Chapter 321 Reinforcements

Chapter 321: Return to Reinforce

A Cui Family Army centurion launched a sneak attack from the side, his war blade slashing fiercely at Wuliji's neck.

Wuliji didn't even turn his head. His right arm muscles tensed, and he swung his hammer backward in a reverse arc.

"Boom!" The war blade was sent flying like a piece of paper. The centurion, horse and all, was knocked sideways and slammed heavily into another scaling ladder, dying on the spot.

"Form up!" A cavalry commander (xiaowei) shouted at the top of his lungs, his eyes blazing with fury.

The surviving cavalrymen tried to close ranks, their spears forming a forest of steel, all pointing at the demon wreaking havoc in their formation.

Wuliji's gaze was impassive, as if he weren't the one surrounded.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, swinging both hammers inward in a simultaneous pincer strike!

The seven or eight spears blocking his path burst into countless splinters in an instant, and the cavalrymen holding them screamed as they were sent flying backward.

Step by step, he advanced like a walking meat grinder, plowing a bloody path through the Cui Family Army cavalry formation, lined with severed limbs and shattered armor.

Wherever he passed, flesh and blood flew in all directions. Nothing could stop him for even a moment.

The Cui Family Army cavalry's resistance seemed utterly feeble, like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

Wuliji's ferocious assault not only instantly crushed the resistance of the cavalry outside the city but also ignited the Northern Di army's morale to a fever pitch.

Zhao Cheng watched from the city wall, his eyes nearly splitting with rage, knowing full well the cavalry had fallen into dire straits.

If they weren't withdrawn immediately, they would be completely annihilated, and the barbican would fall as well.

Ignoring everything else, he shouted with all his strength: "Cover them! Let them fall back into the barbican! Quick!"

But before his words even died out—

A vicious arrow shot out from some dark corner of the chaotic battlefield.

Zhao Cheng barely caught a glimpse of a blurry shadow before he felt a violent jolt on his helmet.

The tuft of bright scarlet plume on his helmet had been cleanly severed at the root, thudding into the city wall.

At that moment, he felt as if the world had gone silent and chaotic. This wasn't killing anymore—it was humiliation!

It was Urkhan trampling on his and the entire Cui Family Army's dignity in the most arrogant manner possible.

Thunderous laughter and war cries burst forth from the Northern Di ranks, their morale soaring to a frenzied peak.

Meanwhile, a bone-chilling cold seemed to creep from the soles of their feet to the crowns of their heads.

The cavalry outside the city had already been tightly encircled by Wuliji's Northern Di heavy infantry, trapped like rats in a barrel.

Their escape route was completely severed, surrounded on all sides by ferocious faces and bloodthirsty blades.

The surviving Cui Family Army cavalrymen huddled back-to-back in a crude circle, their horses snorting in fear.

The riders gripped their notched weapons tightly, chests heaving violently, blood and mud sliding down their temples.

There was no fear in their eyes—only a grim, death-or-glory resolve.

Against Wuliji's inhuman ferocity, resistance seemed utterly futile. This looked set to be a one-sided slaughter.

The Northern Di soldiers pressed forward step by step, the encirclement shrinking ever tighter, the screech of weapons scraping against armor filling their ears.

Cheng Ge stood atop the city tower, taking it all in below.

This was the first time he'd seen cold-weapon-era warfare's brutality up close.

Firelight flickered, illuminating his slightly pale face, the blood drained from his lips.

What lay before him was no longer dry words on a page, but living bodies being ground to pieces.

Mountains of corpses, seas of blood, human lives worth less than weeds—the visual impact was far more brutal and immediate than anything he'd imagined.

Zhao Cheng's gaze locked onto the cavalry formation about to be devoured below, then he quickly looked away.

He gave the order: "Sound the war drums!!"

"Crossbowmen, lay down suppressing fire to slow their encirclement! Infantry, check your weapons and stand ready!"

A new drummer struck the war drum again, but the rhythm had lost its former thunder, now carrying a note of tragedy.

The Northern Di assault, however, came like an endless tsunami, wave after wave slamming into the city walls.

More scaling ladders were raised, and more Northern Di soldiers climbed onto the battlements, locked in brutal hand-to-hand combat with the defenders.

The battering ram's thunderous blows against the gate grew louder with each hit, the gate trembling violently.

The gate panels groaned under the strain, dust shaking loose from the joints, as if the whole thing might give way at any moment!

Cheng Ge could feel the faint vibrations running through the wall beneath his feet.

The Northern Di army's war cries shook the heavens, and the air was thick with the heavy stench of blood, a suffocating oppression pressing down from all sides.

But then, a low rumbling began to emerge from the northwest.

At first, it was swallowed by the din of battle, but it quickly grew clearer and clearer—the sound of hoofbeats—

The arrogance on Urkhan's face vanished. He instinctively reined in his horse and whipped around.

His eyes locked onto the night-shrouded wilderness, his heart suddenly sinking.

This direction, hoofbeats this massive... Cui Ji?!

Cui Ji had reacted and rushed back this fast—he'd underestimated him.

"Rear guard to the front! Form a circle!" Urkhan reacted swiftly, issuing orders immediately.

Wuliji glanced that way, then backed his horse up a few steps, his massive hammer still dripping dark blood.

Urkhan watched the cavalry torrent growing closer from the southeast, the savagery on his face undiminished.

Instead, he licked his slightly cracked lips, a glint of battle-lust, irritation, and excitement flashing in his eyes.

Back fast, huh? So what?

Cui Ji's rushed return meant his forces couldn't match Urkhan's well-rested main army—let alone Wuliji, that unstoppable god of slaughter!

By now, the cavalry had closed to within three hundred paces of the Northern Di lines.

Torchlight illuminated the lead rider—dark iron armor, a scarlet cape whipping behind him in the wind.

Even from this distance, the razor-sharp killing intent washing over them was unmistakable.

The instant that dark-armored figure came into view, an invisible ripple seemed to sweep across the battlements.

The nearly stagnant air suddenly began to flow; the soldiers' rigid backs straightened almost imperceptibly, and their white-knuckled grips on their weapons eased a fraction.

Even the war drum, so long steeped in sorrow, subtly changed its beat—shedding its weary rasp for a deeper, more resilient resonance.

Like a long-pent-up thunderclap finally breaking loose, it pounded against every heart.

Zhao Cheng's jaw stayed clenched, but the deep furrow in his brow eased by a hair's breadth.

"Crossbowmen, watch the enemy's flank. Infantry, check your gear and stand by for the Grand General's orders."

Cheng Ge spotted that familiar figure and, without thinking, edged half a step forward, his fingertips pressing soundlessly into the brickwork.

Cui Ji reined in his warhorse, crimson cape whipping behind him, and in a heartbeat sized up the whole battlefield.

He lifted his horse lance and cut a few sharp, commanding gestures through the air.

The cavalry tide behind him moved as one, answering his signal.

The light cavalry on the left fanned out like quicksilver, peppering the enemy's rear with pinpoint arrow fire.

The heavy cavalry on the right, guided by his lance tip, surged forward again, blowing past the skirmishes around them and driving straight for the enemy's brazen command banner at center.