Chapter 515

First Volume, Chapter 515: Mutiny

On the First Line battlefield, the scene was now a mountain of corpses and seas of blood.

Zhang Tao held his Zhan Dao, standing at the base of the assault path, leading twenty Supervisors of the Army in tight formation; beside him lay the bodies of ten-plus soldiers—not killed in battle, but cut down on the spot by Zhang Tao for desertion.

A soldier rolled down the Shan Po, drenched in blood, collapsing before Zhang Tao and gasping: "General… we cannot break through the rebel defensive line; it's pitch black and the mountain is steep—please order a military retreat."

Zhang Tao glared, drew his blade, and slashed the soldier's throat, then turned and snarled at the soldiers nearby: "Whoever undermines military morale—dies!"

"Sixth Unit, advance!"

Each unit numbered five hundred; the first five units had been wiped out. Under the watchful eyes of Zhang Tao and the Supervisors of the Army, the sixth unit had no choice but to charge forward.

Even in daylight, the assault was difficult; now, in total darkness, the steep, slippery path claimed two unlucky men before they even reached the fortified position—they slipped sideways and tumbled to their deaths, shattered on the rocks below.

Soldiers had repeatedly suggested lighting fire torches, but Zhang Tao refused each time; lighting torches at night would make them living targets.

Zhang Tao believed his decision to attack the mountain in darkness was brilliant.

This darkness affected not only his own troops, but the rebel forces on the mountain just as much!

Unbeknownst to him, Qin Feng had seen through Zhang Tao's plan long ago and had quietly moved the Tianji Camp Guards from the Rear to the Front Line.

At this moment, Zhang Tao was not facing twenty guards holding their ground, nor sixty guards defending three fortresses in a pincer formation—he was facing… one hundred and twenty!

The MountainTop was naturally defensible, with only narrow footholds; Qin Feng held the high ground and had no fear of slipping over the cliff.

Thus, the advantage of numbers was not the enemy overwhelming Qin Feng—it was Qin Feng's Tianji Camp Guards overwhelming the enemy!

Tactical Advantage was vastly unequal, morale even more so, and with overwhelming numbers, the Tianji Camp Guards stood virtually invincible.

The only concern was the guards' stamina, so whenever Zhang Tao rotated troops for renewed assaults, Qin Feng seized the chance to rotate his own men—resting guards from the Rear replaced those on the Front Line.

When the Sixth Unit's vanguard, bloodied and broken, retreated, Zhang Tao finally began to wonder.

"Why do I feel like I'm not fighting two hundred men… but two thousand?"

"How many arrows do these rebels have? How much stamina? We've been pounding them all day—and their defensive line still holds firm?"

"Who knows how many of them are dead!"

At Zhang Tao's growl, a soldier returning from the Front Line gasped for breath, eyes hollow: "General… it's pitch black up there—we can't tell enemy or friendly losses."

"But… the assault on the First Fortress has never slackened—not for a moment."

Hearing this, Zhang Tao's face turned ashen.

Could it be that not a single rebel had died? Impossible!

Even if they were heavenly soldiers, after a full day of relentless assault, casualties must have occurred. The ferocity of the First Fortress defense could only mean rebels were using the cover of night to reinforce continuously!

At that moment, his Deputy, sensing the soldiers' hostile stares, whispered: "General, it's time to abandon this. Keep pushing, and mutiny is inevitable."

The Deputy's words were no empty threat.

After a full day of fighting, they didn't even know how many rebels had died—yet their own side had suffered over two thousand five hundred casualties; morale had collapsed. Had it not been for the Supervisors of the Army holding the line, the assault force would have fled down the mountain long ago.

Forcing soldiers to climb and die would not kill the Tianji Camp Guards—but Zhang Tao would be hacked to death by enraged troops.

Zhang Tao, however, showed no concern; no one knew how many connections he had severed, how much silver he had bribed, to join this Bandit Military Campaign and earn glory.

The lives of these common soldiers meant nothing!

Anyone who dared obstruct his path to merit, promotion, and rank—was his mortal enemy.

Zhang Tao coldly glanced at the Supervisor of the Army: "Once. If you dare undermine military morale again, I'll spare you nothing."

The Supervisor of the Army lowered his head in shame.

After the Sixth Unit's failure, Zhang Tao did not hesitate—he pointed at the Seventh Unit nearby and roared: "Advance! Cowards will be executed on the spot!"

Facing Zhang Tao's death order, not a single soldier in the Seventh Unit's vanguard moved. They stood frozen, staring coldly at Zhang Tao.

The Vice Commander of the Seventh Unit bowed to Zhang Tao: "General, tonight is moonless, pitch black; the terrain is treacherous—we cannot continue. Even if we must attack, we must wait for dawn."

Without hesitation, Zhang Tao raised his blade and slashed.

Thud.

The Vice Commander fell dead. Zhang Tao didn't even glance at him—he pointed at the soldiers and sneered: "When I was crushing bandits on Fengming Mountain, you didn't even know where you were. I've killed over a hundred mountain bandits. What kind of nonsense Tianji Camp Guards? I don't fear them."

"Advance! Who dares defy a military command?"

The soldiers ignored Zhang Tao. They stared, fixed, at the dead Vice Commander.

The Vice Commander's death was the final straw.

An old soldier, over forty, lifted his Bu Shuo and roared: "Up the mountain, I die. Down the mountain, I die. I'm done living!"

As he spoke, the old soldier charged Zhang Tao, Bu Shuo in hand.

Though the old soldier was immediately cut down by the Supervisors of the Army, the soldiers' rage had ignited—more and more surged toward Zhang Tao.

Facing the frenzied mob, Zhang Tao's eyes bulged. He scrambled behind the Supervisors of the Army, his earlier arrogance gone—he stammered in terror: "Y-you're all mad! This is mutiny, mutiny!"

"I am the appointed Vanguard Commander by the Supervisor of the Army! If you kill me, none of you will escape!"

The soldiers had lost reason; Zhang Tao's screams were useless.

The Supervisors of the Army were swiftly slaughtered; Zhang Tao was dragged out and his hands and feet were severed.

His hysterical screams echoed over Qingyu Mountain—but drew not a shred of pity.

Enraged soldiers impaled Zhang Tao on their Bu Shuo, hoisted him into the air like a trophy, and charged down the mountain in fury.

The Brocade Uniform Guards crouched on the cliffside rushed back to their stronghold to report.

"Young Master, the Enemy Army has mutinied—their commander is dead, killed by his own troops!"

At this moment, Qin Feng was not at the Watchtower—he sat slumped beside the rock wall of the First Fortress, gasping for breath.

With the enemy assault relentless, the guards were nearly exhausted; Qin Feng had gripped his Bu Shuo and joined the fight himself, personally spearing over ten enemy soldiers…