Chapter 64: Blood and Fire at Wuni City (II)

At the right gate of the Zhongyun king's palace tent, Man Xiong held up a great shield and was panting heavily. His shield and body were bristling with arrows, like a hedgehog. The battering ram was already wrecked, but they had also smashed a large hole through the right gate.

A burst of hurried footsteps rang out. Man Xiong looked through the broken gate and saw a squad of Zhongyun palace-tent warriors, armed with long spears and curved sabers, already assembled inside the right gate ahead of time — there had to be a hundred of them.

Man Xiong could not help glancing to the left. Why had the young lord's divine fire thunder not gone off yet?

But Dunzhu in front of him was far more resolute. This simple fellow, whom Zhang Zhao had raised up from a herding slave, had never once considered whether the young lord Zhang Erlang's word could be counted on. In his eyes, if the young lord Zhang Erlang said it, then it would certainly be done.

A huge round-bladed axe was handed to Man Xiong by Dunzhu. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder at the very front, while the rest gathered around them — long spears in front, bows and crossbows behind.

Just then!

"Boom!"

It was as if a flood dragon had burst out from beneath the earth! The ground shook violently, and the tremendous sound made even Dunzhu's ears ring.

Golden firelight flashed in the somewhat gloomy morning! A huge mushroom-shaped cloud rose into the sky, and a choking smell filled the air. The Zhongyun palace-tent warriors behind the gate were so frightened that they shrieked and wailed.

"Man Xiong, to the left gate!" Dunzhu roared, and he and Man Xiong swung their thick legs and ran to the left. The men behind them were all beaming with joy — this had to mean the young lord's divine fire thunder had succeeded!

On the city wall, the Zhongyun king Sanpoba was knocked to the ground by the shock. When he stood up again, the sight before him nearly scared his soul out of his body.

His palace-tent left gate, that great wooden gate wrapped in iron plates, had somehow been blown open with an enormous breach.

A piece of the wooden gate had even been hurled several hundred meters away, and a section of the wall by the left gate was on the verge of collapsing.

"Hahaha! Screw you! What damn thousand-jin gate could stand up to my divine fire thunder!"

Cao Yanming leaped up from the ground. Though blood was seeping from his ears and nose, his expression was thoroughly excited, and he even wanted to run over and take a look.

Fortunately, a guard behind him was very dutiful and hurried over to hold Cao Shisi down.

Almost at the same moment the guard pinned Cao Shisi down, Zhang Zhao, his ears still stuffed with dry grass, sprang up from where he had been lying prone. Behind him were Yan Jin, carrying a modao glaive glaive glaive, and Wang Tongxin, holding a pair of wrought-bronze maces.

The power of black powder was indeed tremendous! The Zhongyun king's turtle shell had been blasted open with a great hole!

"Quick! Quickly, send everyone to the left gate!" On the gate tower, the Zhongyun king, his hair and beard bristling, also shouted at the top of his voice.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Zhang Zhao charged in through the breach in the gate in three great strides. Right in front of him, two Zhongyun warriors who could barely walk straight were staggering about senselessly — by the look of it, their internal organs had probably been knocked out of place!

Zhang Zhao ignored these men and ran straight in the general direction of the Zhongyun king!

To catch the bandits, first catch their chief. Seize the Zhongyun king and this battle would be over. Not far away, the great banner that symbolized the Zhongyun king's standard was the most enticing target of all.

'Kula! Kula!' The sound of leather boots came, and a squad of palace-tent warriors in simple lamellar armor and iron helmets came running from the distance.

Zhang Zhao, Yan Jin, and Wang Tongxin quickly formed a small three-man formation.

Zhang Zhao thrust with his infantry lance, lengthened to one zhang and six chi.

Yan Jin held the center, his modao glaive glaive glaive whirling like the wind, cutting down the warriors who slipped past Zhang Zhao's lance.

Wang Tongxin bent slightly at the waist to protect the two of them, his pair of wrought-bronze maces, each weighing five or six jin, whistling through the air. Anyone who came close, even in lamellar armor, would be beaten until they vomited blood.

Zhang Zhao took a deep breath and thrust his spear at a warrior wearing a four-panel helmet. The warrior's long spear also stabbed toward Zhang Zhao. This was a perfectly normal one-for-one exchange, because they had the numbers — if each side took a hit, Zhang Zhao would undoubtedly come off far worse.

But the warrior had miscalculated, because when his spear struck Zhang Zhao's body, sparks flashed from the spearhead and the tip simply snapped off, while Zhang Zhao's thrust into the lamellar armor over his chest easily punched out a bloody hole.

The warrior stared at the blood spurting from his chest, his face full of unwillingness. He let out a dry howl and tried to stab Zhang Zhao a second time.

But Zhang Zhao gave him no chance. After quickly withdrawing the spear, he struck again with full force, and the tool-steel spearhead tore completely through the lamellar armor opposite and drove straight into the man's liver.

The warrior opened his mouth wide, revealing teeth soaked in blood, and silently mouthed a couple of sounds before slumping softly to the ground.

As this warrior fell, the other two seized the moment when Zhang Zhao had no time to retract his lance, stepped forward quickly, and thrust their two long spears at Zhang Zhao's neck and face.

Yan Jin shouted, leveled his modao glaive glaive glaive, then twisted his waist and spun with the momentum. A gleaming arc of blade swept across the chests of the two warriors.

A great spray of blood burst forth. The mail armor on the two warriors' chests was almost entirely slashed through. If they dared press forward again, Yan Jin's next stroke would split their bellies open.

The now somewhat cowed warriors slowed, and behind them several warriors with shields and curved sabers were exposed.

Zhang Zhao immediately launched a flurry of fierce thrusts, sending these warriors staggering in all directions. Wang Tongxin, seeing his chance, hurried forward and laid about wildly with his wrought-bronze maces.

With the crack and snap of breaking bones and snapping sinews, Wang Tongxin alone actually beat five or six warriors back into retreat.

"Forward! Forward! Anyone who retreats dies!" An anxious roar rang out. Zhang Zhao looked up and saw that the great banner symbolizing the Zhongyun king had actually moved forward, coming to a place not far from Zhang Zhao.

The one roaring was a sturdy middle-aged man with a high nose and deep-set eyes — very likely the Zhongyun king Sanpoba himself.

He actually has some courage! Zhang Zhao could not help thinking more highly of the Zhongyun king.

And when the warriors saw that their king himself had come to the front, the palace-tent warriors who had just been beaten back by Zhang Zhao and his two companions rallied and closed in again. A few archers in the distance also began loosing arrows with a 'twang, twang.'

Zhang Zhao was about to call Yan Jin and Wang Tongxin to charge in and fight at close quarters. These arrows might not be able to pierce their armor, but they still hurt and were a nuisance.

But just then, a volley of arrows suddenly flew over his head as well. It turned out Fan Quan and Fan Shun had brought their men charging over.

The divine-arm crossbows in their hands were more powerful and fired just as fast. The Zhongyun warriors' lamellar and mail armor could not withstand Fan Quan and Fan Shun's divine-arm crossbows at all, and a large swath of them were immediately shot down.

"Young lord! Dunzhu is here!" Seizing the moment when the Zhongyun warriors were in disarray from the arrows, Zhang Zhao was about to advance when a mighty figure carrying a wrought-bronze staff charged past him — it was Dunzhu.

Behind Dunzhu, another enormous frame also shot past in a flash.

Man Xiong, great axe in hand, was like a giant bear, directly bowling over many of the foremost Zhongyun warriors. Though he too was stabbed until blood sprayed everywhere, the man seemed to feel nothing, rampaging left and right through the mass of Zhongyun warriors!

Seeing the soldiers under his command so brave, a surge of heroic pride rose in Zhang Zhao's heart. Now he cared nothing for formations or order — except for sharpshooters like Fan Quan and Fan Shun, everyone else charged in.

The forty-odd men who had reached the left gate plunged collectively into nearly two hundred Zhongyun warriors. They hacked with sabers, chopped with axes, and pounded with hammers, driving back an enemy nearly five times their number in a continuous retreat!

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