Chapter 1

Yang Feng opened his eyes in confusion.

Night.

The light of torches.

A cold blade slashed down from the air.

"Damn!"

Reacting quickly, he screamed and abruptly rolled to the side.

The blade, carrying a chill, narrowly missed his nose and, unable to stop its momentum, struck the ground, sparks flying as it hit the stone pavement.

Yang Feng stared in shock at the wielder of the blade.

It was a burly man in ancient cotton armor, his face twisted in a fierce expression under the torchlight, also staring at him in surprise...

In the next moment, both regained their senses. The man thrust his long knife upward, while Yang Feng punched with his left hand and slammed his right fist forward.

With almost simultaneous roars, the long knife hit the ground, and the fist struck true, sending the massive body flying backward into the crowd.

Yang Feng, bewildered by his own strength, immediately faced a scene of slaughter.

The slaughter of cold weapons.

Long knives decapitated heads, spears pierced bodies, and arrows whistled through the air, embedding themselves in chests...

Under the flickering torchlight in the night, countless people were slaughtering each other. It wasn't a battle, but a massacre, as one side was unarmed. Although they looked no different, one side had armor and weapons, while the other had only their bare hands. Blades flashed, and the cries of slaughter echoed, with the dead being trampled and the wounded rolling in the dark, presumably in their own blood...

"Who the hell can tell me what the hell this place is?"

Yang Feng shouted in despair.

In the next moment, an iron mace whistled through the air and struck down toward him.

"Ah!"

Yang Feng roared and dodged the mace, instantly grabbing the hand that held it, and yanked the owner of the hand toward him, smashing his forehead into the man's. He then seized the mace and kicked forward, sending his dazed opponent flying. Roaring like the Hulk, he turned and smashed the mace into the arm of a man who was cutting down others. The man screamed, and the one being cut down seized the opportunity to snatch the knife and mercilessly stab it into the man's chest.

"Brothers, Wang is trying to kill us all, fight our way out!"

The man shouted, pulling out his knife and turning to slash at a spearman on his right.

The blade instantly cut through the spearman's throat, and the severed artery spurted blood. The spearman clutched his throat in terror, but could not stop the rapid loss of life.

Yang Feng instantly regained his senses.

He was in a slaughterhouse, and to survive, he had to join in the slaughter.

Suddenly, as if possessed by a legendary warrior, he followed the man into the crowd, swinging the iron mace wildly. Because there were so many people, all mixed together, and the torchlight flickered, he was completely dominated by adrenaline and paid no attention to anything else. Stepping on the bodies of the dead and the flowing blood, he moved through the crowd, smashing anyone with a weapon and anyone in armor, mostly aiming for their arms.

But if he misjudged and hit their heads, it was their bad luck.

The heavy stench of blood seemed to awaken his violent soul, and in the slaughterhouse, he roared like a raging beast.

His iron mace continuously struck, sending blood flying.

He didn't even notice that more and more people he had saved were picking up weapons and forming a small formation behind him.

Spear wielders formed two rows behind him, thrusting to the left and right.

Knife wielders were on his left and right and at the back, providing protection for him and the spear wielders. Some even picked up shields to block arrows for him.

These people were clearly well-trained, working together seamlessly. Without weapons, they were indeed easy prey for their opponents, but with weapons, they quickly demonstrated their overwhelming combat ability.

Especially with a fierce warrior like Yang Feng leading the charge, all they had to do was follow forward, rescue more comrades, and those comrades would quickly pick up weapons and join their formation. One such attack column soon became too crowded, and a second column formed, followed by a third. When the three columns were in a triangular formation moving forward, the original killers were already fleeing in panic...

Clearly, these killers knew them.

What finally brought Yang Feng out of his frenzy was the sudden sound of gunfire.

At the same time, a shield bearer appeared in front of him, and the bullet penetrated the shield, striking the man in the chest...

"Brother, don't stop!"

The man shouted, blood gushing from his body.

Yang Feng's gaze, however, turned toward the source of the gunfire.

There, a fully armored general sat on a horse, watching him coldly through the crowd.

Beside the general, a mounted soldier was putting away a matchlock gun that was still smoking, while someone on the ground handed him a new one.

"Spears!"

Yang Feng said without turning his head.

Someone behind him immediately handed him a spear.

The soldier also raised his matchlock gun and aimed at him from the horse.

Yang Feng roared, and the spear in his hand was instantly thrown. At the same moment, the gun fired, and the bullet whistled past his ear.

He watched silently as his spear landed.

The spear, reflecting the flames, instantly pierced the soldier's chest, causing him to lean back, slightly altering its direction. The spearhead, emerging from the soldier's back, plunged into the horse's flank, leaving only the two-meter-long shaft of the three-meter-long spear pointing diagonally into the sky...

The horse neighed in pain and reared up.

The general's face changed, and he immediately signaled to the sides.

Cavalrymen quickly moved forward, while he turned and fled, with the cavalrymen using their bodies to shield him and raising their bows to aim at Yang Feng.

"Follow me!"

Yang Feng roared.

Ignoring the arrows from thirty meters away, he charged forward, once again plunging into the crowd.

In the rain of arrows, he grabbed a killer with both hands, raising him in front of him, and then smashed their heads together, stunning them and holding them in front of him like a mad bull, roaring as he charged forward. Behind him, nearly a hundred people gathered and charged forward with shouts, even those who were unarmed and being cut down joined in, attacking their enemies with their fists, teeth, and even their heads.

This madness spread rapidly across the slaughterhouse.

Like a dam breaking, the calm surface instantly turned into a raging torrent, reversing the situation in an instant...

All the killers were fleeing in panic.

If not for their armor and weapons, these killers were clearly inferior to those they were slaughtering in terms of physical ability.

The latter, once armed, became elite fighters.

Their formation was tight, their movements measured, and they cooperated to protect each other, even sacrificing themselves. If they were properly equipped on a real battlefield, they would crush these people. But these killers could only slaughter the unarmed, and once they faced strong opponents, they quickly revealed their true nature and disintegrated like sand. Yang Feng charged forward through the fleeing crowd, the arrows from the cavalry continuously hitting the dead bodies in front of him. Behind him, people picked up spears and javelins, continuously throwing them at the cavalry.

"Retreat!"

A cry of alarm rang out among the cavalry.

In the next moment, no more arrows fell.

Yang Feng suddenly threw off the two bodies that had been pierced like pincushions, and in front of him were the fleeing cavalry and the general among them, disappearing into the night streets...

"Bang!"

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

The general's horse, turning, neighed in pain and fell.

Yang Feng turned in surprise, and the man who had saved him first was holding a smoking matchlock gun.

"Capture Wang Bao, those are his personal guards!"

The man said.