The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The leading general, clad in white robes and armor, rode a magnificent steed as swift as a dragon, wielding a lance as powerful as a dragon emerging from its lair. He was none other than the Great Song Dynasty's War God—General Di Qing, the Masked General! He wasn't even wearing a helmet; his cold, stern face, illuminated by the firelight, resembled a rock. The famous tattoo on his left cheek appeared even more ferocious in the firelight, and his deep eyes burned with long-suppressed fighting spirit and rage.

Half a horse's length to his side stood Qin Tiedan, his eyes blazing like a furious Vajra! Bare-chested, his bronze skin gleamed metallically in the snow and firelight, his bulging muscles bulging. He dragged a specially made, extended and heavier iron rod across the snow, carving a deep furrow in it! His eyes were bloodshot, and a low growl, like that of a wounded tiger, escaped his throat. All the worry, anger, and resentment he had accumulated along the way had now transformed into a raging, all-consuming killing intent!

The large banner bearing the character "Di" fluttered in the wind!

Three hundred elite cavalrymen, like a white torrent of death, cut fiercely into the chaotic bandit formation's flank with unstoppable force!

"Kill—!!!" Di Qing shouted, his voice shaking the surrounding area! He swung his spear like autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves, and the bandits blocking his way were like paper and straw, instantly falling over, their bones broken and their tendons snapped!

Half a horse length behind Di Qing, a bare-chested figure, looking like an angry Vajra, appeared like a tiger among sheep!

Qin Tiedan!

His bronze skin gleamed with a metallic sheen in the snow and firelight, his bulging muscles bulging. He dragged a specially made, extended and weighted iron rod across the snow, carving a deep furrow in it! His eyes were bloodshot, and a low growl like that of a wounded tiger escaped his throat. The worry, anger, and frustration that had been building up all along the way were now completely transformed into a raging killing intent that would burn everything!

"Iron Flower—!!!"

He roared, a sound that was not human, but more like a wild beast driven to the brink of despair!

"Brother's here—!!!"

Luo Tietou was overseeing the battle when he suddenly heard the deafening sound of horses' hooves and screams behind him. He turned around abruptly, his pupils contracting sharply—government troops! It was government troops!

"Get out of here! Get out of here now!" he screamed hoarsely, turning to run away.

But he had only taken three steps when a steel rod swept across him with a whistling sound!

"Bang--!"

Luo Tietou didn't have time to raise his knife to block, so he could only desperately turn to the side. The iron rod grazed his waist, and although it didn't hit him head-on, the force of the wind still stung his skin, and he was pulled back and fell to the ground!

He rolled over and got up, then looked up—

A towering, black man stood before him, covered in blood, his bare upper body bulging with muscles, and the iron rod in his hand still dripping blood.

It's not someone else's blood.

It was his own blood.

Although that blow didn't kill him, it tore off a large chunk of flesh from his waist, exposing the white bone!

"Who...who are you?!" Luo Tietou's voice changed.

Qin Tiedan didn't answer, but just stared at him intently, his eyes red as if they were burning.

He recognized the man.

Just now, on the wall, he witnessed this fellow cut down two local militiamen with a single stroke—those were his own brothers, brothers who drank and forged blacksmiths with him!

"You killed him?" he asked, his voice hoarse like sandpaper grinding iron.

Luo Tietou's face turned deathly pale. He gripped his twin knives tightly and roared, his voice laced with bravado but utter fear, "So what if I killed them? I've killed far more peasants than you—"

Before he could finish speaking, Qin Tiedan moved.

He didn't need any special moves, just the simplest and most violent sweeping attack!

The iron rod, carrying the power to crush everything, came hurtling in!

Luo Tietou raised his twin swords to parry—

"clang!"

With a loud bang, sparks flew everywhere! Luo Tietou's arms went numb, his tiger's mouth split open, and his two curved swords flew out of his hands, embedding themselves in the snow three zhang away, with only the hilts trembling outside!

He looked down at his empty hands, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"This...how is this possible..."

Qin Tiedan gave him no time to react before the second blow came crashing down!

The stick struck his right shoulder.

"Snap!"

The sound of bones shattering was so clear that the legs of the surrounding bandits went weak. Luo Tietou let out a scream that was not human, and his right arm hung limply down like a broken hemp stalk.

He knelt on the ground, using his only remaining left arm to support his body, and desperately crawled backward.

"Spare...spare my life..."

Qin Tiedan stepped forward and stomped on his left leg.

The third strike.

It hit his left knee.

"Snap!"

Another crisp sound.

Luo Tietou screamed in agony as he collapsed onto the snow. Three of his limbs were broken, leaving only his right leg twitching unconsciously.

Qin Tiedan looked down at him, his gaze not like that of someone looking at a person, but more like that of someone looking at a pile of rotten flesh.

"When you killed my brothers, did you ask them if they would spare their lives?"

Luo Tietou opened his mouth, as if to say something, but only spat out a mouthful of blood.

Qin Tiedan raised the iron rod.

The fourth strike.

It hit his head.

"puff--"

Like smashing a rotten watermelon.

Red and white splattered all over the ground, particularly glaring against the snow.

Qin Tiedan sheathed his staff, not even glancing at the headless corpse, and turned to rush towards another battlefield.

Behind him, several bandits' legs went weak, and they knelt on the ground, trembling, unable to even lift their knives.

"The devil...he's the devil..."

On the other hand, Di Qing's battlefield was a completely different style.

Mad Tiger Hu Dongkui was scattered by the iron cavalry, leaving him with only seven or eight loyal followers. He brandished his ghost-head saber, roaring, "Hold on! Hold on! They don't outnumber us, fight our way out!"

Before he finished speaking, a lance came stabbing down like a poisonous dragon!

Mad Tiger hastily raised his knife to parry, but a loud clang rang out, causing his hand to split open and the ghost-headed knife nearly slipping from his grasp! He staggered back, and upon closer inspection—

Wearing a white robe and white armor, with tattoos on his face, it was none other than Di Qing!

"Di...Di Qing!" Mad Tiger's voice changed.

Di Qing didn't speak, he just stared at him coldly.

That look in his eyes didn't seem like he was looking at an opponent, but rather like he was looking at a dead man.

Mad Tiger gritted his teeth, knowing there was no escape, so he decided to fight to the death! He roared, swung his sword and pounced, unleashing a strike with all his might, aiming for Di Qing's head!

Di Qing neither dodged nor evaded, but gently flicked his spear—

It wasn't a block, it was a tap.

The spear tip precisely struck the point of force on the blade, causing the powerful strike to deflect by three inches and slash into empty air with a "whoosh"!

Mad Tiger lost his balance and stumbled forward two steps.

Di Qing pulled back and pushed forward with his spear, the shaft sweeping horizontally and slamming into Mad Tiger's knee with a "bang"!

Mad Tiger grunted and knelt on one knee.

Just as he was about to struggle to his feet, a lance was already draped over his shoulder.

The spearhead was icy cold, pressed against his neck; a gentle thrust would be enough to kill him.

Mad Tiger stood frozen in place, not daring to move.

He looked up at Di Qing on horseback.

Di Qing remained expressionless, but his eyes were as cold as thousand-year-old ice.

"Tie him up," he said.

Two guards dismounted and quickly bound Mad Tiger like a dumpling.

Di Qing didn't even glance at Mad Tiger, but simply reined in his horse, turned around, and looked towards the distant battlefield.

There, Qin Tiedan swept three bandits away with a single blow, as if he were in an empty field.

A hint of approval flashed in Di Qing's eyes.

"A promising talent," he said softly.

Di Qing reined in his horse, surveyed the battlefield that had been turned upside down in an instant, and finally his gaze settled on the blood-soaked yet still upright figure of the young man atop the wall. He laughed loudly, his voice booming like a bell:

"Brother Wang! Is my New Year's gift timely enough?!"

The dawn finally pierced through the thick clouds, and golden light spilled across the ravaged but now peaceful Hulu Bay.

Wang Zhonghua helped the nearly exhausted Qin Tiehua slowly walk up the earthen wall riddled with knife marks and arrow holes. The "Jinghong" longsword in her hand was soaked with blood, and in the morning light, it was not stained at all, but instead shone with an even more chilling and intimidating light.

"Look, it's dawn," Wang Zhonghua said softly.

Qin Tiehua handed him the long sword, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "Your sword."

Wang Zhonghua didn't take it, looking at her with a firm yet gentle gaze: "No, this is your achievement, proof that you protected your homeland with courage and blood." He paused, a smile appearing on his lips, "Try it if you don't believe me. From now on, when 'Jinghong' is mentioned, who won't know the name Qin Tiehua?"

Qin Tiehua looked down at his reflection in the blade—his face was covered in blood, his hair was disheveled, and a blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his right shoulder. But his eyes were frighteningly bright.

She suddenly smiled.

"What about 'Snowy Chant'?"

Wang Zhonghua was taken aback, then realized what was going on—she had given "Yinxue" to Duan Gong, and she had been using "Jinghong," which she had forged herself.

"Yinxue is the sword of Hulu Bay," he said, "Jinghong is the sword of you, Qin Tiehua."

Qin Tiehua nodded, said nothing more, and simply gripped the hilt of his knife tighter.

Beneath the wall, local militia and members of the "Dark Arrow" gang were cleaning up the battlefield. Some were carrying stretchers to transport the wounded, some were counting the bandits' corpses, and some were squatting on the ground, scraping usable weapons and fur coats from the dead. The air was thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder, but also mixed with a sense of relief at surviving a catastrophe.

Lü Sanjun, accompanied by a group of local gentry, carrying whole pigs and sheep, several large jars of "Drunken Eight Immortals" liquor, and baskets of copper coins, trudged through the still-uncleaned bloodstains to the dilapidated earthen wall.

"Fellow villagers! Brave warriors!" Lü Sanjun stood on an overturned saddle, his voice trembling with excitement, his chubby face flushed. "You fought so bravely today to protect my homeland, to safeguard my wife and children. For this kindness and virtue, I, Lü Sanjun, and the elders of Sanyi Village, will never forget!"

He took a deep breath, looked around at the weary yet fervent gazes, and his voice grew louder:

"This small amount of wine, meat, and provisions is a token of our respect, offered to calm the nerves and heal the wounds of you brave warriors! The Lü family will be responsible for the funerals of all those who have died in battle, and will also support their parents, wives, and children! The Lü family will hire renowned doctors to take full responsibility for all the wounded! From this day forward, every warrior of Sanyi Village is family to me, Lü Sanjun!"

These words were spoken with sincerity, displaying a boldness and sense of responsibility rarely seen in merchants. Smiles appeared on the weary faces of the local militia, and the oppressive atmosphere eased considerably. As money, wine, and meat were distributed, the scene gradually came alive again.

Qin Tiedan, carrying the iron rod, strode to the wall and shouted, "Tiehua! Come down and eat some meat!"

Qin Tiehua looked down at him and suddenly asked, "Brother, does the injury on your arm hurt?"

Qin Tiedan was taken aback. He looked down and saw that there was a cut on his left arm that had scabbed over, leaving a dark, scabbed mess.

"It doesn't hurt!" he patted his chest. "We blacksmiths, this little injury is like an ant bite!"

Qin Tiehua smiled, put his arm around Wang Zhonghua's shoulder, and slowly walked down from the top of the wall.

In the distance, Di Qing did not participate in the commotion. He gestured to Wang Zhonghua, and the two walked side by side up to the section of the north wall that was least damaged.

Outside the wall, bandit corpses lay strewn across the snow-covered plain, and crows had begun to circle. The stench of blood attracted several wild dogs, which lingered in the distance, too afraid to approach.

Inside the walls, the common people and local militia were cleaning up the mess. Qin Tiehua sat on a rock, with Liu Xinyi squatting beside her, re-bandaging her wounds. Qin Tiedan squatted to the side, chewing on the mutton that Lü Sanjun had brought, his cheeks bulging like two toads. Shen Kuo, holding a birch bark notebook, weaved through the crowd, asking questions and taking notes, not even bothering to adjust his glasses which were askew.

Di Qing stared for a long time, then suddenly spoke:

"Do you see that? This is what they call 'a prosperous and flourishing era'."

Following his gaze, Wang Zhonghua saw dilapidated earthen walls, bloodstains all over the ground, and exhausted villagers carrying stretchers.

He nodded without saying anything.

Di Qing continued, "Today it's Lu Laojiu, tomorrow it might be Black Wind Stronghold, and the day after tomorrow... it could be the Western Xia cavalry knocking on the gates. The stronghold you painstakingly built can be reduced to ruins overnight. The people you risked your life to protect can fall into pools of blood in the blink of an eye."

He turned to look at Wang Zhonghua, his gaze piercing:

Have you thought about these things?

Wang Zhonghua met his gaze and spoke slowly and deliberately:

"I've thought about it."

"Then why did you still do it?"

"Dry."

Di Qing raised an eyebrow: "Why?"

Wang Zhonghua looked at the busy figures below the wall, at Qin Tiehua who was bandaging his wounds, at Qin Tiedan who was eating meat with gusto, and at Shen Kuo who was taking notes everywhere with a notebook in his hand.

"If I don't work, I won't even have today," he said. "If I work, at least I'll have tomorrow."

Di Qing was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

In that smile, there was appreciation, emotion, and a hint of complexity that Wang Zhonghua couldn't understand.

"Okay," he said. "That's a good 'let's do it, at least there's tomorrow' attitude."

He turned around, leaned against the wall, and looked towards the vast northern horizon.

"Brother Wang, are you aware of the current situation surrounding the Song Dynasty?"

Wang Zhonghua felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that Di Qing was testing him, and also giving him guidance. His understanding of this world was vague and fragmented within the merged memories, and this was a perfect opportunity to ask for his advice.

"Please enlighten me, General."

Di Qing sneered, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes:

"The Liao Kingdom to the north harbors wolfish ambitions, with hundreds of thousands of archers, preparing for war, and has long coveted the wealth of my Central Plains. Although we haven't engaged in major warfare since the Treaty of Chanyuan, the annual tribute is like feeding a wolf; the longer we feed it, the fiercer it becomes."

He paused, then pointed northwest:

"Although the Western Xia in the Northwest suffered heavy losses from my previous attack, they have not lost their vitality. Their cavalry are swift as the wind, raiding border towns, and they have always been a major threat. That scoundrel Li Yuanhao is ambitious and will sooner or later wage war again."