Chapter Fifteen: Rampaging All the Way, Thunder Strikes the Crown

From afar came the rapid pounding of hooves, like a sudden downpour of rain. Lu Chen’s heart leapt with joy—after all his waiting, business was finally starting. Yet, as he hoisted his axe and mounted his horse to get a better look, his excitement quickly turned to disappointment.

Though evening had fallen, the flames atop the city walls illuminated the approaching rider clearly enough. There was only one man and one horse. The warhorse was indeed a fine steed, strong and imposing, and the armor appeared proper—but the rider wore no helmet. Clearly, this was another dilettante playing at war.

A seasoned commander relied on armor for protection, and a helmet was paramount. After all, there is scarcely a more vital part of the body than the head.

The noble scions of the capital, clad in exquisite armor, would parade through the streets to display their valor—and to let the world see their handsome faces, they never bothered with helmets. But armor without a helmet? That was mere pretense.

This rider was undoubtedly such a figure. Still, his horse was a top-tier steed, tall, muscular, and astonishingly fast. That horse would soon be his.

The sound of hooves grew louder, and Lu Chen could see more details. The rider wielded a long halberd of impressive size—the shaft as thick as a goose egg, reaching an astonishing length of sixteen feet. Its dark green hue made it unclear whether it was iron or something else. It might even be bamboo; after all, it was unlikely a spoiled nobleman could handle such a heavy weapon with ease.

The rider was now approaching the city gate.

Lu Chen urged his horse forward and hastily ordered his men, “No throwing hidden arrows! Don’t steal my glory!”

Even if the prize was small, it was still his glory. He would not let his soldiers snatch it away from General Lu.

Before he could finish speaking, the black-armored knight with the golden crown reached him. Lu Chen had intended to show some respect by asking the man’s name—taking down a general was a feat, but slaying a dilettante was no cause for pride. He wanted to elevate his opponent’s status, but the rider showed no courtesy. Without slowing, he swung his halberd fiercely.

Lu Chen swallowed his words, clenched his breath, and swung his great axe with all his might. His axe was only eleven feet long, shorter than the halberd, so he had to block the first strike before counterattacking.

With a tremendous clang, the halberd and axe clashed, their resounding echoes bouncing through the city gate passage. The soldiers behind Lu Chen were dizzy from the shock, nearly losing their footing.

Lu Chen felt as if he had struck an iron mountain. The recoil nearly wrenched his axe from his grasp. His hands throbbed with pain, and his powerful steed staggered back, pounding wildly against the wall before finally stopping.

“Hmm? You actually blocked my strike—respectable. I’ll spare your life this time!” The golden-crowned knight vanished like dust on the wind, leaving only those light words behind. Lu Chen was infuriated but could neither retort nor respond, his face burning red with frustration.

The halberd swept aside any who dared block the way. Lu Wu thundered down Deer Elm Long Street, heading straight toward the residence of Young Master Yuan. As for what Lu Chen thought of all this—well, Lu Wu hadn’t given it a second thought.

The streets lay empty, patrolled only by two squads of soldiers.

***

“Curfew is in effect tonight in Song Capital. No one passes without a permit! Halt and dismount!” Xin Jing, the squad leader in charge of the patrol, shouted, spotting Lu Wu spurring his horse wildly.

They dared not block the way.

That horse was massive and ran like thunder. What if it trampled them to death? These patrolmen wore no chainmail, only half-body leather armor at best.

Lu Wu paid no heed, spurring his horse through.

“Bold fellow! Shoot him down!” Xin Jing ordered decisively.

Behind him, soldiers raised their crossbows, already loaded and aimed at the golden-crowned rider’s back.

Normally, the patrol forbade loaded crossbows to avoid accidents and damage to the weapons.

But tonight was different. Not only was there a curfew in Song Capital, but the Southern City Commander, Ge Ye, had decreed that all patrol soldiers were to draw swords and load crossbows. Anyone without a permit caught moving about was to be killed on sight.

The arrow struck the end of the halberd’s shaft with a sharp ‘ping’ and bounced off.

The black horse did not falter.

Watching the rider’s retreating back, Xin Jing shouted, “Sound the alarm to the men ahead—ah—”

Suddenly, Xin Jing screamed and fell backward.

Then came two sharp whistles through the air.

Two iron-tipped arrows flew in swift succession, piercing Xin Jing and the crossbowman through the chest, exiting their backs. Blood splattered as the arrows struck the paving stones with a clear ‘ting, ting.’

The other soldiers looked on in horror, only to see the golden-crowned knight sheathe his longbow and once again grasp his halberd, which lay across the horse’s back.

First, he rested the halberd flat on the saddle, then drew an arrow, fired backward, and resumed grasping the halberd—all without the steed breaking stride.

The black warhorse thundered down the main thoroughfare slicing through Song Capital, turned sharply through the Lingxiu District, then entered Chengde District—the enclave of Wu’s nobility. Young Master Yuan’s mansion was here.

Chengde District’s roads, like the main street, were paved with long strips of blue stone, constantly maintained to remain smooth and clean. Wooden poles lined both sides, each bearing a torch that burned throughout the night.

This was likely the most expensive neighborhood in all of Wu—though wealth alone could not buy a place here. Families like the Lu’s had no right to occupy such a prestigious spot.

***

The pounding hooves shattered the silence of night as the black warhorse charged forward.

Beneath the archway at Chengde District’s entrance stood a swordsman in a brocade robe, positioned in the center of the street. As the golden-crowned rider approached, the swordsman neither dodged nor flinched but raised his sword to meet the black steed head-on. His body swayed left and right unpredictably, appearing alternately on the horse’s left and right sides.

Soon, he seemed to be on both sides at once, as if wielding a shadow clone.

“Phantom Footwork—must be Zhang Tong of the Wandering Sword!”

Five figures watched from a nearby tall building.

A middle-aged woman, still graceful, said, “Zhang Tong’s footwork is more famous than his swordsmanship among true masters. Though they are quite far, his movements alone betrayed him.”

“That rider’s in trouble,” said a young, delicate girl beside her.

Mounted warriors held an advantage in battle formations, but in open spaces with room to maneuver, agile masters could outmatch them. Even a spirited warhorse could not match the swift and elusive movements of a true swordsman.

If the swordsman slipped to the side beyond the rider’s reach, he could strike at ease—because the horse’s head naturally divided the left and right flanks. The rider could not freely change the direction of his weapon without first lifting it past the horse’s head, lest he accidentally cleave off his own mount’s skull.

Moreover, Zhang Tong was a famed fourth-rank swordsman, known for his ghostly agility and fierce sword aura. Some even suspected he was the mysterious assassin who once tried to kill Young Master Yuan.

The swordsman and the mounted warrior clashed.

The hooves faded into the distance, leaving Zhang Tong standing still in the middle of the street.

“Hmm?” The five onlookers and others scattered throughout all found this brief duel puzzling.

After a moment, Zhang Tong’s body slowly split in two, collapsing to either side as blood and entrails spilled onto the ground.

The torchlight was dim, and though many masters watched, none could discern how Zhang Tong had been severed so neatly.

The “Eighteen Mountain Overlaps Slash”—Killing Intent: Thunder Strike to the Crown.

This slash was the swiftest and most relentless of all.