Chapter 55: Sinking the Ship to Kill, Turning the Tide of the Land Battle

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The unexpected breach by the Wu general into the ship’s cabin was troubling, but even more critical was the massive hole torn in the hull. River water surged in like a tide, and within no more than an hour and a quarter, the ship was doomed to sink—that was the real crisis.

Innate masters synchronize their true energy with their spirit. When projecting true energy externally, their control far surpasses that of fourth-grade true energy practitioners. Essentially, they can walk on water briefly; the only difference lies in how long they can sustain it.

However, most of the soldiers aboard lacked such abilities. Especially those expert archers and crossbowmen hastily summoned from various units to counter the Wu general—once submerged, even if they survived, they would be utterly incapable of drawing their bows or crossbows.

The warship did have carpenters specialized in hull repairs, but that depended on the situation. Such a huge breach created a tremendous pressure difference between inside and out. Even if they could patch the hole, there was no timber on board large enough to cover it.

Moreover, with the Wu general having broken into the ship, sending carpenters to repair would be tantamount to running headlong into danger.

As various scenarios flashed like a revolving lantern in his mind, the armored axe-wielding warrior shouted, “This is bad!”

The Wu general’s first move was clearly to destroy the warship itself, hoping to turn a disadvantage into an advantage by killing everyone aboard.

“General Xie, what is it?” called a man behind him clutching a golden silk fishing net.

He was a renowned wanderer from Chu, known to frequent the Lan River, now conscripted for the Chu army.

The axe-wielding warrior was Xie Qi, the Southern Peace General of Chu, commanding five thousand naval troops at the Nanping water fortress. He was also the core among the five innate masters fighting the Wu general.

“Bad news—the Wu general shattered the hull and broke onto the ship—ah!” Xie Qi exclaimed before he could finish.

For a veteran like him, accustomed to battlefields and unfazed even by mountains collapsing before him, to cry out in surprise showed the gravity of the situation.

A long halberd silently sliced through the deck, piercing upward. With a twist and a twist again, it shredded the innate master holding the golden silk fishing net into a heap of mangled flesh.

That poor Lan River fisherman was unmatched in swimming skill across the land, a master of the Canglang qi gong at its peak, and wielded the golden silk fishing net as whip, hammer, net, and shield—versatile beyond measure. On rivers, he was nearly invincible, yet now he didn’t even get a chance to strike before becoming a pulpy mess.

The other three innate masters leapt up simultaneously, landing on the ship’s rails, unwilling to remain on the deck.

The halberd struck like a venomous snake’s tongue, repeatedly stabbing up from beneath the deck. Each blow was fatal, always striking between the legs, killing with gruesome efficiency.

Within just fifteen minutes, the halberd had slain twenty-seven soldiers, including six expert archers and eleven crossbowmen.

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The five-inch-thick hardwood deck could not withstand the halberd’s piercing strikes but blocked the archers’ counterattacks, leaving these elite bowmen defenseless.

A few archers reacted quickly, perching on rails, barrels, and masts, but such spots were limited. Most could not find space and could only pray that the halberd did not suddenly emerge beneath their feet.

An entire ship of elite troops trapped like lambs awaiting slaughter.

Some could no longer endure the hopeless wait and began shedding armor to leap into the river, attempting to escape.

But Xie Qi immediately ordered them shot down—while desertion might be overlooked in peacetime, fleeing in battle was the greatest offense; any commander mercilessly executed fleeing soldiers.

“If we continue like this, death is certain. If it comes to it, my brothers and I will fight him to the end!” shouted a swordsman clad in leather armor.

These two identically dressed leather-armored swordsmen were twin brothers—Yan Hu, the elder, and Yan Hai, the younger.

Between them was a mysterious connection; fighting together, they routinely challenged and defeated foes far above their rank.

Years ago, Yan Hu experienced a sudden enlightenment and broke through to third-grade innate, sensing the heavens and earth. Yan Hai immediately resonated and almost simultaneously broke through to innate.

“Impossible. Going down there is suicide,” both General Xie Qi and Wang Poshang spoke simultaneously, halting them.

When the enemy is hidden, we are powerless; now that the enemy is covert and we are aware, who can withstand a single strike?

The Wu general’s halberd pierced five-inch-thick hardwood silently—wood chosen for warship construction was of the finest quality.

Moreover, it was a halberd, not a straight spear; its shaft bore crescent blades on the side.

For such a weapon to silently pierce the deck repeatedly—twenty-eight times no less—required terrifyingly high true energy quality and exquisite control.

Such a fearsome opponent, striking within the cramped, evasively limited ship cabin—how could two longswords withstand it?

To survive, they had to wait until the ship sank halfway, forcing the Wu general out of the cabin and onto the deck.

Then, with bows and crossbows firing from all sides, the four could combine their efforts and perhaps turn the tide.

The great ship sank slowly at first, then faster. The halberd ceased emerging all over. The soldiers aimed their crossbows and longbows at the cabin’s exit.

Yan Hu and Yan Hai hung from the sail ropes with one hand, suspended in the air, their longswords shimmering, poised for attack.

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Wang Poshang, nicknamed “Mountain Breaker King,” wielded a copper hammer weighing fifty pounds, with a pointed front and blunt rear. Squatting on the railing, he gripped the hammer with both hands raised above his head, assuming an unusual stance, ready to unleash a full-power strike once the Wu general appeared.

As for Commander Xie Qi, he stood on the first crossmast, holding his great axe horizontally before his chest.

The ship gradually sank deeper; soldiers fixed their gaze on the lone cabin exit, their breaths growing heavy. The four innate masters held their breath, half-blinking, motionless like four stones.

The atmosphere aboard was suffocatingly tense.

“The ship seems to be moving—do you feel it?” Yan Hu whispered, clutching the sail rope, suspended midair.

Yan Hai nodded.

Yet Xie Qi and Wang Poshang, after careful feeling, shook their heads—besides the slow sinking, they sensed no other disturbance.

The ship’s rails neared the water’s surface. By right, the cabin should have flooded already, yet the Wu general hidden inside had not appeared.

Xie Qi barked, “All soldiers, scan the surrounding waters. Immediately alert if that man appears.”

“Yes, sir!” the soldiers answered in unison.

At this moment, most soldiers crouched on the rails; even the ram had men standing on it.

Here at Lan River, the river had widened to dozens of miles, the current slowed, and the water was relatively clear. If a man submerged deeply, he might evade the crew’s gaze.

But if it was a man and a horse, silent departure was impossible—the horse was no fish. Swimming was already a feat; deep diving was beyond it.

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