Chapter 60: The Annihilator of Supreme Divine Weapons

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Report!~~

Bursting through the ranks of soldiers, a young footman sprinted to kneel before Cao Cao’s chariot.

“My lord, General Yue Jin requests you to press forward with the entire army. General Chen Cong has entered the city.”

Cao Cao did not react at once.

He laughed heartily, “Zining is indeed a valiant commander. In the span of just two incense sticks…”

But as he laughed, something felt amiss.

Chen Cong had been wrapped up like a corpse; two incense sticks’ time wouldn’t be enough for him to even reach the city walls, let alone scale them, no matter how fierce he was. How had he managed to get onto the ramparts?

Cao Cao glared at the footman and asked, “How did Chen Cong enter the city?”

“I do not know, my lord. But a cloth-ball monster flew across the sky, and General Yue Jin was certain it was General Chen.”

Cao Cao drew a sharp breath and pressed his thumb firmly to his philtrum.

A cloth-ball monster flew into Sishui Pass…

Even with the tips of his toes, he could guess that such an absurd, reckless scheme surely came from his unruly son-in-law.

Cao Cao ground his teeth in frustration.

That scoundrel—leave him out of sight for a moment and he’ll stir up unimaginable trouble! Nearly a father now, yet his actions are nothing but a farce.

“Sound the drums! Advance!”

But the Cao army numbered only five thousand; after days of assault, their ranks had been thinned further. Even if all pressed forward, what difference would it make?

Thinking quickly, Cao Cao turned to Xu Chu and ordered, “Go, send word to Yuan Shao. Tell him… tell him there is a secret ally within Sishui Pass. At the hour of the pig, a fire will rise and the gates will be opened. Invite him to bring his entire force forward to share in the glory of breaking the pass.”

“Yes, sir!”

……

……

At this moment, Chen Cong was utterly despairing.

His landing spot was indeed correct—he had landed just behind the city gate.

Yet the angle of the siege crossbow had been a bit too high.

This slight discrepancy, magnified by the long-range projectile’s arc, left a full two miles between him and the gate.

On any ordinary day, such a distance would take no more than five minutes to traverse.

But now, he had dropped in just as the Xiliang army was changing the guard.

Those below surged upward, those above retreated down.

And he was caught right in the middle!

The worst part: the retreating Xiliang soldiers each wielded powerful bows!

Misfortune rarely comes alone.

Whenever you think things are bad, there’s always something worse waiting just behind.

Masters of martial skill may wield a blade as they would a spear—not impossible, but the two are fundamentally different, though sharing some common ground.

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Of course Chen Cong could use the broadsword to parry, thrust, or stab to break the enemy.

Yet!

From the perspective of craftsmanship, broadsword and spear are distinct as water and wine.

A spear requires flexibility; so smiths focus on resilience, so it can whip and flourish.

A broadsword demands firmness; the handle must be hard, else the blade will bounce back from a heavy strike—pure comedy.

If Chen Cong held a spear, a flourish would scatter a rain of arrows.

But now, he was wielding the Green Dragon Crescent Blade, borrowed from Guan Yu to improve his killing efficiency!

This thing was as stiff as a stone in a latrine—how could it possibly whip?

Perhaps this is why Guan Yu became a human arrow shield.

No, there’s no time to wait for Guan Yu’s fame!

Facing a hail of arrows, Chen Cong had every reason to believe he was the first generation human arrow target.

A chill crept up Chen Cong’s back as he hastily raised his blade to strike.

But there were simply too many arrows.

Between swings, arrows pierced his thighs, abdomen, shoulders, and chest; his monstrous physique allowed him to endure, but when one arrow lodged in his big toe, he could only curse inwardly.

This meant, from now on, he had to be utterly vigilant.

A sky full of arrows cared nothing for probability—so far, only his toe had been hit, but if one struck an unspeakable place, there was no muscle there to absorb the blow…

“Spear formation, advance!”

After a round of archery, faced with spears from all sides, Chen Cong caught his breath.

He flipped his blade across his chest, bent backward to block the thrusting spearheads, pressed one hand to the ground, and swung the blade in a waist-high sweep, felling six or seven Xiliang soldiers.

“Draw bows, spear formation, retreat.”

“Loose arrows!”

Chen Cong quickly seized a half-corpse to shield his vital parts, taking several more arrows in his legs.

“This won’t do. At this rate, I’m doomed. Capture the king to capture the bandits!”

Taking advantage of the brief pause after the volley, as the spear formation regrouped, Chen Cong grabbed a wooden spear, hurled it forward, and before the junior officer commanding the formation could speak again, the spearhead pierced his chest and nailed him to the ground.

The formation faltered briefly. Chen Cong dragged his blade through the chaos, overturned the officer’s corpse, and took the longbow and quiver from his back.

He clenched the Crescent Blade between his teeth, pulled the bowstring to test its strength.

Less than one stone—light as air, but sufficient.

On the move, he nocked an arrow; the new officer barely opened his mouth before an arrow struck his throat.

With this, Chen Cong’s pressure eased sharply.

With a bow at his side and superb archery, whenever someone organized a formation, he drew and fired. The more men gathered, the more chaotic the formation, the safer Chen Cong became.

After nearly an hour of slaughter, countless souls fell beneath his blade, the Crescent Blade nearly battered to the edge, Chen Cong left bloody footprints with every step, finally reaching the city gate.

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Even through the heavy gate, he could hear the battle cries of the allied army outside.

“Mmph mmph, mmph mmph mmph.”

Hearing a familiar voice, Chen Cong raised a hand to wipe the blood from his eyes and saw a half-starved bundle wriggling by the wall.

Pan Feng?

This fellow was still alive?

Chen Cong sliced open Pan Feng’s bindings, hooked a long spear with his foot, and kicked it over.

Pan Feng caught the spear and nearly toppled from the force.

“Chen Cong, you brute!”

“Save your breath—if you want to live, guard the doorway. I’ll open the gate.”

Pan Feng, startled, nearly dropped the spear.

Watching the endless wave of Xiliang soldiers, he swallowed hard and fought while retreating, his back to Chen Cong.

“If not for you, I wouldn’t be in such peril. Truly, nothing good comes from meeting you.”

“How are you still alive? What happened to that young soldier?”

Pan Feng was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “He’s dead.”

In truth, much of Pan Feng’s survival was thanks to that young soldier’s care.

On the day the allies attacked, the enemy had no time to deal with him.

That man kept Pan Feng with him, shared his bread, gave him water, kept him from dying of thirst or hunger.

But in the end, the man died.

A stone hurled over the wall shattered half his body—he died right before Pan Feng’s eyes.

Pan Feng never even learned his name.

Lost in thought for a moment, Pan Feng was stabbed four or five times by the massed spears. Fortunately, he wore armor when captured, but there were always places armor couldn’t protect; a spear caught him on the inside of his thigh, cold sweat pouring.

He glanced back at the blood-soaked figure, bristling with arrows like a porcupine, wearing no armor at all…

He couldn’t fathom how this monster had fought his way here.

“Hurry up! I can’t hold much longer!”

“Cover your ears!”

After felling the last Xiliang soldier at the gate, Chen Cong gripped the Crescent Blade with both hands and swung it with all his might at the massive iron bar.

Clang!!

The Green Dragon Crescent Blade let out a mournful cry and shattered in pieces; the three-finger-thick iron bar snapped in response.

Chen Cong shook his numb arms, pressed his hands against the gate, his exaggerated muscles bulging high as he exerted force.

The enormous city gate, weighing over ten thousand pounds, slowly opened like a blood-soaked maw…