manynovel Chapter 13: The Sweeping Army
Chapter 13: The Sweeping Army
As one of the four great generals forged in the flames of war during the Spring and Autumn Period, Gu Jiantang's military tactics had long surpassed the conventions of ordinary strategists. Even with the fall of the Southern Tang capital and the overall situation settled, he maintained an undue vigilance. The area outside the capital was not an undefended playground—100,000 infantrymen stood in strict formation at their camps, while 3,000 light cavalry patrolled in shifts like peregrine falcons, forming a vast and inescapable network of vigilance. The so-called "three days without sheathing the sword" also referred to the fact that the 150,000-strong army was divided into three waves to raid the city, with the first wave naturally being the spoils of the vanguard. Iron discipline and order were the true backbone of this ferocious army.
Therefore, Zhou Yi's first encounter was with the most elite scouts and cavalry on the outskirts, as well as three thousand light cavalrymen who were ready for battle.
"Who goes there!"
A scout reined in his horse at a distance, his sharp gaze locking onto a lone figure walking across the wilderness, carrying two heavy, dark objects. He was already used to the constant harassment from figures of the Southern Tang's martial arts world.
Seeing that the other party did not respond or stop, the scout did not hesitate to draw his bow and nock an arrow.
The bowstring twanged, and the arrow, like a black meteor, aimed straight for Zhou Yi's face.
Zhou Yi merely tilted his head slightly.
An arrow grazed past his ear, stirring up a few strands of hair.
The scout's pupils constricted, and he reached back to grab the quiver again.
However, it was too late.
His vision seemed to blur for only a moment before the figure appeared like a ghost behind his horse. There was no earth-shattering sound, only a streak of dark light that swept past lightly.
puff.
Blood bloomed in the air as the scout was severed in two at the waist, the cut surface as smooth as a mirror. Before the corpse even fell, Zhou Yi had already stepped over the splattered blood and continued towards the sprawling military camp.
The scouts further away witnessed this scene and, in their horror, drew their bows to the sky without hesitation!
call out--!
The sharp, whistling arrow pierced the sky.
The sound of an arrow indicates that the enemy has been spotted, and in very small numbers, usually those annoying wandering knights.
"It's those damned scoundrels again!" A captain in charge of outer perimeter security cursed upon hearing this, his face full of impatience. His comrades were enjoying themselves in the city, while he was stuck here in the cold wind. "Follow me!"
He mustered his three hundred light cavalry, their hooves kicking up dust, and galloped toward the direction of the whistle.
The two collided head-on in the open field.
The military has its own set of skilled and efficient tactics for dealing with江湖 (jianghu) people, especially the highly mobile light cavalry: maintain distance, first weaken them with a volley of arrows, and then pursue them on horseback when they are wounded or attempt to escape, gradually whittling them down with mounted archery, until finally trampling their remains underfoot. They will never engage in close combat unless absolutely necessary.
Of course, this tactic only applies to "ordinary" martial arts practitioners.
"Shoot!" The captain reined in his horse and decisively waved his hand to give the order.
The hum of the bowstring had just begun.
The lone figure vanished in the next instant, disappearing from the eyes of the captain and all the cavalrymen.
The first cavalryman on the left had his head suddenly shot into the sky, his face still bearing the fierce look of when he drew his bow.
Then came the second, the third...
They were not killed one by one.
It was as if an invisible "line," beyond the limits of vision, smoothly "smeared" across from left to right.
Time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.
It seemed as if it had been frozen for a long time.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang...
Three hundred heads were severed from their necks almost simultaneously, and crashed to the ground with a dull, rhythmic sound, like ripe fruit being swept away by a gale.
The three hundred headless corpses remained frozen on horseback for a moment before collapsing in the gushing blood.
Zhou Yi flicked the slightly bent iron bar in his right hand, its surface stained with dark red blood. The recent slash had already revealed the faint curve of its blade.
The signalman on the watchtower in the distance witnessed this horrifying scene and was so frightened that he was scared out of his wits. It wasn't until the figure with the "knife" started to move again that he snapped out of his daze, his hands trembling, and he rang the alarm whistle three times in a row!
call out!call out!call out!
Three arrows were fired in quick succession, piercing straight into the sky!
This is the highest level enemy attack alert, meaning that the entire army needs to be deployed immediately to meet the enemy!
The entire massive military camp was like boiling water!
The bugle calls were mournful, and the war drums thundered.
Squads of light cavalry charged out of the camp first, followed by infantrymen armed with spears and shields who began to assemble and form ranks at an astonishing speed.
When they finally saw the "enemy" that had triggered the highest alert, many people instinctively rubbed their eyes.
"Are you kidding me?!"
"Just...one person?!"
However, the three hundred neatly arranged headless riding corpses on the ground, and the figure slowly walking towards them, whose clothes were spotless, extinguished all sense of absurdity like ice water.
"Such martial prowess..." The deputy general in charge of perimeter command suddenly turned deathly pale. A name he had only heard of in rumors burst out uncontrollably, "The number one martial artist... the nameless swordsman of Southern Tang?!"
The surrounding generals were deeply shaken.
"Impossible! That's just a rumor!" a captain retorted hoarsely, but he couldn't hide the tremor in his voice.
"And what the hell is that coming up here now?!" the lieutenant shouted sharply, his eyes fixed on the approaching figure. "We absolutely cannot let him get close to the formation! Cavalry, spread out on both flanks and use flanking fire to create cover! Infantry, form a circle, shields in front, spearmen next, and archers at the rear! Now!"
Flags fluttered, and military orders were as firm as mountains.
The well-trained infantry quickly retreated, their shields stacked like an iron wall, their spears thrust out like a forest, and their archers drew their bows, ready to fire. Light cavalry on both sides moved like mercury, rapidly maneuvering, attempting to rain down arrows on the lone figure.
"Boss, I heard that the Sword Emperor of Western Shu once slaughtered eight hundred elite cavalry," a guard beside the lieutenant licked his chapped lips and forced a smile. "How many do you think this guy can kill?"
The lieutenant didn't answer, his face ashen. He knew more. The Western Shu Sword Emperor was indeed brave, but it was a desperate struggle, a bloody battle fought like a trapped beast within its own prison. And it had taken the full three incense sticks to burn.
And right now...
How long had passed from the first whistle to the slaughter of three hundred light cavalry? Half an incense stick's time? Even shorter!
These are not even on the same level!
Arrows rained down, blotting out the sky.
Zhou Yi's pace remained unchanged, even appearing somewhat leisurely. His right hand casually held the "iron knife," while his left hand was behind his back as he walked straight into the barrage of arrows. He easily dodged most of the arrows with the slightest error, while the few that were angled sharply and carried great force were easily deflected by the thin iron plate, producing a crisp clanging sound that prevented him from even swaying slightly.
The army had no shortage of sharpshooters, but no matter how tricky the arrows or how powerful the crossbows, they could not get past those two seemingly simple pieces of black iron.
until--
At the central command camp, the heavy war drums, representing the highest level of combat readiness, thundered loudly! Their sound reverberated across the entire field!
It was as if the drumbeat was a signal.
The Zhou Yi's "leisurely stroll" posture suddenly changed.
The lieutenant was confident he had maintained an absolutely safe distance, three times greater than he would with an ordinary martial arts master. Even if he reduced the power of the arrows, he still needed to allow enough reaction time. However, in the instant Zhou Yi suddenly unleashed his speed, this so-called "safe distance" proved as laughable as paper.
The figure in my field of vision blurred for a moment.
The next instant, a thick cloud of blood mist suddenly burst forth from the light cavalry column that was flanking and maneuvering on the left!
There were no screams, no clanging of metal.
There was only a tooth-grinding, sharp, high-speed "hissing" sound as a blade sliced through flesh and bone, followed by a dull, muffled "thud" as the sound of something falling to the ground, like raindrops pattering on banana leaves.
Zhou Yi's figure seemed to transform into a black lightning bolt, refracting and weaving through the crowd. Wherever he passed, cavalrymen fell like harvested wheat stalks. Whether ordinary soldiers, captains with martial arts skills, or even the deputy general himself who had reached the third rank, there was no difference before that black lightning bolt—touch it and die, grazed it and perish.
The cavalry on the other side were terrified and tried to flee, but it was too late. The lightning bolt had already turned back, and death bloomed among them with the same efficiency.
The whole process was breathtakingly fast.
The infantry phalanx, lined up and waiting for orders, could only watch helplessly as three thousand invincible light cavalry were slaughtered by a single man with a sword and a blade in just a few dozen breaths.
A strange, deathly silence suddenly descended upon the wilderness. Only the sound of the wind whistling through the blood-stained weeds and the pungent, nauseating stench of blood could be heard.
Zhou Yi stood amidst the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, the pair of blood-soaked iron bars in his hands slowly dripping thick blood from their blades. After repeated slashes, the rough iron blanks had been forged by blood and force, revealing their outlines: one slightly curved like a cold moon, the other straight like a winter pine.
He slung the sword behind his back, raised the nascent blade in his right hand, and slowly looked up.
What one could see was an iron wall of shields, a forest of spears, and ready-to-go crossbows—a death formation of 100,000 infantrymen.
Just one glance.
The soldiers at the forefront were swept away as if by an invisible cold current, their livers and gallbladders trembling, and they involuntarily staggered backward! Shields clashed, spears tilted, and the orderly formation was instantly rippled with panic.
"Anyone who dares to retreat will be executed!"
The supervising general's face was ashen. Without hesitation, his blade flashed, and several retreating soldiers were instantly decapitated. The splattering blood and rolling heads barely held the collapsing formation in place.
Zhou Yi shook off the blood from his blade, then accelerated, charging straight towards the great formation.
"Bang!"
The heavily armored soldiers at the very front were immediately sent flying backward, crashing through the air for dozens of feet.
"Report—!!!"
Almost simultaneously, the young captain finally broke through the chaos within the city and reached the foot of the imperial city. He tumbled off his horse and scrambled to the high steps, his voice hoarse and distorted with extreme terror:
"A powerful enemy has been discovered outside the city!"
On the higher platform, Gu Jiantang and Lu Shengxiang turned around simultaneously. Gu Jiantang's armor reflected the city's firelight as he asked in a deep voice, "How many people have arrived? What are their banners?"
"Just...just one person!" The captain was almost in tears. "It was him! It was that...nameless swordsman from Southern Tang! Three thousand light cavalry...are...all gone!"
"Alone?" Gu Jiantang's brows furrowed suddenly.
Lu Shengxiang's pupils also contracted. The casual conversation in front of the palace just now still echoed in his ears, and that legendary name had actually come to life, crushing the outer iron cavalry with the force of a thunderbolt.
"Commander Gu," Lu Shengxiang immediately clasped his hands in a fist salute, his killing intent surging forth, "this humble general requests permission to personally lead my elite troops and bring this scoundrel's head to me!"
Gu Jiantang did not immediately agree.
Just as he was pondering—
Outside the city, the war drums, which signified the highest level of enemy attack and engagement, suddenly became rapid and thunderous, shaking the city tower tiles!
"Send the order!" Gu Jiantang's voice wasn't loud, but it drowned out all the noise in the city, clearly reaching the ears of every guard. "All officers of the rank of captain and above, immediately cease looting, line up in formation, and follow me out of the city!"
"Heavy Cavalry—Clear the way!"
"Yes, sir!!!"
The sound waves spread outwards like a tidal wave.
Gu Jiantang gripped the hilt of his sword, his gaze sweeping over the city ablaze with flames before settling on the pitch-black exterior. He knew victory was inevitable; his 150,000-strong army was an unstoppable torrent. His earlier hesitation wasn't a doubt about the outcome, but rather a weighing of how to completely eliminate this "number one martial arts master," a veritable weapon of mass destruction.
Such figures, if they intend to flee, even with a thousand troops, cannot guarantee their safety. And if we let the tiger return to the mountain today… Gu Jiantang suddenly recalled those bloodstained names in the annals of history. Liu Songtao, the leader of the Demonic Sect who was ranked number one in martial arts a hundred years ago, had even taken two heads from the emperor.
We must not leave any future troubles!
"Shengxiang," Gu Jiantang turned his head, his words quick and heavy, "You will lead four thousand heavy cavalry and six thousand light cavalry, splitting your forces at the east and west gates to flank them and cut off their rear and flanks. Remember—at all costs, lock down all their escape routes. If we cannot leave their bones beneath the city walls today, neither of us will ever have a peaceful night's sleep!"
Lu Shengxiang trembled, clasped his hands in a fist and acknowledged, his eyes filled with determination: "This subordinate understands! Commander Gu, rest assured, even if the enemy has three heads and six arms, we will make sure they cannot escape!"
He turned around abruptly, his voice booming like thunder:
"Zhang Zhuo! Luo Du! Gather the heavy cavalry and follow me—!"
"Yes, sir!!!"
The armor clanged and clattered, like a giant beast awakening in the dark night, and began to rumble and move.
Outside the city, in that small pavilion overlooking the battlefield.
Wang Xianzhi stood with his arms crossed, his figure like an ancient pine rooted in the mountain rocks. His eyesight was exceptional; he clearly saw that the lone figure, sword in reverse and saber in upright, neither dodging nor avoiding, directly charging into the formidable, thorny, iron-walled formation of 100,000 infantrymen. Moreover, with a chilling speed and efficiency, he was relentlessly advancing and tearing through the depths of the formation.
"What is he thinking?" Wang Xianzhi frowned, her voice filled with confusion and a hint of regret. "Another Western Shu Sword Emperor? Gu Jiantang may not be Xu Xiao, but he is by no means an incompetent general."
In his view, this was a path to certain death. No matter how strong an individual's martial prowess, there is always a limit. Surrounded by a constant stream of heavily armed troops, one's vital energy and true essence will eventually be exhausted. Once exhausted, one will be torn to pieces by a hail of blades. The Sword Emperor of Western Shu was a cautionary tale; though he killed eight hundred cavalrymen, he ultimately died from exhaustion.
Even if the opponent is stronger than the Sword Emperor of Western Shu, how many can he kill? Three thousand? Ten thousand?
"What a pity," Wang Xianzhi sighed. "Such a figure, to perish here before even fighting... It is truly the greatest regret of my life that I could not fight him with all my might."
Huang Sanjia, standing beside him, remained focused on the empty chessboard. Upon hearing this, he merely smiled slightly, shook his head, and remained silent.
"Do you think he can survive?" Wang Xianzhi glanced sideways at the scholar who always seemed so profound and enigmatic, "Under Gu Jiantang's personal command and an impenetrable encirclement of 200,000 troops?"
Huang Sanjia finally looked up from the chessboard, and a mischievous glint, almost like that of a child, flashed in his eyes, which seemed to see through the fog.
"Want to gamble?"
"What are we betting on?" Wang Xianzhi raised an eyebrow.
"If he not only survives today, but also..." Huang Sanjia paused, lightly tapping a position representing a general on the chessboard, "...and kills a general...then you will fight for me again in the future, how about it?"
Upon hearing this, Wang Xianzhi was not angry at all; instead, his eyes gleamed with astonishing light. He didn't care about the bet itself at all, and even... deep down, he secretly hoped that he would lose.
"Fine!" he said decisively, his voice like the clang of metal on metal.
A biting mountain wind whipped at the robes of the two figures in the pavilion. In the distance, the army formation resembled a boiling black sea, the glint of blades and the flash of blood flickering uncertainly within that vortex of death.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
I originally wanted to kill Lu Shengxiang and Gu Jiantang, but four thousand words is enough. That's all for today.