Chapter 748: I Am Zhao Jin

The cavalry in the frontmost rows wore iron armor of a bizarre style — it looked as if their entire bodies were wrapped in a single piece of iron, even their faces covered, with only their eyes exposed, making them seem like demons and monsters.

The guards who surged over to surround the awning were the only armed force of the Smelling Incense Sect in this area that had not yet collapsed.

The mounted troop was no more than ten paces from that earthen platform; such close pressure drove those guards mad. One guard finally could not endure it and, clutching his blade, charged forward with a frenzied yell.

Zhao Jin flipped his hand and snatched up his long spear, then hurled it from his elevated position. The spear was heavy, and this throw was swift and fierce beyond compare. The charging guard had no way to dodge; the spear pierced through his chest and pinned him to the ground just like that.

The scene fell utterly silent. Xu Hongru clenched both hands tight, his nails already drawing blood from his palms — without this pain, he could not force himself to stay calm at all. Yet faced with the scene before him, it seemed there was nothing else he could do besides stay calm. As the master of a sect, he had to maintain at least some dignity.

The eldest son of the Zeng family had only today gained enormous benefits. Being none too bright to begin with, he had not actually been frightened by the scene before him. After that guard was pinned dead by the spear, the Zeng eldest son thought the moment to demonstrate loyalty had arrived. He stepped forward to shield Xu Hongru and shouted angrily, "What are you—"

He got out only four words. A feathered arrow nailed into his forehead. The Zeng eldest son's eyes bulged wide, his face full of utter disbelief, and he collapsed to the ground just like that.

As the corpse fell prone, everyone around scrambled to dodge away. Even those few from the Zeng family hurriedly lowered their heads, cursing only that their kinsman's loose tongue had brought disaster.

"You speak only when I allow you to speak." Zhao Jin lifted open his face guard. Behind him, Zhuang Liu had already nocked another arrow onto his bow.

At a distance of a dozen or so paces, with several hundred people present, yet apart from the soft whinnies of horses and the clanking of armor, not a sound could be heard — absolute silence. Zhao Jin's voice was not loud, but every person heard it clearly.

Naturally, Xu Hongru and the others beneath the awning dared not make a sound, but when they saw the face beneath that face guard, they were all stunned. How could he be so young?

Someone who could command a mounted troop like this had to be either a great general of the court or a major figure of the martial world. Such men had trained and risen step by step from youth, and by the time they held such power they would be forty or fifty years old, naturally unable to lead the charge in person. The troop leaders would be vigorous men in their thirties or forties. Yet the face beneath that face guard looked twenty at most.

What in the world was going on? When had the Smelling Incense Sect offended such a formidable foe? To have them slaughter their way in so brazenly at a time like this, and so effortlessly, like crushing dry weeds and smashing rotten wood — the Smelling Incense Sect's foundational force for their grand enterprise, the thousand-strong core troops everyone regarded as a tiger-and-wolf army, had been butchered clean just like that?

Xu Hongru had recovered a measure of calm. He kept breathing deeply. Xie Mingxian beside him took a step back, letting the people around him shield him from view. Xu Hongju's face was flushed crimson; he wanted to step forward but shrank back. The others there dared not move recklessly, even as some gave off the stench of having lost control of their bowels, even as they trembled so badly they could barely stand steady.

"Is Mu Shulan still alive?" Zhao Jin asked another question.

The moment this question was asked, everyone beneath the awning was horrified, the shock even greater than when the mounted troop had charged in. It was actually for someone from the Mu family that they had come.

Wasn't the Mu family's backing just that territory they had carved out for themselves? A few hundred fighting men, the faithful in Dongchang Prefecture, perhaps some support from Northern Zhili — since when had they produced a troop of iron cavalry like this, such grim and formidable soldiers?

Everyone was horrified. Even Xu Hongru, who had barely regained his composure, did not react for a moment. The scene remained silent.

Chen Sheng, who had not made a sound all this while, let out a sudden roar. His spurs struck his horse's belly, and his mount burst forward, charging straight to the foot of the earthen platform. He wheeled his horse and drew his blade; the long saber slashed down through the air. A guard below the platform could not dodge in time, and half his body was cleaved right off. Blood sprayed out, splashing all over those on the platform. Someone screamed in terror and sat down hard on the ground.

"Zhao Jin is asking you a question — speak quickly!" Chen Sheng bellowed, and those on the platform trembled again.

"She... she's still alive!"

"You're Zhao Jin, you're Zhao Jin!" After the instinctive answer, someone finally registered the name, murmured it once, then suddenly shouted it out.

No matter what was said — the grand enterprise of the Smelling Incense Sect, the mandate of Heaven, the gods and Buddhas — everyone, consciously or not, had been avoiding one thing: Zhao Jin of Xuzhou. A hundred thousand refugees besieged Xuzhou, only to be utterly routed by a teenage boy leading a few hundred militia. Then came one shocking deed after another from that youth — campaigns north and south without a single defeat, household troops like tigers and wolves, a power and position of staggering scale. A man like that, a force like that, had always weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.

Fortunately, there had been a kind of tacit understanding between the two sides: Zhao Jin would not enter Shandong, and the Smelling Incense Sect would not enter Xuzhou. Only this had let everyone forget for a time — or deliberately forget.

But a mountain before your eyes does not vanish just because you shut them. The salt market and trade fair at Hejiazhuang in Xuzhou were so prosperous; these Shandong powerholders naturally traded and did business there too, reaping benefits great and small. With such a connection, how could they not know of Zhao Jin?

It was just that no one had imagined Zhao Jin would come. This was Yuncheng County, Yanzhou Prefecture, Shandong, in the Great Ming — a place under the king's law. Within Yanzhou Prefecture lay the Duke of Yansheng's estate, the Prince of Lu's estate, and large garrisoned armies. In broad daylight, how dared Zhao Jin bring a large force here? Did he not fear being accused of rebellion? Even though the Smelling Incense Sect itself paid no heed at all to the Great Ming's officials or the king's law when they stirred up trouble...

No one had imagined Zhao Jin would dare come, much less that he would come leading troops like these — such soldiers, such iron-clad monsters traveling the roads. With the Smelling Incense Sect's eyes and ears in Xuzhou and Shandong, how could they have failed to discover this until now?

A humming sound rang out — the vibration of a bowstring was startlingly clear in that moment. The man who had screamed was nailed in the forehead by another arrow and collapsed face-down onto the ground, mouth still agape.

"You... you are... Zhao Jin?" Xu Hongru spoke with extreme difficulty, his voice unbearably harsh. In just a moment, he had gone completely hoarse.

The Smelling Incense Sect Master Xu Hongru no longer possessed any of his earlier composure. His gaze was scattered, his face deathly pale, and his body still trembled faintly.

Hearing him speak, Zhuang Liu behind Zhao Jin again drew his bow and nocked an arrow. The people on the platform saw it clearly. Xie Mingxian reached out as if to tug at something, but his motion stopped halfway. As for Xu Hongju, he stood there in a complete daze, no longer knowing what to think.

Zhao Jin lifted his head slightly, a cold sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth, and said, "I am Zhao Jin. Hand over Mu Shulan."

Xu Hongru stared at Zhao Jin for a few moments, then spoke woodenly: "Bring Mu Shulan out."

At these words, several people beside him jolted. One of them said urgently, "Sect Master, we—"

The meaning was clear to everyone: with a hostage in hand, there was at least still room to negotiate. At that moment, Xu Hongru suddenly erupted. He spun around and delivered a vicious slap, knocking the speaker to the ground, then pointed at the man and screamed hysterically, "Go, quickly, go! Do we have a choice?"

Zhao Jin fastened his face guard shut and said in a muffled voice, "Dismount and feed the horses. Old Niu, take some men and follow them. If anything is off, kill without restraint."

Niu Jinbao, similarly armored, led a dozen men out of the ranks and escorted one of Xu Hongru's trusted confidants away. Ji Xiang relayed orders from horseback in a loud voice, and the men of Zhao Jin's main force all dismounted, taking out cakes from their saddlebags to feed their horses.

They moved in unison, armor clanking with a booming crash. This uniform precision made the eyelids of everyone beneath the awning twitch uncontrollably. Whether or not they understood military tactics, they were all utterly awed by this mounted troop of several hundred before them. It truly felt like a mountain suspended above their heads, ready to crash down at any moment and crush everyone beneath to powder. In such a situation, one felt only that breathing had stopped and the heart was racing. And then, thinking back on how they had once been awed and amazed watching the Smelling Incense Sect's own troops, they found it inexplicably a little laughable.

"... Zhao Jin... are you going to slaughter every last one of us shortly?" Xu Hongru hesitated for a long while, but still asked the question.

Zhao Jin had also taken out a sorghum cake, crumbling it to feed his mount. Hearing this, he glanced back, but instead of answering, he asked an unrelated question: "Are you Xu Hongru?"

Xu Hongru nodded. Everyone around him instinctively shuffled several steps away, thinking that in the next moment blades would be drawn and killing would begin. They never expected that Zhao Jin would merely fix his gaze on them for a moment before turning his head back, silently feeding his horse there. Liu Yong, who had remained silent all along, quietly gave a few instructions to the men beside him, and they all fixed their stares on the people beneath the awning, as if intent on committing every face to memory.

The scene fell into silence like this. Xu Hongru stood there in a daze. In his mind, he was the master of the Smelling Incense Sect, a towering figure of great stature. Once he gave his name, the other party — whether with a hero's mutual recognition and respect, or with scorn and curses — would surely have something to say. He had never imagined that after asking one question, he would be completely ignored.

Having helmed the Smelling Incense Sect for so many years, having built it up for so long, defeating one enemy after another, Xu Hongru possessed sufficient depth and composure. He had now recovered from his earlier collapse, yet being treated with such utter disregard felt far too strange.

"Exalted One, if we can make it inside Zeng Family Village, rouse the village households and commoners, we might still have a chance amid the chaos," Xie Mingxian said in a low voice, standing behind Xu Hongru and staring straight ahead.

Xu Hongru slowly shook his head and said with a bitter smile, "Men cannot outrun horses."

The prison was not close. Zhao Jin and his subordinates waited here in silence. Beneath the horses' hooves and at their feet lay mangled, bloodied corpses. Under the mounted troop's charge, not even lightly wounded had been left behind; those gravely wounded had by now breathed their last. After feeding the horses, some men drank from their waterskins, then shared the water with their mounts.

All of this was done in silence, without the slightest sense of being deep in enemy territory. No one felt that this place was several hundred li from Xuzhou, that they were isolated and stranded in perilous ground.

After the horses were fed, Meng Zhiqi and Sun Dalei took care of other matters. Zhao Jin swept his gaze over the troop. Ji Xiang, though a bit rash by nature, was meticulous when it came to leading soldiers — he had everything before him well in hand. Even those details that went unseen, Liu Yong was keeping a tight watch on. After cutting down that guard, Chen Sheng had returned to the main force and was wiping his blade, minding his own business.

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