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The December of this year is approaching, and the Yellow River area is experiencing continuous snow, as if unwilling to stop. Search: \(¨Complete¨Book¨God¨Station¨) to read fine literature for free.

However, the traces of people that used to dot the landscape even in heavy snow have become sparse, and the wild villages are desolate like ghost towns, with bones in the snow.

In the wind and snow, the rustling of horses' hooves can still be heard occasionally. At the edge of the forest, three tall Jurchen men ride on horseback, advancing slowly and carefully, their eyes fixed on the woodland not far away. One of them has already drawn his bow and nocked an arrow.

The moment the horse's figure appeared in sight, there was a sudden booming sound, and the snow accumulated on the trees fell. Someone jumped down from the tree wielding a saber. As the snow fell, the horse, startled, turned sharply, the arrow flew into the sky, and the Jurchen men also drew their sabers abruptly. In the midst of a brief roar, a figure rushed out from the side. The tall figure threw a punch, like a tiger roaring, and slammed it onto the neck of the Jurchen's warhorse.

A large amount of blood, mixed with碎肉, splattered out. The warhorse screamed miserably, staggering and collapsing like a mountain, while the Jurchen on horseback rolled down with the snow. In that instant, the figures on both sides clashed, weapons met, and one Jurchen was suddenly separated in the fight. Two Han Chinese surrounded and attacked. The big man who had rushed over and shattered the warhorse's neck was tall, even taller than the Jurchen. After a few exchanges, he grabbed the other's shoulder fur.

This big man was burly and had practiced Tiger Claw and Tiger Fist for many years. His sudden pounce was like a fierce tiger descending the mountain. Even the tall northern warhorse had its throat shattered by his claw. Now, grabbing the Jurchen's shoulder, he tore at it. However, although the Jurchen had not practiced systematic Central Plains martial arts, he had hunted in the Changbai Mountains for many years and had probably encountered black bears and tigers. He thrust out his saber desperately with his right hand and struggled with all his might with his left shoulder, like a giant python. The big man tore and retreated, and the fur was torn to shreds, but the Jurchen only had some bloodstains on his shoulder.

However, in front of the Jurchen, the man who had jumped down from the tree was now rushing over with his saber. At this time, the Jurchen was flanked by the big man wielding Tiger Claws on his left and another Han Chinese scout on his right. As he retreated, he found himself against the trunk of a large tree.

With a bang, his body was slammed against the tree trunk, and the saber-wielding man in front of him pounced almost with both man and saber, the tip of the saber piercing through the bottom of his neck. The moment he pierced through, the saber-wielding Han suddenly pulled it out and swung the blade backward from bottom to top in a circle, parrying a blow from another Jurchen scout who had rushed up to save him. The line of blood drawn from the human body flew far across the white snow, a straight line.

Among the Han Chinese, there were martial artists, but the Jurchen were born to fight against nature, and the strong among them were by no means inferior to martial arts masters. For example, the Jurchen scout being besieged by three men possessed a technique for escaping the Tiger Claws that most masters could not perform. In a one-on-one deathmatch, the outcome would have been uncertain. However, battlefield combat has no rules, and the blade saw blood. The three Han Chinese scouts' momentum soared, and they surrounded the Jurchen man again.

Another scout, still on horseback, fired an arrow, reined in his horse, and fled. The Jurchen scout who had been left behind was killed on the ground in a few breaths. By this time, the Jurchen who had ridden away was far away, turning his head back to fire another arrow, taking out the saber-wielding Han who had jumped from the tree and killed the first man.

The arrow嗖 flew, and the Han, blood on his lips, reached out with a sneer to grab it, but grabbed at empty air. The arrow pierced his heart.

He fell on the snow, and two companions rushed up to support him.

This battle, which had lasted only a moment, had come to an end in the blink of an eye, leaving only the scarlet color in the wind and snow, which would soon be frozen. The remaining Jurchen scout galloped wildly, running for a long time until he reached a snow ridge ahead. Just as he was about to turn, a figure suddenly flashed into view.

He subconsciously fired an arrow, but the black figure was as swift as lightning, as ghostly as a phantom. One moment it was several zhang away, and the next it was right in front of him. Even the wind and snow seemed to be pushed aside. The black figure slashed at him with a saber, and on the snow ridge, the Jurchen cavalryman seemed to suddenly freeze in mid-stride, then was knocked off his horse by something.

Behind the snow ridge, two figures in the uniform of Wu Dynasty officers emerged. They looked at the Jurchen warhorse circling aimlessly in the snow and the Jurchen scout whose blood was seeping into the snow, and were slightly taken aback. But most importantly, they looked at the black-clothed man standing beside them. This black-clothed man, holding a saber, had a calm expression. He was not young, but his martial arts were superb. Just now, he had struck with all his might, and the Jurchen had no ability to resist. At this moment, faint heat was rising from his forehead.

"Senior Fulu, Jurchen scouts usually operate in teams of three. This man is alone, so he probably has companions nearby..." One of the officers looked around and reminded him.

The black-clothed man holding the saber shook his head. "This Jurchen was running very fast, and his qi and blood were surging unevenly. He must have just experienced a life-or-death battle. He is alone here. His two companions have probably been killed. He obviously wants to go back to report, so I can't let him go." As he spoke, he went to search the body of the Jurchen on the ground.

"Senior Fulu is right." The two officers said, and also went to search the luggage on the horse.

The man who appeared here was Fulu, who had survived by luck after following Zhou Tong's failed assassination of Wanyan Zongwang.

In that battle to assassinate Zongwang, Zhou Tong fought until he was exhausted and was eventually beheaded by Wanyan Xiyin. Fulu's wife, Zuo Wenying, rushed into the crowd at the last moment and threw Zhou Tong's head to him. After that, Zhou Tong and Zuo Wenying both died, and he had to fight his way out, seeking a meager existence, with Zhou Tong's head.

He was chased all the way by the cavalry sent by Zongwang. There were even some Wu Dynasty *lülin* people who wanted to get Zhou Tong's head to claim the reward offered by Zongwang and attacked him after encountering him. Carrying Zhou Tong's head, he traveled all the way back to Zhou Tong's hometown of Tongguan in Shaanxi and found a grave to bury him—he dared not tell anyone about this, fearing that the Jurchen would become powerful in the future and someone would dig up the grave to claim the reward from Zongwang—when he buried the old man, it was raining lightly, and the surrounding wild mountains and hills were desolate, with only him performing the sacrificial rites. He had long felt like he had lost his life, but when he thought of how the old man had devoted his life to the country and the people, and that even after his death, he might not even have a public burial place, and that it would be difficult to find anyone to worship him, he could not help but feel grief from within and prostrate himself in tears.

Fulu had followed Zhou Tong all his life, as both a servant and a disciple, and as a close friend. After he married Zuo Wenying, they had a son, but he had been sent to the countryside to be raised after his first month. He was probably married and had children by now. However, he and Zuo Wenying had served by Zhou Tong's side and had never taken care of or shown concern for this son, and possibly grandchildren, over the years. For him, his real family might have been only Zhou Tong and his aging wife.

His wife was resolute and decisive, even more so than him. Looking back, in the battle to assassinate Zongwang, both his wife and he had prepared to die, but at the last moment, his wife snatched the old man's head and threw it to him, her loving heart unspoken but clear, hoping that he could survive in the end. Just like that, the two most important people in his life died one after another in an interval of less than a few breaths.

After burying Zhou Tong's head, life had no meaning for him, and thinking of his wife's throw before her death added to his grief. However, having followed the old man for so many years, the option of suicide would never appear in his mind. He left Tongguan, thinking that with his martial arts, he might be able to assassinate Zongwang again, but at this time, Zongwang had already swept south like a whirlwind. He thought that if the old man were still alive, he would definitely go to the most dangerous and critical place, so he went all the way south, preparing to come to Bianliang to seize the opportunity to assassinate Zongwang.

However, along the way, Zongwang had already launched an attack outside the city of Bianliang. Hundreds of thousands of loyalist troops had been defeated one after another, and the fleeing soldiers were scattered, with corpses strewn across the fields. Fulu could not find an opportunity to assassinate Zongwang, but he encountered many *lülin* people in the course of his activities—in fact, Zhou Tong's death had now been publicized by Zhuji's propaganda machine, and some *lülin* people recognized him. When they saw him, they obeyed him without question. When he said that he was going to assassinate Zongwang, everyone was willing to follow him. But at this time, the situation outside the city of Bianliang was not like Xinzhou City, which was as impenetrable as Mutuo Gang. Such an opportunity for assassination was not easy to find.

Fulu traced the traces of the propaganda to the name of Ning Yi, and thought of this man who acted differently from Zhou Tong but could still earn Zhou Tong's praise. Fulu did not particularly like him either, but he thought that the other party must be reliable on important matters and wanted to find an opportunity to tell the other party the location of Zhou Tong's burial place: he had no attachment to this world and did not think he would live too long. If he told him about it, and if the Jurchen left one day, others who wanted to worship Zhou Tong could find a place to do so. That man was called "Heart Demon" and "Blood Hand Human Butcher." If someone really wanted to desecrate Zhou Tong's burial place after his death, with his fierce methods, he would definitely make their lives unbearable and leave them with no way to regret it.

However, after making this decision, the first person he encountered was Chen Yanshu, the Commander of the Wusheng Army of Daming Prefecture. In the Jurchen's sweeping operation on the morning of September 25th, the Wusheng Army was defeated miserably. Chen Yanshu led his personal soldiers to abandon their armor and flee, escaping without sustaining too much injury. After the defeat, he feared punishment from the court and wanted to make some achievements, so he frantically gathered the scattered troops. During this period, he encountered Fulu.

Chen Yanshu knew Zhou Tong. Although he had not regarded the old man as too important in the first place, Zhuji had been desperately promoting him during this period, and the name of the world's number one expert had skyrocketed in the army. His army had been severely scattered, and when he encountered Fulu, he had some idea of who he was, knowing that this man had always served by Zhou Tong's side and, although low-key, had inherited Zhou Tong's true teachings in martial arts. It would not be an exaggeration to say that he was one of the top masters below the Grandmaster level, so he immediately tried hard to recruit him. Fulu did not find Ning Yi at the first opportunity, and he did not care about serving for whom, so he agreed and helped Chen Yanshu in his army.

Several months passed since then, the wind and snow fell, and the Jurchen began to attack Bianliang fiercely. Chen Yanshu had gathered more than 30,000 people, but they still had no morale and could not fight at all. Although the Bianliang city urged the loyalist troops to quickly relieve the siege of the capital, it was probably already desperate about this. Although they urged, it did not put pressure on the troops below. When Zongwang's army attacked the city, the Bianliang city defenses were precarious, and the situation outside the city was quite delicate. Everyone was waiting for others to attack, but they also understood that these scattered soldiers, who had no fighting spirit, were no match for the Jurchen. In this delay, news spread across the snowy plains that 4,000 people had suddenly launched an attack and fiercely stormed the Mutuo Gang camp.

Although the scattered forces on this snowy plain were divided into several groups at this time, they still had simple communication with each other, and they often talked and pretended to be righteous and concerned about the country and the people, saying, "If you move, I will move." But they really couldn't move the soldiers under their command. The morale of the army had been broken, and everyone was hoarding in one place, which could still maintain an overall appearance. If they really wanted to kill their way to Bianliang City for a final battle, two-thirds of the people under their command would scatter before they reached halfway. Except for Zhong Shizhong's Western Army, which might still have retained some combat power, most of the other situations were like this.

Under such circumstances, someone still rose up with their remaining strength and, without greeting them, struck a heavy blow against the Jurchen, so the Jurchen were frightened, and they were also frightened. Everyone's first reaction was that the Western Army had taken action. After all, they had little contact with each other on weekdays, and the two Western Army leaders, Zhong Shidao and Zhong Shizhong, were both famous generals of the time, with great reputations. It was not surprising that they had preserved their strength. But soon, contradictory news came from the capital.

At this time, the 4,000 people were still stationed in the very center of the various forces, and they seemed extremely arrogant, not afraid of the Jurchen's sudden attacks. At this time, the various forces on the snowy plain sent out scouts to investigate. And on this battlefield, the Western Army began to move, and the Changsheng Army began to move. Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren's troops of the Changsheng Army separated from Guo Yaoshi and pounced on the 4,000 people in the center. These people finally began to move in the wind and snow. They even took more than a thousand civilians, who had no combat power, and drew a huge arc in the wind and snow, heading towards Xia Village. Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren led their more than ten thousand troops and quickly corrected their direction. On November 29th, they quickly shortened the distance with these 4,000 people. Now, scouts had already engaged in close combat.

Fulu was sent by Chen Yanshu to investigate all of this—he had also volunteered. Recently, because Chen Yanshu had been holding his more than 30,000 troops in place, Fulu, being among them, had noticed that they had no fighting spirit and had already begun to leave. Chen Yanshu had also seen this, but firstly, he could not tie Fulu down, and secondly, he needed him to stay in the army to do propaganda, so he had to let two officers follow him and did not let the other *lülin* people that Fulu had brought along go with Fulu, thinking that he would probably have to come back this way.

Fulu was also curious about this suddenly emerging team. He was heartbroken by the low combat power of the Wu Dynasty army, but he also empathized with the Jurchen's strength. An army capable of fighting the Jurchen head-on? Did it really exist? Or was it just a lucky ambush that had been exaggerated in its record—this idea was actually the mainstream among the surrounding forces.

I don't know whose army it is, they really got lucky...

Fulu would naturally not think like this. In his opinion, even if they got lucky, if they could use this as a foundation and make a concerted effort, it would be a good thing.

This time, he first found the Changsheng Army's team.

This army of over ten thousand people was traveling rapidly in the wind and snow and had sent out a large number of scouts to explore the way ahead. Fulu was naturally not familiar with military affairs, but he was a great expert close to the Grandmaster level and was most familiar with people's physical strength, will, and inner and outer aura. The combat power shown by these two teams of the Changsheng Army, although inferior to the Jurchen, was much higher than that of the Wu Dynasty army. These men from the north had undergone the best training outside Yanmen Pass.

Fulu was secretly shocked. He learned from another scout team sent by Chen Yanshu that the team of 4,000 people, which should belong to Qin Shaoqian, was not far ahead and, burdened by more than a thousand civilians, might be intercepted before they reached Xia Village. Fulu hurried over here and happened to kill this Jurchen scout.

Although the wind and snow were not too heavy at this time, it was difficult to identify directions and destinations on the snowy plains. After searching the body, the three of them continued to move forward, then realized that they might have gone in the wrong direction and turned back. Then, they either encountered or brushed past several Changsheng Army scouts, and were finally able to confirm that they had caught up with the main force.

It was already afternoon, and the sky was dim. When they reached a snow ridge, Fulu faintly sensed the movement in the wind and snow ahead. He reminded the two people beside him that the Changsheng Army might be ahead. They dismounted nearby and proceeded quietly. After passing through a forest, there was a snow ridge in front. After going up, the three of them suddenly lay down.

An army of tens of thousands of people stretched out in front of them.

It was the Zhang and Liu units of the Changsheng Army. At this time, the banners stretched out, and the formation was solemn. They had formed a formation in front, seemingly stopping the troops in front and behind. The two Wusheng Army officers were shocked. Although they might not be able to win in leading troops to fight, they had an eye for things and knew that if such an army were to fight against their own, the current Wusheng Army would be killed like pigs and dogs. Fulu was a martial artist and, feeling such a murderous aura, his own qi and blood were also surging. He gritted his teeth and wished he could rush out and die with the enemy general, but they immediately realized:

"Why did they stop..."

"What happened..."

Just as they were talking about this, Fulu vaguely saw the scene on the snow ridge at the other end of the field through the wind and snow. Looking from here, the field of view was blurred, but there were vaguely figures on the snow ridge.

Then, a "bang" sound came over. The sound was not just one, but thousands upon thousands of sounds mixed together. It sounded like metal hitting each other and like hitting leather. Fulu could hear that it should be the sound of the sheaths of sabers hitting the saddle.

The sound of thousands of sabers hitting the saddle at the same time.

This sound suddenly rang out in the wind and snow, and then fell silent. After a few breaths, it came again. Although monotonous, the sound of thousands of sabers hitting like this vaguely revealed a murderous aura. In the distant wind and snow, in the vague line of sight, the cavalry team was quietly lined up on the snow ridge, waiting for the Changsheng Army's main force.

After a moment, a murderous shout rang out on this side: "Changsheng—"

"Changsheng!"

"Changsheng!"

Three consecutive shouts, ten thousand people shouting in unison, almost crushing the wind and snow, but no one charged before the leader gave the order.

Fulu could already taste the iron rust in his mouth, which was the vague sense of excitement belonging to a martial artist. All the cavalry on the opposite side added up to just over two thousand. They were just waiting there, facing the Changsheng Army of as many as ten thousand people.

After a moment, the sound of hitting came again, monotonously, and then again, the same interval, as if hitting on everyone's heartbeat. In the midst of the huge and indifferent killing intent, no one dared to move forward.

The wind and snow howled, the battle formation was like a forest, and the whole atmosphere was about to explode...

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