No title, no marriage? Do you think I'm some kind of lapdog?

Su Chuang hid behind the carriage, trembling like a leaf.

The arrows whizzed and embedded themselves in the car floor, splinters of wood flying all over his face.

He cried out "Ouch!" and pulled back, clutching his head with both hands, muttering something under his breath:

"May Buddha protect us, may Buddha protect us..."

Xu Mengran kicked open the car door, her sword flashing as it slashed away three arrows. She turned and yelled at him:

"Lie still and don't move!"

She had a cut on her arm, and blood had stained half of her sleeve.

Yue Fei's voice came from ahead, deep and resonant, as if it had struck the ground:

"Shield formation, advance three steps!"

"drink!"

Three hundred Flying Tigers roared in unison.

The large shield thudded forward, carving a path through the hail of arrows.

Su Chuang peered out through the gap in the car body.

The entrance and exit of the valley were packed with people, a dense, dark mass.

The cliff tops on both sides were densely packed with archers, and the arrows never stopped flying.

The most dangerous part was the right-hand hillside. Behind that patch of vines, it was like a hornet's nest had exploded. Dozens of people rushed down, yelling, all carrying curved knives.

"It's a Xiongnu sword."

Xu Mengran gritted her teeth and slashed away another arrow.

"That bastard Yue Xinyang, he's not even bothering to pretend anymore."

Su Chuang remained silent, his eyes scanning the crowd.

found it.

The man in the middle had his face covered, but the knife in his hand was too conspicuous.

The knife handle, wrapped in gold thread, reflected light even in the dark valley.

Golden Python Knife.

Yue Xinyang's precious child.

"Pengju" (鹏举).

Su Chuang suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but Yue Fei, who was in front of the carriage, immediately turned around.

He stretched out a hand from behind the car, spread his fingers, and then clenched his fist.

That was the pre-arranged code:

Release the Mo Dao Guards.

A glint of light flashed in Yue Fei's eyes, he raised his spear high, and roared:

"Tiger Wing Formation, activate—!"

"open--!"

The shield soldiers in the front row immediately split to the sides.

In that brief moment, a hundred "ordinary infantrymen" who had been mingling with the army suddenly removed their disguises.

"Click, click."

The sound of the beaks colliding was like popping beans.

The black armor was revealed, gleaming with a dark, cold light in the dim light of the valley floor.

Each of them carried a weapon—long-handled, double-edged, and as wide as a door.

Mo Dao (陌刀).

The enemy soldiers charging down from the opposite side were clearly taken aback.

In that brief moment of hesitation, the Mo Dao moved.

There were no fancy moves, just a uniform, straight forward slash.

"Pfft—!"

The first row of more than a dozen enemy soldiers were cleaved in two, swords and all.

Blood splattered like water, covering the faces of the people behind.

A voice rang in Su Chuang's mind:

Military Merit +1

Military Merit +1

Military Merit +1

……

Like abacus beads, they kept jumping around.

The valley fell silent for a moment.

Next comes the deep fryer.

"What the hell is that?!"

"Retreat! Retreat—!"

But how could we possibly retreat?

The Mo Dao Guards didn't chase at all; they just stood there. The second row stepped forward, raised their swords, and slashed again.

"Pfft!"

Another pile of severed limbs flew up.

That knife is too vicious.

When the Xiongnu's scimitar struck it, it was like a tree branch hitting an iron rod; it broke with a "clang."

The leather armor was a joke; the blade would slice through the armor along with the person.

Yue Fei changed his command flag: "Arrowhead!"

The hundred Mo Dao Guards immediately changed formation, with three in front and seven in the back, forming a triangular cone shape, and thrust themselves into the thickest part of the enemy formation.

It really is a "stab".

The wall of knives pushed forward, and wherever it passed, people fell down like wheat being harvested.

Su Chuang saw it clearly: an enemy soldier raised his shield to block, but the Mo Dao fell and, with a "clang," cleaved the shield and the man in two.

Blood gushed out high.

Military Merit +387

The system suddenly displayed a total number.

Su Chuang sneered inwardly.

enough.

He closed his eyes and silently recited, "Complete exchange."

[Exchange: 38 Xuanjia Modao Guards]

[Remaining Military Merits: 125]

Unseen by anyone, thirty-eight figures suddenly appeared in the thin mist behind the battlefield.

The same black armor, the same long-handled sword.

They emerged from the fog and silently joined the battle.

The enemy formation was thrown into complete chaos.

"A ghost! There's a ghost!"

"Their numbers have increased!"

The archers on the cliff top wanted to fire more arrows, but Yue Fei had anticipated this.

He personally led fifty riders to circle around from the flank, their hooves treading the steep slope as if on flat ground.

With a flick of his spear, Li Quan sent three archers flying down the cliff.

"Zilong".

Su Chuang suddenly whispered.

"exist."

Zhao Yun stood guard half a step in front of him, his spear tip untouched by blood, deflecting all the arrows aimed in that direction.

"Capture them alive."

Zhao Yun nodded, and then disappeared in a flash.

When it reappeared, it was already twenty paces away.

The gleaming silver spear, like a venomous dragon emerging from its cave, pierced through two guards with two quick thrusts, heading straight for the masked man in the middle wielding the golden python sword.

Yue Xinyang.

The guy was so scared that he swung his knife around, but he was no match for Zhao Yun.

The first shot knocked off his mask.

The second shot sent the Golden Python Blade flying.

The third shot was fired, the tip pressed against the throat.

"Don't kill me! My father is in the Ministry of War—" Yue Xinyang screamed.

He hadn't finished speaking.

The ground suddenly shook.

"Rumble..."

It wasn't the sound of horses' hooves, nor of people running; it was the sound of the mountains shaking.

Rocks, some as big as millstones, rolled down the cliffs on both sides with a "crash," and when they hit the crowd, they caused screams of agony.

Immediately afterwards, fog rolled into the valley.

The fog was eerie; it was grayish-white, had a fishy smell, and quickly rose up to our calves.

Wolf howls echoed through the fog.

It wasn't a real wolf; it sounded more like a person straining their throat to imitate a wolf's howl, sending chills down your spine.

Zhao Yun's expression changed, and he thrust the tip of his spear forward—but missed.

Yue Xinyang was dragged into the thick fog by something.

Zhao Yun thrust his spear into the fog with a backhand motion, and with a "whoosh," half of his sleeve was pulled out.

The gold thread embroidery was on the very clothes Yue Xinyang had just worn.

The fog came quickly and dissipated quickly.

In just a few breaths, a gust of wind blew and the fog dissipated.

The valley was filled with corpses.

Eighty percent of the enemy soldiers were killed, and the rest had long since fled.

Yue Xinyang disappeared completely, leaving only half of his blood-soaked sleeve.

Xu Mengran grabbed Su Chuang's arm:

"It's the shaman's 'Mist Escape'... The Hunnic shaman has intervened."

Her face was pale, and the wound on her arm was still bleeding.

Su Chuang didn't say anything, but bent down and picked up the piece of sleeve.

The gold thread embroidery is the Yue family crest; there's no mistake.

He tucked his sleeves into his coat and looked up at the valley entrance.

Sunlight filtered down through a narrow slit in the sky, illuminating the valley in a mixture of light and shadow.

"Take stock of casualties."

When he spoke, his voice reverted to its cowardly tone.

"Hurry up, this place is creepy."

Yue Fei quickly reported back:

The Flying Tigers suffered eleven light wounds, three serious wounds, and no casualties.

The Mo Dao Guard suffered zero casualties.

They annihilated over 500 enemy soldiers and captured 30 crossbows, all of which were engraved with the secret marks of the Second Prince's residence.

The system in Su Chuang's mind beeped again:

[Cumulative Military Merits: 512]

[Exchangeable: 51 Xuanjia Modao Guards]

[Current total number of Mo Dao Guards: 151]

He waved his hand: "Let's get going. We'll leave the valley before dark."

The team set off again.

Xu Mengran sat in the carriage, and Su Chuang tore off a piece of his undergarment to bandage her wound.

The wound wasn't deep, but the arrow had barbs, and the skin and flesh were turned inside out.

"Bear with it." Su Chuang bent down to clean.

Xu Mengran hissed, but didn't pull her hand away, her eyes fixed on his profile: "Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm scared." Su Chuang tightened the cloth strips, moving very gently. "I'm terrified."

But when Xu Mengran looked into his eyes, there wasn't a trace of fear in them.

The carriage rumbled along.

As they approached the valley entrance, Su Chuang suddenly felt a burning sensation in his arms.

He frowned and took out the golden knife he had taken from Wanyan Zongbi.

The blade was slightly warm, and the Hun rune on the hilt was emitting a very faint red glow.

"What's wrong?" Xu Mengran asked.

"It's alright." Su Chuang put the knife back.

He lifted the carriage curtain and took one last look at the Valley of Broken Souls.

The setting sun dyed the cliff face blood red.

At the top of the highest cliff, where the mist dissipated, a pair of shimmering green eyes seemed to flash briefly.

Like a wolf.

It doesn't seem like it.