I started by watching videos, and I chose 10,000 combat power.

When news of Zhao Gao's death reached the ears of the princes and princesses, some remained silent, some sneered, and some were expressionless.

Hu Hai lay on a straw mat in the imperial prison, the splints on his legs still in place, the bloodstains on the cloth strips already dried and turned black.

Upon hearing the news that Zhao Gao had been torn apart by five horses, his body trembled violently, and he curled up into a ball, looking just like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on.

No one went to see him, and no one came forward to comfort him, because he didn't need comfort at that moment; what he needed was the retribution he deserved.

In the desolate northern borderlands, a cavalry unit of the Xiongnu roamed along the Qin border.

After returning to Shangjun, Meng Tian distributed five hundred Tang-style swords to his personal guards.

He stood on the training ground, facing his personal guards, gripping his own Tang-style horizontal sword tightly in his hand, raising the sword high above his head, the blade gleaming with a chilling light in the sunlight.

His voice was loud and clear, and everyone on the training ground could hear it clearly.

"As long as the sword is there, the man shall live. Even if the man dies, the sword must not be lost. If you die in battle, your comrades must retrieve your divine weapons and never let them fall into the hands of the Xiongnu. Do you all understand?"

All the guards, whether or not they had been assigned a knife, shouted in unison, "Understood!"

The sound shook the dust up the training ground.

Meng Tian first personally taught the captains of his personal guard the first set of body-refining movements.

The captains of the guards studied with great focus, because Meng Tian told them that this set of techniques would increase their strength, speed, and reaction speed, and make their swordsmanship even more formidable.

After a week of practice, the captains of the guard mastered the first set of movements, and their bodies underwent significant changes.

Meng Tian then assigned them to teach their respective soldiers.

A few days later, the Xiongnu arrived.

It was a cavalry force of over a thousand men. They raided a Qin Dynasty caravan on the border, killing the caravan's guards, stealing the goods, and also burning down a village, killing many elderly people and children who couldn't escape in time.

When Meng Tian received the news, he was studying military texts in his tent.

He put down his book, stood up, picked up his Tang-style sword, walked out of the tent, and said only two words to his guards: "Mount up."

All the guards leaped onto their warhorses in perfect unison, without making a single unnecessary sound.

The horses lined up at the camp gate, their hooves pawing the ground restlessly and exhaling white breath.

Meng Tian rode his black horse at the head of the procession, his scabbard hanging beside the saddle with the hilt facing upwards, within easy reach.

They caught up with the Xiongnu cavalry on the border.

The Xiongnu were resting by the river, their horses were drinking water, and their soldiers were eating dry rations and chatting happily, completely unaware that death was quietly approaching.

Meng Tian did not shout, did not persuade, and did not issue any warnings.

He gripped the hilt of his sword and swiftly drew the Tang Hengdao, the blade flashing coldly in the sunlight.

"drive!"

He gently squeezed the horse's belly with his legs, and the black horse shot off like an arrow, its hooves kicking up patches of turf on the grass.

The guards followed closely behind, their hooves thundering like lightning, making the earth tremble slightly.

The Xiongnu people finally heard the sound of horses' hooves and looked up to see a black torrent rushing in from the horizon.

Their eyes widened suddenly, the dry rations in their mouths fell to the ground, some hurriedly stood up, some hastily mounted their horses, and some drew their scimitars.

But it was all too late.

Meng Tian rushed straight to the Xiongnu commander, who was riding a white horse and holding a curved sword with the blood of Qin Dynasty caravan guards still on the blade.

Seeing Meng Tian charging towards him, he immediately raised his curved sword to block in front of him.

Meng Tian swung his Tang-style sword in the same direction.

The blade sliced ​​directly through the horse's neck, and the entire horse's head fell off. Immediately afterwards, the blade collided with the scimitar, and the scimitar was also cut in two.

The blade continued its momentum forward, striking the general's chest, slicing through the sternum, splitting the ribs, tearing apart the internal organs, and emerging from his back.

The general's body was split in two, blood gushing out, and his lower body fell to the ground along with the headless horse.

Meng Tian's sword was covered in blood, which slowly flowed down the grooves on the blade, dripping onto the ground and seeping into the soil.

The Xiongnu soldiers witnessed the horrific scene of their commander and his warhorse being cleaved in two. Some dropped their swords in fright, some fell off their horses, and others turned their horses around and began to flee in panic.

They were not afraid of war, nor were they afraid of bloodshed and death.

But they feared this knife—a knife that could slice through curved blades, cleave through armor, split human bones, and shatter a horse's spine with a single blow.

This is no ordinary weapon; it is a true divine weapon.

The guards also rushed into the Xiongnu crowd. Tang's swords gleamed coldly in the sunlight, and they killed one enemy after another with ease, as if cutting vegetables or grass.

The Xiongnu's scimitar would break upon contact with the Tang dynasty's horizontal sword, and even their armor could not withstand the Tang dynasty's horizontal sword.

None of the guards were injured, because the Xiongnu simply could not get close to them—their swords were too long, too fast, and too sharp.

The Xiongnu were thrown into complete chaos.

The sound of hooves became chaotic. Some people were crying on horseback, some were shouting "Devil!", and some fell off their horses and were trampled to death by the horses behind them.

Many Xiongnu people mounted their horses and fled in a panic, choosing any direction at random.

"Pursue!"

Meng Tian looked at the fleeing cavalry and shouted his orders, his voice still clear amidst the chaos.

The team leaders immediately led their men into several small teams to pursue the fleeing Xiongnu cavalry.

The cold light of Tang Hengdao drew arcs across the wasteland, like the scythe of death, reaping every life that tried to escape.

In the end, except for a few riders who managed to escape, all the other Xiongnu were killed.

When the guards returned to the riverbank, there were more than a hundred Hun corpses lying haphazardly on the ground, and dozens of warhorses lying in pools of blood, some still convulsing.

Some of the guards were panting heavily, their chests heaving violently.

Some wiped the blood off their knives with cloths, and couldn't help but smile as they looked at the clean, new-looking blades.

Others looked down at the broken Xiongnu scimitars on the ground, their eyes filled with awe for the Tang dynasty's horizontal sword.

Meng Tian dismounted, walked to the corpses, examined them carefully, and then counted the number of people.

"Everyone's here!"

The captain of the guards announced loudly, his voice filled with barely concealed excitement.

"No deaths, no injuries!"

Meng Tian nodded, his face expressionless.

He mounted his horse, turned it around, and looked towards the direction of the Shangjun military camp. The afterglow of the setting sun shone on his armor, reflecting a golden light.

"Back to camp."

He said calmly.

The black horse neighed and started walking towards the distant camp.

The guards followed closely behind, the scabbard of Tang Hengdao swaying gently beside the saddle, making a crisp sound that echoed for a long time across the silent wilderness.