Chapter 117: The Submerged Silhouette

"Dammit! Kill them all, now!"

Tang Zhenhao, mounted on his warhorse, hacked down a Sui soldier and glanced around. Upon seeing his own cavalry being completely overrun and suffering casualties several times that of the Sui forces, his face grew dark with fury.

He was particularly incensed to see that despite being outnumbered, the Sui cavalry fought with such ferocity that his own men were forced to retreat. Yet, that very recklessness of the Sui troops also stirred a flicker of panic in Tang Zhenhao’s heart.

"Faster! Kill them!" Tang Zhenhao turned his horse, brandished his sword toward the Sui cavalry, and roared at his men on both sides.

"Kill!!"

"Kill!"

Urged on by Tang Zhenhao’s loyalists, the rebel cavalry charged once more toward the Sui lines.

In the chaos of the battlefield, Fu Zihou gripped his horse-spear, its blade dripping with blood. Surveying the dense throng of enemy riders clashing with his own men, his expression turned grave.

If this continued, regardless of the outcome, the soldiers he had brought would be wiped out; few would survive. He remembered the scene at the west gate of Jinyang, where these men had sworn, without hesitation, to follow him out of the city. He could not—would not—let them die here.

As his focus wavered, a premonition of danger struck. He dodged instinctively, narrowly avoiding a blade swung at him, then rose quickly, swinging his spear in a wide, sweeping arc to strike a rebel soldier to his side. As the rebel fell, Fu did not pause to finish him off; instead, his eyes scanned the chaotic battlefield, eventually locking onto a figure deep behind the enemy lines.

It was Tang Zhenhao, the rebel general he had encountered once before at the east gate of Jinyang. Fu knew that if he could slay Tang, the rebels would surely descend into chaos—it was the most effective path to victory. However, looking at the human tide of rebel cavalry shielding Tang, Fu realized he had no certainty of success. In all likelihood, if he were surrounded, he would be the one to lose his head.

In a heartbeat, he looked at his outnumbered men who were still fighting desperately. He looked back at the figure protected by the sea of rebels and, without hesitation, spurred his horse.

"Go!"

Gripping his spear, Fu Zihou charged headlong into the rebel army.

Years ago, at fifteen, Houmochen Chong had charged into an army of thousands to capture a king. Fu Zihou had never seen Houmochen Chong, nor had he witnessed that battle, but in this moment, he knew he had to step forward. Like the heroes of Wuchuan, he had to face the danger, seize the banners, challenge the generals, and fulfill his mission with his own body and blood.

Success or failure, life or death, honor or disgrace—this was his chosen path.

"Captain!"

"Captain!"

Yin Tianzong, Hu Jingyuan, Cao Yong, and Xing Ming, who had been close to Fu throughout the battle, saw his movement and immediately understood his intent. They tried to follow, but the surrounding rebels hemmed them in, trapping them. Seeing this, only a few Sui soldiers managed to clear their immediate foes and raced to follow Fu Zihou into the heart of the enemy formation.

Qi Lingyang, who had just shot down a rebel, saw the charge. Seeing an enemy rider moving to intercept Fu, he quickly drew an arrow, pulled his bow, and struck the man down with precision.

"Go!"

Seeing that figure galloping forward, Qi Lingyang also spurred his horse, but he was soon surrounded by rebels who had noted his archery. They pressed in close, knowing that once they engaged him in melee, his bow would be useless. Unable to reach Fu Zihou, Qi could only rain arrows upon the surrounding rebels.

"Courting death!" Tang Zhenhao, seeing Fu Zihou charging toward him, wore a cruel smile. He remembered Fu’s prowess—how he had slain Tu Ye in public at the plains, and how he had decimated the twenty thousand troops stationed at Jinyang. But now, with so many men around him, did Fu truly believe he could kill him alone?

"Kill him!" Tang commanded, brandishing his sword.

Hearing the order, the rebels surrounding Tang surged toward Fu Zihou, creating an impenetrable wall of steel. Blades, spears, and long-handled axes rained down upon him. Amidst the thunder of hooves and the clash of weapons, the sheer density of the assault forced Fu’s horse to slow. Fu parried desperately, striking back whenever a gap appeared. Outnumbered and wounded, he fought with the ferocity of a madman.

Soon, covered in blood, he lost all sense of pain.

The instinct of man is to avoid harm, but once wounded, the chains of fear are broken. A man who has accepted death becomes a wild beast that the enemy cannot stop.

"Kill!!"

Fu discarded his spear and drew his sword, claiming a life with every strike. Blood splattered across his face and body. When a rebel slashed at him, Fu parried and countered, carving a deep, bloody wound across the man’s face. Before the rebel could fall, Fu struck again, finishing him.

"Kill!" Fu roared, pushing his horse forward.

"Kill him! Hurry!" Tang Zhenhao watched the blood-soaked figure in the distance and felt a creeping, icy fear.

Then, to his horror, he saw more figures charging from the other side. It was Li Shimin, the son of Li Yuan. Tang had seen Li Shimin repeatedly tear through thousands of men with only a few hundred soldiers.

"Hear my command! Whoever kills these two Sui generals shall receive a hundred gold pieces, the rank of Captain, and their position shall be hereditary!"

The promise of gold and status set the rebels’ hearts aflame. "A hundred gold pieces... kill!"

Most of the rebel force turned toward Fu Zihou, while the rest swarmed toward Li Shimin.

In the fray, a rebel soldier, already wounded by Fu, thought of his wife and children back home. He roared and threw himself against the legs of Fu’s horse. As Fu went down, the rebels swarmed in, fighting for the kill.

Li Shimin, protected by his men, had discarded his spear and was raining arrows upon the rebels. He looked toward the youth fighting on the other side and felt a pang of worry. The boy was in far greater danger than he was. Seeing the youth engulfed by the rebel tide, Li Shimin’s heart tightened.

"I will have your head!" Li Shimin locked eyes with the enemy general in the distance. He spurred his horse, drawing his bow with every stride. Any rebel within fifty paces fell to his arrows. When three rebels blocked his path, he drew three arrows at once and loosed them; all three fell.

Tang Zhenhao realized then why Li Shimin could never be contained. Who could stop such a man?

"Stop him!" Tang was in a full panic. He turned his horse to flee.

"Stop him? How?" his remaining loyalists cried in terror.

Li Shimin cut down the last of those who dared to block his path. Tang Zhenhao looked back, his face pale with terror, as his last guards fell. He saw Li Shimin drawing his bow once more.

"Die!"

Fu Zihou, standing amidst a pile of bodies, fought on. He had lost his sword in a corpse and now wielded a blade he had scavenged, cutting down any who approached. A burly rebel captain tried to strike him from the side, but Fu caught the blow, countered, and ran the man through.

The surrounding rebels, once greedy for the reward, now hesitated. They looked at the boy standing atop the mountain of thirty or forty corpses, his face a mask of blood, and fear gripped their hearts.

One soldier, still driven by greed, lunged from behind, but Fu turned and cut him down, adding him to the pile.

In the distance, Li Shimin loosed his bow. Tang Zhenhao felt a sharp pain in his back, then another, and a third. The rebel general tumbled from his horse and rolled onto the ground.

"Victory!!"

"A great victory!!"

The morale of the Sui army surged. Seeing their enemy slain, the rebels broke and fled in a panic.

When the dust settled and the rebels had scattered, all eyes turned to that one spot. Standing amidst the carnage, the young general remained, unmoving and indomitable.