Chapter 1309: Who Are You Exactly

Her breathing was too hurried, and the two men shushed her.

"Be quiet! Don't attract the monster's attention!"

A routed soldier was also hiding in the corner, covering a child's mouth.

Their hearts pounded in suspense for as long as the silence outside lasted.

Soon, hoofbeats clattered outside the wall again, seemingly moving away.

The three men let out a slight breath of relief. "Heaven be praised!"

Before they could fully process the thought, there was a sudden *thump* as a spear pierced through the two-inch thick wall, then precisely impaled a routed soldier's temple!

It went in one side and out the other, boring a hole straight through!

The man didn't utter a sound, his eyes still wide, but his body convulsed a few times.

His hand went slack, and the woman, held captive, witnessed a killing up close for the first time, unable to suppress a scream.

But the spearhead was immediately yanked out, and the dead man spun halfway before collapsing, a spray of red and white matter splattering her face and hair.

The other routed soldier, seeing his comrade killed before his eyes, let out a cry and scrambled over the wall to escape.

He even had the presence of mind to run in the opposite direction from the horse.

But just as he jumped onto the wall, a cold glint flashed from behind him, and his head tumbled to the ground.

The third routed soldier, witnessing this, froze stiff with terror, unable to move a muscle.

Then, the god of slaughter, wreathed in raging flames, propped a hand on the wall and leaped in.

This was a monster straight from purgatory!

The routed soldier tried to grab the child, intending to use him as a shield to force the killer back, but he was too terrified, his hands trembling like a sieve.

As the black-armored leader took another step forward, the routed soldier suddenly let out an inhuman shriek, his body convulsed—

and then collapsed.

“Ugh,” the mirror tutted twice. “You scared him to death!”

He died of sheer terror.

It had witnessed countless battles, big and small, but this particular way of dying was something it had only heard about, never expecting to see it firsthand.

It stated with certainty, “It’s probably because of your fear aura.”

He Lingchuan also detected a foul odor:

The man had been so terrified he lost control of his bladder before dying.

Unwilling to linger, he reached down, scooped the child from beside the fallen soldier, and gently placed him into the woman's arms. Then, he went outside, mounted his horse, and galloped away.

It was a night of slaughter. The streets and alleys of Shizhou Head reeked of blood, every household's doors were tightly shut, and everyone cowered in fear.

Such slaughter, such bloodshed, had only just occurred in Liuping a month prior.

But this time, the grim scene replayed in a different location, and the hunted were no longer the villagers of Liuping, but Zhao Guangzhi's army, who had wielded the butcher's knife themselves!

He who kills, shall himself be killed.

It was unclear how long passed before the chaos outside slowly subsided.

Looking towards the East Gate, hundreds of routed soldiers had, after all, managed to force their way out, regretting only that their parents hadn't given them more legs.

Yang Meng returned only after leading his men in pursuit for several miles. As soon as he entered the city, he was stunned by the carnage before him:

Bodies of routed soldiers lay strewn everywhere across the streets and alleys.

Depressions in the ground were filled with blood; the air was thick with a cloying scent of gore that made one want to vomit.

Black-armored riders patrolled back and forth on horseback, rooting out any hidden routed soldiers and executing them on the spot. They also finished off any who were still clinging to life on the ground.

Blood splattered on doors, windows, and walls everywhere; it would take immense effort to clean it all.

Was this the work of just a few dozen men and one giant elephant?

Though Yang Meng knew that Zhao's army deserved their fate for their cannibalistic acts, the sheer brutality of these black-armored cavalry still sent a chill down his spine.

If they were this ruthless towards Zhao's army, what would they do to Shizhou Head?

Yang Meng clenched his knife tightly, but his hand felt slippery. The cloth on the hilt was slick with what felt like a sticky pulp, whether from blood or sweat, he couldn't tell.

At that moment, the black-armored leader appeared at the end of the long street, slowly advancing towards the garrison.

Cavalrymen emerged one by one from the dark alleys, gathering like phantoms behind him.

The closer they came, the more overwhelming their presence felt.

Even the garrison soldiers behind Yang Meng couldn't help but take two steps back.

They had fought several battles that night, none of them long, but each was breathtaking. They had also run several miles back and forth, leaving them blood-stained and gasping for breath. As they looked at He Lingchuan and the black-armored cavalry, their eyes were filled with incredulity.

Within ten hours, this black-armored leader had aided them three times!

First, he provided five hundred catties of grain, a true godsend.

Second, he orchestrated the sudden outbreak of malaria within Prefect Liu's army.

Third, he defeated the cannibalistic Prefect Zhao Guangzhi.

Had it not been for this divine intervention, Shizhou Head would have certainly fallen.

“You…” Yang Meng looked up at him. “Who are you, exactly?”

The stranger had easily achieved a complete victory, outnumbered yet triumphant. In everyone's eyes, he was awe-inspiring, mysterious, and not to be trifled with.

Though stunned, Yang Meng remained vigilant deep down.

Where in this world does such kindness come without reason? What did this person truly want, after repeatedly offering assistance?

His target was Shizhou Head, wasn't it?

Now that the battle was over and Zhao Guangzhi captured, what would this group of black-armored individuals do to him, to the garrison, and to the people of Shizhou Head?

Yet, the individual before him was several times more powerful than Prefect Liu and Zhao Guangzhi combined. Any thought of resistance that flickered in Yang Meng's mind was immediately extinguished by a profound sense of helplessness.

He was also utterly exhausted after leading the entire city, young and old, to hold out stubbornly for over half a month.

Was surrender their only option?

These people were even more brutal than Zhao's army, but surely they wouldn't resort to cannibalism, would they?

While he was lost in these wild thoughts, the black-armored leader raised his spear.

The moment the spear tip moved, the garrison soldiers instinctively stumbled back two steps.

Only moments ago, anyone the spear tip pointed at had instantly died!

However, the spear tip wasn't aimed at them; instead, it pointed eastward.

Following the direction of the spear, everyone looked and saw several black-armored riders galloping out of the forest.

Behind one horse, a person was being dragged, bound hand and foot, stumbling awkwardly.

Though the person was covered in dust and looked utterly disheveled, Yang Meng and his men recognized him instantly:

“Prefect Liu!”

Upon learning that Zhao’s army had been driven off, many brave civilians ventured into the streets, cautiously peering around. Their eyes, filled with curiosity and awe towards the black-armored cavalry, now widened as they saw Prefect Liu being dragged forward. They rubbed their eyes vigorously, afraid they were mistaken.

Could it be that the Prefect Liu, who was normally so high and mighty, so imperious, had finally met his match?

The black-armored leader finally spoke: “He is yours.”

At these words, Yang Meng felt a wave of relief. At least it confirmed that the black-armored army had no intention of turning their blades on his own forces, unlike how they had dealt with Prefect Liu and Zhao Guangzhi.

Prefect Liu’s face, meanwhile, was ashen.

He tried to beg for mercy, but though his mouth gaped open, not a single word escaped.

It was over, utterly over.

“How is he…” As Prefect Liu remained silent, merely staring, Yang Meng sensed something amiss. He looked closer and finally noticed the wound on the captive's neck.

The cut was remarkably precise.

With a wave of his hand, several garrison soldiers stepped forward and dragged Prefect Liu away like a captured chicken. Yang Meng clasped his fists before the black-armored leader:

“Sir…”

He Lingchuan did not respond.

Yang Meng could only add, “...how should I address you?”

The black-armored leader ignored the question, but the wolf-headed masked figure beside him interjected, “We’ve also captured fifty or sixty of Prefect Liu’s subordinates; they will all be delivered shortly.”