Chapter 58: Martial Spirit

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Seeing such arrows, Shen Shi felt an unusual calmness in his mind. He raised his broadsword, the tip exuding a surge of subtle force, as if dissecting an ox like the legendary cook, severing the spiritual power resonating between the arrow and the world’s energy. Shen Shi could see clearly—the arrow itself was not especially lethal; its true force lay in the lingering spiritual energy of this realm. Combined with the archer’s own essence and spirit, the power of the three elements coalesced upon the shaft, driving the world’s energy to strike as one.

Under the unified strength of heaven and earth, escape was impossible; whoever was struck would surely perish.

Yet Shen Shi, his eyes attuned to the flow of energy, severed the force attached to the arrow, robbing it of its might. With a swift motion, he caught the incoming arrow in his hand.

Clutching the arrow, Shen Shi felt a slight chill in his heart. Legend spoke of the divine archer Geng Ying from the Warring States, who could release his bow and bring down a wild goose without even firing an arrow—thus the tale of the startled bird came to be.

Now, it seemed this was no mere legend. If the opponent’s spiritual force were more concentrated, it might even be possible to forsake arrows altogether and wound with pure energy.

“Trouble! The Dongyi barbarians are attacking!”

At that moment, the wall’s defenders cried out in alarm, instantly diverting Shen Shi’s attention.

Peering out, he saw that the Liao army was indeed charging.

Whistling arrows followed in droves, darting across the sky. This was perhaps the ancient equivalent of a barrage.

Raising his hand, Shen Shi hurled the captured arrow back at the enemy, not bothering to observe the outcome. He grabbed a bow and arrow from a local defender and fired again, shouting as he did so, “Don’t just stand there! If you have a bow, shoot with all your might!”

To counter the Western Xia, the Song dynasty maintained numerous archery clubs—essentially local militias.

Of course, these clubs could not match true infantry archers, let alone the Liao’s elite marksmen, but with the Liao cavalry charging, mastery of archery was irrelevant—what mattered was firing persistently. Otherwise, once the warhorses broke into a run, they would leap over the flimsy stockade with ease, slaughtering at will.

No sooner had he finished speaking than the arrow he had flung earlier shot like a meteor, striking a Liao soldier who tumbled from his horse, colliding with two others, breaking bones and eliciting cries of pain.

“Quick, quick, quick! Grab your bows and follow the command to fire!”

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With Shen Shi’s example, the panicked defenders were once more inspired, hastily nocking arrows and drawing their bows.

Shen Shi also readied his arrow, drawing his bow: “Everyone, focus—fire!”

A wealth of military knowledge and command ability surfaced in Shen Shi’s mind, aided by his talent—tactics for countering cavalry, preventing them from gaining momentum, massed volleys.

No instruction was needed; at this stage, intuition sufficed. Once enlightenment dawns, the principles of heaven and earth, culture and war, all become wisdom.

On the battlefield, nerves taut and senses heightened, Shen Shi’s talent worked swiftly, unlocking and mastering one skill after another.

Sharp whistles pierced the air as dozens of arrows shot forth—not a hundred, though there were enough bows for that in the region, even if it wasn’t a major economic center like Suzhou or Hangzhou.

The reason fewer arrows flew was not a lack of equipment, but that these were raw recruits, untested in war. Some reacted and fired, while others hesitated.

Even among the arrows that were released, none carried the will of warriors, relying solely on physical force.

Yet as these arrows approached the enemy, something extraordinary occurred. All were swept up by an inexplicable force, drifting off course, missing their targets, and even those that struck landed weakly.

No wonder the Liao army was so formidable—they had, perhaps unknowingly, mastered the military spirit of the art of war.

Shen Shi instantly understood—the arrows lacked the spiritual force of victory, and as they flew toward the enemy, the Liao’s military spirit (their spiritual force) deflected them, diminishing their power.

No wonder the Song needed divine crossbows merely to hold their own.

Such results could not be blamed on the defenders—they were not true soldiers, so Shen Shi did not fault them. He reloaded, drew in a deep breath, and ordered loudly, “Everyone, ready yourselves—aim at thirty paces ahead and shoot with all your strength!”

Realizing the world’s energy was the cause, Shen Shi shortened the archers’ range. The enemy’s military spirit only faintly guided the world’s energy—if the arrows’ force was great enough, they could still kill.

At the same time, Shen Shi fired a powerful arrow—his shot was faster and stronger than those of the defenders, breaking through the enemy’s military spirit first, disrupting it before anything else.

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As Shen Shi’s arrow tore open the net of spiritual force in the Liao ranks, dozens of arrows followed through the gap.

This time was different—without the obstruction of world energy, the foot bows finally showed their true power. In an instant, dozens of Liao cavalry were struck, falling from their horses and knocking down others. Roughly counted, this volley cleared nearly a hundred Liao horsemen, leaving the ground littered with broken bones and howling wounded soldiers.

“This… this is impossible!”

The Liao’s commander of a thousand riders was momentarily stunned, forgetting to attack. It was simply unbelievable. They were the iron cavalry of the Liao, yet while collecting supplies, a group of Song militia had slain a hundred cavalrymen.

Who were they facing—infantry clad in armor, or wielders of divine crossbows?

According to his knowledge, in every Song-Liao war, only those two things could inflict such losses. They even called Song bows soft bows.

Of course, Song bows were not truly soft. If they were, the Liao wouldn’t covet them so fiercely. In manufacture, Song’s military equipment was not inferior—indeed, it often surpassed the Liao’s. The only real limitation was military spirit.

But such matters were beyond the comprehension of a mere commander of a thousand. He could only judge by battlefield experience.

This time, a hundred defenders delivered a stunning blow to the invaders, killing or maiming nearly a hundred Liao cavalry in one volley—surpassing even the Song’s elite by sheer numbers. Unfortunately, the stockade offered little protection, and at thirty paces, the Song forces had yet to form their own military spirit. Facing the Liao’s mounted archers, the defenders suffered considerable losses.

Even without officers directing them, the Liao could unleash continuous arrow volleys by their own discipline—a difference in military training not resolved by a single moment of enlightenment.

Shen Shi could only rush about within the wooden barricade, doing his best to weaken the world’s energy attached to the enemy’s arrows, intercepting most of the incoming attacks. Still, several arrows slipped through, killing more than a dozen men.

The only consolation was that, having personally slain Liao cavalry, the Song defenders did not succumb to their fear of the enemy.

“Listen well, everyone. For each Liao soldier you kill, you’ll be rewarded with one hundred silver coins.” Shen Shi announced the bounty at just the right moment.