Chapter 1237: First Volume, Chapter 1237: Near Death Extremis

First Volume, Chapter 1237: Near Death Extremis

After being attacked by the Seven Camps, the Enemy Army did not retreat—it intensified its assault.

They would never let the duck slip from their grasp!

They were so close to Qin Feng; if they could capture him, alive or dead, they would achieve a legendary feat unmatched in history.

To prevent the Seven Camps from approaching Qin Feng, the enemy generals personally led their elite troops to block the path, determined to hold all reinforcements outside the battlefield, not allowing them to get even a single step closer to Qin Feng.

"Snap to it! Cut off Qin Feng's head right now!"

"We've already abandoned our best chance to seize the Eastern Front just to capture Qin Feng—if we let him escape now, all the lives lost will have been in vain."

"Even if we fight to the last soldier, keep fighting!"

The enemy general's roars echoed endlessly over the battlefield; the Southern Border soldiers around him charged toward Qin Feng like madmen.

Although Qin Feng could not see the reinforcements, from the brief chaos among the enemies before him, he deduced that reinforcements had surely arrived.

While fending off the enemy's attacks, he shouted to the Black Riders beside him.

"Hold on! Reinforcements have arrived! Hold firm, everyone! We're all coming home alive!"

"Just hold on for one incense stick time—only one incense stick time!"

One incense stick…

You should know that even at the peak of their condition, full of vigor, the Black Knights could sustain high-intensity combat for at most the time it takes a single incense stick to burn.

Heavy armor infantry in close combat rely on their armor and equipment to endure and exhaust the enemy, rarely killing many in direct strikes.

The core principle is to conserve strength whenever possible.

Most often, heavy armor infantry are not defeated by force—they collapse from exhaustion.

Now, the Black Riders were utterly drained; every time they raised their weapons, they had to summon every ounce of strength, and yet they were still expected to hold for one incense stick time.

For the Black Riders, this was a test of physiological limits.

But they knew clearly: if they lowered their weapons, they would be slaughtered—so they gritted their teeth and fought with all their might.

Some Black Riders had reached their limit, too exhausted to even stand; their eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging on their foreheads, their bodies held upright by sheer willpower alone.

"Die!"

One Black Rider clenched his molars so tightly they grated, letting out a low, trembling roar as he swung his long-handled greatsword with all his strength.

When the long-handled greatsword struck the enemy, who wore only half-armor, it only inflicted a light wound.

In full strength, this blow from a Black Rider would have cleaved the enemy clean through armor and body!

Not only could they no longer strike effectively—their defense was on the verge of collapse.

Those Black Riders assigned to hold the great shields, defending against cold arrows and flank ambushes and disrupting enemy formations, were now slumped entirely against their shields, using their own body weight to keep them upright.

Even as long spear halberds stabbed at them from all sides, they no longer resisted—simply relying on their heavy armor to absorb the blows.

At this moment, only ninety Black Riders remained around Qin Feng!

Just ninety men—all utterly exhausted—trying to hold out until reinforcements arrived? It would take a miracle.

Xu Mo was also staggering from exhaustion, his vision swimming with stars, his grip on the spear shaft trembling violently.

In a moment of distraction, a long spear pierced his left shoulder; the tip slipped precisely through the gap in the pauldron, instantly soaking a large patch of his armor in blood.

As more spears thrust toward him, just as Xu Mo was about to give up, a dark shadow flashed before his eyes.

Qin Feng stood before Xu Mo, using his heavy armor to block the incoming spears, then swung his long-handled greatsword in a horizontal arc, slicing three enemies clean through the waist.

"Xu Mo!"

"You… you damn well hold on!"

"We're this close to breaking free—don't die on the final step!"

Xu Mo stared blankly at Qin Feng, unable to understand: how could Qin Feng, who always "hid" in the rear, directing the entire battlefield, still have any strength left?

Amid this high-intensity, prolonged close combat, he had endured longer than even the Black Riders.

Only now did Xu Mo recall the scene when Qin Feng led his troops on a thousand-li raid to eliminate the Beidi Legendary Tooth General Zhong Ling.

Qin Feng was indeed a once-in-a-generation strategist—but he also possessed martial prowess equal to any warrior.

What neither knew was that Qin Feng had long since reached his own limit.

His eyes were bloodshot, his entire body soaked in blood and sweat, his arms felt as if they would snap, his legs unsteady and trembling, his teeth clenched as he forced himself to stand, his body shaking uncontrollably.

But all of this was hidden beneath his armor—no one from the outside could see how much pain he was in.

Qin Feng had more than once considered giving up—this state of utter exhaustion, where everything felt meaningless, was utterly soul-crushing.

Even being cut down by a blade would be infinitely better than continuing to fight.

But thinking of the comrades behind him, and his family in Jingdu, Qin Feng clung to a near-monstrous willpower, forcing himself to endure.

He could not fall—if he fell, the fate of Heaven would shift dramatically.

No one could say how the Liang Emperor would treat his family then.

Though the Northern Border was militarily strong and unafraid of any threat, it could still be crippled by hidden schemes and treachery.

For his family, for his comrades, Qin Feng must survive and leave this place alive.

"Die! All of you, die!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Qin Feng became an endless, tireless monster, swinging his long-handled greatsword as he fought countless enemies.

This unbreakable aura of defiance filled the surrounding enemies with dread.

"This… this guy doesn't know what fatigue is?!"

"Damn it—he's wearing nearly a hundred catties of heavy armor, and he's still this strong!"

"How long has he been fighting? One Envoy? Two Envoy? Damn it—the Black Riders are all collapsed, why is Qin Feng still fighting?!"

"This… this is the King of the Northern Border?!"

Qin Feng had forgotten how many enemies he had killed; he merely mechanically repeated the same dull motions, to the point where he could no longer feel his arms.

Only when Qin Feng was swept flying by a Wolf Tooth Club and slammed hard onto the ground did he finally snap back to awareness.

He was stunned to discover that the Black Riders beside him had dwindled to fewer than fifty.

Xu Mo was drenched in blood; his Armor was riddled with countless cuts and axe marks, and it was impossible to tell whether the blood on him was his own or the enemy's.

The surviving Black Riders had lost the ability to Counterattack; they merely raised their Shields, pressing Qin Feng into the center, using their bodies to endure the relentless onslaught of enemies.