Chapter 281: Massacre (Third Watch) |
If someone gets shot by arrows often enough, they would know that within sixty meters, if a professional shooter fires a bow or crossbow at you while you're running, it is absolutely lethal.
Gao Yuan charged out of Red Cauldron Tower with the squad. He used to brag to others that in high school sports day he had won the hundred-meter dash three times.
The truth was he had been runner-up for three years; the champion was his childhood friend Shen Han.
They were neighbors, raised together. Shen Han had always been more popular with girls, had neater handwriting, better grades, and even outperformed him in sports.
When they walked together, Gao Yuan felt he might always be the supporting leaf to Shen Han's tree.
Until the snow mountain incident, when Shen Han got into a fight over food and someone chopped his head with a firefighting axe and killed him.
Before he died, Shen Han told Gao Yuan to eat him.
Gao Yuan ate Shen Han’s brain, hands, and feet, and later found an opportunity to kill the man who had hacked Shen Han with the firefighting axe.
After that, Gao Yuan often told people that he had frequently won the high school sports day, that girls liked him, and that he wrote beautifully.
But charging at the very front, seeing the grim spears and the archers and crossbowmen behind them, his throat tightened. Gao suddenly regretted running so fast.
He wanted to slow down, but the main force behind him swept like a flood, carrying him forward with no way to retreat.
Even when he tried to step back, he only managed to fall two body lengths back; he was still in the front line.
The enemy moved.
He heard a single, resonant shout of "Fire."
Three meters to his front-right, a tall man about 1.9 meters hit in the shoulder by a black shadow of an arrow staggered as if struck by a hammer, took two steps on his knees, then collapsed and rolled twice on the ground.
Those behind trampled over him and kept charging.
To his front-left, a burly man with a shaved head raised a small round shield and roared.
The roar was cut off mid-sound; an arrowhead pierced through the shield, went through his chest to his back, leaving a short bit of arrow protruding.
The front ranks fell like ripe wheat, collapsing in a wave.
Before Gao had time to react, he was again the very front.
Exposed to the enemy’s sight, Gao opened his mouth; he wanted to shout something.
A sudden pain struck his belly. While running he felt as if something had landed a punch; searing pain arrived. He reached to cover it, but when his fingers touched his lower abdomen they felt hot, sticky, and there was a short piece of feather and arrow shaft.
Running momentum hurled him forward; he took three stumbling prostrate steps. His limbs trembled; he sank heavily to his knees in the mud.
So this is how painful being struck by an arrow is — even running is a luxury now.
Someone stamped hard on his back. Gao grunted.
That son of a bitch seemed to have stepped on the arrowhead lodged in his back.
His stomach felt as if cut by countless small knives.
One footstep, two, three...
In a dizzy haze, Gao seemed to see Shen Han.
Shen's face was distorted in rage, cursing at him. Gao suddenly recalled that day when Shen had clashed with others and could have run away, and it seemed Gao had left him outside the gate.
Rows of people streaming out of Red Cauldron Tower toppled forward; unarmored men facing bows and crossbows had no defense at all.
"This is slaughter, pure and simple slaughter!"
Seeing this, Yang Long's hands and feet went cold. He had assumed Qin Ziwen's side hadn't sent too many people, and that the main force in this battle would depend on their urban village.
Now it seemed otherwise.
Looking at Qin Alliance's well-trained force, a thought popped into Yang Long’s mind.
No wonder historical rebellions were easily suppressed by the imperial regulars.
This is not even the same scale!
With the contrast clear, Yang Long finally understood what true elite troops were.
He wanted to form a unit like that.
The main force bursting out of Red Cauldron Tower finally collapsed when they saw their front comrades being slaughtered with no resistance.
Those in front refused to push forward and collided with the units behind them.
Front and rear slammed into each other, turning into a large-scale stampede.
"Keep going." Du Yu did not order a halt.
The archers and crossbowmen continued shooting until each had fired twenty arrows.
When the last arrow flew, at the instant they released the bowstrings, many lowered arms uncontrollably; they rubbed their shoulders, faces streaked with sweat.
The area below Red Cauldron Tower had become a mountain of corpses and blood.
Blood ran into streams; hundreds of bodies lay scattered on the ground.
Everyone had arrows stuck in front and back.
"Ugh!" A resident from the urban village gagged loudly.
They had never seen such an Asura-like scene.
It wasn't just them; even Qin Alliance members in the first row holding long spears had cold hands and trembled slightly.
"How is this possible? How could this happen!" On the rooftop, Mei Yuqing's face showed horror. It wasn't the sight of dead downstairs that frightened her—many had already died inside the building before; she had seen that.
What terrified her was that those slaughtered were members of Blood Script. That not only showed the two sides were not on the same level in combat strength,
it also showed the enemy didn't regard them as human! They struck without mercy.
"We can't fight them out on the plain. We must call everyone back and retreat into the building!" Mei Yuqing hurriedly said. Since the opposing side hadn't rushed the building, it meant they didn't want close-quarters stairwell fighting.
Mei could roughly guess Qin Alliance's intent; the enemy likely wanted to eliminate them with minimal cost.
She refused to give in to their plan.
If they wanted to kill them, then come into the building — even in death they would bite into their attackers.
In fact, without her saying anything, this frontal encounter had terrified so many that people fled at top speed.
"Chairman Yang, please send people to retrieve those arrows." Du Yu looked at Yang Long.
Yang Long nodded.
He gave the order. Many from the urban village held shields, bent over, and went forward to pull arrows from bodies.
Up on the building, some people threw things down.
A few unlucky ones were hit and badly injured.
Urban village residents quickly retreated.
Du Yu waved his hand. "Trebuchet — smash the building. Fill them with crushed stones!"
"Thud!"
After several rounds, the rooftop fell silent.
Even the last bit of stubbornness in the Blood Script gang was smoothed away.
When anyone went to pull arrows, it was quiet behind the windows; no one dared to show their head or throw things.
As everyone collected bodies and gear, a muffled rumble came from the distant skyline.
"Rumble—"
The western horizon darkened; thick leaden clouds slowly approached from afar,
and a strong wind swept across the sea surface.
"It's going to rain." Qin Ziwen looked at the sky, brow slightly furrowed.
No one knew how heavy or how long this rain would be. Hopefully it would not affect the upcoming operations.