Chapter 26: The God of War, Chu Feng

Within the barracks, atop the sentry tower.

As he watched three fiery arrows rise from the manor, the sentry responsible for the lookout shuddered, instantly grabbing the wooden mallet beside him and striking the gong.

Three consecutive beats, the intervals between each round barely noticeable.

After three rounds, he leaped down from the tower, running and shouting, “Cloud-piercing arrows! The lord is in danger! All troops, immediate level-one battle readiness! Cloud-piercing arrows! The lord is in danger! All troops, immediate level-one battle readiness!”

In that instant, the three-hundred-strong camp erupted into chaos.

Zhao Fan, long accustomed to sleeping in armor, emerged from his tent, sword in hand, striding quickly. They had rehearsed level-one readiness countless times, never expecting the day would truly come.

“The lord is in peril! All squad leaders, count your men at once—prepare to move!” Zhao Fan’s orders were crisp and resolute; he understood the urgency of the crisis.

Cloud-piercing arrows meant a level-one combat directive.

Moreover, he knew well Chu Feng’s martial prowess. Ordinary men would never even breach his defenses. Clearly, this was a grave situation. Without delay, he led his own squad at a run.

...

Meanwhile, in the rear courtyard of the Chu estate—

Chu Feng stood beside a beam, bow in hand, eyes fixed on the rear entrance, where seven or eight corpses already lay strewn.

Behind him, a dozen household guards gripped their spears and sabers, but as this was their first taste of true battle, most trembled uncontrollably, the chill of death close at hand.

On the other side of the courtyard wall, the assassins climbed atop one another, exchanged nods, and vaulted over as one.

Whoosh!

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Chu Feng’s eyes grew cold; he loosed three arrows in a breath, each finding its mark—three foes fell. Yet the others, clutching short blades, charged forward.

From a distant room, Old Li shuddered in terror. He knew that this time, Yuan Yao had truly come to kill—two or three hundred death warriors had been sent.

Chu Feng tossed aside his bow and hefted his great halberd.

With a sweeping motion, the weapon flashed with cold light in the darkness.

“Hmph, a rabble!” Chu Feng barked. He turned to his household guards, voice ringing out, “Follow me! Grind these vermin to dust!”

With that, he dragged his halberd along the ground, advancing on the assassins, each stride faster than the last, sparks flying from the weapon’s iron tip.

The Heavenly Dragon Halberd weighed one hundred and twenty-nine jin; as Chu Feng neared, he swept it with shattering force. The assassins, horrified, tried to block with their short blades—

[Martial prowess in this story is modeled after the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.]

But the halberd wounded any it grazed and killed any it struck.

In a single exchange, three or five assassins were sent screaming, their bodies flung to the ground, twitching before falling forever still.

Behind him, Deng Li frowned.

Clearly, everyone had underestimated Chu Feng’s strength. No one knew better than he the capabilities of these death warriors. Yet Chu Feng’s halberd was a force of nature—no less terrifying than Lu Bu himself.

“Finish him quickly! Close in and surround him!” Deng Li growled. Even if his courage matched Lu Bu’s, tonight Chu Feng would not leave alive.

At the command, the assassins shifted formation, encircling Chu Feng. Several thrust at him from the front while others rolled and stabbed from the flanks.

“Die!” Chu Feng, catching sight of movement behind him, swung his halberd backward, dodging the two blades slashing toward his chest.

He seized an attacker’s weapon and drove it into another’s chest.

Bang—

A kick sent the man flying.

In a matter of moments, several more fell dead.

From those exchanges, Chu Feng realized these were true death warriors—fearless, the weapons of a great clan. But why were they sent to kill him? Had his secrets been exposed?

That seemed unlikely. If Yuan Shu had learned the truth, he would have dispatched an army to destroy the Chu estate, not bothered with assassins.

This time, Chu Feng gave them no chance to form up. He pressed forward, halberd sweeping left and right, mowing down all in his path, his sword ever ready for a sudden strike.

With one arm wielding the halberd and the other guarding with his sword, he was like a hero from legend, holding back a multitude alone.

He was fortunate to possess the strength of a true Conqueror—a feat matched only by those who once cut down a hundred on foot in a single battle. Any other man would have fallen in a pool of his own blood by now.

“Truly troublesome!” Deng Li muttered.

He had anticipated every possibility, never expecting Chu Feng to be so formidable. The death warriors he considered invincible fell like wheat before the scythe.

Their fearlessness meant nothing here.

Chu Feng’s halberd kept all at bay, and his sword, as Deng Li saw with his own eyes, cleaved a death warrior in two.

One could scarcely imagine such strength.

“Draw the crossbows!” Deng Li ordered, raising his arm.

The assassins, well-drilled, rolled back, leaving twenty paces of open ground. At once, crossbows were leveled at Chu Feng.

Sensing the danger as they withdrew, Chu Feng cursed under his breath. With a steely ring, he sheathed his sword, seized a corpse, and raised it as a shield.

No sooner had he prepared than a volley of bolts whistled toward him.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Chu Feng tried to charge, but the assassins, equally well-trained, fell back while moving to encircle him.

Seeing he was outmaneuvered, Chu Feng retreated, taking cover behind a beam.

Sword and halberd had already taxed his strength; his chest heaved, his arm was grazed and bleeding, and all the household guards who had joined him had been slain.

There was no helping it—ordinary guards were no match for death warriors.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

He tried to draw his bow, but bolts rained in from both sides, sealing off every angle.

“Damn!” Chu Feng cursed.

A glance told him he would soon be surrounded—he could not linger.

He snatched up the Heavenly Dragon Halberd and hurled it in fury.

Crash—the wooden window of a guest room shattered. He vaulted after it, evading another volley of arrows.

Deng Li narrowed his eyes at the guest room. This was becoming a nuisance—he needed to end it quickly.

At once, he signaled. Dozens of crossbows took aim at the building, and a squad of archers stepped forward, loosing flaming arrows at the guest room.

Oil splashed the wooden structure; in the dry weather, flames spread rapidly. Watching the blaze, Deng Li’s lips curled into a cold smile.

Death awaited, whether he came out or not.

Such was the price for offending the wrong man.

Just then, the doors burst open—a massive square table was flung out, startling everyone. Dozens of crossbows fired at once.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The table was of solid wood—Chu Feng had always disliked flimsy furnishings and had these sturdy tables made. He ducked behind it, bracing it with one hand as he charged out, dragging the Heavenly Dragon Halberd with the other.

“Damn it, stop him!” Deng Li snarled. The crossbows would take too long to reload, and Chu Feng’s charge was impossible to intercept.

As he neared, the table was flung aside.

Veins bulged on Chu Feng’s forehead as he swung his halberd single-handed, roaring, “Die!”

Five or six tried to block him—he cut them clean in half.

No one could say how much strength was behind that blow; all they knew was that this man was a demon.

Chu Feng’s gaze locked on Deng Li.

His left hand drew his sword, knocking aside a stabbing blade, then slashed—his sword cut clean through throat and neck, the death warrior’s blood gushing forth.

“Block me and die!”

Chu Feng’s hair was loose, his armor splattered with blood, a war god incarnate. His roar sent a shudder through the ranks of death warriors, some trembling with fear.

His halberd cut them down like wheat; in mere moments, he’d slain over thirty.

Meanwhile, Deng Li struggled to breathe.

He trembled inwardly—Chu Feng drew ever closer. This was no man but a devil. He had never seen anyone beset by scores, by hundreds, who could not be stopped.

Not even Lu Bu, perhaps.

“Human strength has its limits! Surround him! If Chu Feng is not dead by dawn, none of us will survive!” Deng Li drew his sword, bellowing the order.

More assassins surged forward.

With each step, Chu Feng slaughtered a dozen.

Within a scant hundred breaths, a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood lay behind him, mangled bodies heaped together. Chu Feng’s armor was scored with white streaks, his arms slashed and bleeding.

He, too, was wounded.

“Ha! He can’t last much longer now!”

Deng Li, seeing Chu Feng’s assault falter, finally relaxed. For a moment, he had truly believed such a thing as an immortal existed.

But just then, a dying assassin staggered over, covered in blood, and shouted, “General! Enemy reinforcements have arrived!”