stonecrandall Chapter 1145 Uesugi Tora Appears!
Chapter 1145 Uesugi Tora Appears!
Just then, a new sound joined the symphony of the wasteland.
That was the sound of horses' hooves.
At first, there was only a faint tremor, like distant thunder. But soon, the tremor grew stronger and clearer—it was the sound of dozens of warhorses galloping, perfectly synchronized and well-trained.
Fan Xian and Haitang Duoduo's expressions changed simultaneously.
At such a time, the presence of cavalry in such a place, regardless of which side they belong to, is not a good thing.
The sound of hooves drew rapidly closer, and in just a dozen breaths, a cavalry unit came into view. They came from the eastern side of the wasteland, numbering about thirty riders, all on black warhorses. The riders wore leather armor unique to the Northern Qi border army, with scimitars at their waists and longbows on their backs.
The leader was a middle-aged man.
He wasn't particularly tall or strong; in fact, he was rather thin. Yet, when riding, he possessed a mountain-like steadiness. He wore an ordinary officer's uniform, without armor, and a grotesque scar running from his brow bone to his chin made his otherwise plain face appear exceptionally fierce.
What was most chilling were his eyes—eyes devoid of any emotion, cold and indifferent, as if he regarded everything as worthless.
The moment Haitang Duoduo saw the man, she froze, even forgetting that she was still under the threat of arrows.
"Uesugi Tiger?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief.
Shangshan Hu, the number one general of Northern Qi, guarded the northern border for twenty years and personally killed two disciples of Grandmasters!
How did he get here? And how did he get here so quickly?
Fan Xian's heart sank to the bottom. One ninth-rank archer was already a struggle, and now there was Shangshan Hu, along with over thirty elite cavalrymen…
Today's wasteland is likely to bleed.
Shangshan Hu reined in his warhorse, his gaze sweeping across the wasteland. He first glanced at the rocks where Fan Xian and Haitang Duoduo were hiding, then looked in the direction where the archers were lurking—his eyes precisely locked onto an inconspicuous thicket.
"Release the arrows." Uesugi Tora said calmly, his voice not loud, but it clearly carried throughout the entire wasteland.
More than thirty cavalrymen simultaneously drew their bows and nocked arrows.
The next moment, a rain of arrows soared into the sky, but instead of being aimed at Fan Xian or Haitang Duoduo, they all flew towards the bushes!
Fan Xian knelt on one knee, his right hand tightly covering his left shoulder, blood seeping from between his fingers, staining his clothes red. His breathing was heavy and erratic, each inhale causing a sharp pain in his chest—the wound caused by an arrow secretly shot by Yan Xiaoyi that grazed his ribs, not fatal, but damaging his internal organs.
Thirty paces away, Shang Shanhu reined in his horse and stood still. This top general of Northern Qi was clad in heavy black iron armor and carried the world-famous Breaking Formation Halberd on his shoulder, its tip gleaming coldly in the firelight.
Behind him, forty-eight Northern Qi cavalrymen spread out in a fan shape, each clad in armor and armed with weapons. The horses' breath turned into white mist in the cold night, their iron hooves pounding restlessly on the frozen earth. These cavalrymen were Shang Shanhu's personal guard, the "Tiger Warriors," each a veteran who had crawled out of the mountains of corpses and seas of blood in the northern frontier. Though they were silent at this moment, the unique chilling aura of the battlefield permeated the entire forest.
What weighed heavily on Fan Xian's mind was the looming sense of danger lurking in the shadows of the forest. Yan Xiaoyi was lurking in some shadow, and that archery bow could be drawn again at any moment. The Southern Qing Archery God, a peerless master of the ninth rank, didn't need to see his arrows, he only needed to sense them—but Fan Xian, severely injured, had senses that were less than 30% of their peak.
"Young Master Fan," Uesugi Tora's voice was deep and resonant, like a bell, echoing in the night wind.
"There's no need for further futile struggles. You can't stop me from taking my godfather away, nor can you escape this forest tonight."
Fan Xian slowly raised his head, a bitter smile tinged with blood and foam tugging at the corner of his mouth: "General Uesugi is quite cunning. He secretly mobilized troops. But I don't understand, Southern Qing and Northern Qi are like fire and water, when did the two of you become so in sync?"
Before he could finish speaking, a sneer came from the woods.
Yan Xiaoyi slowly emerged from the shadow of an ancient cypress tree. He was clad in armor and a tight-fitting outfit, and the iron bow, half his height, slung on his back gleamed faintly in the moonlight. His steps were so light that they were almost silent on the fallen leaves, yet each step made Fan Xian's heart tighten a little more.
"Fan Xian, you overestimate yourself." Yan Xiaoyi stopped ten feet away, his gaze like that of a hawk locking onto Fan Xian's vital points. "If I wanted to kill you, why would I need to join forces with others? General Uesugi wanted to save Xiao En, and I wanted to take your life—it just so happens that our targets are in the same place tonight."
Fan Xian's pupils contracted slightly. Yan Xiaoyi spoke lightly, but this was precisely the most dangerous situation. The two forces had different goals, which put him in a dilemma—if he focused all his efforts on dealing with Shang Shanhu, he would inevitably be injured by Yan Xiaoyi's sneak attack; if he guarded against Yan Xiaoyi, he would be no match for Shang Shanhu's iron halberd.
He tilted his head slightly, glancing to his side and behind him—Begonia Duoduo. At this moment, Begonia Duoduo seemed to have no intention of easily intervening in the situation; instead, she was watching the scene with great interest.
"Expert, aren't you going to help this time?"
"I can't help. In this situation, I'd just be throwing my life away. It's too dangerous."
At this moment, Haitang Duoduo disagreed, and even teased her a few times, making it clear that she couldn't touch that hand.
Uesugi Tora had lost his patience. He pointed his halberd at Fan Xian: "Take him down! If you dare to resist, your life is your only punishment!"
Forty-eight riders moved at the same time.
There were no shouts, no bugle calls for charge, only the clanging of armor against armor and the muffled thud of horses' hooves. These elite Northern Qi troops advanced in nine groups of five, forming a wedge formation, with the last group of three protecting Shang Shanhu on either side.
Their advance was not fast, but their steps were uniform, each step perfectly timed to the beat of a heartbeat, creating a suffocating sense of oppression.
Fan Xian took a deep breath, suppressing his injuries, and his inner energy circulated wildly through his meridians. He reached for his waist with his right hand, and a soft sword shot out like a venomous snake emerging from its hole—this was the "Soft Finger Wrapping Sword" that Fei Jie had given him years ago. He usually wore it around his waist as a belt, and when unsheathed, it was incomparably sharp.
The first group of cavalry had already reached within five paces of him.
Five spears thrust out simultaneously, sealing off all of Fan Xian's escape routes. These cavalrymen were perfectly coordinated, their spear tips aimed at vital points, and what was even more terrifying was that their timing was completely synchronized, making it impossible to defeat them one by one.
Fan Xian did not retreat.
Instead, he took a step forward, his soft sword drawing an arc in front of him. "Clang, clang, clang, clang—" Five crisp sounds rang out almost simultaneously, the sword tip precisely striking the head of each spear. Using the momentum, Fan Xian spun like a ghost, passing through the gap between the five spears!
But the cavalry's second wave of attack had already arrived.
The second group of five men didn't use spears; instead, they simultaneously hurled their lassos. Five ropes soaked in tung oil unfurled in the air, like a large net covering Fan Xian. At the same time, the first group of cavalry turned their horses around, their spears thrusting forward again—a pincer attack!