Chapter Seventy-Nine: Encircling the Yang Tianbao Legion

After Yang Shengtian thrust his golden halberd into Wei Xiaoping, he saw with his own eyes as the weapon pierced through Wei Xiaoping’s back. Wei Xiaoping’s body trembled twice, then remained standing just as before.

The fact that Wei Xiaoping neither evaded nor resisted, allowing himself to be struck, left Yang Shengtian inexplicably stunned by his own actions.

The two steeds, Big Yellow and Little Black, standing on either side, also ceased their attacks upon each other. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had frozen—silence reigned.

After about half a minute, Wei Xiaoping slowly turned around, casting a gaze at Yang Shengtian filled with surprise, disbelief, and mistrust.

From that look, Yang Shengtian discerned no anger, no resentment, no sorrow, and not even a hint of fear; only astonishment and incredulity.

Yang Shengtian felt uneasy under Wei Xiaoping’s gaze, a touch of fear. He had never imagined that Wei Xiaoping would so faithfully honor his promise, letting himself be struck three times without any resistance.

He should have felt proud and delighted at having wounded Wei Xiaoping, yet joy eluded him. Instead, a sense of dread crept into his heart. Wei Xiaoping, wounded, showed no anger or retaliation, only disbelief, as if he could not fathom that Yang Shengtian would truly carry out such an act.

Such unwavering adherence to one's word, suffering injury from an opponent without reprisal or anger, was terrifying.

Yang Shengtian felt a pang of shame for striking at Wei Xiaoping, who had not resisted at all, a wave of self-reproach rising within him. At the same time, he wondered if Wei Xiaoping was a fool, to stand so motionless and allow himself to be wounded.

“Can there truly be such foolish people in this world? Is Wei Xiaoping a fool?” Yang Shengtian recalled everything he had discussed with Wei Xiaoping that day. “That’s it—he agreed to let me strike three times because he wished me to acknowledge him as my brother and return with him. Wei Xiaoping’s word is as steadfast as the finest steed, and he kept his promise. Am I really his younger brother? Am I really Wei Xiaofan? We do indeed look alike—our features, our build, our complexion—we are strikingly similar! Am I truly his twin brother, Wei Xiaofan? Is it because I am the long-lost brother that Wei Xiaoping allowed me to deliver these deadly blows?” The more Yang Shengtian thought, the more his head ached.

Beside them, the monstrous steed Big Yellow continuously roared at both Wei Xiaoping and Yang Shengtian, turning its head first to one, then the other, as if urging them to cease their quarrel.

Soon, weakened by his grievous wounds, Wei Xiaoping slowly collapsed before Yang Shengtian.

Even as he fell, his gentle eyes remained fixed on Yang Shengtian, until his head finally drooped downward.

Seeing his master plummeting headfirst toward the ground, Big Yellow swiftly spread its broad wings and dived down at incredible speed, faster even than Wei Xiaoping’s descent.

Big Yellow halted a few yards below, positioning its back directly beneath the falling Wei Xiaoping, waiting to catch him.

Unconscious, Wei Xiaoping landed on Big Yellow’s soft, warm back.

Having caught his master, Big Yellow sped away to the right.

Yang Shengtian, still rooted to the spot, stared fixedly as Wei Xiaoping, wounded by his own hand, fell and was carried away by Big Yellow, his gaze unwavering, following their ever-receding figures.

At that moment, the pain in Yang Shengtian’s head returned, and the hallucinatory voice echoed once more.

“Yang Shengtian, did you kill Wei Xiaoping? Why is there no movement? If not, hurry and finish him off—eliminate the threat!”

Yang Shengtian sheathed his golden halberd, gripping his helmet with both hands, and cried out in agony, “He’s already dead, he fell below! Stop messing with me. My head’s killing me—if you keep this up, how can I fight?”

The phantom voice in his mind replied, “Dead? Good, good! Hahaha! Finally, a great threat is gone. Yang Shengtian, our path is clearer now—keep pressing on. Hurry to the ground and wipe out Wei Xiaoping’s followers. Leave none alive. Anyone who stands in the way of our cause must be eradicated, whoever they are. Go down now and annihilate all of Wei Xiaoping’s remnants!”

With both hands clamping his helmet, Yang Shengtian’s face twisted in pain, but as the voice faded, his headache gradually eased.

Little Black, watching from the side, saw his master’s sudden bout of pain and knew the inner demon was tormenting him again. Unable to help, it circled Yang Shengtian, howling.

As Yang Shengtian’s pain subsided, Little Black stretched its head toward him, licking his hand, then crouched beside him.

Yang Shengtian swung his leg onto Little Black’s back, sat down, grasped the reins, and raised his right hand. The golden halberd appeared in his palm as if conjured from thin air.

“Little Black, go! Fly down to the foot of the mountain and deal with Wei Xiaoping’s shattered troops,” Yang Shengtian ordered.

Little Black let out a loud howl, unfurled wings several yards wide, and glided down toward the mountain’s base.

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On the ground at the center of Twin Peaks Mountain’s base, Huang Xianlin’s corps and Yang Tianbao’s army were locked in fierce combat.

Earlier, after Huang Xianlin’s corps launched a second volley of fire arrows at Yang Tianbao’s troops, many of Yang Tianbao’s soldiers were wounded.

Although Yang Tianbao’s soldiers were clad in armor that protected them thoroughly, exposing only their faces and wrists, the fire arrows made by Huang Xianlin’s forces were tipped with a special metal—hard and sharp enough to cut through iron with ease, making their arrowheads devastatingly effective.

Additionally, each arrow was fitted near the tip with a small, highly flammable and explosive pellet. These pellets, crafted from special materials, ignited and exploded easily. When the arrow struck an enemy, the force of impact snapped the cord binding the pellet, propelling it into the target, where it would explode. The explosion ignited a flammable substance, sending fireballs scattering in all directions, setting ablaze anything they touched.

Thus, despite their tightly sealed armor, Yang Tianbao’s soldiers were pierced by the sharp arrowheads and struck by the fireballs from the pellets.

Those struck were not only wounded by the arrows but also set alight by the exploding pellets, prompting cries and screams as death and injury swept through their ranks.

Even their mounts suffered burns from the fire arrows.

After the second volley, Yang Tianbao’s soldiers had drawn much nearer.

Huang Xianlin, seeing the enemy close in, ordered his troops to stow their bows, for at such proximity, arrows would lose their effectiveness.

He called out to his men, “Brothers, though the enemy outnumbers us by several thousand, our two rounds of fire arrow attacks have inflicted heavy casualties. We have achieved an initial victory. Now the enemy is upon us—we must charge and fight them to the death. Deputy General Guo Jianhua, await orders!”

“Here!” Guo Jianhua stepped forward.

“When we charge, take your ten thousand men and flank left, surrounding the enemy from that side. Leave none alive!” Huang Xianlin commanded.

“Yes, General!” Guo Jianhua replied, then returned to his rank.

“Deputy General Liu Xinjun!”

“Here!” Liu Xinjun stepped forward.

“When we charge, lead ten thousand men to the right flank, encircle the enemy from there. Together, we will annihilate them!”

“Yes! I will not fail you, General!” Liu Xinjun answered.

“Now, brothers, raise your weapons and charge with all your might! Leave not a single enemy standing! Charge!” Huang Xianlin shouted, brandishing his golden wolf-tooth spear and pointing toward Yang Tianbao’s troops.

Guo Jianhua and Liu Xinjun, each leading ten thousand men, flanked left and right, encircling Yang Tianbao’s forces.

Huang Xianlin himself, with another ten thousand soldiers, raised his golden spear and shook the reins, urging his qilin steed forward.

His troops surged ahead with astonishing speed. Soldiers on the flanks formed an inverted “V” shape, splitting off and running toward the bifurcated edges of Yang Tianbao’s ranks. Once they reached the rear, they circled around to surround Yang Shengtian’s forces.

Yang Tianbao’s soldiers, concentrated tightly as they advanced, were slowed by wounded comrades and injured mounts. Troops in the rear, eager to charge, were hindered by those ahead, making their advance sluggish.

When Yang Tianbao noticed Huang Xianlin’s forces encircling them, he ordered his troops to turn in all directions. But the dense formation led to confusion and collisions. By the time they had turned, Huang Xianlin’s corps had sealed the encirclement.

Huang Xianlin’s troops, now surrounding Yang Tianbao’s army, began to wield their weapons and fight fiercely toward the center.