Chapter 1162: Sacrificing Life for Righteousness

"Everyone together, strike down the evildoer—" someone shouted with righteous fervor. Three men had already mounted the square platform, able to shield and support one another, which gave them greater confidence. But just at that moment, he saw ten matchlock guns set up in front of Zhao Jin, their dark muzzles aimed this way. He could clearly see the burning match cords on the serpentine levers lowering toward the priming pans!

"With them—" The last two words never left his mouth before the guns roared as one. The bodies of several men could not withstand such force; blood burst forth, their bodies toppled backward, and even those who had just surged up behind them were forced to retreat to avoid the falling corpses.

The sole question in the dying minds of those struck martial men was this: when Zhao Jin's guard retainers had entered the arena, they had all been carrying short weapons. How on earth had they brought in so much equipment?

After the guns fired, the clamor and confusion below the martial arena and in the spectator seats quieted for a moment. The sudden upheaval also briefly stalled at that instant.

The martial men who had been charging the square platform, heedless of life or death, all halted in their steps. No one had expected Zhao Jin's counterattack to be so ferocious, and even less had anyone imagined he would directly deploy firearms. In a jianghu contest of martial skill, to actually bring out matchlock guns and open fire—was there no regard for the rules anymore?

By now, hardly anyone remained seated. The vast majority had risen to their feet, all turning to look toward Zhao Jin. But the gaze in their eyes was not one of terror or panic—it was a stare thick with murderous intent. At some unknown point, the attendants of the wealthy merchants of Qingjiangpu and Yangzhou, the spectators who had paid for tickets, and the refined ladies and female family members in the various private boxes had all stood up, weapons in hand.

Within the martial arena, some martial men stood at a loss, clearly stunned by the sudden chaos. From the spectator seats came shrieks and wails; some people had already thrown themselves to the ground. Where the crying and panicked shouting grew too loud, someone wielding a blade or sword stepped forward and struck them down with a single blow, silencing them instantly.

"Do the madams and young ladies of these great households also know martial skills?"

"How could they? Look closely—those people now stripping off their women's clothing are all men. As for the maidservants and older women delivering things, they must have been recruited from the women of the jianghu's greenwood circles to make up the numbers. Have you figured it out yet? The swords and weapons were also brought in by these fake refined ladies, and under the pretext of exchanging gifts and paying respects, the weapons were distributed."

Within the vast martial arena, murderous intent loomed, covetous eyes glaring from all sides. Yet the thirty-odd men on Zhao Jin's side were not tense at all; they simply stood there chatting and laughing among themselves.

"Zhao Jin, you treacherous villain who brings calamity to the nation, colludes with the Tatar slaves, and preys upon the common people—today is the day you die!" From the spectator seats to Zhao Jin's right, a man shouted with wide, furious eyes.

This man had been seated in the seats belonging to the Bai family of the Qingjiangpu Merchant Guild, dressed in a servant's attire. Now he wore a close-fitting combat suit, held a long sword, and his face was filled with righteous indignation. At his shout, the martial arena, which had just quieted down, instantly boiled over. Someone cried out: "We uphold the great righteousness and strike down the wicked and evil! Whoever is unwilling to continue abetting tyranny—turn back now, and it will be counted a great merit!"

"Zhao Jin, your doom has come!"

"Heaven's light shines clear—you have brutalized the gentry and the common people, scheming to overthrow the Great Ming. Today is your retribution!"

"What are you still doing over there? Today, righteous men have gathered in force. If you keep following Zhao Jin, the only path left for you is death. Why not wake up and repent, and seize the criminal!"

"Brother Wang, you are brimming with talent and learning. It is not too late to turn back now. There is still a place for you on the path to scholarly honors. The court is in need of capable men—serve the nation, and your name will be recorded in history. Why keep company with such a great bandit and outlaw, disgracing the name of a scholar!"

"Niu Jinbao! You shield that treacherous villain at his side—how many benevolent and righteous men have you killed? The Shaolin name has been utterly ruined by you. If you still remember the grace of Mount Song's teachings, turn back at once!"

"Dong Bingfeng! With your martial skills, you ought to be serving the nation, winning merit and building a career on the battlefield. The noble title and honors your family has held for generations would not be denied you. Such a fine future—why stoop to the banditry of the greenwood outlaws!"

Zhao Jin and every man beside him were called out by name. Only Zhou Xuezhi of the Cloud Mountain Trading Company and the several managers beside him were ignored. The martial men in the arena were shouting, and so were those in the spectator seats. Each one urged the men at Zhao Jin's side to walk the proper path, to turn back from their lost ways, and to cease working for Zhao Jin. Yet Zhao Jin and his group simply stood there, showing no reaction.

Although they had long weapons and firearms here, and wore iron armor, they numbered fewer than forty in total. Not even counting the spectator seats, the martial men in the arena alone already exceeded fifty. Adding the large force in the seats, there had to be at least six hundred. Amidst all this righteous shouting and roaring, the people in the private boxes all came out. Sure enough, it was just as Zhao Jin had said—there were hardly any women inside, only slender men dressed in women's clothing.

The concealment for entering the venue was indeed quite effective. Since the refined ladies and female family members could not show their faces, cloth screens were used to shroud their surroundings whenever they moved. No one could see clearly what was inside—it was simply a matter of everyone carrying weapons and equipment while advancing slowly.

"Tell me, they've shouted so much—why don't they call on Mister Zhou and the others to turn back?" Zhao Jin asked with a smile.

Before anyone else could speak, Zhou Xuezhi answered in a huff: "What other reason could there be? Your subordinate here manages so much money. If I were to turn back, they'd have to leave me a share. Better to just label me a rebel outright—that saves them the trouble!"

Zhao Jin and the men around him all burst into hearty laughter. That laughter and their composure only enraged the surrounding crowd further. Someone did mutter in reflection: "No wonder this Zhao Jin has managed to become a hegemon of a region—he can remain this calm and unruffled even in the face of death!" But few paid any attention to this remark. Everyone was cursing furiously, slowly closing in on Zhao Jin's position. A bloody battle was about to erupt at any moment.

"Elder Brother, what do we do?" Wang Zhaojing asked solemnly from the side.

"What do we do? We do as we planned beforehand—better to kill wrongly than to let any escape," Zhao Jin said with a smile. Wang Zhaojing spoke a word, and Sun Dalin pulled a brass whistle from his bosom and blew it with force.

The whistle was piercingly shrill. Zhao Jin frowned and covered his ears. When the whistle stopped, he spoke: "Everyone, fasten your face guards. You must be extremely cautious."

As soon as the brass whistle sounded, the drumming that had stopped earlier resumed as well. This time it was not to build atmosphere, but a rhythm like war drums. The doors set into the inner walls around the martial arena began to open. These doors led to various parts of the arena's interior. Usually, only a few were open, serving as passageways for competitors entering and leaving the arena floor. The other doors had never been opened and were even regarded as decoration. But now, they were opening.

The clamor of voices in the martial arena fell silent once more, leaving only the beat of the drums. Then came the sound of orderly footsteps. On such flat, hard ground, marching in formation easily produced audible footfalls. Two small square formations emerged from the doors, clad from head to toe in iron armor and wielding long spears and long halberds. Anyone familiar with the organization of the Zhao Character Battalion could easily recognize these as two retainer companies. Then several dozen archers followed, dispersing around the companies.

The troops had not finished emerging. The sound of horse hooves rang out, and the martial arena grew even quieter. Fifty-some mounted retainers were seen leading their steeds out from within the doors. Once they reached the arena floor, each swung into the saddle and took their weapons in hand.

The clanking of armor plates continued to sound, this time seeming to echo from within the martial arena itself. Then, concealed doors on either side of the square platform swung open. Iron-armored retainers wielding glaives and long halberds filed out in a stream, forming up on both flanks of Zhao Jin's unit, each facing the people in the spectator seats. The doors along the aisles leading in and out of the arena opened one after another, and fully armed retainers continuously emerged, taking up positions in the aisles between the seats.

"An ambush!" "That villain Zhao knew all along!" "Who is it that disregards the great righteousness!" Cries of alarm began to ring out through the arena.

Zhao Jin parted the retainers in front of him. Countless eyes in the arena were fixed on his every move. The moment he stepped forward, the arena fell silent. Zhao Jin stood there and raised his voice: "All of you are a joke!" As soon as his words fell, furious curses erupted throughout the arena. Yet no one dared to recklessly charge forward and attack. They could only watch helplessly as Zhao Jin raised the long halberd in his hand.

The raising of that long halberd was a signal. Immediately, the sound of orders being issued rang out in the martial arena. The two companies deployed into horizontal lines, with archers distributed in the gaps. The cavalry unit formed a column. The retainers in the gaps between the seats leveled their weapons.

"Sacrifice life for righteousness, die to achieve virtue!" someone shouted in the martial arena. It was that noble scion with the tall, graceful bearing and elegant demeanor. As if by prior arrangement, the twenty-some martial men in front of him sprinted forward together, reaching the base of the square platform. In unison, they bent over, their bodies forming what looked like a human bridge. The noble scion stepped upon this bridge and charged upward. With solid footing beneath him, it was easy to generate power for the charge, and it also saved him the step of clambering onto the wooden platform.

Meanwhile, the retainer company behind him had already begun marching forward, pressing in. The archers had all nocked their arrows and drawn their bows. Some wanted to fight, while those martial men who had previously been at a loss threw down their weapons. Some knelt on the ground, but the retainers paid them no heed, shouting at them to go kneel by the inner wall at the edge of the arena.

The moment that righteous noble scion reached the edge of the platform, his entire body soared into the air. In mid-flight, man and sword became one as he hurtled toward Zhao Jin, who was not far away. As he leaped, Zhao Jin gave his long halberd a shake. But before Zhao Jin could act, Dong Bingfeng at his side let out an angry roar, stepped forward, and thrust his long spear like a serpent darting its tongue, meeting the charge head-on with brute force.

In this confined space, in a direct head-on clash, an inch longer was an inch stronger. Dong Bingfeng had tempered his body through years of grueling training and battlefield slaughter. How could an ordinary martial man possibly block such a thrust? Moreover, charging through the air like that—though it looked heroic and dashing—made him nothing more than a target. While still in mid-air, he was impaled by the long spear in Dong Bingfeng's hands. A ghastly, piercing scream rang out, and he could no longer move. He tried to use his long sword to hack through the spear shaft, but his arm only lifted halfway before falling limp and powerless.

Dong Bingfeng's long spear held a man aloft, the shaft bending under the weight. Yet Dong Bingfeng's arms did not waver in the slightest. With a single shout, he flung the corpse from the spear tip.

Thanks to old friends "Phyllis. Queen, Yuan Heng Lizhen, Duan Yichen, Gong Jianfeng, Xiao Qi Wenming Qiji" for their support. Thank you all for your subscriptions and monthly tickets. Brothers, are there any more monthly tickets?