The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 133

All around was deathly silent. Only the occasional distant sound of a night watchman's clapper could be heard, monotonous and far-reaching, making the night seem even deeper and longer.

The entire city of Jiaxing seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep, like a defenseless creature lying there peacefully, awaiting the impending, most violent invasion.

Wang Meng's face was expressionless.

His eyes, which could see into people's hearts, were now calmly gazing at the cold moon, as if engaging in a silent dialogue with this ancient and unchanging starry sky.

The Five Poisons Sect is sharp and venomous, but that's all.

They are tools, disposable items used to set the stage for this grand drama.

His chessboard is far larger than this small city of Jiaxing.

He slowly closed his eyes, and the power distribution map of the entire Jiangnan region, and even the entire world, clearly appeared in his mind.

They are like crops growing on this fertile land, seemingly lush but actually extremely fragile.

And he, Wang Meng, was the farmer who came to reap all of this.

No, he is not a farmer.

What he needs to do is not to reap the harvest.

Instead, it is about uprooting everything on this land, including crops, weeds, and even the roots hidden deep underground.

Then, with the most violent flames, burn it to ashes, leaving only a white expanse.

He wants to establish a completely new order that belongs only to him on this scorched earth.

"A dark and windy night is a night for murder..."

He muttered to himself, his voice as soft as a breeze, yet carrying an indescribable, chilling coldness.

He raised his head, took one last look at the lonely, cold moon, and a cruel yet triumphant smile slowly curved his lips.

Before he finished speaking, Wang Meng had already turned around and gone back into the house.

He gently closed the simple wooden door without making a sound, as if he had simply blended into the darkness of the room and never left.

In just a dozen or so breaths, the door quietly opened again.

When Wang Meng stepped into that cold moonlight again, his entire demeanor was completely different.

His sleek black outfit perfectly accentuated his fluid and explosive physique. (The last part, "梅呢想呢呢呢空你林在在没呢," is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly.)

At this moment, he carried a longbow on his back, its body entirely black and made of the sinews of some kind of giant beast.

The bow gleamed with a cold, faint light under the moonlight, neither metal nor wood.

Slung across his waist was a similarly black quiver, filled with arrows. The fletching of each arrow was as black as ink, but the arrowheads gleamed with a chilling dark blue light, clearly indicating that they had been poisoned.

The number of skilled fighters that Mantuo Villa had deployed in Jiaxing City was not large; they were scattered and insignificant.

But that has nothing to do with it.

Jiaxing and Mantuo Villa are connected by waterways, and even at a fast pace, the journey takes only half a day.

After sending out the invitations during the day, he secretly issued the highest-level troop mobilization order to the manor.

Fortunately, Li Canghai was there to oversee the manor, which gave him the confidence to remove the guards from Li Qingluo's side.

Otherwise, with Li Qingluo's meager skills, she would have been helpless without the protection of these maids.

It's probably only a matter of time before their hometown is raided.

And it is precisely because of this most solid rear protection.

Only then could he unscrupulously throw all the most elite forces that Mantuo Manor had secretly cultivated over the years into the vortex of Jiaxing.

As night completely enveloped the earth, hundreds of women dressed in black night-time outfits and with their faces covered by black veils quietly gathered at the Wuzhen Wharf south of Jiaxing City, like ghosts.

Their figures may be graceful, but each of them has eyes as cold as ice, and they exude a chilling aura of someone who has been through countless battles.

He left the small courtyard, his figure disappearing like a wisp of smoke into the deserted, deep streets and alleys of Jiaxing City late at night.

Instead of taking the main road, he chose to move among the rooftops and eaves, and with a few leaps, he silently arrived at the foot of the tall and majestic city wall.

In the dead of night, the city gates of Jiaxing were already tightly closed, the drawbridge was hanging high, and on the walls, squads of drowsy soldiers were patrolling back and forth listlessly.

What would be an insurmountable barrier for ordinary people is no different from the fence in Wang Meng's own backyard.

He didn't even have a running start.

With a light touch of his feet against the smooth base of the wall, he was lifted up from the ground as if weightless.

His body pressed against the cold, rough brick wall, darting upwards like a gecko.

Midway, he used the gap between two bricks to gain leverage again, and his body rose higher once more. The whole process was so smooth and fast that it left only a faint afterimage in the moonlight.

The patrolman on the wall felt as if a night bird had swept past him, but before he could rub his eyes to get a better look, the shadow had vanished without a trace.

Wang Meng stood quietly atop the city wall, the cold wind ruffling his black robes and long hair.

He looked down at the ancient city that had fallen into slumber, and gazed at the vast, dark plains outside the city, bathed in moonlight.

Finally, his gaze fell precisely on the Grand Canal outside the city, which meandered like a silver ribbon.

His figure flickered again, and he leaped down from the city wall, which was dozens of feet high, like a falling leaf, silently merging into the darkness outside the city.

Even late at night, the docks along the canal are not completely deserted.

The air was filled with the damp, fishy smell unique to river water, as well as the complex aroma of wood, tung oil, and dried fish.

Rows of massive wooden warehouses, like giant beasts crouching on the shore, their dark outlines appearing particularly ferocious under the moonlight.

This was the largest stronghold of the Canal Gang in Jiaxing.

Wang Meng stopped in a dark spot with a wide view, his gaze coldly sweeping over the massive complex of buildings.

Based on existing intelligence.

The stronghold of the Grand Canal Gang was the "Dragon King's Boat," which sailed on Taihu Lake year-round. It was a water palace and a mobile fortress.

But Wang Meng knew perfectly well that seventy or eighty thousand dan of grain was an enormous amount!

No matter how big the Dragon King's Boat is, it's impossible to put all that grain on the ship.

More importantly, grain is most susceptible to moisture.

If you hide it on the lake, where it is exposed to water vapor all day long, it will soon become moldy and spoiled.

Once the food spoils, their biggest bargaining chip—their leverage for coercion and negotiation—is gone.

Therefore, they had to find a warehouse that was large enough and dry and safe enough.

Looking across the entire Jiaxing area, what place could be more suitable than this wharf and warehouse area, which has been operated by the canal gangs for many years, is heavily guarded, and was originally intended to store goods from the north and south, to hide this batch of grain that could stir up a storm?

"Young master, we've found it!"

The sisters have already gone in to investigate.

The stolen grain was all in Warehouse No. 1.

The canal gangs deployed a large number of men to guard the area, probably no fewer than a hundred, or even more.

Wang Meng's gaze finally settled on the largest warehouse, designated as Class A, which was located in the very center.

The characters painted with red paint were still exceptionally eye-catching even in the dim moonlight.

found it.

Wang Meng no longer hesitated in the slightest, nor did he waste any more time observing.

He slowly pulled the black longbow from behind his back, his movements as fluid as flowing water, filled with a kind of heart-stirring rhythm.

Then he drew an arrow from the quiver with his other hand.

This arrow was unusual; behind the arrowhead was a band of linen soaked in kerosene.

He nocked the arrow on the bowstring, his left hand as steady as a rock, while three fingers of his right hand took out a small tinderbox from his pocket.

With a gentle shake, a cluster of orange flames burst forth from the darkness with a "poof".

They used a flame to ignite the linen on the arrow.

"call!"

A fist-sized, blazing fireball instantly formed in front of his bow, hissing and flickering, casting an unpredictable shadow on Wang Meng's cold face, making him look like a demon returned from hell.

The flickering flame was reflected in Wang Meng's eyes, and a slight smile played on his lips as he drew back the bowstring.

He slowly drew back the longbow, which was made of the sinews and bones of some kind of giant beast, until it reached full moon.

He arched his back and emitted a tooth-grinding groan, as if he were under unbearable pressure. A visible, powerful energy began to gather and swirl around him.

"go."

He gave a low shout and loosened his grip.

"Whoosh!"

The burning arrow transformed into a streak of fire that pierced the night sky, carrying a sharp, tearing whistle, like a falling meteor, and shot precisely at the heavy ironwood door of Warehouse No. 3, which was tightly closed!

"boom!"

With a loud bang, the arrow was driven deep into the door panel!

The terrifying internal force contained in that arrow exploded the moment it entered the wood, blasting a hole the size of a bowl through the half-foot-thick, hard ironwood!

Countless wood chips mixed with sparks flew everywhere, while the raging flames spread across the dry wooden door like maggots clinging to a bone!

This earth-shattering arrow was both a signal and a declaration of war!

Almost at the same instant the flames shot into the sky, hundreds of black shadows, like awakened ghosts, moved silently in the darkness surrounding the dock warehouse area.

"Dang! Dang! Dang!"

Inside the warehouse area, the piercing sound of gongs finally rang out, awakening the guards of the canal gang from the sudden attack. Curses, shouts, and the clash of weapons instantly shattered the tranquility of the night. Dozens of figures rushed out from various watchtowers and barracks, carrying torches, and charged haphazardly toward the direction from which the fire had started.

Before they could even see the enemy's face clearly, the scythe of death had already silently slashed across their necks.

Black shadows, like ghosts, flashed past from the shadows beside them and from the eaves above their heads.

There were no earth-shattering clashes of moves, no exhilarating sword fights.

The only sound was the sickening hissing sound of arrows tearing through flesh.

The only sound was the futile "hoarse" as fresh blood gushed from the trachea.