Chapter 12: Slaughtering Through the Three Armies

"Amitabha!"

Seeing Aguduo's face, on which death had not smoothed away the lingering resentment, Puzhi could not help but chant a Buddhist blessing. He had never imagined that Aguduo would be so unyielding. At the very beginning, they had only intended to capture the person first and figure things out later, but they had never expected that matters would turn out this way.

Meanwhile, the figures of the four Grandmasters battling in the distance had separated. The two Prairie Grandmasters had also heard Aguduo's final cry. Desperately, they forced the two Central Plains Grandmasters back, and then, without a moment's hesitation, they raised their voices in a thunderous shout.

"Sons of the Prairie! The Junior Worthy Prince sought to avenge the Left Worthy Prince, only to follow in his father's footsteps and die at the hands of the Central Plains people! Avenge the Junior Worthy Prince and the Left Worthy Prince!"

Grandmaster-level experts possessed vast and profound inner energy, allowing their voices to carry across great distances. The Prairie soldiers, who had already been lying in ambush all around, now emerged in swarms from their hiding places, tightly encircling the crowd of martial artists in the center.

Especially since they were currently in an open area with no natural cover whatsoever, they were completely exposed to tens of thousands of soldiers.

Although ten ordinary soldiers were no match for a single martial arts expert, once their numbers reached a certain threshold, the threat they posed to martial artists became immense. Particularly in such an unshielded expanse, the martial artists were nothing more than living targets.

"Archers, assemble! Fire!"

Military commanders began to bark out their orders. The two Grandmasters from the Central Plains attempted to turn back and help, but they were pinned down by the two Prairie Grandmasters. At first, it had been the Central Plains pair holding the others back, but the situation had now reversed, with the Prairie warriors blocking their path.

*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...*

A wave of arrows rained down. The ground was far too vast and devoid of any shelter. Although the crowd scattered as widely as possible to minimize the zone of coverage, for those of weaker cultivation, no amount of dodging could save them from such a dense and merciless bombardment.

"Shaolin disciples, listen up! Iron-body practitioners, form the vanguard!"

Puzhi did not panic. Advanced in age, there was hardly any formation or battle he had not witnessed. Even now, he remained completely calm as he directed his disciples in defending against the arrow rain.

He leaped directly into the mid-air, tore off his kasaya, and whirled it into a blur. Every single arrow heading in his direction was intercepted and beaten down, shielding the ground beneath him from the onslaught.

Others quickly followed suit. Those with the ability leaped into the sky to intercept the projectiles.

Although the arrow storm was relentless and had inflicted casualties and deaths in the opening moments, once the experts stepped forward, arrows that would otherwise have threatened those below the Houtian realm were easily neutralized.

Seeing that the archer volleys were failing to achieve the desired effect, the Prairie commander drew his curved saber, raised it high toward the sky, and shouted the charge in the Prairie tongue.

All the Prairie cavalry immediately sprang into action.

As a people born on horseback, mounted warfare was second nature to them, almost like an innate instinct. They let out excited, triumphant cheers and launched their charge.

How fierce was a cavalry charge?

Especially when twenty thousand cavalrymen simultaneously surged inward from all directions, trapping the crowd squarely in the middle with no way out.

Puzhi's kasaya had already entangled a massive number of arrows. With a sharp flick of his robe, he sent all the captured missiles flying back along their original trajectories. Cries of agony echoed from within the cavalry formation, though that handful of casualties was negligible compared to the force of twenty thousand.

*Rumble, rumble, rumble...*

The thunder of hooves shook the earth. People of the Jianghu were far from strangers to riding horses, but the spectacle of ten thousand horses thundering across the plains was something none of them had ever truly experienced.

At that moment, the roaring drumbeat of hooves drowned out all other sounds.

For those of weaker nerve, the mere sound alone was enough to shatter their courage. It was no disgrace for young martial artists to find their knees trembling; facing such a terrifying display, almost anyone would lose their composure.

Surrounded on all sides, sitting quietly and waiting for death was simply not Murong Xun's style.

He directly drew his Shadow of Slaughter, invoked the charging might of the wild bull, and plunged straight toward the oncoming cavalry.

A cavalry charge covered a hundred meters in the blink of an eye, closing the distance instantly.

At this juncture, everyone's choices became starkly apparent.

Some panicked and broke into a chaotic rout, while others courageously met the charging horsemen head-on. Though they might be decapitated the very next second, it was still a better fate than turning to flee only to be inevitably run down from behind.

Those were merely the rank-and-file. As for the truly formidable martial artists, when the two sides finally clashed, they either lunged forward or vaulted into the air, easily dragging the riders from their mounts, seizing the horses for themselves, and turning to slaughter the surrounding Prairie cavalry.

An army could indeed surround and annihilate martial artists, but that depended entirely on the number of martial artists involved.

With several thousand martial artists facing two thousand cavalry, the disadvantage was nowhere near as devastating as one might imagine. After all, among them were numerous Xiantian experts, not to mention Grandmaster-level powerhouses like Puzhi.

Murong Xun was the first to make contact with the cavalry. He leaped up, unseated a soldier, claimed the mount for himself, and began his solitary performance.

Wielding the Shadow of Slaughter and protected by his Return-to-Breath energy, ordinary attacks could not touch him in the slightest. Furthermore, because he was locked in continuous slaughter, his Return-to-Breath energy constantly replenished itself, freeing him from any worries of exhaustion.

Against a peerless expert, Murong Xun might find himself struggling, drawing out a protracted battle with no guarantee of victory. But against targets like these, his innate talent could shine to its absolute fullest.

The Gluttonous Talent allowed him to grow stronger with every battle. Moreover, continuous combat served to evolve the Shadow of Slaughter.

With one man, one horse, and one blade, amid the stunned gazes of everyone around him, he carved an unyielding path straight through the sea of cavalry.

"Mighty is the Junior Chief!"

Someone could not help but shout out in awe.

Such ferocious combat prowess was truly breathtaking. Yet the people of the underworld respected strength above all else. Murong Xun was the successor chosen by the Supreme Chief; having such a formidable leader to head into the future was surely a stroke of supreme fortune for them.

The leaders of various factions rallied their own people, following closely behind the path Murong Xun had hacked out, refusing to let the enemy close the gap while simultaneously guarding his flanks.

Just like that, using a single man as the spearhead, they violently smashed their way out of the encirclement.

Smart individuals followed closely in their wake, needing only to deal with enemies on the flanks. Only the stubborn fools who understood nothing ran about like headless flies and perished pointlessly beneath blades and spears.

"Amitabha, excellent, truly excellent. Qiu Benefactor has a worthy successor!"

Seeing Murong Xun's performance, Puzhi nodded in gratified satisfaction. It seemed his old friend's disciple had no need of his assistance.

Withdrawing his gaze, he calmly led the Shaolin disciples out of the encirclement.

What Murong Xun could achieve, a grandmaster-level expert like himself could naturally accomplish as well.

Acting as the spearhead with the Shaolin disciples and various righteous martial artists trailing behind him, the old monk moved forward. Although he was a man of religion, his blows were far from merciful. A flick of his kasaya sent enemy soldiers flying from their saddles as if struck by a thousand-jin boulder, taking down everyone in their wake.

With him at the vanguard, the pressure on those behind him lessened drastically.

Though a few still fell beneath random blades, the situation was infinitely better than the initial chaotic melee where everyone fought alone.

Their two factions had the easiest time breaking out. In other directions, where the overall strength was lower, groups of a few individuals banded together to form small spearheads while the rest provided support, managing to fight their way out through sheer grit.

By the time the first wave of charges concluded, those who moved swiftly had already escaped successfully, leaving only a small fraction trapped behind.

Breaking out of the encirclement evoked little emotional response from Murong Xun; after all, these were merely ordinary men. With his Return-to-Breath energy shielding him, they posed zero threat.

He had no intention of retreating just yet. Such a convenient opportunity to farm evolution points came rarely.

Seeing him wheel his horse around, the men of the Furious Dragon Gang were startled out of their wits. What on earth was this young master planning? Surely he wasn't thinking of charging back in?

"Junior Chief, do not take such risks!"

"Uncle Zhao is still back there. The Furious Dragon Gang does not abandon its comrades!"

Having found a convenient excuse for himself, Murong Xun resolutely spurred his horse back into the fray.

"We swear to follow the Junior Chief to the death!"

Exchanging glances, the members of the Furious Dragon Gang gritted their teeth and followed Murong Xun back into the slaughter.

No matter what, following such a young master truly set the blood on fire and raised morale to new heights.

Seeing them actually charge back in, some thought them utterly unhinged with brains fried to a crisp, while others were deeply moved.

People of the underworld might possess all manner of flaws, but they held one virtue that righteous martial artists found difficult to match: they valued loyalty and brotherhood above all else!

"Hahaha! Since the Junior Chief is so righteous, this old Lu's life was saved by him in the first place—I'll go back and fight alongside you!"

A burly, bearded warrior let out a hearty laugh and charged back in behind them.

"Count me in!"

"And me! And me! How could such a grand spectacle lack the likes of me?"

...

One person after another spontaneously fell in behind Murong Xun, charging back into the jaws of battle.

Murong Xun remained entirely oblivious to this. In his single-minded quest to farm evolution points, he had inadvertently been branded as a paragon of loyalty, moving men to tears of fierce admiration and rousing them to follow him of their own accord.

At that moment, holding the reins in one hand and his blade in the other, he slashed left and right.

With the sharpness of the Shadow of Slaughter, he didn't even need to exert much force to easily cut through soldiers lacking armor. Throughout the process, passive effects like armor-piercing, petrification, and paralysis triggered endlessly. Since every single enemy fell to a single stroke anyway, the exact numerical damage made no difference whatsoever.

Not a single soldier who came into contact with him escaped unscathed.

Before long, these Prairie soldiers were subconsciously steering their horses away from his direction.

The dynamic had completely shifted: what began as Prairie soldiers hunting them down had turned into Murong Xun leading a mob of people in a counter-hunt against the soldiers.

His ferocious performance struck bone-deep terror into the enemy hearts, shattering their morale until it utterly collapsed, forcing them into a panicked rout.