You, a tyrannical ruler, roam the heavens; you cannot understand my joy.

Central command tent.

Wanyan Zongbi was intently staring at the map, calculating the progress of the various armies at the front. He pressed his finger heavily on the location representing Laoguanzui, his eyes flashing with cold light.

He Shi Lie Zhi Ning's 20,000 fresh troops should have already been deployed. Han Shi Zhong, let's see how you resist the harassment of those Jianghu outlaws!

The commotion, shouts, and increasingly intense sounds of clashing weapons and screams that came from outside the tent did not initially attract much of his attention.

During a major battle, some noise is normal due to troop movements, the evacuation of the wounded, and the handling of ordnance within the camp.

He even thought with satisfaction that this might be due to the good news from the front, which boosted morale.

However, the commotion did not subside; instead, it spread to the core area of ​​the central army at an alarming speed!

Interspersed within were clearly the furious roars and dying screams of the Jurchen language, and a kind of...

He had never heard such near-panic chaos in the voices of his own sons.

Immediately following were the loud cracking of wood breaking, the crashing of tents being knocked over, and the muffled thuds of something heavy hitting the ground, as if some enormous creature was rampaging through the camp!

Wanyan Zongbi's brows furrowed suddenly, and he abruptly looked up from the map, shouting sharply, "What's all this commotion outside?"

"Who dares to cause trouble in my central army?"

Before the words were finished, the heavy curtain of the tent was suddenly flung open, and a personal guard with a askew helmet and a face covered in soot and blood smears scrambled in, collapsing to the ground: "Marshal! Marshal!"

"No, this is terrible!"

"Enemy attack!"

"They've reached the central army!"

"Enemy attack?"

Wanyan Zongbi abruptly stood up, a murderous look flashing across his face: "Where did the enemy attack from?"

"How many men?"

"Where did Han Shizhong get the troops to outflank me?"

"Was it an attack by routed troops upstream, or were suicide soldiers sent from the south bank to swim across?"

He instantly thought of several possibilities, but no matter which one, the ability to penetrate the outer defenses and reach the central army so quickly was extraordinary.

"No, it's not a large group..."

"He's...he's a martial arts master!"

"So many martial arts masters!"

"But...but that young man at the very front...that guy in black...he...he's not human! He's a demon!"

"You insolent wretch! What nonsense are you spouting!"

A fierce general beside Wanyan Zongbi angrily shouted, "What demon? Explain yourself!"

The guard trembled, gesturing incoherently, "Really! That person was alone... just one palm strike!"

"He just pushed out with one palm, and with a loud bang!"

"Our thick wooden palisade at the camp gate, and the dozen or so brothers hiding behind it, are all...all destroyed!"

"It's turned into wood chips and bits of meat!"

"The arrows fell off on their own when they hit the area around his body!"

"Our warriors formed a spear formation to stop him, but he flicked his finger, and many, many people, men and their weapons and armor, were cut down!"

"The cuts are perfectly clean!"

"Ulinda Meng'an tried to charge at him with his cavalry, but he slapped him, sending him and his horse flying dozens of feet, crashing into the supply camp's tents!"

"He...he's heading this way towards the commander's tent!"

"We can't stop them! We simply can't stop them, Marshal!"

Upon hearing this, the generals inside the tent first displayed an expression of utter absurdity, then became filled with astonishment and uncertainty.

He shattered the camp fence with a single palm strike?

Can a gust of wind sever iron armor?

Slap the cavalrymen and their horses away?

This is practically a myth that only storytellers could tell!

"fart!"

The fierce general flew into a rage, stepping forward and kicking his personal guard to the ground: "It must be you who deserted in the face of battle, fabricating such nonsense to sow discord among the troops!"

"If you dare spout nonsense again, I'll chop you up!"

"That's enough!"

Wanyan Zongbi shouted in a deep voice, stopping his men.

His face was terribly gloomy, and his eyes were like knives as he stared at the trembling guards on the ground.

The fear in the guards' eyes seemed genuine, and the chaotic sounds of fighting outside the tent were indeed getting closer and closer. They could even hear Jurchen curses and screams mixed with sharp shouts in Chinese.

A martial arts master? A man who can shatter a camp with a single palm strike? A man who can break armor with a flick of his finger?

absurd!

Could there be such a person in the world?

Even the legendary martial arts masters of the Southern Dynasties, such as Wang Chongyang and Lin Chaoying, would never have been able to act in such a way amidst a vast army!

This must be Han Shizhong's scheme!

I don't know what method they used, but they sent elite assassins to impersonate martial arts figures, and they also used gunpowder, springs and other tricks to create a terrifying momentum, intending to strike directly at the central command and disrupt the morale of our army!

Even these panicked guards might be Southern spies in disguise, deliberately spreading rumors!

Wanyan Zongbi's mind raced, and he quickly found a "reasonable" explanation for this absurd report.

He's been through countless battles and seen all sorts of ingenious schemes and tricks. The more bizarre something is, the more likely it is a feint!

Clang!

He suddenly drew the precious sword, inlaid with gold and jade, that had accompanied him in battle for many years, from his waist. The gleaming blade illuminated his murderous face.

"Hmph, playing tricks and creating a mystery! Han Shizhong has run out of ideas and has come up with such a laughable scheme!"

Wanyan Zongbi strode out of the tent, his voice filled with disdain and absolute confidence:

"I, the commander, will see for myself which 'demon' dares to run wild among my Great Golden Iron Cavalry!"

"All generals, follow me out of the tent and slaughter these rats who have disturbed our camp!"

"Yes, Marshal!"

The generals inside the tent responded in unison. Although they were still somewhat surprised and doubtful, their commander's composure and strength inspired them. They drew their weapons, surrounded Wanyan Zongbi, and rushed out of the tent with great momentum.

However, just as he stepped out of the command tent, his gaze instinctively drifted towards the direction where the commotion and screams were most intense...

The expression on Wanyan Zongbi's face, a mixture of contempt, anger, and confidence, seemed to freeze instantly.

His sharp eyes suddenly narrowed to their limit, and the image reflected deep within his pupils made all the blood in his body seem to rush to his head in an instant.

The once orderly and imposing outer camp of the central army now looked as if it had been trampled by a prehistoric beast.

The sturdy chevaux-de-frise and antlers were askew and even broken.

The tents were torn open with huge holes or collapsed completely; the ground was littered with corpses dressed in Jin army uniforms, as well as scattered weapons and broken shields.

A straight and conspicuous "passage," made up of broken fortifications and fallen bodies, extends from a gap in the palisade towards the commander's tent, and continues to "widen" along the way.

At the very forefront of this "passage," the "culprit" who created all of this is "advancing" in a "fighting" style he has seen, heard, and understood throughout his life.

That wasn't a battle.

It was a one-sided, purely efficient, and outrageously efficient operation...

Clean up.

A figure in black, like a ghost or strolling leisurely, "walked" through the crowd.

His movements didn't seem fast, even carrying an eerie calmness, but every step he took precisely appeared at the weakest point in the Jin soldiers' defenses or at the gaps in their attacks.

Three of the most valiant "Haza Meng'an" warriors, clad in heavy armor, roared as they surrounded the enemy from three directions.

One man swung a heavy spiked club at the crown of the head, another thrust a long spear straight at the heart, and yet another swung a curved blade at the legs; their coordinated attacks sealed off all avenues for evasion. This was the deadly move of a battle-hardened soldier, risking his life in a desperate struggle.

The man in black merely turned slightly to the side, and the spiked club grazed the hem of his clothes by the slightest distance before slamming into the ground, creating a crater.

He casually pointed his left index finger to the side.

Tsk!

The spear snapped in two, and the man holding it slammed it as if struck by a heavy blow. A deep dent appeared in his chest armor, and he coughed up blood as he flew backward.

At the same time, he raised his right leg and swept it lightly.

Click!

The curved blade slicing down the body deforms and shatters first, followed by the wielder's arm, which twists unnaturally.

He was lifted off the ground by an irresistible force, crashing into five or six soldiers who were trying to rush forward. The sound of bones breaking could be clearly heard.

On the other side, five archers hastily released their arrows from twenty paces away, the arrows whistling through the air.

The man in black did not stop moving; he simply raised his right hand and made a half-clenched fist towards the direction from which the arrow was coming.

hum!

A low, resonant hum echoed in the air.

Five armor-piercing arrows, powerful enough to penetrate iron armor, seemed to strike an invisible copper wall a foot away from his body. The arrowheads instantly twisted and exploded, and the shafts broke into dust and fell to the ground.

A valiant mook, his eyes bloodshot, threw his short axe and drew his spare scimitar from his waist, lunging forward, attempting to trade his life for the wound.

The man in black didn't stop walking; he simply blew a breath at the short axe that was spinning and flying towards him.

Whew!

The short axe flew back with even greater speed and ferocity, embedding itself deeply in the chest of the axe-throwing man, sending him flying backward and pinning him to a flagpole that had not yet collapsed. The flagpole swayed, and blood flowed down its shaft.

The man in black didn't even glance at Mouke, continuing his charge towards the command tent.

Wherever he went, men and horses fell, soldiers and armor were shattered, no one could make him stop for even a moment, and no attack could touch the hem of his clothes.

Those brave Jurchen warriors, those valiant warriors who once struck fear into the hearts of countless Song soldiers...

In his presence, they were as vulnerable as toddlers learning to walk, easily "pushed aside," "sweeped away," or "swept away," leaving them either dead or maimed.

Wherever his palm swept past, shield-bearers' shields shattered and they died; wherever his finger struck, armored warriors' armor cracked and they died; with a casual slap, cavalrymen and their horses were shattered; as he strolled along, arrows struck him as if he were encountering a copper wall.

This is not a battle, this is a natural disaster!

This completely exceeded Wanyan Zongbi's understanding of the word "military force," a Jin marshal who had spent half his life on the battlefield and had seen countless fierce generals and warriors!

Clang...

A crisp metallic sound rang out as it struck the ground.

It was the precious sword in Wanyan Zongbi's hand that slipped from his fingers and fell onto the hard muddy ground.

He just stared blankly at the figure in the distance that looked like a demon god, watching his most elite Heza Meng'an being casually "cleaned up" like a scarecrow.

Watching that dark figure, with an unstoppable momentum, step by step, towards his direction.

demon……

It turned out that the terrified guard was not lying.

So, such a person really exists in this world?

No, this is no longer a "person"...

A chill suddenly shot up from his tailbone, instantly engulfing his entire body, making him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

It wasn't the fear of death, but a tremor and bewilderment that arose from the depths of the soul after a worldview and understanding of power had been completely overturned.

"You... youkai!"

"What a monster!"

Beside him, a fierce general who had just been angrily rebuking his personal guards was now ashen-faced, his teeth chattering, and he could barely hold onto his spear, instinctively taking a half-step back.

"One palm strike... really just one palm strike... Ulinda Mengan..."

Another general stared intently at a blurry, mixed-race body embedded in a collapsed tent in the distance, his voice hoarse.

"The arrow...the arrow missed? No, it couldn't even get close?!"

"A gust of wind can shatter iron armor... How... How is this possible?!"

"He...he's coming this way! Marshal! Quickly, mobilize the troops!"

"Summon the most elite Ironclad Cavalry!"

"Use ballistae! Bombard him with artillery!"

"We can't stop them... Even Hezha Meng'an couldn't stop them, so what use would the Iron Pagoda be?"

"Guards!"

"Quickly escort the marshal to retreat!"

Finally, a guard reacted, shouting and shielding Wanyan Zongbi with his body.

The moment the captain of the personal guard shouted "Protect the marshal!", Lu Zuo's seemingly slow pace suddenly quickened!

Like a cannonball, he instantly covered the last twenty-odd feet and crashed into the wall of guards that had just barely managed to assemble!

too fast!

It was so fast that there was no time to react, no time to make any effective block or attack.

Lu Zuo casually picked up a blood-stained standard-issue longsword from beside a Jin soldier's corpse.

Clang!

The blade flashed, like a cold moon rising from the ground.

puff!

The captain of the personal guard, who was at the forefront and tried to block with his sword, was cleaved in two at an angle, his blood and internal organs splattering out.

Lu Zuo didn't pause at all; he flipped his wrist and swept his long sword horizontally.

Click!

puff!puff!puff!

A series of sounds—blades slicing into bones, severing weapons, and tearing through leather armor—rang out almost simultaneously.

As the blade flashed, the three men who had charged with spears were struck by the fierce swordsman, their spears snapped in two, and blood gushed from their chests.

Two swordsmen who raised their shields to try to block were cut in two along with their shields.

A fierce centurion, who lunged at Lu Zuo from the side with a ferocious expression, had both arms severed at the shoulders and fell to the ground screaming in agony...

"Aaaaaah! You devil!"

"No! Don't come any closer!"

"Marshal, let's go quickly!"

Desperate screams, dying wails, and sporadic, collapsing cries played out in the small open space in front of the commander's tent.

In just a few breaths, more than half of the dozens of the most elite guards had fallen, and the survivors were terrified, gripping their weapons and retreating repeatedly, their eyes filled with boundless fear.

At this moment, Wanyan Zongbi finally awoke from that trembling, soul-stirring state.

run!

The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, overwhelming all pride, anger, and the dignity of being a commander.

What great Jin war god, what commander who destroyed the Song Dynasty? In the face of life and death, only the most primal will to survive remains.

He turned around abruptly and, with all his might, fled towards the rear of the command tent!