. As his legs kicked wildly on the ground, the short knife in his hand still jabbed randomly at Zhang Zhao, but there was no strength left in it.

Squelch! Zhang Zhao yanked the zhangdao out again and drove it down into the fat Divine Warrior's other eye.

But because the man kept struggling, Zhang Zhao missed his mark and, by a twist of fate, stabbed into his mouth instead.

That works too! Beneath his diamond mask, a cruel, savage grin spread across Zhang Zhao's face. He gripped the zhangdao's hilt with both hands and twisted it violently.

That did it! The fat Divine Warrior could no longer make a sound. The tongue, throat, gums, and even teeth in his mouth were all churned into a mass of shredded flesh.

Extreme clamor and towering flames came from the distance. South of Shule city, especially the eastern part of the city where the followers of the Heavenly Creed were concentrated, a great fire had suddenly broken out.

Along with it came the sound of the ox-horn trumpets the Khotan army habitually used. It seemed the stones blocking the eastern part of the city had been moved away — the Khotan army had entered the city.

"General Abudu has been killed! General Abudu is dead!"

The moon emerged from the dark clouds, but its light was already faint, for a great deal of dawn glow had appeared at the far edge of the sky. Daybreak was near.

The one crying out in terror was the Askar soldier who had just been searching for a blunt weapon to strike Zhang Zhao. Amid his panicked howls, Zhang Zhao finally found a moment to look carefully at the man beneath him.

Beneath him was no fat Divine Warrior at all — this was a military officer in magnificent armor: Abudu, the Myriarch Beg of the Shule Askar garrison.

After two terrified howls, this Askar soldier clanged as he dropped the onion-shaped iron hammer he had just found, and in the blink of an eye he had fled without a trace.

Spurred by this man, the Askars and Divine Warriors, who had been fighting the Hanshan Unit and the Khotan palace guards for nearly a full watch, began collapsing backward like an avalanche — though they had not yet completely routed.

Zhang Zhao let out a breath, stood up, and looked back. They had already charged to the junction of the western and northern parts of Shule city.

Right at his feet, Wang Tongxin's face was covered in blood. Apart from his eyeballs still moving, he no longer looked like a living person.

Three armored soldiers of the Hanshan Unit were crowded together, leaning against one another — they had died in battle. Around their corpses lay a ring of Askars and Divine Warriors who had died in every manner imaginable.

Farther away, Zhang Zhao could see at least four or five more armored soldiers in Hanshan Unit Tang-style infantry armor lying on the ground. As for the Khotan palace guards, even more had fallen.

Judging from the number of Askars and Divine Warriors retreating toward the north of the city, plus the corpses lying all around, Yidihade must have brought more than four thousand men to the west of the city. In this life-or-death moment, they had displayed a fighting strength far beyond what they had shown when fighting outside the city.

Zhang Zhao's heart ached so much he could barely breathe. He did not know how many armored soldiers he had lost. These were all his sparks, his brothers in life and death. Very likely even an expert like Wang Tongxin would be lost.

Yidihade! There was absolutely no way he could let this bastard escape!

"Fuck your mother!" Zhang Zhao roared in agony. He picked up Abudu's great axe from the ground and, howling, charged toward the slowly retreating Askar army.

Yidihade was still wearing his precious armor, retreating at full speed in the very center of the formation.

At that moment the sun was just rising, and Zhang Zhao's suit of golden armor, struck by the morning light, reflected a blood-tinged red gleam.

Seeing him charge alone at the hundreds of retreating Askar soldiers, a surge of heroic passion suddenly burst forth in Liu Zaisheng's heart. He too howled and followed behind Zhang Zhao, charging at the Askars.

The roar spread across the battlefield. The disorganized Askars fled in panic to both sides, while those still organized continued protecting Yidihade as they withdrew toward the north of the city.

This roar was like a signal. Man Xiong, who was exchanging blows with two Divine Warriors, let out a thunderous shout, cut down the Divine Warrior in front of him with one stroke, and then ran toward Zhang Zhao.

The remaining Divine Warrior froze for a moment, then clanged as he threw down his weapon, turned, and fled in another direction.

More and more Hanshan Unit armored soldiers pulled themselves free from every corner of the chaotic melee, and everyone converged toward the same direction.

With one axe blow, Zhang Zhao directly sheared off the shoulder of a charging Divine Warrior. Carrying the momentum, he then hacked forward violently, sending an Askar holding a shield flying, man and shield together.

A man who looked like an officer howled and charged over with several men. Zhang Zhao glanced at him coldly. At the very instant the junior officer thrust out his spear, Zhang Zhao simply stepped forward to meet it.

Clang! The officer's spear struck the plate armor on Zhang Zhao's chest and, unsurprisingly, failed to pierce it.

Thunk! The great axe in Zhang Zhao's hand chopped into the officer's chest. The axe, weighing over a dozen jin, struck him with tremendous destructive force.

The sleeveless mail shirt, fastened at the chest in the style of a qiapan coat, was utterly incapable of stopping the axe's chop. Mail rings and all were driven by Zhang Zhao deep into the officer's caved-in chest.

The moment they saw the officer's gruesome fate, the soldiers who had followed him instantly scattered in all directions.

Zhang Zhao did not stop. He kept pressing forward. He had to kill Yidihade with his own hands. He had to win for his fallen sons the glory they deserved!

That was to slay in battle the third-ranking man of the Karakhanid state, the close friend and trusted confidant of Saltu Bulaq Khan, the Governor of Shule, the Great Yilike (senior court minister), Yidihade Nasr bin Mansur!

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