The fiercest soldier of the border army

"Are you the garrison commander of this city?" Huyan Zhehe asked, his voice carrying the arrogance and disdain characteristic of nobility from the grasslands.

Tang Shun stood still, the enemy's blood flowing down his collarbone and into his collar.

He raised his eyes, his gaze cold and hard. "It's me."

Huyan Zhehe sneered, pointing towards the city wall, "Despicable! Scoundrel! Using ash and kerosene, his methods are underhanded, and he doesn't even deserve to be called a general?"

Tang Shun's lips twitched slightly, the blade pointing diagonally at the ground. "You coerced the people into attacking the city, using their lives to fill the walls, building ramps by stepping on their corpses, and now you think it's all aboveboard?"

Huyan's pupils contracted.

Tang Shun continued, "Those old people knelt on the ground begging for the door to be opened, and you shot an arrow through their throats."

"Those women were crying and screaming, clutching their children, and you cut off their arms with machetes. You call me despicable? You're not even human!"

Huyan Zhehe's expression changed drastically, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.

He intended to intimidate the man with his status and subdue his will with his imposing manner, but instead, the Han general's words struck at his very core.

Hu Yanzhe led five thousand cavalry south, believing himself to be invincible in the northern frontier. How could he have been so directly criticized?

He suddenly waved his hand, and three personal guards immediately spurred their horses to surround Tang Shun, their blades flashing as they attacked his left and right rear.

Tang Shun remained unmoved.

Only when the first curved blade was about to strike his head did he dodge to the side, his broadsword sweeping upwards, the blade cutting into the enemy soldier's ribs, and with a twist, the man screamed and fell from his horse.

The second man swung his sword horizontally, but Tang Shun ducked to avoid it. He then grabbed a broken spear from the ground with his left hand, threw it backhand, and struck the man squarely in the throat.

The third man reined in his horse and turned around. Just as he raised his knife, Tang Shun rushed in and closed in, sweeping his blade horizontally from left to right, slicing open the neck, and blood gushed out like a fountain.

Three bodyguards fell to the ground, each dying in a different manner, all within three moves.

Huyan Zhehe's expression changed, and he was finally moved.

His eyes widened as he stared at Tang Shun, his gaze shifting from contempt to surprise and suspicion, and then to apprehension.

This is no ordinary garrison commander; this is a ferocious beast that has emerged from the battlefield.

With his personal guards dead, the surrounding area in chaos, and the rest of his men fighting their own battles, he had nowhere left to retreat!

With a low growl, Hu Yan Zhe charged forward on his horse, raising his scimitar high above his head and bringing it down with the help of the horse's momentum, determined to smash Tang Shun and his sword in two.

Tang Shun raised his knife to parry.

"clang--!"

The clang of metal rang out, and sparks flew everywhere.

The immense force traveled along the blade to his arms, where Tang Shun caught it steadily.

Hu Yanzhe's attack failed, so he immediately changed tactics, sweeping his scimitar horizontally.

Tang Shun ducked to avoid the attack, the blade grazing his shoulder armor and tearing through a layer of iron.

He stood up and slashed at the horse's leg with his backhand, but Huyan Zhehe was prepared and pulled hard on the reins, causing the warhorse to leap into the air and dodge the attack.

The two faced off again, their breathing heavy, their killing intent intensified.

Huyan Zhehe fell silent, riding his horse around, searching for a weakness.

In the fifth round, Hu Yanzhe feigned a charge, but in reality, he suddenly turned his horse around to Tang Shun's left and slashed down with his curved sword from above.

Tang Shun had anticipated this, and he parried the attack head-on once again.

"clang!"

Huyan folded his horse around and charged for the third time.

Tang Shun no longer met the attack head-on. Just as the warhorse was about to collide with him, he leaped up, grabbed the edge of the saddle with his left hand, and plunged his sword into the folded belly of Huyan's horse with his right hand.

The warhorse neighed and reared up, catching Huyan Zhehe off guard, causing him to fall backward.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Tang Shun spun around and swept his blade straight at the opponent's lower body.

Huyan Zhehe leaped off his warhorse, rolled on the ground, and avoided a fatal blow.

But he had lost his mount and was moving slowly.

Tang Shun pressed forward relentlessly, his blade flashing like rain, forcing him to retreat repeatedly.

In the eleventh round, Huyan Zhehe finally couldn't hold on any longer, and his steps became slightly unsteady.

Tang Shun seized the moment of hesitation, suddenly lunged forward, and thrust his sword upwards, aiming straight for the throat.

Hu Yan folded his sword and parried, but his strength had waned, and the hilt of his sword was shaken off course.

Tang Shun's sword stance remained unchanged, and he changed from a slash to a chop, the blade slicing diagonally down from his right shoulder, cutting into his collarbone and penetrating deep into his chest cavity.

Hu Yanzhe let out a muffled groan, knelt on one knee, and dropped his scimitar.

Tang Shun kicked away the curved sword, grabbed the man's hair ornament with his left hand, and slashed the neck with his right hand, severing the major tendon with the blade. With a lift, a head popped off.

Blood splattered three feet high.

Tang Shun stood atop the pile of corpses, holding Hu Yanzhe's severed head aloft, and roared, "Your leader is dead!"

The sound was like a thunderclap, piercing through the battlefield and striking the eardrums of the remaining Xiongnu troops.

The Xiongnu cavalrymen who were fighting turned around and saw the eagle-feathered head held high in Qian Jiang's hand, its face still showing anger and its eyes still open.

Some people froze in place, while others loosened their grip and their weapons fell to the ground.

The team, which had been putting up a stubborn resistance, began to waver and their formation collapsed.

A centurion tried to rally his men, and had just uttered a command when his comrade beside him grabbed the reins: "Go! Run!"

Another man, holding a shield, turned his horse and fled south. Some hesitated for a moment, then followed suit.

Soon, the rout spread like a plague, with hundreds of riders rushing for their lives, trampling each other, and abandoning their helmets and armor.

On the battlefield, only sporadic resistance remained.

Tang Shun stood there, his chest heaving violently, sweat mixed with blood streaming down his face.

He looked down at the head in his hand, then at the corpse at his feet.

Huyan's headless body lay in the mud and blood, his right hand still holding a knife.

Tang Shun slowly released his grip, and his head rolled to the ground, facing the sky.

Silence fell over the surroundings.

In the distance, shouts of battle could still be heard; it was the Northern Army mopping up the remaining enemy forces, but there was no longer any fighting in this area.

The wind blew across the pile of corpses, ruffling a few strands of gray hair and brushing against his combat boots.

Corpses lay strewn across the field, blood stained the ashes, tattered flags were planted on the backs of dead horses, broken spears lay scattered, and bowstrings were snapped.

Some soldiers of the Qian Army leaned against their shields, panting; some local militiamen lay on the ground vomiting; and some new recruits trembled and dared not raise their heads.

But we won this battle!

The remaining Xiongnu cavalry had fled two miles away, billowing dust and fleeing in panic like stray dogs.

No one looked back, no one collected the bodies; their commander was dead, their command was broken, and their fighting spirit was extinguished.

Tang Shun turned his sword back and stood with his foot on the ground.

The wind grew stronger, whipping his tattered robes into a fluttering sound.

He stood in the center of the battlefield, with the corpses of enemy generals at his feet, a blood-stained broadsword in his hand, the still-standing fortress behind him, and the Qian army, which was already wrapping up its battle ahead of him.

In the distance, Shi Hanshan was leading his heavy cavalry to regroup, preparing to pursue the routed army.

The infantry advanced in formation, clearing the battlefield.

People began to peek out from behind the wall and whisper among themselves.

Tang Shun knew that there was much more to come—counting the casualties, settling the people, welcoming the commander-in-chief, dealing with the interrogation… but he didn’t want to do anything right now.

He just wanted to stand there a little longer.

Because this moment was earned with his life.

This is also proof that he protected this city and everyone else.

He looked down at his hands.

Those hands were covered in blood, with dirt and bits of flesh embedded in their fingernails, their tiger's mouth split open, and their palms blistered and bleeding.

But those hands grasped the knife, beheaded the enemy chieftain, and defended the city gate.

He turned his head and looked towards the north gate of the city.

There, a slender figure stood by the parapet, gazing in this direction.

He recognized that it was Su Shu.

She didn't approach, nor did she call out; she simply stood there quietly, the wind ruffling the hem of her dress, like a flower blooming amidst the ruins…