Chapter 918

First Volume_Chapter 918: Literature Brings Peace to Heaven, Martial Might Secures the Cosmos

Only about a hundred warriors intended to build merit and fame; under normal circumstances, facing nearly fifty Tianji Camp Guards and Anwu Guard, they would have been slaughtered within one cup of tea time.

But now, the outcome was utterly reversed.

The Tianji Camp Guards and Anwu Guard were simply too exhausted—so exhausted they could no longer swing their blades—while these warriors, lacking combat experience, possessed extraordinary morale.

They had lain in wait for so long, waiting for this very opportunity: kill the Fang Jun Zhan Jiang, eliminate Qin Feng, and achieve Ming Liu Qing Shi, turning their fate completely around.

"Kill!"

"Die!"

The two sides collided; the Tianji Camp Guards could only rely on their body weight to pin their opponents down, struggling to hold on while weakly thrusting with their short knives.

After all, "thrusting" was the least energy-consuming method.

These Tuntian Soldiers' armor was extremely crude, mostly Cloth Armor, and even that was low-grade, poorly made; against the Tianji Camp Guards' thrusts, it offered no effective defense—within moments, ten plus Tuntian Soldiers were stabbed through the belly, intestines spilling out, blood spraying everywhere.

But the Tianji Camp Guards and Anwu Guard fared no better—they wore Light Armor, not Heavy Armor.

A Tuntian Soldier swung his short-handled axe and slammed it hard onto a Tianji Camp Guard's head.

The Tianji Camp Guard felt a dull boom in his skull, his vision went black, and his body collapsed.

As his body fell, several Tuntian Soldiers rushed forward, swinging their weapons wildly—though without any technique, riddled with openings—yet this simple, brutal mob attack swiftly cut down the once-invincible Tianji Camp Guard on the spot.

Zhang Zhenhai's body swayed from exhaustion, his vision darkening in waves; he swung his Small Golden Mace and crushed the skull of the Tuntian Soldier before him, but before the enemy could press further, he collapsed from utter fatigue.

He lay on the ground, gasping heavily; after a while, he regained a little strength, using his weak, aching arms to push himself up—but as he rose halfway, a heavy blow struck his back, slamming him back onto the ground.

Had he not worn armor plates on his chest and back to deflect arrows, that blow would have shattered his spine.

Zhang Zhenhai lay on the ground, growling low, trying several times to rise, but his limbs were limp and aching, utterly unable to muster even a sliver of strength.

As Zhang Zhenhai struggled on the ground, Liu Ming let out a scream—his right cheek had been slashed; the cut left a horrifying wound, knocked off his Helmet, and severed his right ear.

Liu Ming clutched his gushing ear, staggered backward a few steps, and collapsed onto the ground.

Seeing this, the Tuntian Soldiers surged with excitement.

"That man is the Enemy Army's Zhonglang Jiang!"

"Take the Zhonglang Jiang's head, and you'll be promoted and ennobled!"

Four Tuntian Soldiers rushed forward, hacking wildly at Liu Ming.

Liu Ming instinctively curled into a ball; though his Armor plates deflected most of the blows, his arms and thighs were riddled with cuts, his entire body drenched in blood.

Just as Liu Ming was about to die under the flurry of blades, a figure appeared, slashing one Tuntian Soldier to death with a single cut, then spinning and sweeping another's neck—his head flew off.

The remaining two Tuntian Soldiers froze in terror, stumbling backward.

There stood Qin Feng, short knife in hand, panting heavily beside Liu Ming, his body swaying with the night wind, face etched with exhaustion, yet his eyes still blazing with lethal intent.

At this moment, Qin Feng was unquestionably the most physically energetic of all the soldiers.

After all, he had rested for a long time beside the Ancestral Hall.

But even this relative stamina was stretched thin compared to the Tuntian Soldiers, who had been lying in wait throughout the entire battle.

Qin Feng gripped his knife tightly, gasping for breath, his eyes locked on the Tuntian Soldiers before him.

He kicked Liu Ming: "Dead yet?"

Hearing no reply, Qin Feng looked down—Liu Ming had fainted; though he bore no fatal wounds, exhaustion and massive blood loss meant certain death unless bleeding was stopped immediately.

But Qin Feng clearly had no time to attend to Liu Ming.

He stared at the Tuntian Soldiers before him, each word deliberate: "Qin Feng stands here!"

"Whoever seeks my head, step forward!"

"I stand right here—this head, brimming with glory, wealth, and power—let any ambitious man come and take it!"

Hearing Qin Feng's beast-like roar, even the Tuntian Soldiers who had grown weary of battle now halted, their eyes filled with fear.

They racked their brains but could not understand: how, after such brutal fighting, could the enemy still unleash such an aura?

Clearly… the Beixi Soldiers had been annihilated.

Clearly… the Tianji Camp Guards and Anwu Guard had suffered heavy casualties, too exhausted to even lift their blades.

Clearly… Qin Feng had only thirty-odd men left, while hundreds of Enemy Army soldiers surrounded him…

Why would they not surrender? Why did Qin Feng, the Marquis of Great Liang, who should have lived in silk and luxury as a Young Master, now stand before both armies with a short knife, like a war god, refusing to yield an inch?

In this moment, they finally understood why Qin Feng had defeated Chen Si's Army, why the entire Beixi feared him…

When he laid down his blade, he was a refined Young Master, calculating every move flawlessly.

When he picked it up, he became an invincible war god, iron-blooded and unyielding.

Literature brings peace to Heaven, martial might secures the cosmos!

Was there truly such a perfect man in this world? Today, they had seen it.

One Tuntian Soldier gathered courage, raised his Long Saber, and charged Qin Feng; as he swung hard, Qin Feng merely stepped aside, then slashed his short knife in unison.

Puch!

With a muffled sound, the Tuntian Soldier sprayed blood, collapsed heavily to the ground, dead on the spot.

The remaining Tuntian Soldiers drew in a sharp breath—even in his final breath, this man was still beyond their ability to defeat alone.

Qin Feng coldly glanced at the Tuntian Soldier's corpse and sneered: "You want my head? You're not worthy!"

"Who's next?"

Aside from those still fighting the Tianji Camp Guards and Anwu Guard, the remaining ten plus warriors quickly calculated their odds and prepared to rush Qin Feng together, hacking him to death with overwhelming numbers.

The decision proved correct.

Qin Feng was spent—he could not fight many at once.