Chapter 308: Big Brother

308. Chapter 308: Big Brother

"Shitou, get up and fight!" Liu Yong shouted, gripping his blood-dripping axe. In the chaos of this melee, he had already drawn the short axe he was most comfortable with.

Shi Manqiang pinned that man down and rammed him twice with his head. Wearing his iron helmet, he smashed down hard, and the man's cheek caved in. He could no longer move.

Standing up and drawing his waist saber, Shi Manqiang stood back-to-back with Liu Yong, but then they heard Zhao Jin's furious roar. The two of them strode forward together and also bellowed at the top of their lungs: "Kill!"

The household troops in the front few rows of the Zhao Camp were all wearing armor. In close combat, only the forceful thrusts of long spears and the heavy blows of axes and hammers could inflict damage. Slashes from blades were useless unless they struck a vital spot. Meanwhile, the unarmored formation at the rear was still not in much disarray, the distance from the enemy had not been closed, and the long spears in their hands could be put to good use.

After a brief disruption to the formation, the charging "refugee" warriors were all killed. But by this point, the Zhao Camp square formation was no longer fighting as a unit. Every man was brandishing a long spear, shouting and battling the "refugees" individually, and the square formation was spreading further and further apart.

Shi Manqiang and Liu Yong guarded Zhao Jin's sides. The long spear in Zhao Jin's hands surged like a great python, each thrust claiming a life. The enemies in front of Shi Manqiang and Liu Yong had little opportunity either. Although the two of them wielded short weapons, their iron armor allowed them to close the distance with the enemy and kill.

"I'm fine! Protect the Blood Banner, don't let it fall!" Zhao Jin shouted.

The two mixed companies were in an even fiercer melee. The household troops and militia who had fled the square formation without armor had already suffered casualties and some had routed, but the situation was still being held together, because Chen Sheng, wielding a blade in each hand, was cutting down every enemy before him one by one. His body was huge and fat, yet his movements were fierce, swift, and powerful. Not a single enemy could last a single exchange against him. Some "refugees" even had half their bodies cleaved off directly by him. Faced with such might, no one dared to appear before him anymore. More and more household troops of the Zhao Camp gathered around Chen Sheng.

The moment the wooden ladder crashed over, Ji Xiang had rolled away to dodge. Watching the chaos ahead and the rout around him, he first ran a couple of steps, but then he saw the Blood Banner ahead, and Zhao Jin shouting and fighting fiercely in front of the banner. Without any hesitation, Ji Xiang drew the long blade from his back and turned back to fight. People around him also began to gather.

The most ferocious charge had already been blocked by the Zhao Camp's main unit and the two mixed companies. The "refugee" warriors who had charged to the very front were also encircling these three companies in a deadly fight. The rest who had charged to the back, facing the volunteer militia, no longer had such fierce momentum, nor were they the toughest batch.

The militia and volunteers gathered from various places usually practiced with blades and staves, ran roughshod over the countryside, or conducted moneyless trades in the Jianghu. They were no strangers to bloodshed and slaughter. Those who dared to come here inevitably had some degree of confidence and pride in their own martial valor, and their equipment was not too poor either.

Even so, watching those refugees throw the seemingly invincible three companies of the Zhao Camp into chaos, they were still panicked and terrified. But having followed all the way here, and with the area below the wall seemingly vast but actually leaving no room to flee wildly, they had no choice but to meet the attack.

But once they engaged, they discovered they were not at a disadvantage, and even had the upper hand. Those who had already retreated and fled, seeing the Zhao Camp's banner fluttering and that the Zhao Camp had barely retreated at all, gradually gathered and returned.

The archers who had already fled into the militia ranks also began to draw their bows and nock arrows. However, most of them had already shot all their arrows or lost them during the escape. They picked up weapons from the ground on the spot and began to join the fight.

The situation had shifted from imminent collapse at the start to a stalemate.

Those fighting bitterly below the wall might not have been able to perceive the subtle shifts in the situation, but the scene observed by those watching from the top of the wall was even more pessimistic. They only saw the orderly formation thrown into chaos in an instant by the "refugees'" counterattack, and a large mass of refugees had already surrounded the relief force.

"We have to go out and save them quickly, they can't hold on much longer!" Wang Zhaojing, who had already ascended the wall, was shouting. Everyone's faces were grim, but few echoed him. Over there, Chen Wu, seeing this situation and the Zhao Camp in disarray, had actually sat down directly on the parapet, clearly somewhat dizzy. Several yamen runners were attending to him. Meanwhile, Zhao Zhentang was wounded and still being bandaged below the wall.

Wang Zhaojing shouted twice behind the two Battalion Commanders but received no response. Gritting his teeth, he drew his sword and raised it, shouting: "Those who came with me, follow me out to save them!"

The Zhao Camp household troops, the Wang family's estate guards, and the city riffraff he had brought numbered nearly two hundred men. In the earlier slaughter, Wang Zhaojing had already proven himself enough to command respect. As soon as he gave the order, people immediately shouted their assent. But Battalion Commander Liang turned around from the crenel, his face dark, and walked over, looking as if he was about to rebuke him. Wang Zhaojing nodded, not wanting to pay him any heed, and turned to descend the wall.

Just as Wang Zhaojing turned, Battalion Commander Liang had already drawn his blade from its sheath and directly placed it against his neck. Everyone watching from the wall turned back in shock. Battalion Commander Liang said coldly: "You go out to save people. If you die out there, it doesn't matter, but what if the refugee bandits use the chance to enter the city? A few thousand outside the city, a hundred thousand inside. Which is more important?"

Before Wang Zhaojing could speak, Battalion Commander Wang over there also roared: "Guard all the city gates strictly! Fill in and seal the gate tunnels! All of you watch carefully for me! Anyone who dares to move recklessly will be dealt with by military law!"

The soldiers responded with a thunderous assent. Wang Zhaojing's expression was extremely ugly. Chen Wu, who had just stood up over there, also had an ugly expression. But in the current situation, they had no other options.

After a stalemate on the wall for a while, someone took Wang Zhaojing's sword. They did not continue to restrain him, and everyone looked down towards the base of the wall together.

"Kill this one! Chop down that banner!" someone shouted. The surging "refugees" had also figured out who the key figure was. That filthy banner thrust forward stood tall and did not fall, the relief force never scattered, and the man in front of the banner constantly issued orders. Some had already guessed that this was Zhao Jin.

But getting close to him was simply too difficult. Zhao Jin's long spear did not thrust at the chest or abdomen, but stabbed precisely at points like the neck, eye sockets, and throat. He rarely missed, and every thrust inflicted a wound. The iron armor on his body provided complete protection, and he had guards on his left and right flanks. There was simply no way to approach.

"Beat the drums, blow the horns, rally the ranks!" Zhao Jin shouted. The drummer and suona horn player, who had been shielded by Zhao Jin and the other two all along, had now grown considerably bolder. Hearing this order, they answered in unison and immediately began beating the drum and blowing the suona.

Even as he spoke, his hands did not stop. The long spear withdrew from a man's eye socket. Where Zhao Jin's spear tip pointed, there were already over a dozen corpses. The "refugees" charging over had already begun to instinctively avoid this area. But behind them, some large men wearing leather armor and wielding blades and spears were approaching.

A large man snatched the sharpened wooden club from a companion beside him, took a brief moment to prepare, and hurled it fiercely at Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin had just thrust out his long spear; it was too late to deflect it. If he dodged, the banner-bearer, drummer, and horn player would be right behind him. If they were killed or wounded, the unit would lose control again. Zhao Jin did not move; instead, he covered his face with his left arm.

"Clang!" A massive shock struck Zhao Jin's chest. He felt only a burst of pain and suffocating tightness. The sharpened wooden club had been very accurate, hitting Zhao Jin square in the chest, but it could not penetrate this expertly crafted iron armor.

Moving his arm away, a large man had already charged before him. The pudao in his hands was like a short spear, thrusting straight at Zhao Jin. In his haste, Zhao Jin turned sideways. The blade tip stabbed into his chest plate and slid off, producing a harsh scraping sound. But the force of this blow was too great; Zhao Jin lost his footing and staggered backward. At this moment, he was holding his spear with one hand, and the only move he could make was to whip it downward.

That ugly, large man with a diagonal scar that seemed to split his face in two completely ignored the spear shaft whipping down. He flipped his pudao and stabbed towards Zhao Jin's face. This armor had a neck guard, but there were gaps in the face guard. Zhao Jin spread his arms wide; his right arm was already too late, but his left arm swung upward fiercely, knocking the blade aside. Yet his heel caught on something unknown, and he fell flat on his back.

"Big Brother!" A cry of alarm rang out. Liu Yong and Shi Manqiang to his left and right both wanted to come to his aid, but they were likewise entangled by their own opponents. In true face-to-face combat, they also had to deal with their foes seriously.

The large man facing Zhao Jin reversed his pudao and prepared to stab downward. Wearing iron armor, Zhao Jin could not perform a kip-up to jump to his feet. He simply rolled with the momentum to the side. The pudao missed again. Zhao Jin rolled, pushed off the ground with his arm, drew his short blade, and lunged forward from a crouch, pouncing towards the large man's lower body. The distance between them had closed to an arm's length, and the large man's pudao could no longer be brought to bear.

But the large man's martial skill was high. Seeing Zhao Jin's short blade stabbing towards his waist, and with his pudao being unwieldy, he actually pressed the blade down horizontally, stepped back to retreat, and used the three-foot-long handle of the pudao to heavily strike Zhao Jin's wrist guard. The force was immense. Zhao Jin had not expected such a response, and with his hand slick with blood, the short blade was directly knocked from his grip.

But now the distance between the two was close enough. With a furious roar, Zhao Jin threw his entire body forward. The pudao was trapped horizontally between their waists, impossible to flip around. The large man was now the one at a disadvantage.

Zhao Jin had already grabbed the other man's shoulders. Pushing off the ground with force, he directly tackled him to the ground. The large man's reaction was not slow; with a swing of his arm, he tossed the pudao aside, and his hand had already drawn a dagger from his waist, stabbing towards Zhao Jin's ribs. The dagger struck the armor and slid off, but it cut through the leather cord connecting the front and back armor plates. The next strike could stab directly through the gap in the armor to kill.

The man had been tackled to the ground, the large man on the bottom and Zhao Jin on top. The impact of the fall, combined with the weight of Zhao Jin and his armor, made the large man's breath catch, slowing his movements for a moment. But he already felt victory was in his grasp. Zhao Jin was empty-handed; there was no time for anything. Then, the large man saw Zhao Jin tear off his helmet in one motion and smash it down with heavy force!

Zhao Jin roared as he smashed it down. On the first strike, a bloody hole opened on the large man's face. The second strike hit his neck, and blood gushed out wildly. Zhao Jin's hand did not stop, just smashing down repeatedly. Flesh and blood splattered. At first, the large man's body twitched a few times, but soon he was motionless.

The three-inch sharp horn on the Tiger Fang Helmet had now become a lethal weapon.

"Big Brother, Big Brother..." The charging refugees retreated in fear, but someone also cried out in a shrill, mournful wail. Zhao Jin was stunned for a moment before realizing they were not shouting for him.

In that brief moment just now, it had been a life-and-death struggle. Already greatly exhausted, Zhao Jin now felt somewhat drained of strength. Propping up his upper body to look forward, he saw a large man with coin-shaped scars on both cheeks roaring as he charged over. He would have to fight using only the helmet in his hands. His companions on both sides could not come to his aid. At this moment, Zhao Jin felt his entire body stiffen. He could only watch helplessly as that large man rushed up to him. In the distance, his companions were already shouting, and on the wall, people were also yelling...

Zhao Jin only felt a shadow pass over his head. A long spear thrust straight forward from above, burying itself in the chest of the charging large man, then withdrew. Zhao Jin turned his head with some difficulty and saw Lu Da, who looked a bit nervous. The long spear Lu Da had thrust out was precisely the shaft to which the Blood Banner was tied. In a simple, honest voice, he said: "Master, I couldn't hold back anymore. I had to level the banner to stab him. Please don't blame me, Master."

Household troops had already rushed over from the side, clearing out the enemies who had little will to fight left, and shielding Zhao Jin. Enduring the intense pain in his chest, Zhao Jin took a deep breath. He pushed off the ground with his hand and stood up. Li Wu, who had hurried over, took a few quick steps and handed the long spear and short blade back to Zhao Jin.

Sheathing the short blade and gripping the long spear, Zhao Jin said to Lu Da with a smile: "Next time you do that, I'll give you a harsh whipping. Raise the banner high!"

Lu Da nodded heavily and raised the Blood Banner high. On the already soiled banner, there were now some fresh red stains. This was the blood of the man Lu Da had stabbed to death, splashed onto it.

The "refugees" who had charged up were already retreating. They had thrown the Zhao Camp's main unit and the two mixed companies into chaos, but could not completely shatter them. When they charged at the militia and braves, they couldn't gain any advantage there either, and were immediately beaten back by the Xuzhou volunteers, who had the advantage in stamina and equipment. How could they possibly hold on? The deaths of the two men who were their leaders caused their morale to plummet even further.

"Follow my lead! The entire Zhao Camp, form a single line! Beat the drums, blow the horns!" Zhao Jin bellowed, raising the long spear in his hand high. Behind him, Lu Da also raised the banner high.

The shrill sound of the suona rang out, and the drumbeats pounded urgently. With Zhao Jin as the first man on the right of the square formation's first row, the household troops of the Zhao Camp ran quickly towards Zhao Jin.

Their formation had been thrown into chaos by the enemy's sudden charge. With no comrades to rely on and no superior issuing orders, everyone could only fight on their own. But under such circumstances, a situation that seemed on the verge of collapse had been turned around bit by bit. Now, the Zhao Camp was about to stand together again!

Many of the household troops who had originally stood in the first and second rows did not make it over. Household troops from the third row stepped forward as replacements, beginning to form up with Zhao Jin as the baseline.

"My brothers, to the first row!" Zhao Jin roared.

"Chen Sheng, here!" "Ji Xiang, here!" "Shi Manqiang, here!" "Liu Yong, here!" They answered in succession with loud shouts, each man taking his place in the first row.

Zhao Jin and his companions were all bathed in blood. They had fought on the very front line against the greatest number of enemies. It was precisely because they fought to the death without retreating that the household troops of the Zhao Camp had also recovered from their initial panic and fear, gathering around them. And because they were full of stamina, possessed excellent martial skills, and were well-equipped, after all the slaughter, none of them had suffered any significant injuries. The brothers looked at each other, none of them speaking. At this moment, there was no need for superfluous words; their hearts were connected and their thoughts were the same.

Nearly five hundred men formed a horizontal line thirty men wide. The last few rows were not complete, but people continuously filled in the gaps. The household troops from the two mixed companies kept running back, automatically and consciously standing at the rear. Those militia braves also gathered over, and just as arranged beforehand, formed up on the two wings of the Zhao Camp. Archers who still had arrows went to the front.

Meanwhile, the "refugees" who had just been charging over were all retreating. Though fighting still continued, it had already turned into a pursuit. It wasn't that the "refugee" warriors had no strength left, but they knew they were already defeated. They could still run now; soon, they might not be able to escape.

"Brothers of the Zhao Camp, are you all here?" Zhao Jin roared.

"Here!"