Chapter 641: Dazed and Lost

But when Cheng Dahu grabbed the other man's short axe, he yanked outward with force — a move that slowed him down a little. Niu Jinbao also seized his pole-blade. At this stage of the fight, since you don't care about the blade, I don't need to care either. Both men were now bare-handed.

After a few more exchanges, both men's weapons had left their hands, leaving them bare-fisted. Yet the watching crowd grew even more excited. On a battlefield, losing your weapon is a death sentence, and a contest like this could be called off, but for a personal guard's line of work, bare-handed skill is also tested.

Within the Zhao Character Battalion system, Cheng Dahu's strength was famous. Many still remembered clearly the move he'd pulled against the constables back in Qingjiangpu. Niu Jinbao's weapon routines and such were all decent, but what his bare-handed skills were like had yet to be shown. Could Cheng Dahu gain the upper hand?

The crowd watching now was holding its breath, thinking that Niu Jinbao, an outsider and newcomer, had actually beaten several of the Zhao Character Battalion's strong fighters. This was far too humiliating — they had to win back some face somehow. Without anyone noticing, the shouts of encouragement suddenly grew much louder, all of them for Cheng Dahu.

The cheering grew louder. Both men were bare-handed now, but Cheng Dahu did not charge recklessly. He stepped back twice to open distance, cautiously beginning to look for an opening.

Without his weapon, Niu Jinbao's movements did not speed up either; he still moved slowly. This time, however, Zhao Jin spotted something. In motion and stillness alike, Niu Jinbao kept himself positioned on the inner circle. His expenditure of strength was certainly less than Cheng Dahu's.

Cheng Dahu quickly realized this as well. After a few steps, he too slowed down. The two men now stood nearly still, facing each other, their feet shifting slowly.

The noise around them died down. Everyone here had seen blood and been in formation; they could sense the atmosphere. It looked calm and sluggish, but in truth it was thick with lethal intent.

Cheng Dahu seemed to find an opening and suddenly lunged one step forward, but the motion was too large and his upper body already exposed a flaw. The moment he moved, sighs rose from among the onlookers. Too hasty — this is likely going to end badly...

Niu Jinbao opposite him seized exactly that opening. His originally sluggish movements instantly became swift. He crossed one step and raised his arm to strike. When both sides were slow, their guards were tight; the moment they moved, they inevitably gave the other an opening. Cheng Dahu, who had exposed a flaw, suddenly accelerated, stepping out to Niu Jinbao's left side.

A roar of cheers erupted. Cheng Dahu, well done — he actually knew how to feint! That Niu Jinbao had a fat, heavy, clumsy build; once he moved, he would have trouble pulling back. Cheng Dahu was going to win!

In the blink of an eye, he was almost upon Niu Jinbao. Then, at a speed no one imagined possible, Niu Jinbao turned his body, sank his waist, and threw a punch, exhaling with a shout. A very simple motion — just a straight punch thrust, like the horse-stance straight punch from everyday training. Simple, direct, pure in its force. Yet combined with both men's movements, it looked as if Cheng Dahu had charged forward and delivered himself right in front of Niu Jinbao to be struck!

One punch. Only the sharp-eyed could see that just before the fist was about to hit Cheng Dahu, Niu Jinbao changed it from a fist to an open palm and slapped heavily onto Cheng Dahu's body. Cheng Dahu let out a muffled grunt, staggered back several steps before steadying himself, clutched the spot where he'd been struck, and couldn't help coughing a few times.

The cheers around them cut off halfway, as if stuck in everyone's throats. Now they all understood — just now, Cheng Dahu had been feinting, and Niu Jinbao had turned his own trick against him, also feinting. His fist-and-foot skill was formidable too.

Over on his side, Cheng Dahu finally caught his breath. He shook his head, then stepped forward two paces, clasped his fist, and said, "Many thanks for pulling your strike. Old Cheng is thoroughly convinced!"

These words were spoken with great sincerity, and his bearing was fully respectful. The scene was very quiet. Whether the jianghu men of the Inner Guard or the household troops of the Zhao Character Battalion, though no one cheered, every face bore an expression of admiration. A few Mongols from the original horse team had been thinking of stepping in to try wrestling and grappling, but after seeing that last move, they knew better and backed off.

Zhao Jin smiled and clapped his hands. Everyone's gaze converged on him. Zhao Jin's face showed approval. Niu Jinbao was indeed formidable. Compared to the men under his command, Niu Jinbao had received systematic training in personal martial arts, had never let it lapse over all these years, and on top of that had the foundation laid down at the garrison — naturally he was not someone the jianghu folk could match.

Martial arts are not some mystical thing, but those who have undergone systematic training are different. And Shaolin Temple was surely the place in all the world where martial learning was most systematic — not to mention there were other reasons besides.

"Is that Shaolin martial skill, or did you train elsewhere?" Zhao Jin asked with a smile.

Niu Jinbao bowed slightly and said in a muffled voice, "In reply to Master Jin, this is the transmission of Shaolin Temple. Back then, Grandfather Qi and Grandfather Yu requisitioned monk soldiers to suppress the Wokou. The Shaolin monk soldiers suffered terrible casualties, but those who returned all came back with great ability, and the skills they passed down have proven useful."

Zhao Jin nodded with a smile. He had heard this historical account from his second uncle Zhao Zhenxing as well. The reason it had been told to him back then was to make clear that no matter how miraculous martial skill might be, it was still for single combat. If you wanted to survive on the battlefield, if you wanted to kill and wound the enemy on the battlefield, you had to learn those simple, tedious techniques.

On the killing fields of war, where tens of thousands clash with the enemy, individual leaping and dodging are of no use whatsoever. Holding the formation steady, obeying commands, having well-made arms and armor — that is the path to victory.

Niu Jinbao's answer made Zhao Jin regard him even more highly. Martial men who knew how to hold back were rare.

Zhao Jin stretched his arms, glanced at the looks in the eyes around him, and said with a smile, "Bring a wooden shaft, the length of a long spear. I'll give it a try."

He understood the meaning of those looks. One good fighter after another in the camp had been defeated; everyone, high and low, was unwilling to accept it. Now they all hoped that the strongest, Zhao Jin, would come and win once.

If this were an official army or the like, perhaps few would care much about the commander-in-chief's personal martial valor. But the Zhao Character Battalion was different. The commander's invincible prowess was one of its centripetal forces, and one of the sources of his authority.

Niu Jinbao was indeed formidable, but Zhao Jin was also confident of victory, because the advantage in weaponry was too great. An inch longer, an inch stronger — this saying might not hold true for everyone, but for a strong fighter like Zhao Jin, who had trained with the long spear since childhood and been through a hundred battles, the weapon's advantage was solid and real.

With the long spear's reach, Niu Jinbao could only operate on the outer circle, giving Zhao Jin a controllable distance of ten feet. What's more, the long spear delivers force through the thrust, and short blades and short axes are very hard-pressed to parry it. Thus Zhao Jin was certain of victory.

"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare. How could this lowly one dare to exchange blows with Master Jin? This lowly one is certainly no match for Master Jin." A trace of alarm appeared on Niu Jinbao's honest face. Zhao Jin laughed inwardly — this Niu Jinbao certainly had plenty on his mind. Still, his own personal guard couldn't be a fool or an idiot; it was fine that he understood what mattered and where the limits lay.

"It's fine..." Zhao Jin said with a smile, but stopped halfway through. The courtyard had already fallen quiet along with him, because everyone had heard the urgent sound of hoofbeats — not just one horse or a few, but a mounted column of several dozen horses.

Though this was only a roadside inn, after Zhao Jin took lodging, guards were posted everywhere, and the local strongmen would arrange lookouts and scouts. With all these layers in place, it was hard to say for the distance, but anyone unidentified within about two li would be noticed. A mounted column like this would have been stopped long before.

To be able to approach this close, and without any sound of fighting or uproar, they had to be their own people. Zhao Jin and a few others thought of this, but everyone else immediately tensed up. Squad leaders had already begun shouting orders.

"It's Third Master! Third Master has arrived!" A shout came from the lookout post, and only then did the courtyard settle down.

Hearing this, Zhao Jin's brow furrowed instead, and his expression turned solemn. He had only just set out from Xuzhou a few days ago, and Wang Zhaojing had chased after him in such haste — what major event could have happened?

The hoofbeats had already stopped, and the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard. Before long, Wang Zhaojing was seen walking over in a rush. Zhao Jin knew this brother of his was steady by nature, calm and self-possessed. Yet now, under the firelight, his face was deathly pale, and beyond that, it was full of panic and alarm — he looked utterly beside himself.

"No one stays in the courtyard! All of you withdraw and disperse!" Zhao Jin raised his arm and said in a clear voice.

At his single command, the crowd, which had been guessing uneasily, immediately scattered in all directions. Niu Jinbao also paused for a moment, then followed the others and left.

Wang Zhaojing looked as if his soul had been snatched away. Dazed and lost, he walked up to Zhao Jin. It was a wonder how he had managed to ride here on horseback.

Seeing Zhao Jin under the firelight, Wang Zhaojing seemed to steady himself slightly and said, "Big Brother..."

But the moment he uttered that "Big Brother," it gave Zhao Jin a start. He had not expected Wang Zhaojing's voice to be completely hoarse, even carrying a tearful choke.

"Big Brother... Big Brother..." He just called out twice like that. Instead of steadying, Wang Zhaojing grew even more flustered, unable to even speak smoothly.

Zhao Jin's brow furrowed. Seeing Wang Zhaojing stammering, even seeming somewhat unhinged, he couldn't help but deliver a slap across the face. A sharp crack rang out, and a red handprint already marked Wang Zhaojing's cheek. Zhao Jin's hand strength was certainly not light. The stinging pain from this blow went without saying, and the ringing in both ears was unavoidable, but after that slap, the man finally sobered up considerably.

"What exactly happened? Speak quickly, and stop putting on this womanish act!" Zhao Jin roared.

After this furious shout, Wang Zhaojing's body jolted, and he became completely clear-headed. He shook his head there, but the deathly pallor on his face did not diminish in the slightest. Still with a tearful choke, he said, "Big Brother, Liaodong has been lost. Liaodong has been lost. Over a hundred thousand troops, claimed to be over four hundred thousand — in less than ten days, all wiped out!"

Just days ago, the news had been of heavy snow in Liaodong, the great army slow and unable to advance. Days later, news like this arrived: the great army of over a hundred thousand under Liaodong Military Commissioner Yang Hao had suffered a catastrophic defeat.

No one had imagined that an army so long in preparation would be defeated so quickly. With over a hundred thousand troops on campaign, such a great battle ought to take months, half a year, or even longer. So the matter of the snow slowing the army's advance had been treated as normal and sent unhurriedly to Xuzhou. But when the news of the great defeat came through, it would have been dispatched with the utmost urgency.

When Yang Hao led the great army on campaign, there had been no shortage of people who judged it would fail in advance, but no one had imagined the defeat would be this swift, this total...

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