Chapter 912

First Volume, Chapter 912: Blood-soaked Battle

Meanwhile, the rear continued to echo with the shouts of the combat enforcement teams.

"Kill! Advance forward—anyone who slays an enemy officer shall reap wealth and honor with ease."

"Do you truly wish to remain soldiers and lackeys for life? Wealth lies right before you—why are you still standing frozen? Just dare once, and your whole family can live well."

"All of you, advance! Whoever dares retreat—executed on the spot!"

Six hundred Lu Family personal troops supervised thousands of Tuntian Soldiers, relentlessly assaulting the village.

With no path to retreat, the Tuntian Soldiers could only grit their teeth and charge forward; besides, the Supervisor of the Army was right—only by risking everything could they secure a better life.

Some soldiers, confident in their martial skills, began pushing through the crowd, stepping forward voluntarily.

"Get out of my way—you cowards won't go, I will!"

"Damn it! Cut off just one head, and you can turn your fate—escape your lowly status forever. Such opportunities don't come often!"

A towering man, nearly one meter eighty tall, wielding a short-handled axe, shoved through the crowd and lunged toward Zhang Zhenhai.

"I'm taking your head!"

With a roar, the giant leapt into the air, summoning all his strength to swing the short-handled axe down at Zhang Zhenhai's head.

Seeing the massive man charging at him, Zhang Zhenhai's eyes held only contempt.

"Worthless fool—you don't even know how to use an axe. You seek death!"

A short-handled axe excels at armor-piercing and Close Combat—but only if you can close the distance. It only becomes effective when both sides are locked in close, entangled struggle. But charging straight at a seasoned Zhonglang Jiang, armed with a long spear and standing several meters away, is pure suicide.

Zhang Zhenhai stepped back one pace, seized the moment the giant was off-balance, thrust his long spear forward, and cleanly pierced the giant's chest—then withdrew it instantly, ignoring the fallen man, and turned to stab other Enemy Army soldiers.

The giant clutched his gushing chest, collapsed to the ground, eyes wide open—he couldn't understand how he'd been felled in a single strike…

As blood poured out uncontrollably, the giant's face turned ashen, his fighting spirit vanished instantly.

Yet he did not know…

A long spear strike only delivers instant death if it cleaves the skull or severs the cervical spine. Any seasoned veteran, even with a spear pierced through his chest, can still use his last breath to take his opponent down with him.

But Tuntian Soldiers are Tuntian Soldiers—once wounded, they immediately lose all will to fight.

Before the giant bled to death, he was trampled to death by comrades surging forward from behind.

Zhang Zhenhai's techniques held no flourish—only the most practical, clean, and efficient thrusts: seize the opening, strike, withdraw.

From the start of battle until now, only One Cup of Tea Time had passed, yet over ten soldiers lay dead before Zhang Zhenhai.

This was the gap between Elite Troops and ordinary Tuntian Soldiers—so long as not surrounded, he killed them by the dozens.

Some clever Tuntian Soldiers had realized this—they charged in groups of five or six, hoping to overwhelm the old master with numbers and hack him to death. But Zhang Zhenhai was not alone—his flanks were guarded by Tianji Camp Guards and Anwu Guards, while Anwu Guard archers lay hidden atop both sides of the rooftops.

Anyone daring to sneak-attack Zhang Zhenhai either died from a finishing strike by the Tianji Camp Guards behind him, or was shot dead by the archers.

In this narrow village entrance, nearly a thousand men could not break through Zhang Zhenhai's line of just over a dozen.

"Do you really think you can take Qin Feng's head and gain glory? Dream on!"

"Come on then—bring it!"

Faced with Zhang Zhenhai—who killed gods if they stood in his way, and Buddhas if they blocked him—the front-line Tuntian Soldiers grew more terrified. They couldn't understand: how could so few men unleash such terrifying Combat Effectiveness? The casualty ratio was absurd.

Dozens of their own had died, yet not a single man on Zhang Zhenhai's side was wounded—this… this was simply unbelievable!

Lü Li, stationed at the rear of the battlefield, also received the report.

The Deputy General spoke in a low, grave tone: "Pillar of the State, our front has suffered heavy losses—we cannot break through the line. If we continue, morale will collapse."

Hearing this, Lü Li's expression did not change. He dismissed it: "These soldiers are all Tuntian Soldiers long stationed in the Rear Area—lacking combat experience and morale. Facing Qin Feng's army, entrenched with Terrain Advantage, they are nothing but Flock Like Moths to Flame."

"Every entrance to the village is guarded by Qin Feng's men. The entrances are narrow, limiting the contact surface—so numerical superiority cannot be leveraged."

"But… it doesn't matter."

"Even if every one of Qin Feng's men is a seasoned Zhonglang Jiang, they are still flesh and blood. They will tire soon enough. Their deaths by sheer numbers are merely a matter of time."

"Besides, the archers inside the village will soon exhaust their arrows. Without arrow cover, the Ji Zhan below will die even faster."

"Within One Incense Stick Time, the tide will turn."

Hearing this, the Deputy General's anxiety eased slightly—but the mounting casualties ahead still filled him with dread, even awe.

"The enemy numbers barely a hundred, yet against thousands of attackers, they grow fiercer with every fight. Their morale is… too monstrous. It defies understanding."

Hearing the Deputy General's confusion, Lü Li spoke with solemn gravity: "The reason Qin Feng's troops never lose a battle, never fail to break through, boils down to one word: morale. Back at Daqingshan, Qin Feng had only two or three hundred men, yet held off ten thousand encircling troops—and escaped alive. That proves his men's morale is unshakable."

"But none of these factors matter tonight—Qin Feng will die."

Lü Li held victory in his grasp—he didn't even need to deploy his personal troops. The Tuntian Soldiers alone could wear down Qin Feng's Elite Troops to death.

Though casualties were heavy, Lü Li cared nothing—if he killed Qin Feng, he would pay any price.

The rewards promised to the soldiers were all illusions. Lü Li knew well: after killing Qin Feng, he himself would be slaughtered by the Northern Di King.

From the moment he moved, Lü Li had already embraced death.

The vengeance for his son's death was absolute—he would not be stopped, even if his name was ruined, his family destroyed.

At that moment, good news arrived from the front.

"Pillar of the State—the village entrance has fallen!"

Hearing this, Lü Li's eyes lit up. He turned to the messenger: "Did you slay the enemy officer?"

The messenger stammered, hesitant. Lü Li did not press further—he knew "fallen" was mere exaggeration. The archers defending the entrance had exhausted their arrows, and the enemy officer had voluntarily withdrawn into the village to reduce losses.

Thus, with houses blocking the way, narrow village lanes now allowed for street-to-street combat.