At 100 years old, he joined the army in place of his granddaughter, and became a national war god.

At the edge of the woods, under a crooked old locust tree.

A Northern Di general, clad in iron armor and wearing a wolf-skin cloak, reined in his horse, his brow furrowed.

His eyes were fixed on the battlefield!

"General, look at that old man..."

The lieutenant beside him pointed to the village entrance and exclaimed in surprise.

He was an old man with white hair.

He was hunched over and as thin as a withered tree branch.

Yet this old geezer, wielding a chipped broadsword, had already cut down more than a dozen of them.

One slash at a time, each slash a fatal blow.

There were no fancy moves, no superfluous actions; every strike was as precise as if it had been measured.

It's either a throat-slitting, a heart-stabbing, or a forehead-splitting.

They are all killing techniques.

"These useless fools can't even handle an old man!" The general gritted his teeth and lashed the air with his riding whip.

"General, let me go!" The lieutenant thumped his chest, his face contorted with rage. "Kill him with one stroke, then we can slaughter this village and capture a few beautiful women to take back and have some fun!"

"Go ahead, and be quick, don't delay the trip."

"Yes, sir!"

The lieutenant kicked hard in the stirrups, and the saber at his waist was drawn with a clang, gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

He spurred his horse, and the black warhorse neighed, its hooves flying as it galloped wildly toward the battlefield at the village entrance.

……

Behind the battlefield, beside a withered tree that had been cut in half, two women, bound hand and foot, squatted on the ground.

The older one was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Although his hair was disheveled and his face was covered in dust, it couldn't hide his outstanding temperament.

She was wearing a moon-white brocade dress. Although the fabric was torn in a few places, it was clear at a glance that it was not something an ordinary family could afford.

The younger one, seventeen or eighteen years old, with a round face and almond-shaped eyes, was crying his eyes out, his face covered in snot and tears.

"Sister, we're doomed this time..." The little girl sobbed, her voice trembling. "These Northern Barbarians are ferocious and ruthless. How could those remnants of the Qinghe County army be a match for them..."

"Waaaaah... I don't want to be taken back by them... I'd rather die than suffer that kind of humiliation..."

The older sister didn't say anything.

She squatted there motionless, her eyes fixed on the battlefield ahead.

Staring at the old man with white hair and a hunched back, fighting among the crowd.

"Sis! Say something!" the younger sister cried out, nudging her with her shoulder. "Are you scared out of your wits?"

The older sister's eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, and her breathing became rapid.

"Excellent swordsmanship..." she murmured to herself, "Excellent swordsmanship indeed..."

"What?" The younger sister was stunned for a moment.

"Look at that old man!" The older sister suddenly turned her head, her eyes gleaming. "His swordsmanship is fierce, precise, and ruthless; every strike goes straight for the vital points. Those Northern Di soldiers are no match for him!"

Following her gaze, the younger sister saw Su Mu cleave a Northern Di soldier in two with a single stroke.

"Sis, are you out of your mind?" The younger sister stared wide-eyed, her face filled with disbelief. "That old man looks at least ninety or a hundred years old; he's even wobbling as he walks. You're really expecting him to save us?"

"Even that centurion, a veteran of countless battles, couldn't protect himself. What use is this old codger?"

Before the words were finished...

A piercing scream came from under the big tree.

The younger sister turned her head and her face turned pale instantly.

Centurion Han Bao was surrounded by more than a dozen Northern Di soldiers when a saber slashed from the side, striking him squarely in the calf.

The leg was severed from the knee down, blood gushing out. Han Bao collapsed to the ground, struggled a couple of times, and then lay still.

"Well... well, now our only hope is gone." The younger sister's legs went weak, and she collapsed to the ground, tears welling up again. "Even the soldiers are all dead, what can an old man do..."

But her sister didn't look at her.

Her gaze remained fixed on the white-haired old man, her eyes filled with shock.

"You don't understand." The older sister's voice was soft, yet unusually firm. "I've been learning swordsmanship from my father since I was little. I've seen no less than a hundred different sword techniques from the Great Qian Dynasty, but the swordsmanship this old man used..."

She paused, her voice trembling slightly.

"He is the most powerful and terrifying person I have ever seen."

"Grandpa," she murmured to herself, "you must keep going."

"Kill all these northern barbarians."

……

On the battlefield, Su Mu was already bloodthirsty.

When he used the Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Technique, it was fierce and domineering, with the force of a tiger. A single strike would either break bones or shatter armor.

A Northern Di soldier charged forward with his sword raised, but Su Mu dodged to the side and slashed the soldier's neck with a backhand stroke.

Blood spurted out, splashing all over his face.

In the short time it takes to drink a cup of tea, another seven or eight Northern Di soldiers fell to his blade.

But his knife couldn't hold up either.

This broadsword wasn't a very good weapon to begin with; he picked it up from the Northern Di soldier he had just killed with a stone.

He had killed more than a dozen people; the blade was full of nicks and cracks, and it could break at any moment.

"Get out of the way!" A loud shout came from behind the crowd.

Upon hearing this sound, the Northern Di soldiers parted like a tide, making way for a wide path.

A black horse charged out from the crowd.

A burly man, as tall as an iron tower, sat on the seat; he was the Northern Di deputy general who had volunteered at the edge of the woods earlier.

He was seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, and his black iron armor gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

He held a five-foot-long horse-slaying sword in his hand, the blade as wide as a palm, with three iron rings inlaid on the back of the blade, making a "clattering" sound as the horse ran.

With overwhelming momentum!

"Old man, take this!"

The lieutenant roared, raised his saber high, and, using the speed of the horse's charge, brought it down with tremendous force towards Su Mu's head.

The blade sliced ​​through the air with a sharp whistling sound.

Su Mu's pupils suddenly contracted.

He made a quick judgment; he couldn't dodge this strike.

This strike was swift and fierce, covering all escape routes. With the speed of his old bones, there was no way he could escape unscathed.

The only way was to use a knife to block it!

Su Mu gritted his teeth, raised the knife with both hands, and held it horizontally above his head.

"clang--!!!"

The two swords clashed, producing a deafening metallic clang.

Sparks flew everywhere.

Su Mu felt an overwhelming force coming from the sword, which made his tiger's mouth go numb and his entire arm tremble.

He looked down and saw that the crack on the blade had completely burst open after the blow.

The broadsword shattered into seven or eight pieces, with iron fragments flying everywhere.

The force of the impact sent Su Mu staggering back several steps, his thin legs carving deep furrows in the ground before he finally regained his footing.

His thumb and forefinger were split open, and blood dripped down his fingers. The broken blades cut his palm, causing excruciating pain.

But he didn't even have time to look at his wound.

Because the deputy general didn't give him a chance to catch his breath.

"Old man, weren't you supposed to be a great fighter?"

The lieutenant laughed wildly, pulled on the reins, and the black warhorse reared up with a neigh.

The horse was tall and strong, weighing at least a thousand pounds. Its two iron hooves, as big as bowls, drew an arc in the air and stomped down hard on Su Mu's head.

"I'll kick you to death with one of my horse's hooves!"

The horse's hooves slammed down with a whooshing sound.

The Northern Di soldiers around them grinned menacingly at the sight.

"Old man, let's see how you handle this!"

"Go to hell!"

"Ha ha ha ha!"

The older sister, who had been watching the battlefield intently, had now closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of the carnage that was about to unfold.

My younger sister also closed her eyes, buried her face in her knees, and trembled all over.

But just as the horse's hooves were about to strike, two withered hands reached out.

It actually managed to firmly grasp those two horseshoes, each as big as a bowl.

The horse's hooves stopped in mid-air.

It was less than a foot above Su Mu's head.

The black warhorse, weighing over a thousand pounds, had its two front hooves held by bare hands, as if nailed to mid-air, unable to put any weight down.

The horse neighed in terror and struggled desperately, but the withered hand remained motionless, like an iron clamp, firmly locking its hoof in place.

Time seemed to stand still.

The entire battlefield was completely silent.

Everyone's eyes were wide open like saucers, and their mouths were agape.

The lieutenant, seated on his horse, froze with a smile.

He looked down at the hunched, thin old man, at his withered hands, at the wrinkles on his face and the white hair in his head…

My mind went completely blank.

"This...how is this possible?!"

He had fought in battles for over a decade and had never seen anything like it.

Catching a charging warhorse's forelegs with bare hands? How much strength would that take?

Five hundred catties? One thousand catties?

This horse, including him, weighs at least 1,500 jin!

A 100-year-old man caught an impact of 1,500 pounds with his bare hands.

Su Mu raised his head, his eyes sharply fixed on the deputy general on horseback.

"I've lived for a hundred years," his voice was hoarse, yet each word was deliberate and forceful, like a hammer striking a chopping board, "I'm incredibly tough. You think you can kill me with a beast?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he exerted his strength.

"rise--!!!"

Su Mu let out a low roar, his hunched back straightened abruptly, and he grabbed the horse's hooves with both hands, throwing both himself and the horse violently to the side!

The black warhorse, weighing over a thousand pounds, along with its lieutenant, crashed to the side like a small mountain.

"Bang!"

The ground shook violently, and dust flew everywhere.

The warhorse fell to the ground, neighing mournfully, its hooves kicking wildly, unable to get up.

The lieutenant was pinned under the horse, one leg pinned down, unable to move, and his saber flew far away.

He struggled to get up, but when he looked up, he was face to face with Su Mu.

Su Mu stood right in front of him.

His hunched back blocked the setting sun.

His full head of white hair was gilded in the backlight, and the bloodstains on his face flickered in and out of focus in the light and shadow.

He slowly squatted down and picked up the fallen horse-slaying sword from the ground.

A large knife, five feet long, palm-width, and weighing thirty to forty pounds.

Su Mu gripped the hilt of the sword with one hand, the blade pointing downwards, the tip aimed at the lieutenant's throat.

The lieutenant's pupils contracted sharply, and his face turned ashen.

He looked at the white-haired old man, at his sharp and terrifying eyes, at the sword hanging over his throat...

Then he begged for mercy: "Old man, spare my life..."

The surrounding Northern Di soldiers were all stunned.

They looked at the hunched, thin old man, at him holding up a broadsword thicker than his arm with one hand...

A soldier, his lips trembling, finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"This old man... he's practically a war god..."