Chapter 430: Master Zhan Sheng and He Ping
He Ping swung his staff wildly behind the village wall, unleashing a massacre.
Though the weapon in his hands was merely a blunt staff without sharp edges, it didn’t slow his killing efficiency at all—one strike shattered a skull, another snapped an opponent’s neck, and yet another struck a groin…
Each move could be described as vicious and ruthless, every single one a killing blow.
Seven or eight fierce bandits who’d scaled the wall were each dispatched with just one or two precise strikes, killed instantly.
The common folk behind him watched in terror!
No one expected that the ever-gentle Master Zhan Sheng could transform into He Ping, whose fury was truly horrifying.
Someone shouted, “He Ping? Not… not that He Ping, is it?”
“The man-eating salt lord, He Ping!”
“My heavens.”
“Really? Holy shit!”
During this brief exchange, every fierce bandit who’d climbed the wall had already fallen to He Ping. Ten corpses lay scattered nearby, their faces splattered with blood and brain matter. With no more attackers for the moment, He Ping’s mind cleared, his blood-engorged eyes fading back to their normal black-and-white clarity.
He tilted his head and looked around. “What just happened? This poor monk seems to have blacked out briefly. How did so many die in an instant? You mustn’t act like this! We should embrace compassion. Even if they’re thieves, we must guide them toward redemption. Amitabha! Kindly manage the situation!”
Everyone stared silently.
“It seems he’s become Master Zhan Sheng again, hasn’t he?”
Two little monks yelled, “Master! More bandits are climbing over!”
Master Zhan Sheng whipped his head around just as a bandit chieftain leapt down from the wall. Swinging his staff, the monk subdued the bandit in three blows and pinned him down with a foot. “Drop your blade, Benefactor…”
Before he could finish, a farmer beside him drove a hoe hard into the bandit’s skull, shattering it completely.
Master Zhan Sheng asked tentatively, “This bloodshed… it’s not my sin, is it?”
People wiped cold sweat. “Not yours! Not yours!”
“Hurry! This side can’t hold much longer!”
Another cry cut through—seven or eight fierce bandits had scaled the opposite wall. Armed with farming tools, the villagers were defenseless, fleeing wildly as the bandits gave chase.
Whoosh! Master Zhan Sheng rushed over. “Lay down your blades!”
He swung his staff, blocking the seven or eight bandits single-handedly. Unwilling to kill, he restrained every lethal strike. His stance crumbled instantly, the bandits overwhelming him in a flurry of near-fatal blows.
A little monk screamed, “Master! You’re bleeding!”
Barely managing a moment’s pause, Master Zhan Sheng touched his face. His fingers came away dark crimson. “Huh?”
His pupils flashed blood-red. “Who? Who dares spill my blood? Have you never heard the name of the man-eating salt lord, He Ping?”
He Ping’s strikes held no hint of mercy—every blow was a killing move. One staff swing shattered a bandit’s skull. The next instant, his staff plunged into another’s eye socket, the eyeball bursting out in a horrifying splash.
Blurs of wood swept like a storm. Within moments, not one bandit stood alive.
With no enemies attacking him for the moment, his eyes regained their normal hue. Master Zhan Sheng scanned the carnage, clicking his tongue. “Such savagery! Ripping out eyes till they lay on the ground—what monstrous sin! Amitabha! Kindly manage the situation! This poor monk must chant sutras to resolve your karmic debts…”
The cavalry camp troops still hadn’t joined the fight. Their panic grew unbearable as they kept turning toward the wall’s chaotic defense. “General! The wall falls! Why are we not attacking?”
“No hurry!”
Old Nan Feng said, “It looks dangerous, but it’s not really a problem. Not many bandits climbed over this wall, and our men are still holding steady.”
His mindset truly couldn’t be matched by the people of Gaojia Village.
In previous battles, Gaojia Village folks used all their good cards the moment they struck out. This was the first time they met a leader like him: holding back the cavalry, such a strong card, without playing it, completely bewildering the riders.
Old Nan Feng said, “Wait a little longer!”
His waiting caused the main force of the bandit army to advance.
Seeing the intense fight at the stockade wall, and that firearms and grenades were no longer in use, Old Zhang Fei also felt it was about time; his full strength could now be pressed forward.
He wasn’t young anymore—not a leader who personally charged with his fierce bandits. He preferred commanding from behind, staying very far back when a battle started. If the front lines lost, he’d escape easily.
Only after confirming overwhelming advantage would he push his main force forward.
This caution let him survive three chaotic years in the late Ming Dynasty. Defeated several times by government troops, he always escaped alive.
Now, watching his fierce bandits scale the wall, he felt certain of victory. It was time for his core troops to advance, or the first wave would grab all the grain. Without enough food for his own guards, they’d grow displeased.
“Forward!”
Large groups of bandit troops pressed onward…
At that moment, Old Nan Feng rushed with pride. “Cavalry camp, ready to charge. Those two by the gate, pay attention: once I shout to open it, you pull!”
The cavalry rushed with pride!
Meanwhile, a large vessel raced like flight across the river.
The cannon ship had arrived!
Its captain was a servant of Bai Yuan from Bai Family Fortress—a troublemaker embodying the Bai clan’s spirit. He adjusted the bow cannon personally, aiming squarely at Old Zhang Fei’s main formation, and laughed loudly: “I learned this skill from my master—now I’m one-sixth of a gentleman too.”
“Fire!”
The sailors aboard roared in unison.
All five cannons on the warship’s port side, plus the bow cannon, fired together…
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The cannons thundered.
Old Zhang Fei’s unit, just starting forward, immediately became the prime target for artillery fire. With bandits already climbing the wall ahead, cannons couldn’t strike their own allies. But Old Zhang Fei’s neat formation advanced from behind, packed tightly—an easy target.
Cannonballs plummeted into his main body, killing bandits by hitting them till flesh flew and blood sprayed everywhere. His ranks instantly fell into chaos.
Old Zhang Fei was stunned.
He had sent men to verify the warship vanished down the river, miles away, before launching this attack. Yet the ship returned so fast? Unthinkable! Shouldn’t it have taken days to come back?
“Damn, fallen for a trick!”
Old Zhang Fei realized his foe played him—that black smoke before battle must’ve been the signal recalling the ship.
Once back, cannons fired endlessly. Worse, strange marksmen onboard precisely picked off leaders of his fierce bandits from hundreds of paces—truly formidable.
Both were devastating blows to morale.
The cannons didn’t kill many by hitting, but the shake to morale far outweighed the casualties.