RPAGF Chapter 18: One arrow's fame resounds across the grasslands!
Chapter 18: One arrow's fame resounds across the grasslands!
The city gates of Datong Prefecture slowly opened with a dull rumble.
On the city wall, tens of thousands of Ming soldiers suddenly tightened their grip on their weapons. Their eyes widened as they stared in disbelief at what lay below.
The figure clad in black chainmail, without a single soldier in tow, without even glancing back at the city behind him, rode alone, slowly emerging from the shadows of the city gate.
The horseshoes made a dull, rhythmic sound as they trod on the rammed earth road.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
Outside the city, ten thousand Mongol vanguard troops had already formed ranks. The warhorses snorted heavily, their hooves pawing the ground restlessly, and the cavalrymen had drawn their scimitars, waiting only for the order to surge towards the walls of Datong Prefecture.
Then they saw the figure.
"Is the Ming Dynasty out of people? Sending an old man out to die?"
"Haha, look at his armor, it's probably an antique from the previous dynasty!"
"Is this old man tired of living?"
Laughter rose in waves.
In front of the central command tent, Altan Khan sat atop his tall black warhorse.
He narrowed his eyes, pointing his riding crop at the approaching black-armored figure, a smirk playing on his lips.
He thought the people of the Ming Dynasty must have gone mad.
Either they were desperate to defend the city and wanted to surrender in this absurd way, or they had lost their minds and wanted to scare him with this trick.
ridiculous.
Zhu Di ignored the laughter.
He didn't even glance at the Mongol cavalrymen who were laughing so hard they were doubled over. He simply raised his gaze calmly and swept it over the dark, imposing torrent of iron cavalry before him.
The warhorses were plump and strong, with glossy coats. The cavalrymen wore excellent armor, and their scimitars gleamed coldly. This was an army that had been well-fed and raised.
A cold glint flashed in Zhu Di's eyes.
It seems they've acquired quite a few good things from the Ming Dynasty over the years: ironware, salt, tea, and superior breeds of horses. They've used the blood they've sucked from the Ming to fatten themselves up.
well.
Zhu Di remained silent. He reached his right hand onto the horse's back and took down a huge iron-framed bow.
The bow was a full size larger than a typical riding bow. Its shaft was jet black, its surface gleaming with a cold metallic sheen. The bowstring, made of twisted sinew from an unknown animal, was taut and straight.
Just looking at the thickness of the bow arm is enough to make any archer gasp – this bow cannot be drawn without the strength of hundreds of kilograms of arm strength.
He drew an arrow from his quiver.
That arrow was also extraordinary. It was made entirely of fine iron, and felt heavy against my fingertips. The arrowhead was triangular, with a blood groove on each edge, and the tip gleamed with a faint blue light.
It was given to him by Zhu Zai Rui. A specially made armor-piercing arrow imbued with spiritual power.
A bent bow.
The left arm supports the bow, while the right hand's three fingers grip the bowstring. The movements are neither hurried nor slow.
Nock the arrow.
The iron arrow landed on the string, and the groove at the fletching precisely caught the string.
In that instant, Zhu Di's entire demeanor changed.
He was no longer an old man emerging from the depths of history. His back was straighter, his shoulders wider, and his eyes seemed to burn with flames. An invisible, chilling pressure emanated from him, like a volcano about to erupt.
He wasn't aiming at any of the cavalrymen charging at the front.
His gaze pierced through the layers of human walls, past the fluttering flags and gleaming blades, locking onto something hundreds of meters away—
Behind Anda Khan, the banner with the nine-tailed wolf head fluttered high.
"What is he doing? Trying to shoot me?" Seeing this, Anda Khan laughed even more unrestrainedly. He tapped his helmet with his riding crop and turned to his left and right generals, saying, "From this distance, even a sharpshooter..."
Before he could finish speaking...
"Buzz—!"
A sharp, ear-piercing twang of a bowstring suddenly exploded.
The nearby Mongol cavalrymen's horses reared up in terror. The black iron arrow transformed into a streak of light almost invisible to the naked eye, soaring into the sky with an extremely sharp whistling sound.
Everyone's eyes were involuntarily drawn to that streak of light.
next moment.
"boom!!!"
A deafening roar came from behind the Mongol army.
The flagpole, which required several people to encircle, was made of a century-old pine tree covered with iron, yet it was snapped in half by a single arrow.
Wood chips and scraps of sheet metal flew everywhere.
The upper half of the flagpole, carrying the enormous nine-tailed wolf head banner, tumbled and crashed down in the wind. The flag covered the tents, and the flagpole knocked over a group of panicked soldiers.
Smoke and dust filled the air.
The entire battlefield was deathly silent.
The laughter of the 100,000-strong Mongol army was cut off as if by a single stroke of a knife.
Everyone stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, as they looked back in terror at the fallen banner.
This...is this the kind of power a human can possess?
The power of a single arrow could be so great?
The Ming soldiers on the city wall were stunned. But only for a moment.
Immediately, deafening cheers erupted from the city walls.
"The Emperor Emeritus's divine might!!"
"May the Great Ming Dynasty prosper!!"
The roar of tens of thousands of people converged, like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing.
Before the central command tent, Altan Khan's smile froze completely. The smile remained at the corner of his mouth, twisted into an expression more unsightly than crying.
He stared blankly at the fallen banner and the soldiers scrambling out from beneath it. A chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making him shiver in the midday sun.
He is not a fool.
His survival on the grasslands to this day, and his unification of the Mongol tribes, relied not only on his swords and horses, but also on his instinct for danger. And at this moment, that instinct was screaming at him frantically.
The enemy could blast his command flag apart with a single arrow from hundreds of meters away.
That would mean one arrow could shatter his head.
This arrow wasn't a boast. It was a warning. It was a demonstration. It was a blatant threat of death.
Anda Khan's face turned deathly pale. His hand, gripping the riding crop, began to tremble uncontrollably.
He remembered a saying left by his great-grandfather.
That ancestor had served under Esen, the Grand Tutor of the Oirat Mongols, and participated in the Battle of Tumu. Before his death, he used his last strength to admonish his descendants…
Never, ever provoke that man named "Zhu Di".
He said that the man was not human.
It is a demon god who fights on the back of a dragon.
Anda Khan always thought that was an exaggeration by the defeated.
Now he believes it.
Just as the entire battlefield fell into dead silence, Zhu Di spoke.
The sound wasn't loud, but amplified by spiritual energy, it was like rolling thunder crashing over the heads of a hundred thousand soldiers, clearly resounding throughout every corner of the battlefield.
"I answer."
Two words, spoken calmly as if calling the name of a junior.
"I have arrived."
"Are you going to get out on your own, or will I send you out?"
To Altan Khan, this calm question was more terrifying than any threat in the world. His lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word.
He hadn't had a chance to reply yet.
Zhu Di had already tossed aside the iron-framed bow in his hand. The giant bow fell to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust. His hand gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist.
The Yongle Sword is drawn.
The sword's blade was as smooth as water. Its tip pointed diagonally at the ground, reflecting a cold, sharp light in the sunlight.
With a gentle squeeze of the legs, they gripped the horse's belly.
The warhorse beneath him let out a high-pitched neigh, its four hooves pawing the ground and kicking up a cloud of sand.
One man and one horse transformed into an arrow released from a bow, charging straight towards Altan Khan's central command tent.
He wanted to charge alone into an army of 100,000 men.
"Stop him!"
"Quick! Stop him!"
Anda Khan let out a terrified scream.