Chapter 1165: What Kind of Hero Is That

Wang Zhaojing nodded with a smile and added, "In the past, seeing a scene like this would have felt unbearable. Seeing it today, I feel nothing but pure satisfaction — all that pent-up frustration has been vented!"

After saying this, Wang Zhaojing calmed down a little and added, "Big Brother, this place is too chaotic after all, and blades and spears show no mercy. There won't be any more twists and turns now — let's head to the camp first to take charge of the overall situation!"

Hearing Wang Zhaojing's words, Zhao Jin smiled, shook his head, and said, "It's not just you who had frustration bottled up — I've got a breath to vent too. We'll leave in a moment, just after I say a few words."

Although Zhao Jin and the others appeared relaxed, every one of them had already shed their robes, donned their armor, and held weapons in hand. Braziers had even been placed around them, and all the fire lances were already loaded.

More and more people on the viewing platforms and in the arena were dropping to the ground, and the fighting was entering its final stage. In the tournament arena, one man picked up a pudao and charged left and right. He inflicted no harm whatsoever and instead drew the attention of several household troops, who ran him straight through with the spikes of their long halberds. Impaled, the man still stood there, refusing to kneel, and merely shouted hoarsely, "I had the will to kill the traitors, I had the will to kill the traitors..."

Halfway through his shout, a long halberd hacked down fiercely and lopped his head clean off. Zhao Jin and the others were all drawn to this scene. That man had been so righteous and fearless, and many of those still fighting also shouted and roared wildly, while those already prostrate and surrendered pounded the ground and wailed. Zhao Jin watched it all, merely smiling, and said leisurely, "Through disaster after disaster, wave after wave of refugees — how many people have we saved? How many have prospered and benefited because of us? And yet, they are still traitors!"

"Master, these people are all jackals who eat human flesh and drink human blood. If you let the common folk live well, then naturally they won't have enough to eat, and naturally they'll curse you," Li Dajin said in a deep voice from the side.

Dong Bingfeng had left, but he could not. The encirclement and slaughter inside and outside this tournament arena was under his command. Li Dajin stood at one corner of the square platform, continuously issuing orders, while household troops and patrol soldiers ran in and out to receive and relay commands.

But at that very moment, among the seating near the square platform, a corpse suddenly sprang up. The household troops had already stepped over him, and no one had paid him any attention. The man felt along the ground, picked up a long blade, and charged straight at Zhao Jin.

This man's skill was exceptional, far surpassing the mediocre lot on the viewing platforms, and not even inferior to the martial artists down in the tournament arena.

In three strides he had already covered a great distance. Some household troops turned and spotted him, but it was too late to catch up — the man was already closing in on the square platform.

The man made no indignant shouts; he even did his utmost to avoid drawing attention. It was this brief moment of keeping a low profile that won him the chance to get close.

The household troops at the edge of the square platform spotted him and attacked with furious shouts, but the man rolled and circled around from one side of the platform to the other, getting even closer to Zhao Jin. His hand gripped the edge of the platform, his arm tensed and tightened, and he leveraged his entire body up onto it. He knew Zhao Jin was at most five paces from this edge of the platform.

He leaped onto the square platform, and indeed, no one blocked him. Everyone was watching him coldly. Zhao Jin was right ahead, holding a fire lance in a textbook stance. At this distance, he could even see the match cord burning on the serpentine lever...

At this range, the fire lance might fail to fire, and he could charge right up to him. The martial artist who had escaped by playing dead let out a furious roar and charged forward, brandishing his long blade. And at that very moment, the match cord on the serpentine lever touched the priming pan.

With a muffled boom, the fire lance fired after all. He was still four paces from Zhao Jin. Everyone clustered around Zhao Jin had already aimed their weapons in that direction, and some had even drawn bows and nocked arrows.

At a distance of only a few paces, a fired lance could not possibly miss. The man was struck squarely in the chest. The lead ball propelled by the gunpowder carried immense force, and his forward momentum instantly slowed. He took one more step forward, and an axe hacked at him from the side, severing half his arm. The blade clattered to the ground.

The moment the fire lance shot struck him, the man felt as if a massive hammer had slammed into his chest, and then all the strength in his body rapidly drained away. His vision and hearing grew blurry. He vaguely heard a voice saying, "Don't strike," and he didn't even feel much pain when his forearm was chopped off.

"You... you... firearms... using firearms... what... what kind of hero is that..." He gritted his teeth and forced out this accusation. Being this close, he was truly unwilling to accept it.

"And what kind are you?" Zhao Jin handed the fire lance to the person beside him and asked in return with a smile.

But the man opposite him could no longer hear. He had already crashed heavily face-first to the ground. Niu Jinbao already had his hand axe in hand, looking left and right nervously.

The people here had just been saying that the martial artists in the tournament arena counted as assassins, but there should also be strong fighters positioned on the surrounding viewing platforms. They hadn't expected that just as they spoke of this, someone would burst forth from the side. Zhao Jin had been fiddling with a fire lance at that moment, and by sheer coincidence, it came in handy. All things considered, though, Niu Jinbao would much rather have had Zhao Jin holding a long spear or a pudao — that would have been more reliable.

This sudden attack could be considered the final resistance within the tournament arena. Aside from the dead and the gravely wounded, only those who had surrendered and those caught up in the chaos remained in the grounds. There were no lightly wounded, because the Zhao Camp had never intended to take prisoners this time.

The several large gates around the tournament arena were all thrown wide open. Household troops and patrol soldiers pushed large carts out from inside, loading corpses and the gravely wounded onto them, tightly binding those who had surrendered, and also clearing away the weapons from the grounds. On the viewing platforms, household troops tossed the bodies down one by one to be dealt with by the men in the arena below. By now, both the viewing platforms and the tournament arena were stained red with blood — cleaning it all up would certainly take considerable effort.

Those people from Qingjiangpu, whether genuinely or falsely caught up in the events, or those who had switched sides at the last moment, though still in a state of shock, still wailed and cried out to see Zhao Jin. The household troops could not deal with them harshly and merely sent word to ask. Zhao Jin's answer was simple: tell them to go wait over by the prisoners.

The prisoners who had already been bound, the gravely wounded who were barely clinging to life, and all those who had escaped with their lives were gathered together. Some were afraid, some were angry, some were at a loss — but they could only wait there obediently.

Zhao Jin and the others descended from the wooden platform and, surrounded by household troops, walked toward the crowd. When they reached a spot not far from the crowd, the household troops standing guard all around saluted in deference. Zhao Jin paid no attention to the prisoners and the rest; instead, he first raised his left arm. The scene instantly fell silent. This atmosphere of commands being issued with mountain-like authority silenced even the prisoners and wounded.

"Brothers, you have worked hard!" Zhao Jin shouted. The household troops' response was to stand at solemn attention, striking their chests with their left fists. Armor clashed, and the entire arena resounded with a thunderous crash. This atmosphere turned the faces of the prisoners and wounded deathly pale, and expressions of regret appeared on many faces. So this was the terrifying Zhao Camp of Xuzhou — they had made a mistake in coming here.

"Those who fought against us today all have enormous reputations in the rivers-and-lakes and the greenwood, famed as warriors who could fight a hundred men. Yet before us, they are nothing — they cannot withstand a single blow. Brothers, as long as we make no mistakes and never slacken, then no one can defeat us. No one can defeat the Zhao Camp!" Zhao Jin shouted.

His words ignited heroic passion in every household soldier. They pounded their armor with their fists again and again, and the arena thundered once more. Someone shouted, "Zhao Camp, ten thousand victories! Lord Jin, ten thousand victories!"

This slogan spread from one to ten, from ten to a hundred, until the entire arena was shouting along. The sound carried beyond the tournament grounds, and the household troops outside also roared the cry, a sound like roaring mountains and tsunamis that shook every prisoner and wounded man to the core, their faces turning pale with terror.

When the shouting finally subsided, Zhao Jin signaled for everyone to get busy, then walked up to the prisoners and wounded. Smiling, he said, "Did you all think your luck was good this time? That someone as cautious and prudent as me would actually be persuaded by you to come to this tournament? And that in order to calm people's hearts, to let others see that Xuzhou hadn't been harmed by the floods, I would throw all caution to the wind and agree to your seemingly reasonable proposals?"

Zhao Jin spoke in a very offhand manner, a smile on his face, without any trace of agitation or anger. Yet his words made the surviving Qingjiangpu magnates and the rest all hang their heads. Zhao Jin smiled again and said, "You even said that the womenfolk of the great houses wanted to watch this tournament. Do you really take Xuzhou for some backwater that doesn't even understand such proprieties?"

The Three Obediences and Four Virtues — any household with even a shred of respectability had rules of one kind or another for its womenfolk, and not showing their faces in public was one of them. Though exceptions and broken rules were not uncommon, those who adhered to the rules were far more numerous. Moreover, an occasion like a martial tournament, a coarse affair of combat and fighting, was not one that the women of so-called great and wealthy families would attend. The only ones who might show their faces were famous courtesans from the pleasure quarters.

"From the time I arrived in Qingjiangpu until now, how many schemes have you cooked up? How is it you never learn? Did you think that because your lives are valuable, this Zhao would not dare to kill?" Zhao Jin asked with a smile. His tone remained as unchanged as ever, yet everyone who heard these words could not help but tremble.

After a few sentences, a look of boredom surfaced on Zhao Jin's face. Smiling, he waved his hand, about to leave. Before he could even turn around, a Qingjiangpu strongman cried out in a heart-rending voice, "Lord Jin, it has nothing to do with this lowly one! This lowly one only came to show support — who could have imagined these beasts would do something so utterly insane! It has nothing to do with this lowly one!"

Zhao Jin turned around and said loudly, "Among those who participated in the tournament today, there are some who knew nothing at all and never raised a hand from the very start. These matters have been observed. If you explain yourselves clearly, you may leave. If you wish to stay, you may do so as well — the Zhao Camp does not mistreat heroes with true skill. As for the rest, whether you are wronged or not, you will be made to explain yourselves clearly."

"Xiaoyong, don't leave them any face or dignity. Seal their gates and confiscate their homes today. Interrogate those captured under torture immediately. Even the innocent must be temporarily confined," Zhao Jin said to Liu Yong beside him. Liu Yong nodded solemnly.

Zhao Jin and Wang Zhaojing walked toward the exit, and as they walked, Zhao Jin said, "Assemble the household troops in the arena and have them stand by. Let the patrol soldiers relieve them. Zhaojing, you head back toward Xuzhou right now. Take a hundred cavalry as an escort, in case there are any further complications on the road. I'll wrap things up here and return immediately."

Thanks to old friends "Duan Yichen, Qi Sanwen, Feng Zhong Long Wang" for their tips. Thanks to everyone for your subscriptions and monthly tickets. Thank you all for your support.