Chapter 59: Shattering Armor, Breaking Through the Formation

Chapter 59: Shattering Armor, Charging the Lines

Suddenly, Hui Niang’s chest convulsed ever so slightly—barely perceptible, yet Zhang Sanlu unmistakably heard a faint but clear heartbeat. Like a ray of dawn piercing the darkness, it filled him with overwhelming joy. Eyes wide, he stared intently at Hui Niang, terrified that this was nothing but an illusion.

Thump.

Thump, thump.

It was real—there truly was a heartbeat!

Could it be… was it my revulsion just now that somehow jolted her heart and lungs? Or had the Longevity Pill begun to work? Elation surged through Zhang Sanlu.

However strange the circumstances, Hui Niang’s transformation was undeniable. Even her complexion seemed to regain a touch of color, as though her eyes might open at any moment.

Jubilant, Zhang Sanlu forced himself upright despite his injuries, determined to take Hui Niang away from this place.

Clang, clang, clang—

Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by a rapid succession of heavy footsteps. Down the now-deserted street, a troop of soldiers emerged in the distance—at least a hundred strong, clad in light armor and armed to the teeth, advancing warily as though toward a deadly foe.

These armored men were nothing like the lazy constables who had previously rounded up conscripts and collected taxes. These were disciplined, their movements crisp and purposeful, exuding the air of seasoned warriors. Their fitted armor glinted coldly in the sunlight.

The synchronized clang of their march pressed like a weight on this blood-soaked ground, making even the air feel frozen.

Zhang Sanlu’s heart tightened. He knew at once that their arrival could only mean one thing—they were after him.

“Hui Niang, don’t be afraid. I will protect you!”

He bent low, speaking softly to Hui Niang. Though pain had made his voice hoarse, there was no mistaking the resolve and courage in his words.

The soldiers drew nearer. Zhang Sanlu drew a deep breath and stepped down the blood-stained steps one at a time.

Inside the butcher’s shop, the little girl lay watching through half-open eyes. All she could see was the lone figure of a one-armed man, gripping a blade, advancing toward a host of armored foes.

That solitary figure, blurred by blood and pain, stood alone before a sea of enemies.

The soldiers’ eyes burned with murderous intent, as though at any moment a storm of spears and swords would rain down upon him.

With his own flesh… to take on all revulsions… all transformed into curses, self-harm to seek… what place have I in this world! Zhang Sanlu’s incantation rose from a murmur to a furious shout.

“Don’t let that sorcerer finish his spell—kill him!” the captain barked, raising his saber high.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” the hundred voices echoed, their battle cry shaking the heavens.

Reversing his grip, Zhang Sanlu slashed his own abdomen, instantly severing several ribs on his left side. But the blade was already blunted; rather than slicing, he was smashing through bone.

“Aaah—!”

The soldiers’ war cries faltered as those in the front ranks doubled over in pain.

But Zhang Sanlu pressed forward, leaping down from the steps. His blade punched through the open mouth of a howling soldier, piercing out the back of his helmet. In the same motion, he withdrew the blade and kicked aside an incoming sword, then spun and slit another soldier’s throat.

Like a tiger among wolves, Zhang Sanlu fought on instinct alone—stabbing, thrusting, slashing, hacking—each move swift and precise, striking wherever armor left flesh exposed.

Yet new wounds blossomed across his body, fresh blood masking the old. Bruises and gashes overlapped until he was a walking testament to pain.

Only then did tears slip from the corner of Hui Niang’s eyes. She knew that blood-soaked man was fighting with every ounce of strength for her sake.

One-armed and alone, Zhang Sanlu faced a hundred armored foes. The front ranks, crippled by wounds, moved sluggishly, while every blow he delivered was meant to kill. Though they vastly outnumbered him, only the first line could reach him, and his relentless assault left them reeling.

Suddenly, a saber swept across his back. Already spent, Zhang Sanlu staggered, nearly collapsing.

Weapons came down in a flurry, the soldiers intent on hacking him to pieces.

He rolled away with the momentum, sweeping his blade across the knees of the unarmored men, felling a swath with each strike. Blood sprayed, screams rang out—a symphony of agony.

A spear thrust from the side, burying deep into his left shoulder. The blinding pain nearly made him faint. Zhang Sanlu stumbled back a step, then straightened with a fierce will.

“AAAH—!” His roar released all his pain and fury, and with a sudden turn, he brought his blade crashing down on the soldier who had ambushed him.

With a sickening crack, the man’s helmet and skull split in two, brains and blood spurting in a crimson mist over those nearby. Head and broken blade crashed to the ground.

All at once the remaining soldiers froze in terror; none dared advance after witnessing such savage power.

They had thought apprehending a mere sorcerer would require no more than county constables—why bother with the garrison’s elite? Yet when they arrived, those swaggering officials were already annihilated, and the so-called elite had been slaughtered by a lone man with a single blade.

That last blow, cleaving through both helmet and skull, shocked them all to their core.

“Who else wants to die?!”

The threat in his voice and the carnage he had wrought made even these hardened men waver; some in the front ranks involuntarily retreated a step.

Zhang Sanlu knew his regeneration was formidable but not limitless. Sooner or later, exhaustion would overtake him. Though the soldiers recoiled now, reinforcements would keep coming, wave after wave, until they hacked him to bloody shreds.

If gods themselves could bleed, then with enough soldiers, even a god would die on the battlefield.

Picking up another saber, Zhang Sanlu gasped for breath, eyes wild with killing intent and grim resolve. He did not fear death—but what of Hui Niang, newly awakened, if he should fall?

As time dragged on, he felt his strength ebbing away. Blood poured from his wounds; his body grew weaker by the moment. He knew he could not last much longer, but if he could buy Hui Niang even a fleeting chance at life before he fell, it would be enough.

Clip-clop.

Clip-clop.

The sound of hooves echoed down the street. The captain’s face lit up—surely, this was reinforcements from the camp outside the city.

Zhang Sanlu looked to the sky and let out a long sigh, tears streaming down his blood-soaked face as though he wept blood itself.

He raised his blade to his own throat.

Blood for blood.

Life for life.

If he must perish, he would take the encircling foe with him.

If only Hui Niang could live a moment longer, that would be enough.