Chapter 1308: Chasing Down

Shizhoutou was plunged into chaos tonight. The common folk huddled in their homes, trembling, as a cacophony of footsteps and horse hooves echoed through the streets outside, frequently punctuated by the clang of metal, curses, and screams.

Wan Qiliang pursued a routed soldier. As the soldier vaulted over a low wall, a crossbow bolt struck him down.

In the blink of an eye, two enemies dropped from a large tree by the roadside, landing directly on his horse's back and engaging him in close-quarters combat.

“Quick, kill him!” Two more men sprang from the street corner, attempting to pull Wan Qiliang from his mount.

Killing pursuers and seizing fast horses increased their chances of escape. Even among the routed, some remained clear-headed.

Unfortunately, they had chosen the wrong target to attack.

With a backhand stroke, Wan Qiliang precisely severed the windpipe of the enemy behind him.

A spray of hot blood from the enemy's throat splattered onto his helmet.

He casually hurled his long spear, impaling an approaching enemy to the ground. The man had time for only a short cry.

With his right hand now free, he had a moment to raise his arm to guard his throat, deflecting an enemy's attempt to cut his neck.

The black armor, specially crafted by Songyang Prefecture, featured armguards that were light yet sturdy, capable of deflecting blades.

He dispatched three men with swift movements, but a fourth had already closed in, wielding a sharp pitchfork he had seemingly found, aiming for his ankle bone, where his armor offered no protection.

Just as the pitchfork was about to strike, an egg-sized stone suddenly flew from the depths of a dark alley. It struck the assailant's temple with a dull thud.

The man’s vision swam, and his feet stumbled from the impact. The pitchfork's tip veered off course, merely scraping Wan Qiliang's leg armor.

He seized the opportunity, his blade rising and falling to finish the last enemy.

Wan Qiliang rode his horse closer, first retrieving his long spear, then glancing towards the dark alley.

Behind some discarded baskets, a small figure was cowering.

It was a young boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen, with a disproportionately large head, small frame, and sallow, emaciated features. His eyes, fixed on Wan Qiliang, were wide with terror.

Despite his reedy, thin arms, the force behind his throw had been considerable.

A corpse still hung from Wan Qiliang's horse's flank—the unfortunate man he had just dispatched hadn't yet fallen. He casually lifted the body with a backhand, tossed it before the boy, then urged his horse away.

The boy flinched in fright, but no sooner had Wan Qiliang departed than he swiftly began rummaging through the corpse's pockets. Sure enough, he found two pieces of hardtack, which he devoured almost without chewing.

Meanwhile, He Lingchuan casually fired a crossbow bolt, eliminating an enemy threatening Wan Qifeng to his front left, before continuing his pursuit of other fleeing soldiers.

His path was marked by blood and left no survivors. One enemy, bisected at the waist, spilled his entrails onto the ground, yet clung to life long enough to let out a city-wide wail of agony.

The surrounding common folk covered their ears, unwilling to hear more.

Other routed soldiers were terrified beyond measure, scattering with their hands over their heads at the sight of the black-armored leader, fearing him more than a demon.

He cut down three more soldiers along the street. Passing a courier station, he noted miscellaneous items strewn about, but the place appeared empty.

The Mirror, however, let out two cackling laughs and whispered, “There are living people in there!”

“In there?”

A haystack by the wall was piled unusually high.

He Lingchuan gave a faint smirk, casually tossed his Floating Life Blade, and continued on without a glance.

Two distinct thuds echoed as the Floating Life Blade pierced through the thick haystack and vanished.

It wasn't until several breaths later that blood gradually began to seep from beneath the haystack, spreading into an ever-widening pool.

As He Lingchuan advanced, he suddenly heard a rush of wind by his ear and saw an arrow aimed directly at his eye.

He barely had time to snatch the arrow from the air when a large man leaped from behind him, wielding a spiked club and aiming a swing at his horse's legs.

They knew they might not defeat the black-armored leader, but crippling his horse would buy them precious time to escape.

This man possessed not only the greatest strength but also the most courage, which was why he had been entrusted with this crucial task.

However, just as he raised his club, he froze, his eyes wide and vacant, his face blank.

Not far away, his companions urged him frantically, sweat pouring down their faces, “Hurry! Strike! What are you standing there gaping for?!”

Yet, to the large man, the spiked club in his hand suddenly felt heavier than a thousand catties, impossible to swing. He focused his gaze and saw several figures squatting on the ground, clinging tightly to his club.

The ground was muddy, and these figures were filthy with mud and bloodstains, yet their faces were eerily clean and ghastly pale, their eyes bulging.

They grinned at him, opening their mouths as they laughed, their upper and lower teeth chattering loudly.

Some teeth were yellow, others white. One woman had a patch of flesh missing from her cheek, allowing him to see her molars directly from his vantage point.

All these faces were disturbingly familiar. But the last time he had seen them, they had not been smiling so happily; instead, they had been filled with terror and weeping uncontrollably—

Yes, these were the very people he had personally killed and devoured.

He had bitten off the flesh from that woman's cheek himself; at the time, he had found it tender, but now the sight made him nauseous.

As the large man saw these specters, a chill ran down his spine, his limbs stiffened, and only four words echoed in his mind:

“How is this possible?”

These people were long dead, eaten by him!

Were these ghosts coming to claim his life?

No, that's not right! People weak enough for him to have eaten them—what right did they have to return from the dead to claim his life?

He let out a roar, just as he was about to steel himself, but then felt a sudden chill on his neck—

The woman he had eaten lunged forward, her ghastly white teeth bared, and sank them into his throat.

To his companions, however, he simply stood frozen like a block of wood, failing to even dodge when the black-armored leader drew his blade.

The latter's blade cleanly severed his head, and then he turned to pursue his bewildered companions.

A wet thud, and blood splattered against the wall. Before his head even hit the ground, the look of terror on his face had already frozen.

These men naturally didn't know that the swirling specters around the Resonant Dragon Armor were more than mere decoration. Within its aura, those with lower cultivation or wavering willpower were susceptible to illusions, becoming bewildered and terrified by their own misdeeds or deepest fears.

This was one of the Xuanlu Ghost King's signature abilities. Combined with the karma manifested by the Resonant Dragon Armor, it transformed into this terrifying illusion array. When the Divine Bone Necklace devoured the Xuanlu Ghost King, the Resonant Dragon Armor had retained a fragment of its characteristics.

He Lingchuan pursued two routed soldiers into an alley; neither of these unfortunate souls managed to flee more than seven steps.

The alley was too narrow for his horse to turn, so he continued forward.

With fewer people around, the immediate vicinity grew quiet.

He Lingchuan suddenly frowned, hearing hurried breathing from behind a nearby mud wall.

One, two... a total of five individuals.

Did they think they were well-hidden?

“Three people are hiding behind the wall, and two more in the corner,” the Mirror informed him. “Strictly speaking, three routed soldiers broke into a civilian home, kidnapped two residents, and are now gagging them.”

With routed soldiers scattering across the city, not all necessarily headed north, hiding in civilian homes was quite common.

He Lingchuan tilted his head, gazing at the mud wall.

Inside, two of the routed soldiers were exchanging nervous glances:

“Don't move. Whatever you do, don't move. Death itself is just on the other side of this wall!”

One of them held a civilian woman, a dagger pressed to her throat, threatening her to stay silent.