Late Ming Dynasty: Summoning players from Liaodong to support the Ming Dynasty

Chapter 179 Stripping the Commander Naked, the Pingliao Earl's Mansion Hides a Mysterious Incense

Before Shi Dali could finish speaking, he threw the rusty greatsword aside.

The heavy iron weapon, weighing several dozen kilograms, slammed onto the bluestone slab, creating a crater the size of a bowl. The sword bounced twice, then tumbled and crashed into the stone steps by the roadside with a loud clang.

He no longer wanted the weapon.

His thick arms swung twice in mid-air, his shoulder blades and elbows cracking. His ten thick fingers clenched into two huge fists, the protruding bones of his knuckles gleaming pale.

"Brothers, one!"

Shi Dali's big eyes widened, the bloodshot whites reflecting the cold light of the five hundred people in flying fish robes opposite him.

His thick neck stiffened abruptly, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his lips twitched down to his ears.

"Whoever gets that piece of clothing from that commander first, it belongs to him!"

Before he finished speaking, he had already darted away.

His weight of over 200 pounds slammed onto the frozen bluestone slab, each step leaving cracked white marks. He didn't walk in a straight line at all, but staggered forward, his arms swinging, and shards of ice falling from under his cotton-padded coat.

The Jinyiwei commander in the front row reacted the fastest. His embroidered spring knife was drawn cleanly and swiftly, leaving a white line in the wind and snow as it slashed straight at Shi Dali's face.

The knife struck.

The blade sliced ​​into Shi Dali's right shoulder, piercing through his cotton-padded coat, splitting his flesh, and lodging against his collarbone. Blood gushed from the tear in the coat, splattering all over Baihu's face.

Shi Dali glanced down.

"this one?"

He gripped the back of the centurion's sword with his left hand, the sharp blade slicing through the flesh between his fingers, blood trickling down the blade. His right fist slammed into the centurion's face.

The centurion's nasal bridge cracked crisply under the fist. His face caved in, and blood and snot gushed from his mouth and ears. He was thrown half a meter away, his head hitting the bluestone slab, bouncing, rolling over, and lying motionless on the ground.

Shi Dali pulled the embroidered spring knife out of his collarbone and held it up to his face to examine it.

"A fine knife."

He casually tucked the knife into his belt and bent down to strip the centurion of his flying fish robe.

"Don't rush, don't rush, buttons! Unbutton them first! Twist the frog button at the collar to the right!" Zhou Keke's raspy voice boomed from behind, her voice cracking.

The battle erupted the moment Shi Dali made his move.

Almost simultaneously, all one hundred players moved. There was no formation, no coordination, and absolutely no tactics. They simply charged forward in a chaotic frenzy.

The Imperial Guards reacted swiftly. The armored soldiers in the front row drew their embroidered spring knives, the flashing blades weaving a dense net across the street. The archers in the rear drew their bows, arrows aimed at the frenzied group of men in cotton-padded coats.

Useless.

The first row of embroidered spring knives slashed down, hitting someone. Blood spurted, flesh tore, and bones broke.

The player who was hit didn't even stop walking.

A player whose cotton-padded coat had been ripped open at the back lunged forward, his arms tightly gripping the waist of the imperial guard in front of him. He plunged his head down, biting the guard's wrist. The imperial guard screamed as he released his grip on his sword hilt, and the embroidered spring knife clattered to the ground.

Another player, whose face was slashed and covered in blood, couldn't see where he was going. He stopped looking, closed his eyes, and lunged forward, grabbing at the air with both hands until he caught something—a belt belonging to a member of the Imperial Guard. With a yank, he used his 300-pound brute force to pull the guard out of the ranks and slam him to the ground.

Then he mounted the horse and began unbuttoning it.

The formation of the Imperial Guards in the front row collapsed within three breaths.

They weren't crushed by blows. They were crushed by the sheer number of bodies. A hundred reckless souls charged straight into the blade array, using their chests to catch the blades, their shoulders to brace the spear shafts, and their teeth to bite wrists. They didn't fight back at all—no, they did fight back, but without weapons.

Chokehold, eye gouging, groin kick.

The most primitive, vulgar, and least technically sophisticated way to play.

A Jinyiwei (Imperial Guard) commander was wielding his sword when he felled his second enemy. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his groin. Some bastard crawled up from the ground and kicked him in the groin. The commander screamed and doubled over, instinctively clutching his painful spot.

The moment he bent over, two people sprang up from behind him; one grabbed his neck, and the other began to tear off his clothes.

"Buttons! Unbutton from the bottom up!" Zhou Keke stepped on the back of a Jinyiwei guard who had been stripped down to his undergarments, using an entrenching tool as a baton, and shouted wildly at the top of her lungs.

"Loosen your belt first! It has a snap closure! Press to the left and then pull it up! You bunch of clumsy fools, don't tear it! Tearing it will cost you merit points!"

As she spoke, the Imperial Guard beneath her feet was still struggling. He crawled forward on all fours, his fingernails scraping harshly against the flagstones. His outer robe had been stripped off, leaving only a thin lining. In the dead of winter, the icy north wind blew in through the holes, making his teeth chatter.

"Don't move!" Zhou Keke slapped him on the back of the head with a shovel. The force was surprisingly precise, not heavy, just enough to make him behave.

"Your coat is for a centurion-level officer; the embroidered qilin on the collar is worth two thousand merit points! If you move around again and ruin the threads, I'll rip off the rest of your pants!"

The Imperial Guards stopped struggling. Not out of fear, but because their minds were no longer able to process what was happening before them.

Qian Lele was more ruthless than anyone else. This shrewd player didn't charge into the crowd; instead, he took a roundabout route, sneaking under the eaves of a building on the west side of the street, heading straight for the officers in the back row. The Imperial Guards in the back were completely focused on the melee in front and had no time to guard their flanks.

Qian Lele ran behind a commander, without drawing her knife, and with her right hand, fingers spread, she stretched forward and accurately grabbed the slipknot at the back of the commander's neck, the one fastening the collar of his flying fish robe. She yanked it.

Snapped.

The snap button popped open. The collar came undone.

Qian Lele simultaneously used her left hand to draw her embroidered spring knife from the commander's waist, not to kill anyone, but to cut his belt. The blade sliced ​​through the leather belt, severing it in two. Without the belt, the hem of her flying fish robe flared open.

Before Qianhu could react, his flying fish robe was pulled down over his head from behind. His arms were bound by the fabric at his sides, and as he struggled to free himself, Qian Lele kicked him in the back of the knee. Qianhu fell to his knees with a thud.

Qian Lele pulled the flying fish robe off his head, shook it, and looked at the pattern of the brocade against the sunlight.

"Perfect condition! No damage!" He folded the flying fish robe and stuffed it into his cotton-padded jacket, beaming with joy.

The guild chat was going crazy with comments.

Cultivation Party Member—Qian Lele: First Kill! I'm the first to get the complete item! A Thousand-Household-Level Flying Fish Robe! Identified as Rare Quality! Merit Points +500!

Civil Engineering Bro—Liu Tiezhu: I've also taken three pieces off, but one of them had its cuff torn when that Imperial Guard struggled! It breaks my heart!

Civil Engineering Bro—Zhou Keke: How many times have I told you! Use pressure points first! Knock them down before you start digging! You bunch of savages!

Breaking Bad – Cheng Huaxue: Anyone want some sleeping gas? I've improved it, no residue left. Just spray it on your face, and you'll be unconscious within three breaths. No staining, no lingering smell.

Cultivation Party Member—Qian Lele: Hua Xue, you should have said so earlier! Give me ten cans! No, twenty cans!

The scene on the street was beyond description as a battle.

This is robbery.

A textbook example of a robbery committed in broad daylight.

Wherever the hundred players went, nothing grew. Their flying fish robes were stripped off, their embroidered spring knives were confiscated, their jade pendants were ripped from their waists, their hats were removed, and their boots were taken off. Several unlucky imperial guards couldn't even keep their undergarments; in the dead of winter, they lay shirtless on the bluestone slabs, shivering like shrimp, hissing and gasping for breath.

"It's amazing! It's amazing! This embroidered spring knife is exquisitely crafted! There's a Xuande era mark on the hilt!"

"Purple outfit acquired! Flying fish suit equipped! Aren't I cool! Aren't I cool!"

"Your hat! Don't forget to take it off! That official hat is valuable too!"

A player who had just donned the flying fish robe twirled around in the middle of the street, the brocade hanging loosely on him. The Imperial Guards were noticeably less muscular than these players who had lost weight. He didn't seem to care, patting his chest and laughing heartily.

"I'm a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard now! From today onwards, anyone who calls me 'Brother Cotton-padded Jacket' will have to deal with me!"

Luo Yangxing was pinned against the wall.

He didn't know when he was subdued. One second he was desperately trying to draw his knife, the next second the back of his head slammed into the brick wall of a street-side shop. A dull pain shot through the back of his head, and he saw stars.

Qin Jue stood to his left, the blade of the dagger pressed against his left earlobe. The cold metal scraped slowly from the tip of his ear down to his jawline, without applying any force.

There was another person standing to his right. A young player with a fair complexion was holding a rope that had been torn from somewhere, and he was bending over, very seriously untying the tassel of Luo Yangxing's embroidered spring knife.

"Don't move," Qin Jue said lazily.

Luo Yangxing dared not move.

His gaze passed over Qin Jue's shoulder and took in the entire scene on the street. His five hundred elite troops, the Imperial Guards, the emperor's henchmen, and the battle-hardened soldiers of the Northern Garrison, were being held down on the ground by a group of madmen in tattered cotton-padded coats, their clothes being stripped off piece by piece.

Some of the Imperial Guards resisted. Blades slashed, and blood was drawn. But those who were stabbed merely cursed, glanced down at their wounds, and then pounced even more fiercely.

A Jinyiwei captain desperately broke free from the encirclement of three men and turned to run. He hadn't gone five steps when a military boot flew from behind and struck him squarely on the back of the head. The captain fell to the ground, and before he could even get up, two players were already on his back, one unbuttoning his shirt and the other removing his boot.

Several Imperial Guards, stripped naked, huddled in a corner, trembling. Their expressions were no longer fear, but bewilderment.

A state of utter bewilderment.

Complete system crash.

Luo Yangxing's Adam's apple bobbed twice. He opened his mouth, as if to say something.

Qin Jue pushed the dagger forward slightly, the tip resting on his earlobe.

"you say."

Luo Yangxing shut his mouth.

Qin Jue's lips curled into a smirk. His free left hand groped around Luo Yangxing's waist and found the scabbard latch of the jade-inlaid embroidered spring knife. With a click, the latch popped open. Qin Jue drew the entire knife, scabbard and all.

He weighed it in his hand, turned it over to examine the gold-engraved patterns on the scabbard, and nodded in satisfaction.

"Not bad. It's heavier than I expected."

2

Qin Jue tucked the knife into his waistband, then turned back to examine Luo Yangxing's python-patterned flying fish robe. He tilted his head and stared at it for a couple of seconds, then reached out and pinched the cuff.

"The silver squirrel fur—it's real."

Luo Yangxing's lips twitched slightly.

He wanted to speak. He wanted to say that they were rebelling. He wanted to say that the Emperor's personal guards were not to be trifled with. He wanted to invoke the ancestral precepts of the founding emperor, the Great Ming Code, and the formidable reputation of the Northern Garrison Command.

But he couldn't utter a single word.

Because he saw Chu Ze.

Chu Ze did not dismount from the beginning to the end.

The warhorse stood steadily in the middle of the street. Chu Ze sat on its back, the hem of his black fox fur coat hanging down on both sides. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword, while his left hand loosely gripped the reins. From beginning to end, he neither drew his sword nor moved a finger.

He just watched.

That view reminded Luo Yangxing of something. When he interrogated prisoners in the imperial prison, his most common tactic was called "cold stove." He wouldn't beat, scold, or torture the prisoner; he'd just make the prisoner kneel there. The instruments of torture would be laid out beside him, polished and arranged one by one. Then he'd move a chair to the opposite side and drink tea. Sometimes he'd drink tea for half a day.

The prisoners couldn't withstand it.

Because waiting is more agonizing than being tortured.

Now, Chu Ze is using this tactic.

The sound of hooves rang out. Chu Ze spurred his horse forward a few steps and stopped in front of the wall where Luo Yangxing had been pinned down.

Luo Yangxing looked up. From this angle, Chu Ze, backlit by the leaden-gray skylight, appeared completely dark, his features indistinct.

"Commander Luo."

Chu Ze spoke, but his voice was not loud.

"You just said you would keep my personal belongings safe?"

Luo Yangxing's lips trembled twice, but he didn't say a word.

Chu Ze looked down at the mess on the street. The Imperial Guards, stripped down to their undergarments, were lying scattered about, while the players were clutching their flying fish robes and embroidered spring knives as if they were precious treasures.

"Now, my people will keep it for you."

Chu Ze's voice was extremely flat, so flat that no emotion could be detected.

"Go back and tell your master. My soldiers, Chu Ze's men, only follow my rules. He wants to disarm me."

Chu Ze paused.

"Let him do it himself."

Luo Yangxing clenched his teeth so hard that blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. He knew he should slam his fist on the table, denounce Chu Ze for his treason, and use his status as the commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard to quell the situation.

He can't.

Because Qin Jue's dagger was still resting on his ear.

Because his five hundred men have been stripped bare.

Because those madmen who had been slashed more than a dozen times were still running around picking up their embroidered spring knives.

Chu Ze didn't say another word. He withdrew his gaze and gently spurred the horse. The warhorse obediently turned its head, stepping on the scattered buttons and tassels of its flying fish robe, and slowly walked towards the end of the street.

Qin Jue released Luo Yangxing.

The moment the dagger was tucked into his sleeve, Luo Yangxing's knees finally gave way. He slid down the wall, his buttocks slamming onto the cold bluestone slab.

She was still wearing the python-patterned flying fish robe.

Qin Jue took two steps and looked back.

"I almost forgot."

He turned back, squatted down in front of Luo Yangxing, and reached out to unbutton the flying fish robe.

Luo Yangxing was completely stiff, unable to move even a finger. Qin Jue's movements were extremely meticulous, unbuttoning each button one by one, and checking each one for damage after unbuttoning it.

The flying fish robe was completely peeled off.

Qin Jue shook it, folded it neatly, and tucked it under his arm. He patted Luo Yangxing's bald shoulder with satisfaction.

"They're comfortable to wear. It's just that they smell a bit strong. Don't you Imperial Guards bathe?"

Luo Yangxing did not answer. He sat on the snow-covered flagstones, wearing only a thin cotton undershirt, the north wind blowing in from all directions. His lips were purple, his teeth chattered, and he was shivering all over.

But he dared not move.

The remaining Imperial Guards began to scatter. Those who hadn't been stripped naked dragged the naked ones along, tumbling and crawling towards the street corner.

Someone's boot fell off while running, and a sharp-eyed player picked it up. Someone's hat flew off while running, and another player caught it.

"Why are you running! Leave your hat behind!"

"Those boots are leather! Don't let him get away!"

The players chased the fleeing Imperial Guards for half a street, finally managing to snatch the last few Flying Fish Robes and Embroidered Spring Blades before reluctantly stopping.

The guild chat panel popped up with the results panel.

Temporary mission: Flying Fish Suit Collection Plan, completed.

Collected 487 flying fish costumes (412 in good condition, 75 slightly damaged).

Collected Embroidered Spring Knives: 493 Total Merit Points Earned: +354,100

Overall Spiritual Energy Feedback: +89,600

Hidden quest complete: Capture Commander Luo Yangxing. Completed by: Qin Jue.

Qin Jue obtains: 1 piece of purple equipment, Brocade Robe and Dark Blade, and 5000 merit points.

Shi Dali stood in the middle of the street, wearing an ill-fitting flying fish robe. The brocade robe was stretched taut across his over 200-pound frame, the flying fish pattern on the chest distorted. Blood was still flowing from his right shoulder; he hadn't treated the knife wound he'd just suffered.

He looked down at his outfit and patted his chest in satisfaction.

"Damn it, I've never worn such expensive clothes in my life."

Chu Ze rode at the forefront, followed by a group of players wearing ill-fitting flying fish robes. Some had sleeves that were too long, trailing on the ground. Others had collars that were too big, askew on their shoulders. Some simply wore their flying fish robes as capes, with three or four embroidered spring knives tucked into their waistbands, clanging with each step.

The team crossed the last intersection.

We have arrived at the Pingliao Earl's residence.

The vermilion gate was open. Snowflakes gleamed on the stone beads in the mouths of the two stone lions at the entrance. The door studs were newly made; the bronze surfaces hadn't yet rusted.

The gate was wide open.

There was no one inside.

It's empty.

Chu Ze reined in his horse at the gate. He stared at the open gate for three breaths.

A gust of wind blew in through the doorway, carrying a very strange smell. It wasn't the smell of dust, wood, or new paint.

It smells good.

sandalwood.

It has a very strong sandalwood scent. So strong it's pungent.

Chu Ze moved his right hand away from the hilt of the knife and onto the front of the fox fur coat. He didn't move, but the muscles in his back were already tense.

Behind him, Shi Dali sniffed.

"What's that smell? Incense? Who's burning incense inside?"

Chu Ze did not answer.

He dismounted, his military boots landing on the stone steps.

He lifted his foot and stepped across the threshold of the Pingliao Earl's residence.