My cultivation disguise has been exposed by Xiao Sizi.

To the east of the island lies a vast coastal plain.

This is a rather prosperous castle town in Japan, nestled against the mountains and beside the water. It is surrounded not only by tall log walls, but also by a simple moat.

A beam of blue light tore through the clouds, crashing down like a giant hammer onto the wilderness less than two miles from the castle town.

As the light faded, five hundred Tang Dynasty Xuanjia soldiers stood in neat rows on the muddy ground.

No one looked around after landing, there was no whispering or chatter, only the snorting of warhorses and the cold, hard scraping sound of the wind blowing through the armor plates.

Li Jing spun around and mounted a jet-black warhorse, holding a long spear made of fine steel upside down in his hand.

Unlike Crown Prince Li Chengqian, who charged into battle with eyes reddened by rage, the face of the Great Tang military god showed no emotional fluctuations, as calm as an unfathomable ancient well.

He came to kill, but he was more accustomed to using the most effortless and efficient killing machines to crush his enemies.

The town half a mile away was in an uproar.

The low, mournful sound of the conch shell rang out, and the dull taiko drum was struck with deafening force.

The city gates burst open with a roar, and three or four thousand Japanese samurai and foot soldiers, dressed in various bamboo and leather armor, poured out like a flood bursting its banks.

Looking at the mere five hundred black square formation in the distance, they were not afraid at all. Instead, they let out frenzied howls like wild beasts, brandishing their iron knives and bamboo spears, and charged across the mountains and plains.

In their eyes, five hundred people were nothing more than meat to fill their teeth.

Li Jing sat on his horse, coldly watching the horde of short men charging towards him, and slowly raised his right arm.

"Change formation, Moonlit Stance."

He uttered a calm voice, and the messenger beside him immediately began frantically waving the large red command flag in his hand.

The black formation of five hundred people moved instantly.

The hundred heavily armored infantrymen in the front row stepped forward in unison, exerted force with both arms, and slammed the steel shields, which were half a person's height, into the mud.

One hundred large shields were seamlessly joined together, instantly forming a crescent-shaped iron wall that gleamed with a cold metallic luster.

Behind the iron wall, a hundred Mo Dao (陌刀) warriors gripped their long hilts tightly, the blades pointing diagonally to the sky, like a steel jungle poised to unleash its power.

Further back, three hundred archers leaned back, braced their feet against the crossbows, and with a sudden burst of strength, pulled back the sturdy horn bowstrings. One after another, armor-piercing arrows, gleaming with a cold light, were silently nocked, their arrowheads aimed through the gaps in the large shields.

The Tang Dynasty's most advanced infantry meat grinder formation was deployed in just a dozen breaths.

The Japanese samurai were closing in on their charge.

Three hundred steps.

Two hundred steps.

One hundred and fifty steps.

Those ronin could even see the emotionless eyes beneath the Tang soldiers' visors. They howled excitedly, their faces contorted as they ran, thinking they could cut off the enemy's head in the next instant.

Li Jing raised his right arm and slashed downwards with a sudden blow.

"put."

Om-!

Three hundred powerful crossbows from the Tang Dynasty pulled their triggers simultaneously, the thick bowstrings vibrating the air and producing a deafening explosion.

Three hundred triangular armor-piercing arrows tore through the gloomy sky, transforming into a dense, black rain of death that slammed into the charging Japanese ranks.

puff!puff!puff!

The sounds of sharp blades piercing flesh blended together.

The Tang Dynasty's armor-piercing arrows could even penetrate the heavy cavalry of the Turks, let alone these island militiamen dressed only in inferior bamboo strips and animal hides.

The more than one hundred Japanese samurai at the forefront didn't even have time to scream before their chests were pierced by the immense kinetic energy.

The arrows continued their trajectory, piercing through the people in the front row and then embedding themselves deeply into the bodies of those in the back, pinning two or three people to the ground like candied hawthorns.

The surging tide crashed into an invisible iron wall, and a large number of them collapsed instantly.

But the people behind them had been aroused by the smell of blood and continued to surge forward frantically, stepping over the corpses of their companions.

Fifty steps.

Li Jing watched coldly and spoke again.

"Mo Dao Shou, advance!"

The large red command flag suddenly swung down.

The massive steel shields blocking their path suddenly parted to the sides, and a hundred burly Tang Dynasty swordsmen, like bloodthirsty beasts unleashed, marched in orderly formation to meet the approaching Japanese phalanx.

Without any fancy moves, everyone stepped forward simultaneously, their back muscles tensing and their arms swinging in a wide arc. The heavy broadswords, accompanied by a piercing whistle that seemed to tear through the air, slashed down head-on.

Click!

That was the crisp sound of a blade slicing through pig iron and cutting through bone.

A dozen or so Japanese samurai who were at the forefront were cleaved in two on the spot, their hot entrails and blood spraying out instantly, exploding into blinding clouds of blood mist in mid-air.

With a single swing of their blades, the Mo Dao (陌刀) warriors stepped forward in unison, unleashing a backhand sweep.

The blade sliced ​​through the crowd like a harvester, severing more than a dozen bodies in half.

Half of their bodies fell to the ground, and the Japanese soldiers were not quite dead yet, dragging their intestines and howling in despair in the blood.

To advance, to cleave.

Advance, then strike.

The Tang army was like a meat grinder of unparalleled precision, advancing ruthlessly to the beat of death.

The Bushido spirit that Japan was so proud of collapsed completely before it could even last for half an incense stick's time under the absolute power and crushing force of steel.

Their prized iron samurai swords shattered instantly when struck by the blade of the Mo Dao; their proud bamboo armor proved as fragile as a piece of rotten paper in the face of the Mo Dao.

massacre.

This was a massacre with no suspense and no drama.

Li Jing rode on horseback, slowly advancing behind the Mo Dao soldiers. He didn't even have a chance to fight; wherever the army passed, only mangled pieces of flesh and rivers of blood remained.

Half an hour later.

The gates of the castle town were smashed open, and the Tang army occupied the fortress, trampling over the corpses scattered on the ground.

In front of the large house in the center of the fortress, torches crackled and popped.

Li Jing dismounted and sat down imposingly on a makeshift armchair, holding a snow-white silk handkerchief in his hand, slowly wiping away non-existent bloodstains from the tip of his spear.

Several blood-soaked Mo Dao soldiers dragged four or five high-ranking prisoners dressed in gorgeous silk robes and wearing black hats, like dead dogs, and threw them roughly at Li Jing's feet.

These men were the daimyo and high-ranking military officers of this castle town. They had been hiding at the back to oversee the battle, but when they saw the situation was not good and tried to run away, they were shot through the calves by Tang Dynasty archers like rabbits and captured alive.

The accompanying Tang Dynasty translator was a thin, frail civil official. He carefully avoided the bloodstains on the ground by lifting the hem of his long robe, and walked to Li Jing's side, bowing respectfully.

Those Japanese daimyo clearly hadn't grasped the situation yet. They lay on the ground, looking at the Tang soldiers around them who exuded a fierce aura. Although they were trembling with fear, the arrogance of those who were like frogs in a well hadn't completely faded away.

The leader of the group raised his head, pointed at Li Jing, and began to shout and curse loudly, his mouth spewing out a string of rapidly uttering gibberish.

The translator began to communicate with him.

Li Jing frowned slightly, threw the silk handkerchief in his hand on the ground, and turned his head to look at the translator.

"What is he shouting?"

The translator began communicating with the other party, then turned pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat, and he dared not translate at all.