Why do I have so many masters?-Chapter 728 - 36 Inebriated Valor Refuses to Diminish (Two in One)

Chapter 728 -36 Inebriated Valor Refuses to Diminish (Two in One)

The thunderous sound of hoofbeats roared like rolling thunder, and at the outset, as the groups of riders merged, the sound of hooves came wave after wave, indistinct to all. It was only a moment before the clamor grew clearer, and even Fei Yonglin and Tian Zhide could hear the sound of hooves headed straight towards them.

Their expressions involuntarily shifted, and their hearts instinctively longed to draw their swords. Yet, they were wary that the oncoming party might bear no malice, and that assuming a defensive posture prematurely could invite disaster. With hands resting on their weapons, they were caught in a dilemma, uncertain whether to draw their swords or not.

Leading the Divine Martial Mansion’s squad were three seasoned veterans of the Great Yan subjugation war, with Cao Limin at the helm, having personally beheaded a Martial Soldier of Great Yan on the battlefield. His experience in combat was far more abundant. With decisive action, he simply raised a hand, and the forty-plus Divine Martial martial artists formed a rudimentary formation around the four carriages.

Grasping the hilt with his right hand, forty-three long swords were swiftly and crisply unsheathed, while the left hand made a slight gesture.

The cohort of the Divine Martial Mansion was clad only in Vigorous Attire, devoid of armor. This attire had been modified at the suggestion of Yuchi Jie; the right hand’s Vigorous Attire revealed a leather Wrist Guard, facilitating sword use for the martial artist, while the left hand had wide sleeves, not only distinctive in appearance but also concealing the Arm Crossbow attached to the left arm.

At this moment, with left arms slightly raised and fingers wearing iron rings slightly curved, the almost incessant sound of the Arm Crossbows being cocked was chillingly deadly, sending shivers down Fei Yonglin and Tian Zhide.

The dark sleeves stirred slightly, faintly revealing the cold gleams of the tri-edged Crossbow Bolts. Tian Zhide’s heart skipped a beat as he identified these as Armor-Breaking Arrows, specifically designed to penetrate the Horizontal External Skill of martial artists.

These weapons were traditionally the exclusive property of the Military Family. The finished products, as well as the schematics, rarely circulated in Jianghu. The fact that each member of the group possessed one shook Tian Zhide to the core. But then recalling the rumored origins of the Divine Martial Mansion, he found some reassurance.

Convinced that the Divine Martial Mansion had already drawn their weapons, there was no need for him and Fei Yonglin to hesitate. Doing so might make others laugh at them. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out the two Short Spears from his back, forcefully joined them end-to-end, and then, with a fierce twist, the swords merged into a Bright Silver-tipped Steel Spear, its blade humming and trembling non-stop, held diagonally in hand.

Li Qidao sat on his horse, watching the response of the Divine Martial Mansion people for a long time before slowly nodding his head. He muttered “not bad” in a low voice, took out a flask from his waist, and took a swig, finding some comfort in his heart.

For over twenty years, these people, at the very least, had not forgotten the skills they used to survive on the battlefield.

Yet, after taking a sip of alcohol, he felt a twinge of regret. Four carriages were too few, merely acting as a barrier. The arrangement was also clumsy and unsightly. If Pang Shiyi, who could foresee an opponent’s chess moves by eleven moves, were there, the setup would probably have been much more comfortable.

The Scholar had poor martial arts skills, significantly lacking, yet he had an extensive and thorough knowledge of the Military Family’s classics. During the transportation of supplies, he was able to arrange the supply carts into various formations of the Military Family.

Once, as a junior officer, he managed to delay a group of elite cavalry that had ventured deep into territory with just over a hundred third-rate supply soldiers. Using the supply carts in conjunction with the terrain, they formed a bizarre formation, ensnaring both enemies and allies in combat.

In the end, both sides were blinded by rage. The enemy, initially regarding the small band of supply soldiers as easy prey, did not expect to hit a solid wall upon their approach and suffered many cavalry losses. Desperate to overcome them, and unwilling to die, they had no choice but to fight.

The ground was covered with fresh blood over old blood, turning it into a veritable slaughterhouse.

When Li Qidao found him, the weak Scholar somehow mustered tremendous strength, dragging down an opposing commander from his horse, and then, holding a knife, plunged it into the man’s heart once, twice, repeatedly. Splattered with blood, staggering but a few steps, he wiped his face in confusion, looking around, first bursting into laughter and then into loud wailing.

While crying, he called out for his mother’s Yang Laosi to get up.

He screamed about the unbearable pain, demanding they all get up to bandage him or else no letters from home would be read to them, nor would they get a penny of drinking money from him.

In the end, he collapsed to the ground, simply weeping, murmuring that dying like this was a disgrace.

No one answered him.

At that time, he was only seventeen or eighteen years old.

But now, that young man who had stunned the Border Army with a single battle has become a middle-aged man with slightly graying temples.

Li Qidao gazed blankly, lost in thought, as a thunderous noise, like that of rushing thunder, brought him back to reality. He ran his fingers through his graying hair, cursing with a laugh.

Liu Ling, who was already half-drunk beside him, raised an eyebrow at the phrase, “How could my hair have turned white before the wine is finished?” Staring blankly for a long while, he then proclaimed the flavor of the wine excellent, tilting his head back for another gulp.

His old servant, however, was not so at ease; watching the line of charging horseback Swordsmen, his face turned ashen, his heart threatening to skip beats.

Fei Yonglin and Tian Zhide, guarding the wagons on horseback, had their eyes widened, gripping their weapons tightly, with uncontrollable shortness of breath as they stared at the Swordsman drawing ever nearer.

Tian Zhide, with better eyesight, spotted a familiar figure among the young Swordsmen, someone with slightly unkempt sword-like eyebrows and hand on his sword. It was the Swordsman who had lost a duel beside the teahouse just the day before. A pang of unease struck him.

But when he saw the barely concealed cruel pleasure on the young man’s face, his heart sank, sensing that the trouble from yesterday’s silent observation was about to unfold.