Chapter 24: The Rout
The death of Wu San dealt a heavy blow to the secret guards.
Who was Wu San? A formidable expert under the command of Prince Wei, he was notorious even among the secret guards. This team had followed Wu San for years, rarely failing in their missions. They were well aware of his prowess; with a leader like him, setting fires, killing, or running errands were all trivial matters.
When assigned the task of ambushing the Pei family’s women, everyone thought it would be an easy job. No matter how skilled the Pei brothers were, that was when they were alive. Now that the Pei brothers had been beheaded, leaving only the old, weak, and women behind, they were like fish on a chopping board—easy prey.
The only concern was the handful of exceptionally skilled guards from the Eastern Palace. But with their numerical advantage, several could easily overwhelm one.
Who would have thought they were so wrong?
The plan overturned like a boat capsizing in a gutter.
They fancied themselves as unyielding stones, but in truth, they were the crushed mantises beneath.
That Miss Pei Liu, Pei Qinghe! She struck down Wu San within thirty moves. Following that, she slaughtered relentlessly, as if a god of death had descended.
Run!
The refugees were the first to break and flee.
The secret guards had no time to care for the fleeing refugees; gritting their teeth, they continued to swing their blades against the enemy.
Prince Wei was strict and unforgiving. Returning without completing their mission meant certain death. They had to fight with all they had—perhaps there was still a chance.
Thud!
A gleaming blade fell, accompanied by a blood-curdling scream, as a tall and sturdy figure collapsed heavily.
Thud!
A long sword pierced a chest, a spray of fresh blood splattering across Pei Qinghe’s collar. Her delicate yet resolute face, flickering in the windlight, resembled a fierce warrior.
Senior Guard Commander Sun and others also fought fiercely, swinging their swords with all their might.
Pei Yun felled a secret guard with a slash; Pei Yan killed another with all her strength; despite her pale face, Mao Hongling’s spear moved ever swifter.
After over half the secret guards were killed or wounded, they could no longer hold on. Suddenly, some turned and rushed outside the inn. The big-headed soldiers, who had been pinned down, finally found their moment. They blocked the inn’s entrance. The secret guards, their spirits broken, charged forward only to be cut down by several big-headed soldiers.
Once one fell, soon there were two, then three.
The secret guards scattered in panic—some rushed for the door, some scrambled up the walls, others dashed into rooms inside the inn.
Pei Qinghe issued a grave command: “Follow me to pursue and kill the enemy. The rest, hold the inn—let not a single one escape.”
“Yes!”
Senior Guard Commander was the first to respond loudly.
Commander Sun was slightly slower but his steps showed no hesitation.
Pei Yun, Pei Yan, and Mao Hongling needed no mention. Wherever Pei Qinghe’s long sword pointed was the direction they charged.
The few secret guards who managed to flee the inn soon found despair. That killing god, wielding a bloodied long sword, was closing in.
Face to face, they could barely last three to ten moves. Running with their backs fully exposed to the killing god meant one stroke would seal their fate.
No, they had to turn and fight desperately—perhaps there was still a way out.
Those unable to flee turned around, forced to continue the battle.
What was most infuriating was that this killing god paid no mind to the actual refugees fleeing—only relentlessly hunting the secret guards. In the dim light, amidst the clash of blades and flying blood, how could she so clearly distinguish between refugees and secret guards?
For Pei Qinghe, telling the refugees from enemies was as natural as quenching thirst with water or satisfying hunger with food.
In her previous life, the Pei family army was a rebel force composed chiefly of refugees. As their leader, she was accustomed to these people daily—their gaunt figures, sallow and emaciated faces, and numb, hopeless expressions were unmistakably those of refugees.
Did they really think changing into ragged clothes could disguise them as refugees? That dim light would be enough to muddle the waters?
Ridiculous!
Pei Qinghe flashed forward, caught up with a secret guard, and decisively plunged her sword deep. The guard collapsed in agony, trying futilely to shove his spilling entrails back inside.
Pei Yun watched this, her stomach churning violently. Yet there was no time or place to vomit on the battlefield. Pei Qinghe shouted sharply, “Keep chasing!”
Pei Yun clenched her teeth, swallowing the rising nausea, and rallied herself to press forward.
Young Pei Yan showed no fear despite the blood-soaked scene before her. She followed closely behind Pei Qinghe, delivering finishing blows to the fallen secret guards, ensuring none survived.
Mao Hongling lost count of how many she had killed.
Her spear was stained red with blood, her palms also crimson—whether her own blood or that of her enemies, she couldn’t tell.
Pei Qinghe moved so swiftly that only Senior Guard Commander could keep pace. The others lagged slightly behind.
They had to be quick. Every last secret guard had to be wiped out.
Pei Qinghe’s long sword danced and flashed, but she did not let the taste of victory cloud her mind. She remained calm and clear-headed: “Let not one escape! Kill them all!”
Her followers heard her clearly and responded in varied tones.
The secret guards resisted desperately, inflicting considerable casualties. But when the others looked up, they saw that fierce, relentless slender figure ahead, and the anxious hearts soon steadied.
War always demands sacrifice. The enemy would die, and so would some of their own. Holding out until the end—that was true victory.
“They’re breaking in!”
A trembling, tearful voice rang out from inside the inn. It was the cook, clutching a kitchen knife, his whole body trembling: “WhatI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.