Chapter 680 Miraculous Hero of China
Fan Shangzheng watched as the enigmatic warrior charged forward alone, a sudden fright seizing him.
He quickly turned to Chen Yuanbo. "Why are you just standing there? Hurry, take your men and help the enigmatic warrior! How can he possibly charge an enemy formation alone?"
Chen Yuanbo's expression was peculiar. "Well... our forces have no close-combat soldiers. It would be highly irrational for musketeers to rush into melee, and it would cause unnecessary casualties."
Fan Shangzheng was exasperated. "Soldiers can't suffer needless casualties, but a commanding general can?"
Chen Yuanbo chuckled. "Governor, rest assured, the enigmatic warrior will not suffer any casualties. He is the foremost hero of the Divine Land."
Fan Shangzheng: "!!!"
Amidst the chaos, the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp was preparing to make his escape.
Bullets constantly whizzed from the surrounding darkness. He knew this battle was lost again, so his first instinct was to flee.
As a bandit, the primary lesson was always how to run. The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp's escape skills were considered above average among the various bandit leaders; those whose running wasn't up to par had long since been suppressed by government troops during the early years of Chongzhen's reign.
A group of ten loyal subordinates followed, scrambling into the dense undergrowth, trampling through thick grass and ferns as they fled in disarray.
However, no sooner had the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp plunged into the brush than he heard a soft "swish" sound, as if some small, palm-sized creature was slithering through the foliage.
"A rat?" The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp paid no mind to a mere rodent; he only wanted to run faster, to escape this musket-ridden hunting ground as quickly as possible.
He took a large stride forward.
As his right foot extended, his left foot remained planted behind him as a pivot.
Yet, at that very moment, a palm-sized little man burst from the grass. Only the little man's face was intact; the flesh on his body was tattered and ragged, revealing bare bones everywhere.
Curiously, all his bones were made of steel.
From the little man's steel arm, a tiny fruit knife flashed out.
"Fruit Knife Technique Ultimate Kill: Extract the Jackfruit!"
The little man let out a furious roar, then powerfully slashed downwards at the Achilles tendon of the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp's supporting foot.
"Pfft!"
Blood spurted...
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp felt an excruciating pain just above his heel. Instantly, his entire left foot went numb and unresponsive.
His Achilles tendon was severed!
Losing his balance, he crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Only after he fell did he clearly see the steel little man who had severed his tendon. It smiled at him, a horrifying grimace, then abruptly froze, becoming stiff and motionless.
"What the hell... what just happened?" The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp was petrified, every hair on his body standing on end. "What kind of demonic thing is this? What is this terrifying contraption?"
His loyal subordinates rushed to surround him. "Boss, what's wrong? Boss! Your foot."
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp stammered, "That little man, that little man... A-a-ah... that little man..."
His subordinates all turned to look at the motionless figure on the ground. It was just an iron man; it wasn't moving. What was so alarming about it?
They hadn't witnessed the instant the little man sprang to life and severed their boss's tendon, so they felt no fear yet.
"Quick, quick, help me walk..."
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp roared. "Help me get out of this cursed place, away from this little man..."
Fan Shangzheng was personally witnessing a sight he would never forget.
He saw the Miraculous Hero—no, "the Miraculous Hero"—charging the enemy lines alone with a single sword. A bandit soldier lunged at him, plunging a blade into the Miraculous Hero's belly.
Fan Shangzheng gasped, but from his distant position, and in the dark illuminated only by scattered firelight, he couldn't discern if the Miraculous Hero was truly injured. He only saw the Miraculous Hero swing his longsword, striking the bandit down.
Two more bandits tried to block him, hacking their blades into the Miraculous Hero's body. Then, with two swift slashes, the Miraculous Hero pierced both their throats.
Fan Shangzheng watched from far behind, utterly baffled as to why the Miraculous Hero never faltered or fell, even after sustaining enemy attacks. His movements remained completely unaffected as he continued to cut down enemies indiscriminately; no one could withstand two of his moves.
Fan Shangzheng exclaimed, "Why? Why does the Miraculous Hero always take a hit before counterattacking? He's so powerful, he could clearly avoid injury and take down enemies first!"
Chen Yuanbo merely shrugged, remaining silent.
The Miraculous Hero, under Fan Shangzheng's admiring and astonished gaze, plunged into the depths of the forest.
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp and his cohort were still stumbling and scrambling in their escape. With his Achilles tendon severed, the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp was a dead weight, and they couldn't run fast.
As they fled, a young man's voice echoed from behind: "Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp, give up. Do you truly think you can still run with a severed Achilles tendon?"
Everyone whirled around, catching sight of a young man.
The flesh on his body was damaged in several places, looking as though he had just been cut. The wounds didn't bleed, instead revealing steel bones beneath.
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp recognized him instantly: this young man was the little man from earlier, only greatly enlarged.
"You... you... what kind of demon are you?"
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp shrieked in terror. "You're not human, what exactly are you?"
The young man grinned. "I'm merely a wanderer, a hero by inclination."
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp: "..."
"Kill him!" Two fierce bandits charged forward.
Without a doubt, their blades struck Li Daoxuan's body. With two metallic clangs, both blades bounced off. Li Daoxuan's sword simultaneously plunged into their bodies.
If you trade a life for a life, the sword's hit rate increases.
Li Daoxuan bared his teeth, flashing a twisted, terrifying stiff smile at the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp. "Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp, we're old acquaintances, aren't we? Do you remember encountering Shi Jian and his two hundred musketeers in Pingyang Prefecture?"
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp's heart lurched. "Th-those were your men?"
Li Daoxuan: "That's right. And those who ambushed you in the Yellow River? Also my people."
The Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp: "!!!"
Li Daoxuan: "As the saying goes, you can be lucky once, even twice, but never thrice. You keep running into my territory, wasting my bullets. Isn't that annoying? How about you find your eternal rest right here?"
"Kill him!"
Three more fierce bandits charged straight ahead, their steel blades clanging, all striking Li Daoxuan's body, then bouncing off again without any effect.
Li Daoxuan's longsword swept out, carving a bloody gash across one bandit's neck. Blood sprayed a full meter. The other two bandits retreated in terror, utterly bewildered.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
Musket fire erupted from the woods behind them. The last few fierce bandits accompanying the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp fell one after another. Without their support, he couldn't stand on one foot and tumbled to the ground, lying on his back, staring at Li Daoxuan with desperate eyes.
Li Daoxuan, sword in hand, walked up to him, knelt down, and slowly plunged his longsword into the Eight Great Kings of the Southern Camp's other, uninjured foot. "Let's see if you can still run fast now."
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