The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Wangjiagang is five miles away from Huluwan.

Upon hearing the alarm, Wang Zhonghua leaped out of bed like a leopard, grabbing a long stick leaning against the wall and rushing into the rain without even putting on his coat.

Sixteen-year-old Wang Zhonghua has already undergone a transformation. Inside this sixteen-year-old body lives a thirty-two-year-old soul, with thousands of years of experience.

The dutiful Zhao Shun tried to stop him, but Wang Zhonghua shouted, "Take care of my parents!" and plunged into the boundless wind and rain.

He didn't see a dark figure following him and disappearing into the wind and rain.

Zhao Shun stood frozen at the door, and after a moment he nervously woke Zhou Shi, locked the door tightly, and prayed in the darkness for Wang Zhonghua's safe return.

"First team! Triangular formation! Block the gap in the east wall!"

"Second team, reinforce Du Ziteng! Hold the workshop gate at all costs!"

"Third squad! Follow me and fight the enemy!"

Wang Zhonghua's voice rang out like drumbeats in the rain, calmer than a sixteen-year-old boy.

"Thump!"

The long staff came alive in his hands. A venomous snake flicked its tongue—no, faster than a venomous snake—it was like thunder striking the ground, lightning piercing the sky. The bandit who had raised his knife to chop at the wounded man, a sinister smile still lingering in his eyes, was already sent flying, his back crashing into a dead tree, collapsing like mud into the puddles, splashing up three feet of black waves.

The entire front yard of the distillery had become a living hell. Rainwater mixed with blood flowed freely on the ground, and people kept falling. Relying on the muscle memory honed by rigorous training, the guards formed groups of three, back to back, to defend themselves. Long staffs were wielded, creating a barrier in front of them.

But there were simply too many bandits, and every single one of them was a desperate criminal who had lived on the edge of a knife. They soon discovered that although these young men were well-organized, they lacked the ruthlessness to kill.

"Scatter! Surround them and kill these bastards one by one!" a ferocious voice rang out.

The bandit leader, a burly man with a face full of scars, forced Qin Tiedan aside with a ghost-head knife, cleaved aside a wooden stick that a guard was hastily blocking, and was about to cut off the man's head.

"clang!"

Wang Zhonghua arrived just in time, his iron rod precisely blocking the ghost-head knife. The immense force made his hands go numb, and he staggered back two steps.

"Hey, spicy food next door, and you're still the one running the soup stall?"

The blade was pulled from the soldier's flesh, the spray of blood mingling with the rain. The bandit leader's wolfish eyes gleamed eerily in the darkness, his gaze like a dull knife scraping across Wang Zhonghua's body. "Kid, you've got guts." His laughter forced from deep in his throat, hoarse yet strangely familiar. "Damn it, I've changed my mind—I want the prescription, but you'll live too! I'll take your dog's head and collect the reward!"

The sound pierced Wang Zhonghua's eardrums, sending a chill down his spine. It was like Qiu Laohu, but with an inexplicable sinister undertone. In a flash, a dark light erupted from his hand! The long staff pierced the air, its tip tearing through the rain, aiming straight for his throat.

The bandit leader grunted, his contempt freezing on his face. His ghost-head saber swung wildly, unleashing not water, but a spray of blood and brutality. The cudgel's shadow clashed with the cascade of blades, exploding with hatred and fury!

The rain was disrupted. The force of the sticks and blades swirled the rain into eddies, the two figures appearing and disappearing in the pale mist. The sticks moved like venomous dragons, each thrust grazing the bandit leader's flesh; the blades tore like demons, each slash cutting right into Wang Zhonghua's bones. The puddles beneath their feet were turned into boiling mud, each splash carrying the terror of life and death.

Wang Zhonghua took a deep breath. The cold rain and the heavy smell of blood filled his lungs, instantly calming his extremely angry and terrified heart. He glanced around at the horrific battle scene—

Qin Tiedan was being besieged by three bandits. He roared and swung his iron rod like a windmill, each strike powerful and heavy, forcing his opponents to stay away. This honest farmer, through the baptism of blood and fire, had combined his innate strength with the power techniques taught by Wang Zhonghua, becoming the most solid pillar on the front line.

Not far away, Du Ziteng leaned against the wall, dealing with two bandits. He wasn't as muscular as the others, but he was quick-witted and resourceful. He feigned a step back, tripping one of them, and then swiftly stabbed the other in the throat with a wooden stick—a clean and decisive move. This boy, who once only knew how to use petty tricks in the marketplace, had lost his timidity in his eyes, replaced by a decisiveness honed in life-or-death struggles.

A muffled groan came from the left flank. Lü Maoyi had been slashed across the shoulder, but taking advantage of the opponent's weakened stance, he crouched and rolled forward, his wooden club striking the bandit's ankle hard. His superior reconnaissance skills transformed into a keen awareness of the enemy's movements in the chaos of battle, always managing to find openings at the last possible moment.

"Hold on! Don't scatter!" Zhang Simao's hoarse voice rang out in the rainy night. This steady, taciturn young man, his face splattered with blood, his left arm hanging limply, clearly dislocated, still used his right hand to hold a wooden stick, directing the few young team members around him to tighten their defensive line. His organizational skills shone brightly in this desperate situation, and the shattered formation was barely held together by his roar.

However, the bandits continued to surge in like a tide, and the defense team suffered heavy casualties, their formation on the verge of collapse...

We cannot retreat! There is nowhere left to retreat!

Wang Zhonghua took a deep breath. The cold rain and the heavy smell of blood filled his lungs, instantly calming his extremely angry and terrified heart. He glanced at the horrific battle scene around him: Qin Tiedan was entangled with several other skilled fighters and couldn't break free; the manor's protection team had suffered heavy casualties, and their formation was on the verge of collapse; the bandits continued to surge forward like a tide…

We cannot retreat! There is nowhere left to retreat!

He gripped the iron rod tightly with both hands, his gaze fixed on the approaching bandit leader and the several clearly skilled thugs beside him. The essential techniques of the staff fighting he had learned at Shousheng Temple, the power generation skills taught by Master Huiming, and his knowledge of human biomechanics from his previous life flashed through his mind like lightning.

The bandit leader grinned maliciously and launched the first attack! The ghost-headed knife sliced ​​through the rain, accompanied by a piercing wind. It was no longer a slash, but a venomous snake's tongue thrust straight at Wang Zhonghua's heart! This strike was fast, ruthless, and accurate, showcasing his battlefield combat experience to the fullest and sealing off Wang Zhonghua's space to dodge left and right.

At the same time, a bandit on the left crouched down and rolled in, slashing at Wang Zhonghua's ankle with a short knife! Another bandit on the right leaped high into the air, his steel blade cleaving through the air to block the view above!

A three-pronged attack, a decisive victory!

At this critical moment, Wang Zhonghua moved! He did not block or retreat, but instead took a step forward to meet the bandit leader's blade! This step seemed like suicide, but it was a brilliant move that seized the slight opening when the bandit leader's blade was about to give out and had not yet gained new strength.

The iron rod is not used to smash or sweep, but rather like an assassin's dagger, it is used to brush against the blade of the ghost head knife, using a clever twisting motion to deflect and pull!

"laugh--!"

The bandit leader's determined strike was deflected, grazing Wang Zhonghua's ribs and tearing his clothes, leaving a bloody gash, but without hitting any vital organs. Meanwhile, Wang Zhonghua's staff, following the momentum of the deflection, sprang upwards like a venomous dragon's tail, striking the wrist of the leaping bandit on his right with perfect accuracy!

"Ah!" The bandit screamed in agony as his steel knife flew out of his hand.

Wang Zhonghua kept moving, dodging the short knife that came from the left. His body spun like a ghost, and with the force of the spin, he drew a semicircle with the iron rod. With his whole body weight and centrifugal force, he used the rod as a gun and stabbed hard into the bandit leader's chest and abdomen, which were wide open because his knife had missed!

This sudden change of tactics was completely unexpected by the enemy; it was both fast and cunning! He could only barely parry with his own blade.

"Thump!"

With a muffled thud, the stick slammed heavily into the blade. The immense force caused the bandit leader's blood to surge, and he staggered back several steps, nearly falling into the mud.

Wang Zhonghua, pressing his advantage, was about to launch a counterattack when the bandit wielding a short knife and another bandit with an axe on his left roared and pounced upon him. The flashing blades and axes enveloped him.

Wang Zhonghua unleashed his staff techniques, no longer aiming for a single fatal blow, but instead pushing the various skills he had learned at Shousheng Temple—"entanglement," "twisting," "crushing," and "stabbing"—to their limits. The iron staff seemed to come alive in his hands, sometimes weaving through the gaps between knives and axes to parry, producing a dense, popping sound; at other times, it moved like a nimble snake emerging from its hole, specifically targeting the enemy's vulnerable joints, wrists, and ankles with fierce thrusts.

"Thud!" The stick struck the side of a bandit's knee. The bandit screamed and his legs buckled, causing him to kneel on the ground. Ma Nao, who was fighting back desperately, struck him on the temple with his stick, killing him instantly.

But Wang Zhonghua himself was also in grave danger. He was young and weak, and his combat experience was far inferior to these desperate criminals. In a moment of carelessness, a long gash was slashed across his back by a blade, the searing pain causing him to freeze in mid-air. Immediately afterward, an iron axe grazed his scalp, shaving off a lock of hair; the cold blade sent chills down his spine.

The bandit leader, having caught his breath, laughed wildly upon seeing the situation: "Kid, let's see how long you can hold out!" He realized that Wang Zhonghua was at his limit and joined the fray with his sword. The ghost-headed sword was powerful and heavy, forcing Wang Zhonghua to parry each strike. The laceration on his hand split open, and blood stained the handle of the sword.

Wang Zhonghua gritted his teeth, his mouth and nose filled with the metallic taste of blood, his vision blurred by rain and blood. He knew that if this continued, he would surely die, and the distillery would inevitably fall.

What should you do if you're trapped in a desperate situation?

"Brothers!" Qin Tiedan, Du Ziteng, Lü Maoyi, Zhang Simao, and others tried to rush over to help, but were held back by seven or eight bandits. Qin Tiedan roared repeatedly, sweeping down two men with his iron rod, but more bandits followed.

"Damn it, this is the end!" The bandit leader grinned maliciously, and his ghost-head knife came crashing down with tremendous force.

Wang Zhonghua raised his staff to parry, and with a "crack," the long iron staff was bent in the middle! He used the force of the impact to roll backward, narrowly avoiding the knife that would rip open his belly.

The bandit leader, having gained the upper hand, pressed on, strode after Wang Zhonghua, and thrust his dagger straight at his heart.

At this critical moment—

"call out!"

A sharp arrow, like a shooting star, pierced through the heavy rain and accurately struck the bandit leader's face!

The bandit leader was shocked and hurriedly turned his head to dodge. But he was a moment too slow, and the arrow grazed the corner of his right eye, spraying blood everywhere!

"Ah—!" A heart-wrenching scream pierced the night sky.