Chapter 115: True Feelings Revealed at the Brink of Life and Death (2)

"Who could have imagined such formidable discipline among a band of river bandits!" A flicker of surprise crossed Mu Changfeng's eyes.

Over a hundred burly, fierce-looking men, brandishing gleaming steel sabers, advanced with a rhythmic, thunderous cadence. Their movement was more than an approach; it was a tactical evolution, a display of overwhelming force. It was immediately clear that this unit had undergone rigorous, systematic training under the guidance of a master.

Kong Sheng gritted his teeth and drew his Polu Sword from his saddle. Whether this was a case of mistaken identity or the bandits were merely spinning a pretext, and regardless of whether these Hongze bandits were true insurgents or mere outlaws, the grudge was already set. Since they insisted on avenging their "brothers," there was no choice but to fight to the end.

Five against more than a hundred—the disparity in strength was overwhelming. Even with his confidence, Kong Sheng knew the situation was dire. It was a nine-in-ten chance of death; one slip, and they would all perish in this sudden, chaotic onslaught.

But there was no use in fear now. Cringing for mercy was not in Kong Sheng's nature. He would rather die standing than live on his knees—for, in most cases, cringing would not save one's life anyway. Since death was the common denominator, having lived two lives, Kong Sheng had come to terms with it.

He reached out to touch the hilt of his Polu Sword and sighed softly. "Brother Mu, everyone, the only path left to us is to fight our way out through a sea of blood."

Wu Xian and Wu Jie remained grim and silent, their scimitars gleaming as they vigilantly watched the approaching men in green.

Mu Changfeng’s voice, faint and steady, reached Kong Sheng's ear. "Young Master, I will protect you as you break through the encirclement; let the three of us—Wu Xian and the others—act as the rear guard."

Kong Sheng let out a resonant, spirited laugh and shook his head. "No, Brother Mu. If I had a choice, I would never have allowed us to fall into such a trap. But we are one now; we live together, or we die together! I, Kong, will never trample on the shoulders of others to save my own skin."

He turned his gaze toward Princess Li Xuan, his expression clear and sincere. "As for Your Highness, I am deeply ashamed that you have been dragged into this. If the opportunity arises, I am willing to die to ensure your escape."

At this life-and-death crossroads, any pretense or calculation became utterly meaningless.

Li Xuan, clutching her own sword, wore a grave expression. She sneered, "You little thief, what is the point of saying such things now? With your clumsy martial arts and brute strength, do you really think you can protect me?"

Kong Sheng sighed again, saying no more. He knew well that if a melee erupted, Mu Changfeng and Li Xuan were the most likely to escape, as their lightness skills had reached a near-supernatural level. Even among thousands of soldiers, if they were determined to flee, they would have a high chance of survival.

Yet, despite her words, a trace of softness flickered in Li Xuan’s heart, and her hatred toward Kong Sheng diminished slightly. Adversity reveals true character; at such a critical moment, Kong Sheng had no need to act. Whether or not he had the ability, the sentiment was genuine. And if he possessed such intent, it meant this "little thief" still held a shred of conscience and merit.

The first row of green-clad bandits was now within ten meters. Mu Changfeng and Kong Sheng exchanged a sharp, resolute glance. Kong Sheng took a deep breath, raised his sword high, and stared straight ahead. The unwavering coldness and resolve in his eyes left Wu Xian and Wu Jie feeling a chill of admiration.

A young scholar like Kong Sheng, raised in the prosperous lands of the South and having never seen the battlefield, had faced this near-certain death without a hint of cowardice. It forced the brothers to respect him.

The bandits, their faces set in grim silence, closed in like a forest of steel. Their formation began to spread, slowly encircling their prey—a tactic designed to prevent the five from breaking through in a single charge. Should they scatter to fight individually, the likelihood of being picked off one by one would increase significantly.

The bloodbath was imminent, and the air grew thick with tension. But just then, the thunder of hooves erupted from the path they had just traveled. A great plume of dust rose to shroud the sky. By the judgment of Wu Xian and Wu Jie, this was a cavalry force of at least twenty.

Nangong Wang, sitting in his pavilion, changed color and shouted in alarm. He ordered his page to strike a gong. The green-clad men immediately broke off their advance, retreating up the slope like a receding tide. Their ability to respond to the gong and drum with such precise, uniform discipline left Kong Sheng nodding in silent acknowledgment. He realized that this was no mere rabble; these Hongze bandits were a disciplined force, and Nangong Wang was a man of unfathomable talent.

A mere scholar commanding such a fierce band of men spoke volumes.

Kong Sheng watched as, under Nangong Wang’s command, the hundred men abandoned their pursuit and formed a triangular defensive formation facing the direction of the incoming riders. The purple-clad, bearded man who had been at Nangong Wang’s side now stood at the front of the formation, gripping a bright silver spear.

He, too, was clearly a formidable warrior.

Before the dust settled, a cavalry troop of several dozen appeared. Though dressed in civilian attire, they carried the standard Mo-dao long sabers of the Jiangbei army. Both Kong Sheng and Nangong Wang felt a jolt of shock. This was clearly an elite Mo-dao cavalry unit.

The Mo-dao was a signature weapon of the Northwest Army. In the Central Plains, only the Jiangbei Army under Prince Li Ju possessed such a unit—a force of thousands, forged in the Western Regions and once part of Geshu Han’s command before falling under Li Ju’s banner after the fall of the general.

Nangong Wang stared at Kong Sheng and his companions with shock, thinking to himself: Who exactly are these people? Could they be officials?

The cavalry charged with imposing momentum, splitting into two rows as they galloped, maintaining perfect, uniform spacing between horses. A single rider pulled ahead, leading the formation.

Nangong Wang’s expression grew increasingly grim. Though their numbers were fewer than his own, the true combat power of such a unit could not be measured by quantity alone. His bandits were fierce, but they were no match for true, battle-hardened imperial soldiers. A clash would have dire consequences.