A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

The walls of Mojiabao are less than two zhang high, made of rammed earth, without even bricks.

Wei Zhao saw the earthen wall from afar.

The plumes of smoke in the distance had not yet dissipated.

Those were the traces of the surrounding villages and towns that had been burned; black smoke hung lazily in the sky, like an indelible stain.

But the Mo Family Castle still stands.

This inconspicuous little dilapidated fortress, like a nail, is stuck in the ruins swept by the Southern Barbarian army, and can't be pulled out no matter how hard you try.

Wei Zhao turned his gaze from the distance and landed on the dark mass of figures surrounding the Mo Family Fortress.

Seven thousand men—the scouts weren't lying. The Southern Barbarians left seven thousand soldiers to surround this tiny place. Where were the others?

They've gone to attack Jiangnan City. The Barbarian King's main force has already left, so these seven thousand men are just left behind to gnaw on the bones.

But this bone was clearly harder than they had thought.

The city wall was covered with arrows, like it was covered with thorns.

The corpses lying haphazardly at the base of the wall had not yet been collected; the Southern Barbarian soldiers and the garrison inside the fort were mixed together, making it impossible to distinguish one from another.

The traces of the siege were everywhere—ropes, the remains of siege ladders, charred wood.

I've hit him more than once.

As Wei Zhao was on horseback planning his attack, the sight before him made him tighten his grip on the reins.

A giant elephant.

Its grayish-brown skin was wrinkled into clumps, like the dry, cracked bark of an old tree. Its four legs were thicker than city gate pillars, and the ground trembled with every step it took.

That thing is ramming the city gate.

A bare-chested southern barbarian soldier sat on the elephant's head, clutching an iron hook in his hand, roaring as he drove the giant elephant forward.

The giant elephant's forehead was already bleeding, but it did not slow down at all, slamming into the dilapidated wooden door of the Mo Family Fortress again and again.

The wooden door was shaking.

"Boom!" Another one.

The door panel has a crack, and wood chips are flying out. If it's hit two or three more times, the door will break.

The gate shattered, and seven thousand southern barbarian soldiers poured in, along with the artisans and garrison inside the Mo Family Fortress—

Wei Zhao didn't think any further.

"All troops, charge!"

He didn't even make any formation adjustments, and 100,000 cavalrymen just swarmed forward.

When 100,000 cavalrymen spurred their horses and charged at full speed down the official road, the commotion was like a flash flood.

The ground trembled, the sound of horses' hooves echoed, and billowing dust rose from behind, obscuring half the sky.

When the seven thousand southern barbarian soldiers turned around and saw this scene, their expressions were priceless.

Some mouths were open and couldn't close.

Some people dropped their knives, bent down to pick them up, but their legs gave way halfway through and they stood up again.

Some turned and ran away.

Seven thousand men were besieging an earthen fortress, and they were in the middle of a fierce siege when suddenly a hundred thousand cavalrymen appeared from behind them—who could withstand that?

Wei Zhao ignored the routed infantry.

When the iron torrent of 100,000 cavalrymen rolled over, those 7,000 men were like ants in a hot pot; there was no need to kill them intentionally, just the trampling of their hooves was enough.

His eyes were fixed on only one thing.

That giant elephant.

It was still ramming the door; the elephant soldiers seemed oblivious to the noise behind them, or perhaps they heard it but didn't care.

Driven mad by the iron hook, the elephant charged forward with bloodshot eyes, and no one could stop it.

Another crack appeared in the city gate.

Wei Zhao spurred his horse and charged straight ahead.

The white horse was fast, but not fast enough; he could feel the resistance from the warhorse beneath him.

The horse smelled the elephant, its hooves began to stumble, its neck turned to the side, and it tried to run away.

It's instinct. Horses are afraid of elephants; a warhorse weighing a few hundred pounds is just a toy in front of a giant elephant weighing several thousand pounds.

Wei Zhao squeezed the horse's belly hard with his legs and pulled the reins back with his left hand.

The white horse neighed and was forcibly pulled back to its original direction.

The elephant grew larger and larger in his field of vision.

Only when you get close do you realize how terrifying that thing is—it's half a head taller than a city wall when it stands up, with ivory covered in iron, and its trunk swings like a city gate pillar.

The Nanman soldiers on the elephant's back finally noticed the strange thing behind them. When they turned around, they saw 100,000 cavalrymen rolling over them like a tidal wave.

He panicked.

The iron hook suddenly plunged into the elephant's head, trying to make the giant elephant turn around.

But the giant elephant is going berserk, it doesn't care where you go.

It lowered its head and rammed into the city gate again.

"Bang!"

Half of the city gate collapsed, and broken planks flew to both sides.

It's too late—if this elephant gets in, Mojiabao is doomed.

Wei Zhao did something that any normal cavalryman would consider suicidal.

He loosened the reins.

He gripped the gun with both hands, leaned forward, and lowered his center of gravity to its lowest point on horseback.

The white horse continued to charge forward due to inertia, and it did not confront the giant elephant head-on—going head-on would be no different from crashing into a wall.

He cut in from the side.

The giant elephant had just rammed the city gate when its body tilted slightly, exposing its right ear and eye.

That brief opening might be less than a breath.

But that's enough.

The white wax spear thrust out so fast that it was just a streak of white light.

The entire physique of a first-grade cultivator, 1,905, was poured into this single spear thrust.

The spearhead pierced the giant elephant's temple.

The thick, armor-like skin was torn apart by the spear tip, and the spear penetrated nearly three feet deep, reaching all the way into his brain.

The giant elephant's body froze.

All four pillar-like legs locked in place at the same time, and the entire massive body, like a collapsing mountain, first tilted to the right, then its knees bent and its front legs knelt down.

"Thump—"

The ground shook.

The southern barbarian soldier on the elephant's back was thrown off, tumbled twice in the air, and crashed into a pile of broken planks, where he lay motionless.

The giant elephant fell, crashing sideways against the base of the city wall, raising a cloud of dust.

The elephant's eyes were still open, but its pupils had already dilated. The white wax spear was sticking out from the side of its head, and the end of the spear was still swaying slightly.

Wei Zhao dismounted and drew his white wax spear. Grayish-white brain matter and bloodstains clung to the spearhead.

He took two steps back and looked up at the city wall.

The walls of Mojiabao are not high; you can see the people on top from below.

The city wall was crowded with people—craftsmen with hammers, guards with crossbows, old men carrying stones, and even a few women wearing aprons and holding iron tongs.

A group of people who weren't soldiers managed to hold this earthen fortress.

But Wei Zhao's gaze did not linger on these people.

He saw someone.

Behind the crenellations of the city wall stood a young woman with a smear of black ash on her face. Her hair was haphazardly tied back with an iron hairpin, and she was not wearing clothes, but a thick leather apron used for blacksmithing.

The apron was covered with burn holes and scars from molten iron splattering.

She was clutching a strangely shaped crossbow in her hand—

It wasn't the standard military design; it was twice the size, with copper wire wrapped around the crossbow arm and an extra section of metal tube that Wei Zhao had never seen before sticking out from the front.

Shang Wanqing.

She stood behind the stack of walls, her mouth slightly open.

The annihilation of the seven thousand southern barbarian soldiers was faster than Wei Zhao had anticipated.

One hundred thousand cavalrymen swept through, and the bare-chested, colorful-painted southern barbarian infantrymen couldn't even muster a proper resistance.

Some were trampled over by horses' hooves, some were pierced by spears, and most threw down their weapons and ran into the ravines, only to be cut down by the cavalry that caught up with them after a few steps.

The fight lasted less than half an hour from start to finish.

But when the casualties were tallied after the battle, Wei Zhao's face darkened.

"One thousand and seventy-three people."

When the guards reported the numbers, their voices were weak, for fear that the commander-in-chief would get angry.

One thousand and seventy-three.

Seven thousand men inflicted over a thousand casualties on his one hundred thousand elite cavalry.

Wei Zhao stood at the foot of the city wall, his white wax spear resting on the gravel ground, his mind racing with a deduction machine.