Chapter 59: Annihilation

As soon as the bounty was announced, Shen Shi saw the morale of the Song army soar. Thin lines of red energy rose from the militia, not the aura of trained soldiers but the innate desire born within all men—a desire greater than heaven itself. Supported by this yearning, these simple militiamen were transformed; their arrows could now pierce the enemy’s military aura.

On one side stood the elite of Liao, on the other, men fired by the desire for gold. The battle raged, arrows exchanged across dozens of feet of wooden barricades, screams and wails filling the air, the scent of blood swiftly overpowering all, creating a scene of extreme brutality.

“Kill, kill, kill!”

Even though Shen Shi had rallied their spirits and countered the oppressive aura of the enemy, the gap in combat skill between militia and regular troops remained. The remaining four hundred cavalry surged to the barricades.

Grim-faced, they urged their horses over the barrier, sweeping falling arrows aside with their broad blades, then plunging into the militiamen, slaughtering as they went.

“Die!”

Fortunately, on the Song side, alongside the militia, were martial experts like Wang Chao, Ma Han, and others. Though unfamiliar with military discipline, they served admirably as fierce warriors.

The army valued teamwork, but once these Liao soldiers leapt the barricade, they lost the support of their comrades. Without collective strength, a single soldier was little match for martial experts—rarely could they withstand even a single exchange.

Especially Shen Shi, wielding his waist blade, his gaze sharp and murderous. Seeing Liao riders hurl themselves forward like moths to a flame, he coldly swept his blade.

Sss, sss, sss—

Dominant true energy transformed into blade energy, shooting forth. The airborne Liao men had no idea what struck them; death came instantly. Even those with keen instincts sensed something amiss, but it was only death that awaited them. Their bodies were sliced by true energy, blood mist rising and showering down like dumplings.

Shen Shi’s valor was a pillar of confidence for the militia. Without his strength, no amount of reward could tempt them to risk their lives.

He and the martial experts held back the Liao who crossed the barricade, granting the militia courage and precious time to fire their arrows.

There was archery from afar, martial defenders up close. At middle distances, Shen Shi occasionally killed with true energy, forming a crossfire worthy of antiquity. Without armored vehicles, the Liao could not break through; crossing the barricade was merely a choice of death. The ground was littered with the dying wails of Liao soldiers, their blood soaking the earth into fetid mud.

“Who among the village warriors will give their name!”

The Liao cavalry commander, leading a thousand, had never suffered such losses since being sent to collect supplies. Normally, they would simply charge and plunder villages and markets with ease.

But this time, they met a bone too hard to chew.

“Jinhua County, Magistrate Bao is here!” Gongsun Ce, a close friend of Bao Zheng, announced the magistrate’s name—a common practice in Song, where every battle credited civil officials.

It was the rule of the Song Dynasty. Shen Shi did not contest it; he cleaved two Liao soldiers to his left and right, then, without hesitation, hurled his blade toward the source of the voice.

Capture the leader, and the battle would be far easier.

“Despicable!”

Between armies, commanders declared their names. The Liao—indeed, many nomadic peoples—maintained the tradition of dueling generals. But Shen Shi did not announce himself, instead attacking directly. Enraged, the Liao commander shouted, swinging his own blade to intercept the flying weapon.

The blades collided; the militia’s blade shattered and flew apart in pieces.

“Well then! Try my arrows next!”

Shen Shi narrowed his eyes, ignoring the broken blade. He snatched several arrows from a nearby militiaman, and with a swift flick of his right hand, sent them whistling through the air like lightning toward the Liao commander.

Determined to end him, Shen Shi watched as—

Bang, bang, bang—

Each arrow was intercepted midair by arrows fired from the Liao side.

At that moment, Shen Shi felt a sense of being locked onto. Without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby militia blade, leapt forward like a great roc, crossing dozens of feet in an instant. He fixed his gaze on the Liao commander, his blade a stream of light descending with force.

Meanwhile, several sharp arrows whistled from impossible angles, converging from all directions. The skin over vital points turned cold; Shen Shi knew the Liao’s master archers had locked onto him mentally—it wasn’t a real hit.

Bang—yet he did not retreat, his blade unstoppable as a mountain, cleaving toward the Liao commander, ignoring the man’s astonished expression and slicing him in two.

At the same time, as arrows flew, Shen Shi ignored them, charging into the midst of the Liao cavalry.

Had he remained among the Song ranks, he would have been forced to block incoming arrows to protect the militia. But now, among the enemy, he could simply dodge.

The Liao’s master archers did not shoot arrows easily blocked.

Now—

He sneered coldly, his blade enveloped in true energy. Like a dragon among sheep, he hacked and slashed with abandon, leaving broken corpses in his wake, blood quickly staining the ground red.

In a few breaths, he had cut through the Liao formation, and soon spotted dozens of Liao archers, several of whom radiated an unusual aura that made one’s hair stand on end. These were the elite of the elite—the Liao’s master archers.

“Liao dogs, all of you die!”

Having found them, he would not let them escape. True energy surged within him; with a light stamp, he shot forward like an arrow, blade energy slashing in all directions. In the blink of an eye, dozens of Liao archers fell beneath his blade.

With these archers and the commander gone, the Liao’s fighting strength was halved.

“Boys, get out here and kill the enemy!”

At the same time, Shen Shi realized his true energy was nearly spent, his final strike almost failing.

But now was not the time to stop. Success was at ninety-nine; to fail at the last step would be truly regrettable. Without true energy, he would rely on brute strength—after all, every true soldier fights with their body...