Chapter 19: Chapter Nineteen: A Hero's Tiger Courage

If facing an ordinary assassin, these two warriors' choice would undoubtedly have been correct.

But against Zhang Zhao, that was not necessarily so, because they did not yet know how terrifying the later-era industrial products on Zhang Zhao's body could be.

Taking advantage of the moment when the warrior in front of him was shouting, Zhang Zhao quickly bent down and kicked the sedan chair over with one foot, then with a light flick of his toes, the miniature cavalry lance forged from tool steel was in his hand.

At that moment, the warrior opposite Zhang Zhao immediately realized his mistake. He had never imagined that there was a lance hidden under the sedan chair. An inch longer, an inch stronger — a Tibetan saber against a lance put him at a complete disadvantage, not to mention that the other man was also armored.

'Swish!' In his desperation, the warrior thrust his long saber straight at Zhang Zhao's chest.

Zhang Zhao gave a savage grin and made no move to block the thrusting Tibetan saber, much less dodge it.

'Clang!' With a crisp ring, the tip of the warrior's blade was sent flying. What a joke — this was damn titanium-alloy steel plate!

"Fine armor!" That was the last thought that flashed through the mind of the warrior holding the Tibetan saber. He had stabbed Zhang Zhao once, and Zhang Zhao stabbed him once in return. The spearhead forged from tool steel pierced straight through his oxhide armor inlaid with iron plates.

Dark red blood gushed from the warrior's chest. The searing pain and the terror of death made him forget the fight. The warrior threw away his Tibetan saber and clutched his chest, rolling wildly on the ground.

"Ha-ya!" The first to answer the fallen warrior's summons was the short, stout Uyghur who had just made Sha Gou'er and the others carry Zhang Zhao over.

He had assumed the beauty being carried over was simply being unruly, so he had not brought any weapon at all. He walked over with a leg of mutton in his hand, and immediately let out a startled shriek.

'Whoosh! Whoosh!' Zhang Zhao flicked the spearhead. The short, stout warrior had just been about to turn and flee, but before he could move, Zhang Zhao's spearhead was upon him. The point entered through his throat, pierced out through the back of his neck, and then Zhang Zhao yanked it back with a violent pull.

The short, stout Uyghur dropped the leg of mutton with a splat. Both hands desperately clutched his throat as he made gurgling sounds, but before long, bloody bubbles began to foam from his mouth and nose. Clearly his windpipe had been pierced through.

The second man to arrive was still holding a short saber, but he likewise had not expected a scene like this. Zhang Zhao let out a great shout, closed the distance in two or three strides, and thrust out the cavalry lance in his hand like a venomous dragon, easily skewering him.

In just over a minute, Zhang Zhao had killed three men in succession. Behind him, Zhang Zhong and Qi Xiahu's morale surged at once.

The two drew their hengdao sabers, while Sha Gou'er and Yin Yaozi took up short spears and iron hammers. The four formed a small formation protecting Zhang Zhao's rear. They only needed to hold off the Uyghurs coming from outside for a while; the warriors inside were all left to Zhang Zhao to deal with.

Zhang Zhao slung the hengdao saber across his back. He did not rush forward, because Ge Duo had not gone far — under that warrior's cover, he had fled into an enormous tent.

After three men were killed in succession, the Uyghur camp rang with the low wail of ox horns. It was the warrior escorting Ge Duo's escape who had blown them.

A chaotic clamor arose. Around the great bonfire, people scattered like startled beasts. Some young Uyghur women who had been drinking and eating meat by the fire screamed and fled in all directions, while some drunken men looked around, trying to find the source of the commotion.

Of course, more people sobered up at once. Within a minute or two, figures began gathering continuously in front of the tent where Ge Duo was hiding.

With the hengdao saber secured on his back, Zhang Zhao let out a great shout and thrust the leveled cavalry lance forward with force. A Uyghur holding a short spear who had come to muster before Ge Duo's tent cried out in alarm and toppled to the ground before he could even see the enemy clearly.

"By order of the Tarkan! Whoever kills the man in golden armor shall be rewarded with one bolt of fine silk, two sheep, ten jin of salt, and a young maiden!"

The warrior who had shielded Ge Duo's escape poked his head out of the tent and shouted. Only then did the crowd see clearly: directly opposite them, a warrior clad in golden armor, holding a short lance, was striding toward them like a god descended from heaven.

"I'll kill you!" The first to react was a Uyghur warrior holding a long spear. Seeing that the spear in his hand was longer than Zhang Zhao's, he shouted and charged straight in, the spearhead aimed directly at Zhang Zhao's chest.

He made the same mistake as the first warrior, because he underestimated the defensive power of the armor on Zhang Zhao's body. The wrought-iron spearhead struck Zhang Zhao's chest. Zhang Zhao swayed slightly, but the spearman opposite let out a shriek of pain.

Because he had charged too recklessly, his grip on the spear was wrong. When the spearhead struck the steel plate on Zhang Zhao's chest, the recoil he suffered was even greater than the impact Zhang Zhao received.

The butt of the spear scraped past his own waist, tearing away a large strip of skin and flesh. That was the cause of his scream, though it was quickly cut short, because Zhang Zhao's spearhead stabbed straight into his chest.

Before the Uyghur even hit the ground, Zhang Zhao swiftly withdrew the cavalry lance, then swept it hard to the left.

The keen spearhead slashed open the belly of a second man who had rushed over in haste. Dark, greenish, unrecognizable matter mixed with blood and minced flesh poured from the gash in his belly. A short, stocky Uyghur collapsed to one side, clutching his stomach and howling in agony.

'Clang!' Another rusted spearhead struck the solid breastplate on Zhang Zhao's chest. The inferior spearhead crashed against this fine plate armor from a later era, producing nothing but a crisp ring and causing no damage whatsoever.

They never learn!

Zhang Zhao stepped forward forcefully again, the spearhead going straight for this Uyghur's chest.

But this time he failed to land the hit. This Uyghur was extremely quick-witted. The moment his spearhead failed to pierce Zhang Zhao's armor, he decisively threw away the long spear in his hands, then rolled forward and came straight at Zhang Zhao.

"All together now!" Just as Zhang Zhao was about to press the spearhead down and pin the man to the ground, the Uyghurs at the tent entrance surged out together. Three long sabers slashed at Zhang Zhao. A short, fat man leaped through the air, actually going for the shaft of Zhang Zhao's cavalry lance, and several Uyghurs behind him made the same choice.

They've got some skill!

With a sneer, Zhang Zhao simply threw away the cavalry lance in his hand. He had no desire to play tug-of-war with the men opposite. The moment he discarded the lance, he took a sudden step back, pulled out a small meteor hammer with his left hand, and swung it straight at the nearest target's head.

'Thunk!' A crisp sound like a melon being cracked rang out. The Uyghur who had rolled over and just gotten to his feet could not dodge this time. He screamed, clutched his bloodied head, and staggered back and forth a few steps before collapsing face-down, silent.

'Ha-ya!' As this soldier fell, Zhang Zhao tossed aside the small meteor hammer, took another great stride forward, swiftly drew the hengdao saber from his back, and raised it high with both hands before chopping down with lightning speed.

A Uyghur holding a Tibetan saber and round shield jolted to a halt. He had not expected Zhang Zhao to move so fast, and desperately tried to check his forward momentum, but he had charged too quickly, and inertia carried him right up to Zhang Zhao.

The unlucky fellow could only raise his rattan shield in despair, hoping to block Zhang Zhao's full-force blow.

'Splat!' Under Zhang Zhao's full-strength strike, the tool-steel hengdao saber displayed tremendous destructive power. The blade first cleaved the rattan shield in two, then easily severed the soldier's neck. The dark head flew far away, trailing beads of blood.

"Die, barbarian!"

Having traded the cavalry lance for the hengdao saber, Zhang Zhao would no longer choose to thrust from a distance. These Uyghur warriors had been caught off guard and were mostly unarmored, and they had no armor-piercing maces or great axes in hand.

He, on the other hand, was fully armed. The hengdao saber forged from tool steel could be said to cut through anything, so closing in and slashing fiercely was the correct choice.

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