Chapter 526: Throwing Off the Human Skin

The battle on the post road, where the Frozen Plains Cavalry played the main role, came to an end. Soon, scouts conveyed the general military situation to Ren Chunyun, Colonel of the Southwestern Kingdom, and Zhu Boyu, Colonel of the Northwestern Wind Fur. The two generals reacted very differently. Ren Chunyun, clad in bright red armor, stood with his saber at his side. Hearing of Ma Jinchai's setback, he burst into laughter, stroked his horse's mane, and looked gleeful. As generals in the same province with similar ranks, they were naturally rivals. Ren Chunyun, from a humble background, had long been displeased with the ridiculously named Colonel Ma. Colonel Ma's subordinate captains and commanders were all descendants of aristocratic families from Lingzhou, occupying key positions. Ren Chunyun doubted they could train truly skilled soldiers. Lingzhou Plain had two open areas suitable for cavalry training. Last year, Ren Chunyun had a dispute with Ma Jinchai, thoroughly chastising the showy Frozen Plains Cavalry. However, Ren Chunyun was quickly outmaneuvered by Ma Jinchai in the official arena. Their salaries were safe; no one dared to tamper with that sacred boundary. But when it came to a batch of weapons and military equipment allocated by law from the Youliang border to local troops, Ren Chunyun only received "scraps," some not even meeting Grade B standards. Upon inquiry, he discovered that Ma Jinchai's in-laws, who held important positions in the Beiliang military arsenal, had sabotaged him. Later, Ma Jinchai, leading a hundred cavalrymen in brand-new armor, came to Ren Chunyun's garrison territory under the pretext of suppressing bandits, flaunting his power. If Ren Chunyun hadn't firmly restrained his subordinate generals from causing trouble, it could have escalated into a mutiny.

On the other side, Zhu Boyu was much calmer. He had always held a poor opinion of Ma Jinchai but never showed it openly. When they met, he would drink when appropriate and be polite when needed. As a result, the Wind Fur Cavalry got along reasonably well with Ma Jinchai's group of noble sons. This was mainly because Zhu Boyu was also a military officer from a family of generals; their fathers had fought side by side and had a life-or-death bond. Although Zhu Boyu had never been to the border battlefield to gain military prestige and his service record was quite thin, he was a rare Beiliang young and strong colonel who could calmly manage military affairs. In recent years, holding real power, he was often ridiculed by many retired generals who returned to Lingzhou to live off their military merits. This made Zhu Boyu even more willing to associate with people like Ma Jinchai, as insincere social pleasantries were preferable to the condescending attitude of old veterans who constantly boasted about their seniority, their family lines dwindling. Zhu Boyu now worried that the Crown Prince, who hadn't yet purged the Lingzhou officialdom, might use this opportunity to make an example of people like Ma Jinchai, inadvertently dragging him down as well. How would the Crown Prince care if a Wind Fur Colonel without military achievements like him was upright or in cahoots with Ma Jinchai? Zhu Boyu, unfortunately born with a baby face, sat high on his warhorse, which was only a Grade B steed. The mere thirty-odd Grade A warhorses in the Wind Fur Cavalry had all been given by him to meritorious captains and elite soldiers. Zhu Boyu waved his hand, signaling the scout—who, according to the Wind Fur Cavalry's rules, didn't need to dismount to report—to return and scout again. Clad in ordinary armor, Zhu Boyu exhaled a breath of mist, his expression unusually grim. He could see that the Crown Prince was merciful towards the Lingzhou officialdom, but military and political affairs were different. With the precedent of General Zhong Hongwu as a warning, Zhu Boyu asserted that the garrisons in Lingzhou's various counties would not be so fortunate.

The Peach Blossom Beauty Fan gently swayed, a breeze brushed his face, and the hair at his temples fluttered lightly. The handsome young man in black fur looked straight ahead. Three cavalry units, forming a fan-shaped formation, were closing in. They were clearly vastly different from the previous two hundred riders, their hooves synchronized without the slightest disarray. With his extraordinary eyesight, he could clearly see the young faces of the cavalrymen. Their eyes were resolute, and they seemed to have received instructions, showing no intention of using light crossbows. Beiliang's control over powerful crossbows was extremely strict. While privately carrying a Beiliang saber could be overlooked due to family background, daring to possess a crossbow—even a small, light *cunzi* crossbow usable by women—would result in immediate confiscation of property upon discovery, with no room for leniency.

Le Zhang sprinted wildly along the post road, mud splattering in a straight line under his feet, his momentum terrifying. The Vajra Realm martial artist, thoroughly tired of being a lackey, today only wanted to fight as freely as possible. In his eyes, the previous two hundred riders, who were easily defeated, were like delicate young women needing support. These two or three hundred cavalrymen before him were merely sturdier women with slightly more strength, equally unable to withstand a few lashes from Le Zhang. The First-Rank master, whose personality was completely at odds with his name, laughed as he charged forward. Three iron spears simultaneously thrust at him. Le Zhang gripped two cold spearheads with both hands, twisting them into two lumps of iron. With an inward pull and an outward shove of his wrists, the two riders who refused to let go were knocked off their horses. The spear in the middle pierced Le Zhang's chest but failed to penetrate. Instead, the brawny man, still smiling broadly, continued to charge forward. The long spear, emerging diagonally downwards, curved into an exaggerated arc in the air, showing that this cavalryman's strength and resilience were incomparable to Ma Jinchai's soldiers. Le Zhang, an exceptional martial artist who could hold his own among the handful of people at the pinnacle of the martial world, paid no mind to whether the ants beneath his feet bit lightly or heavily. Bending his knees, he slipped under a horse's belly and, with a single shoulder, brute-forced an actively galloping warhorse into the air. Like an overlord lifting a tripod, Le Zhang hurled this horse towards the rear of the cavalry formation. The few trailing riders, caught in the crossfire, fell to the ground. However, cavalrymen quickly bypassed the dead horses, pulling themselves onto other mounts, with two comrades sharing one horse. They continued to fiercely thrust their spears at Le Zhang, who was completely impervious to blades and spears. Finally, a few sparks of interest ignited in Le Zhang, and he roared with laughter. He suddenly shot up from the ground, stomped on the head of one rider, then gracefully moved like a dragonfly skimming water, darting left and right, trampling down rider after rider and horse after horse. In an instant, more than ten riders completely lost their combat effectiveness. Le Zhang seemed to find it still not enough. After landing, he didn't even bother to strike with his hands, only charging headlong. Wherever he went, warhorses collided violently and died with shattered bones.

Le Zhang easily pierced through the hundred-man cavalry formation. However, he couldn't afford to rest. Seeing this, the hundred-man cavalry unit on the left, under the command of their leading captain, did not charge recklessly but continued to pass by at a relaxed pace. A hundred long spears were thrown out one after another. Most of the iron spears that struck Le Zhang either slid off or bounced onto the post road. Some spears that missed him directly impaled themselves into the frozen ground. Le Zhang, intending to provoke them and wanting Beiliang to witness his Vajra physique, stood unmoving. After the barrage of spears, the hundred-man cavalry on the right followed with a volley of arrows. Le Zhang, standing his ground, received them all with a smile. Except for his torn clothes, his body was completely unharmed. Le Zhang appeared overconfident, but he was secretly building up his power, attempting to reach his peak in one go before resuming the fight. He could have continued to play with them like a cat playing with mice, but caution was always wise. What if a martial arts master was hidden within the cavalry unit and launched a sinister attack when his energy was depleted? Although he wouldn't completely capsize, losing even a shred of face might lead that malicious young master behind him to vent his boredom on him. Serving this young master was more demanding for Le Zhang than serving his ancestors. Filled with intense hatred, if he could surpass the handsome young man in cultivation, Le Zhang, who had always scorned famous male courtesans, wouldn't even mind trying something new. But Le Zhang knew very well that such a brutal revenge, which brought him comfort just by thinking about it, was likely out of reach in this lifetime. Only if that person were suddenly struck down by a celestial being would he have a chance to kick him when he was down. However, in Beiliang, there had already been an old Sword God, Li Chungang, and Chen Zhibao had rebelled and gone to the capital. Only the junior martial brother of the Spear Immortal, Wang Xiu, and Yuan Zuozong, the commander of the border cavalry, remained. Could these two remaining top masters possibly appear together here?

Although the hundred-man cavalry unit directly facing Le Zhang on the post road was penetrated, they quickly charged again. At the foot of the mountain, another hundred-man cavalry unit, personally led by Huang Xiaokuai, also joined the battle. The hundred-man cavalry on the left and right sides alternately switched between crossbows and javelins. Even if they couldn't defeat a Vajra Realm master, their formation was tightly integrated, and their performance was far more commendable than Ma Jinchai's Frozen Plains Cavalry. Le Zhang, completely fearless, exhaled a long, misty breath. He stretched out his arms and rotated his wrist joints. As if annoyed by the noisy hooves, he stomped the ground. The dull thud faintly muffled the sound of hooves. Le Zhang took step after step along the post road, his momentum growing, thundering like rolling thunder across flat ground. The backs of the horses in the two hundred-man cavalry units on the post road undulated much more violently, yet no one showed fear of battle. The political struggles in Beiliang, especially the infighting within the military, had always been scorned by the pillars of the Liyang imperial court as rural farces. If they couldn't gain an upper hand by bickering like shrewish women, they would simply roll up their sleeves and engage in brutal brawls. Compared to the imperial court in the capital, where policies and family lineages had been passed down for generations, how could the atmosphere created in Beiliang in just twenty short years catch the eye of the court's grandees? Yet, it seemed many prominent civil officials had forgotten that while the Liyang court had its literary lineage of capable statesmen, impoverished Beiliang also possessed the unique spirit and legacy of the Beiliang Iron Cavalry. While Dong Yueqi had failed, people like Wang Zhi, Ren Chunyun, Zhu Boyu, Huang Xiaokuai, and others—small colonels and military officers who wouldn't even register in the eyes of the court's magnates—were all doing well.

Le Zhang wanted to personally break a few of Beiliang's backbones. Of course, he didn't understand what "passing on the torch" meant, nor did he bother to ponder it deeply. But this unusually disciplined cavalry unit made him very uncomfortable. "I finally managed to become a First-Rank master, only to end up slaving away for a young man. Now that I'm in Beiliang, I must vent this frustration!"

Le Zhang fixed his gaze on the cavalry general whose armor was outstanding and whose Beiliang saber was drawn. A powerful surge of internal energy filled his entire body. He felt as if he could withstand even a sword strike from an Earth Immortal. Le Zhang's wild laughter, his essence, spirit, and energy at their peak, echoed along the post road as he charged headlong towards the cavalry general. When they were fifty paces apart, he leaped high, stretched out his long arm, and slammed down with a punch. Pearl Colonel Huang Xiaokuai, leading the charge, blocked with his saber. Both he, his horse, and his Beiliang saber suddenly sank under the immense force. The warhorse's four hooves instantly shattered under the irresistible, colossal power. The edge of the Beiliang saber only managed to draw a faint trace of blood from the man's fist. Huang Xiaokuai, holding the saber with one hand and supporting its back with the other, was still powerless to stop the punch of this martial world fiend. He swallowed a mouthful of blood, abandoned his horse, and shifted sideways. The blade swept across the man's fist but still failed to cut his skin. At the same time, a nearby captain on horseback thrust his long spear fiercely, aiming precisely for Le Zhang's left eyeball, forcing him to abandon his pursuit of their Colonel. Another cavalryman threw a spear, skillfully targeting Le Zhang's groin like threading a needle. The coordination, though instantaneous, was vicious and effective. For the first time, Le Zhang frowned.

The essence of defeating a Vajra Realm master could be summarized as "draining their essence to reveal their vulnerability." Draining their endless, flowing internal energy until their perfect and invincible Vajra body is no more, that is only half the battle. If the master is given enough time to breathe, slowly replenish their energy, and restore the "river and ocean" internal flow within them, one would have to start all over again. However, a master's internal energy accumulation is always easy to dissipate and difficult to gather. The legendary realm of a terrestrial immortal, where internal energy can flow hundreds of miles in an instant, is unattainable even for other First-Rank masters in the Vajra and Zhixuan realms. For example, Le Zhang, after two consecutive charges into battle, saw his internal energy fluctuate and drop to eighty percent. Even while allowing spears and arrows to hit him without moving, he only managed to recover to ninety percent using brute force. The reason the death of the Sword Emperor of Western Shu was deemed so tragic in the martial world was not merely the regret that this master was crushed into a pulp of flesh. It was more because this sword master, for the sake of an insignificant surname, single-handedly guarded the gate of the Western Shu Imperial City. He faced an overwhelming tide of locust-like cavalry, without a single moment to catch his breath, fighting to the death with only a lingering breath. It was literally watching himself walk step by step on the path to the underworld.

But Le Zhang merely frowned. He was only facing a hundred cavalrymen, after all.

Casually pushing aside the captain's blinding spear thrust, he tapped his toe onto the iron spear thrown by a cavalryman. Using the momentum, he delivered a knee strike to the captain's head. Le Zhang then usurped his position, standing on the horse's back. As the warhorse continued its forward momentum, Le Zhang stood proudly. Inadvertently, he glanced towards the mountaintop, and an inexplicable feeling of tightness in his chest arose. A single rider slowly descended the mountain, gathering speed.

In the distance behind Le Zhang, the peach blossom fan snapped shut with a "pah." The vermilion cord, which connected to a famous saber with a white scabbard and was tied to the young master's crystal-white wrist, suddenly became taut. As the rider descended the mountain, the young man in black fur keenly sensed that someone on the mountain was watching him. He murmured to himself, "Beiliang still has such understated masters? Why has the Zhao Gou Archival Department never mentioned them?" Le Zhang's scalp tingled. He was terrified, as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight.

The figure on horseback had sleeves fluttering, and from the cuffs to the arms, countless red threads clung and coiled, like vibrant scarlet snakes. Years ago, such a "Red-Winding Snake" human-cat had ridden leisurely towards Le Zhang. Struck at his weak point, Le Zhang went mad. His expression was one of agony as he squatted on the horse's back, his fingers hooked into his scalp. Then he lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot. Gritting his teeth, he clapped his hands, killing the warhorse, and then lunged towards the single rider. The Pearl Cavalry at the foot of the mountain and on the post road instinctively halted their horses, leaving the space to the descending rider and the consistently irresistible, unknown martial artist.

The rider floated off the horse, continuing to "move forward." The pair, who were expected to fight fiercely for at least the time it takes for a few incense sticks to burn, simply floated past each other. The scarlet on his sleeves became even redder. It turned out he now held a complete human skin, peeled from head to toe, dripping with blood. The three hundred cavalrymen on the post road collectively widened their eyes, watching the Crown Prince, who held the fresh skin, sweep past. He stopped in front of the young master who was no longer fanning himself and casually tossed the human skin high into the air. This scene would be unforgettable for Huang Xiaokuai for the rest of his life.

The Crown Prince, with an ordinary Beiliang saber at his waist, confronted "Crossing the River," a blade no less formidable than the Nanhua Saber.