Chapter 128: The Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell (1)

Li Hu and Li Bao led over twenty cavalrymen to circle around the flank, launching a surprise attack directly at the construction site where the rebels were building siege weapons. This was part of Kong Sheng’s strategic arrangement; his primary objective was to destroy the enemy's equipment, not to fight to the death against the rebels.

To pit fifty riders against five or six hundred of the enemy would not be heroism, but sheer stupidity. This had nothing to do with character, only with intelligence and sense.

Once the equipment was destroyed, he planned to have his cavalry make a feint before withdrawing—either to another location or back to the fortress. Although the rebels were numerous, they would be unable to pursue effectively in their panicked state.

However, to Li Xuan and the others, who stood atop the fortress walls holding their breath as they watched the battle, the sight of Li Hu and Li Bao splitting off and circling away looked exactly like a cowardly flight from battle.

Seeing at least half of the fifty cavalrymen who had ridden out to challenge the rebels suddenly break away, a wave of shock rippled through the gate tower of Wang Family Fortress, immediately followed by murmurs of panic and despair.

It was understandable, of course. With danger looming and the rebels holding the upper hand, how could one expect these men to sacrifice their lives for the sake of righteousness? In the face of life and death, one's own survival is paramount—so, if they chose to run, then let them run.

Yet, the fortress was already severely undermanned. With these fifty elite riders now scattered, it meant the fortress was even more defenseless, and the countdown to it being trampled and annihilated by the rebels had begun.

Many faces turned ashen. The confidence and courage they had felt, inspired by Kong Sheng’s fearless charge, evaporated in an instant.

Li Xuan’s expression was particularly grim. With a darkened face, she stomped her foot in fury: "Li Hu, Li Bao—those two cowardly curs! And that little scoundrel Kong Sheng, I knew he had ulterior motives all along. So it's true... it's really true!"

Li Xuan was filled with bitter regret, her eyes burning with a manic, murderous intent.

At that moment, the twenty-some riders under Kong Sheng, brandishing their Mo swords with reckless abandon, collided head-on with the rebel commander’s force of over a hundred men.

The disparity in strength between a hundred men and twenty was immense. Amidst the arrogant, sneering laughter of the rebels, Kong Sheng swung his bright silver spear down heavily toward the leading rebel commander. This strike had no tricks, no sophisticated technique—it was pure, brutal force from the air. The rebel commander, seeing only a delicate, jade-faced youth, laughed contemptuously, curled his lip, and casually raised his long lance to parry.

But his expression changed instantly. He felt a colossal force descend like Mount Tai—a strength impossible for any human to resist. His wrists jarred, the webbing between his thumbs and fingers split, and with a cry of alarm, his long lance was knocked clean from his hands!

Everything happened in the split second the horses brushed past each other, just as the melee began. No one had time to notice this scene. The rebel commander’s discarded lance spun through the air with a whistling sound, crashing into the group of rebel cavalry. With a sickening thud, it struck a rebel who couldn't dodge in time, shattering his skull and scattering his brains. He tumbled from his horse, only to be trampled into pulp by the hooves of the chaotic cavalry.

Simultaneously, Kong Sheng’s silver spear slammed into the rebel commander’s left shoulder. The commander let out a sharp, piercing shriek. His shoulder was shattered by the overwhelming force, and his entire left side seemed to collapse. With eyes wide in terror and agony, he stared at Kong Sheng as his own horse carried him away, slumped to the side.

Strength conquers all! Absolute power triumphs over any technique!

The rebel commander had been caught off guard and, more importantly, had been blinded by his own arrogance. He never imagined that the refined, gentle-looking young officer charging at him possessed such earth-shattering, destructive explosive power.

Kong Sheng let out a thunderous roar: "Kill!"

He squeezed his horse's flanks. Zhui Feng, a magnificent steed, shared a telepathic bond with his master. The horse leaped, and in a flash of lightning, caught up to the rebel commander, who was still slumped on his mount, wailing in pain. A cold, indifferent look crossed Kong Sheng’s face, and without a moment's hesitation, he thrust his silver spear straight forward.

In that instant, many things became clear to Kong Sheng. He realized that in this war-torn age of ancient royal power, baptized in blood and fire, if he continued to harbor the naive kindness and modern civilized sensibilities of his past life, he would surely die without a burial place!

When one’s life is hanging by a thread, worrying about whether harming others is "illegal" is a sure path to an early grave!

The silver spear pierced the rebel commander's chest without resistance. Blood sprayed, splattering Kong Sheng’s entire body. His armor was dotted with gore, and his clear, handsome face, stained with specks of blood, appeared cold, ruthless, and even terrifying!

Kong Sheng let out a long breath, pulling his spear back in a swift motion that sent a spray of blood flying. He looked up at the sky; the brilliant sunlight was pouring down, and its dazzling glare caused a moment of vertigo. But then, his heart became incredibly calm and steady. He leveled his spear and looked out across the chaotic, brutal battlefield.

"The enemy commander has been slain! Men, cast aside all fear of death, and charge through!" Kong Sheng shouted at the top of his lungs from his saddle, and Zhui Feng reared up with a powerful, heroic neigh.

Mu Changfeng let out a boisterous laugh. Suddenly, he vaulted from his mount, becoming one with his sword, and lunged through the air at a rebel to his front left. His strike was as swift as lightning; a flash of white light circled the rebel's neck, blood geysered, and the head fell into Mu Changfeng’s hand.

Mid-air, Mu Changfeng hurled the blood-drenched head into the ranks of the rebels. Laughing wildly, he stepped onto the blade of a nearby charging rebel, his body trembling like a falling leaf, before leaping back into the air and landing effortlessly onto his passing mount.

"Those who block me die!"

Wu Xian was also throwing caution to the wind. In such a life-or-death moment, if he didn't fight with everything he had, he would be the one to die. The scimitar in his hand danced in an impenetrable web. He and his brother Wu Xie worked in perfect synergy; their scimitars moved in tandem—one attacking, one defending, each covering the other. It was clearly a set of custom-made, linked combat techniques.

In the midst of the melee, Mu Changfeng cast a surprised glance at the brothers. The linked sword technique they used was highly sophisticated; it must have been passed down by a master.

One focused on offense, the other on defense, but it was not static. Whenever Wu Xian’s offensive momentum waned, Wu Xie, who had been defending, would surge forward to turn defense into a fierce attack, while Wu Xian transitioned into the defensive role.

This rhythmic alternation not only conserved their strength to the maximum extent but also maintained safety in close-quarters combat, proving highly effective in real battle.

"Kill! Kill every last one of them, leave no one alive!" The death of the rebel commander, Kong Sheng’s invincible valor, Mu Changfeng’s ease in the heart of the enemy, and the perfect coordination of Wu Xian and Wu Xie gave the twenty-some riders a surge of infinite confidence. Their momentum skyrocketed.

As one side rose, the other fell. The rebels, already disorganized from the loss of their leader, lost all courage to fight to the death after witnessing the fearless charge of Kong Sheng’s men. Those at the front of the formation couldn't retreat in time and were forced into a desperate struggle, while those at the rear had already begun to turn and flee.

That is how warfare between two armies in the age of cold steel works: once the thought or sign of defeat takes hold, the tide becomes impossible to turn.

Brilliant sunlight spilled down. Kong Sheng was like a dragon, his horse like the wind. He wielded his long spear like a simple club, thrusting and striking without any formal style. Yet, because of his immense strength, every blow he landed sent his enemies wailing in agony, unstoppable and overwhelming.