pappabearbooks Chapter 19 I'll teach you how to be a decent human being!
Chapter 19 I'll teach you how to be a decent human being!
"kill"
Before the order had even finished, the thousands of Mongol cavalrymen at the front had already moved.
Thousands against one person.
In their view, there was no suspense. No matter how skilled the archer or how strong he was, he was still just a person.
How much of a wave can a person, made of flesh and blood, stir up?
The next moment, they realized they were wrong.
Zhu Di's figure was like a red-hot blade slicing into solidified butter.
"Jingle bells"
A dense rain of arrows poured down from all directions. The Mongols were renowned for their mounted archery skills; their arrows were swift and accurate, sealing off every angle from which Zhu Di could be positioned. An ordinary general would have been riddled with arrows long ago.
But when the arrows were within three feet of his body, they seemed to hit an invisible iron wall, making a series of crisp sounds before falling helplessly to the ground.
The Vajra Talisman given by Zhu Zai Rui.
Invulnerable to swords and spears. Impervious to water and fire.
"Clang!"
A Mongol centurion suddenly appeared from the side.
He gripped the curved sword with both hands, and taking advantage of the momentum of the charging warhorse, he used all his strength to slash fiercely at Zhu Di's helmet.
If this strike lands squarely, it could cleave not only a person's head but also an iron helmet in two.
Zhu Di didn't even glance at him.
He casually swung the Yongle sword in his hand. It was a light, effortless gesture, as if he were shooing away a fly.
A sword light flashed by at incredible speed.
The centurion's scimitar snapped in two, the blade still twirling in the air. Then, he and his horse were cleaved diagonally in two from shoulder to waist.
Blood splattered out, staining Zhu Di's black chainmail even darker.
He didn't even glance back at the fallen centurion. The horse's hooves continued forward.
One. Two. Ten. Fifty.
Wherever Zhu Di went, Mongol cavalrymen fell in droves, like harvested wheat.
The chaos he created was far more terrifying than the killing he inflicted.
He single-handedly tore a huge gap in the middle of the vanguard of thousands of men. The formation completely collapsed.
"Monster! He's a monster!"
"Run! Run! This is a devil!"
The courage that the Mongols were so proud of was crushed in the face of this unreasonable "demon".
Zhu Di ignored the routed soldiers.
His gaze remained fixed on the target ahead—the central command tent, under the banner of the nine-tailed wolf, and the figure riding a black horse.
He charged straight at them.
Along the way, fearless guards kept rushing forward to try and stop him. These were warriors handpicked by Altan Khan from various tribes, loyal and utterly valiant. They knew that charging forward was suicide, yet they still brandished their scimitars and charged.
One.
again.
Another one.
Without exception, they were all swept away by Zhu Di's sword. Some had their breastbones shattered by the back of the sword, flying backward while spitting blood; others were cut off along with their horses, their bodies still crawling on the ground. Blood and pieces of flesh covered the road behind Zhu Di.
Faced with absolute power, any tactics and courage seem pale and powerless.
Anda Khan sat upright on his horse, watching helplessly as the black figure drew closer and closer.
He wanted to run away.
He really wanted to run away.
But his legs were so heavy that he couldn't control them at all. He wanted to order all the guards around him to rush forward, but he couldn't utter a single word.
With each step that figure drew closer, his heart tightened.
Five hundred steps.
Three hundred steps.
One hundred steps.
Zhu Di's face was now clearly visible. It was an old face with sharp features, white hair and beard, yet it exuded a suffocating aura of menace.
His black chainmail was stained with blood, which dripped down the plates, making it impossible to tell whether it was the enemy's or his own.
His eyes were like two burning flames.
Anda Khan had never seen eyes like that on anyone's face before, the kind of look a person gives when looking at an ant—utterly indifferent.
Finally, Zhu Di arrived in front of him.
The three thousand Xuanjia Guards had just caught up, their thunderous hooves surging from behind, completely surrounding the central command tent. But everyone knew this was nothing more than a formality.
The war was over the moment Zhu Di charged into the enemy lines.
Zhu Di reined in his horse.
He looked down at Anda Khan with a cold gaze.
Anda Khan opened his mouth, as if to say something. He wanted to beg for mercy, negotiate, or threaten—anything would do. But all the words stuck in his throat, turning into a muffled sob.
Zhu Di did not draw his sword.
He simply raised his right hand slowly.
Backhand.
A loud slap landed squarely on Andahan's face.
"Snapped!"
A crisp sound echoed across the silent battlefield.
Anda Khan—the mighty ruler of the grasslands, the Khan who unified the Mongol tribes, a ruthless warlord whose hands were stained with countless blood—was actually slapped so hard that he was sent flying off his tall warhorse.
His body tumbled twice in the air before crashing heavily to the ground, rolling several more steps before coming to a stop.
The helmet had flown to an unknown location. His mouth was full of blood, and several teeth were spat out mixed with blood and foam. His braids were disheveled, and a large, bloody handprint was swollen on his face.
He looked as pathetic as a stray dog that had been kicked over.
Zhu Di dismounted.
He walked at a leisurely pace until he reached Anda Khan. Then he raised one foot and stomped heavily on Anda Khan's chest, pinning him back to the ground.
He bent down.
Those eyes, burning with rage, looked down from above, staring intently at Anda Khan.
"Are you convinced?"
Three words. Calm and concise.
It was more chilling than any roar.
Anda Khan's dignity, pride, ambition, and the grand scheme of his empire, which he had painstakingly built up over half a lifetime, were utterly crushed at this moment.
The foot on his chest wasn't too heavy, but it was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. Looking at the face before him, a face more terrifying than any nightmare, he finally broke down completely.
This is not human.
This is definitely not human.
"I give up... I give up!" His voice trembled with tears as he vomited blood and nodded frantically. "Grandpa God! I give up! I give up!"
Zhu Di snorted coldly, grabbed him by the back of his collar with one hand, and lifted him up from the ground like he was a chick.
He pointed north.
"Go back to your grasslands."
The voice was icy cold, devoid of any warmth.
"Go back and tell all the tribes. From this day forward, whoever dares to take another step south..."
He paused.
"I myself went to the grasslands, set his tents on fire, and roasted all his cattle and sheep."
Anda Khan dared not utter a single word of dissent. He struggled to his feet, tumbling and crawling, and was helped by two guards to climb onto another warhorse.
He didn't even dare to look back. He spurred his horse's flanks and led his remaining troops in a hasty retreat to the north.
The army of 100,000 men arrived with overwhelming force, their banners obscuring the sun.
When they left, they were like stray dogs, not even having time to retrieve the fallen nine-tailed wolf head banner.
On the city wall, Zhang Biao, the general of Datong, and tens of thousands of Ming soldiers watched the entire scene unfold. No one spoke. When Altan Khan's remaining troops completely disappeared on the northern horizon, Zhang Biao was the first to kneel down.
Then came the deputy generals and adjutant generals beside him.
Then there were every soldier on the city wall.
Tens of thousands of people bowed and worshipped the black figure in the distance.
There were no slogans. There were no cheers. Only silent worship.
Zhu Di sheathed the Yongle sword. He gazed northwards where the smoke and dust had cleared, and let out a long breath. The resentment that had been building up in his chest for countless years was finally completely released.
He mounted his horse and was about to turn it around.
Just then, a fast horse galloped in from the south.
"Report—!"
"Urgent Report from the Capital"
Zhu Di reined in his horse, his brows furrowing suddenly.
"Southeast coastal area...General Yu Dayou..."
The messenger's voice began to tremble.
"General Yu's fleet... was besieged by Japanese pirates several times its size... and was completely annihilated!"
His eyes reddened.
"General Yu...died in battle."