Three Kingdoms: Conquer Wu from Maicheng with Cavalry and Swords, Don't Fall Behind

There were at least three hundred soldiers, some indistinct, firing slowly through the gaps in the palisade.

Wu Jun's captain, Cui Yu, looked into the distance and shouted, "Release the rolling logs!"

The logs tied to the pillars were all untied and pushed down, rolling all over the slope.

The Han soldiers attacking the camp looked up, terrified. They screamed "Run!" "Run!" at the top of their lungs, their clamor echoing across the vast plains.

The ground trembled, but the Martial Saint spurred his horse forward to meet the challenge, wielding his sword to cleave through the wood with terrifying divine power.

"So strong, is this what it means to be unparalleled in the world?" The Han soldiers felt a strong sense of security.

Some people had just surrendered and hadn't even had a good night's sleep when they were forced to attack the camp again. It was inevitable that they would feel dissatisfied and think that they had entrusted the wrong people to the wrong people.

The Martial Saint resolutely stepped forward, his divine and imposing presence instilling confidence in everyone. Most importantly, he led by example, letting his actions speak for themselves.

The ambition to restore the Han dynasty does not depend on enemies or allies, but on the unyielding self-improvement of those who yearn for the Han. Throughout history, there have always been heroes whose pure love and fearless courage are solely for the sake of the Han dynasty.

Cui Yu raised his hand and grinned maliciously, "Push the boulder down!"

Dozens of people shouted in unison, prying at the giant rock, which gradually moved.

The Han army was filled with trepidation and unease. Such a large rock falling on them would surely leave them covered in bruises.

Guan Ping spurred his horse, brandishing his sword, and shouted, "The vanguard, retreat—"

On the gentle slope, branches snapped off one after another with a "crack," and several huge shadows crushed tree trunks and tumbled down.

The Han soldiers looked up, their scalps tingling with horror. Someone screamed in terror, the ranks split apart, and they scattered and fled in all directions, a chaotic mess.

The sound of galloping hooves abruptly shattered the silence. The Martial Saint, seemingly oblivious to the danger, rode alone straight up the path, displaying truly extraordinary courage. It had been a long time since he had slain a general; these Jiangdong cowards were jumping up again.

Suddenly, the Han army stared in astonishment.

"Guan Yu, what are you doing?"

"With abundant martial virtue and magnificent martial spirit, how could the people of the Han Dynasty ever lose in the slightest? How beautiful is my vast land, how magnificent are my heroic martyrs!"

At the edge of the field of vision, a man in a green robe and brocade, with a beautiful beard, held a long sword. His body moved like a dragon, gracefully leaping over a massive boulder, his momentum like thunder.

"Selling the first item at a price!"

The Martial Saint's hand flashed with a cold light, his eyes gleamed like lightning, and his aura was overwhelming.

The cowardly Jiangdong rats were terrified and, without thinking twice, nocked an arrow and released the string.

No sooner said than done, a sudden gust of wind and thunder arose in the sky above him. The Martial Saint moved with the grace of a startled swan, leaping through the air like an arrow. Several arrows were planted obliquely in the ground, humming and vibrating.

Red Hare leaped and bounded over the barricades, heading straight for the camp gate.

The Martial Saint wielded his longsword with overwhelming power, as if divine light were bursting forth, sweeping towards the heavy wooden planks. It was like a mountain collapsing, the heavens and earth trembling, and the camp gate shattered into pieces.

The Jiangdong youths were terrified, unsure whether to advance or retreat. Rolling logs couldn't stop the Martial Saint, boulders couldn't stop the Martial Saint, and arrows couldn't stop the Martial Saint.

Even the camp gate couldn't stop them?!

The Martial Saint's longsword slashed down suddenly, roaring through the air. With a muffled "thud," blood splattered, and the cries of men and neighs of horses shattered the entire camp.

The archers guarding the camp looked up, and in an instant their pupils contracted as endless flashes of light rapidly magnified in their field of vision, piercing straight into their chests.

Thunder roared, bones shattered, tendons broke, and blood splattered. The Martial Saint remained unmoved, sweeping his blade across the scene as if it were nothing. In an instant, limbs flew everywhere, and blood rained down.

Several earth-shattering booms resounded as the Martial Saint charged forward and backward, his aura terrifying. His arrogant figure swept across the enemy ranks, causing havoc and destruction.

The soldiers guarding the camp were so shocked that they involuntarily took several steps back.

"If we all attack together, can we stop them?"

The camp's fortified defenses crumbled in an instant. They had never seen anything so outrageous; they gasped in shock, as if the air itself had been dried up.

The Han army witnessed this firsthand, and their low morale immediately soared. A fierce flame burned within them. To restore the Han Dynasty, to restore the Han Dynasty—for the first time, their desire was so strong.

For the first time, they discovered that the treasure trove of "restoring the Han Dynasty" was so easy to say and so direct in expressing their feelings.

Guan Ping's eyes were resolute as he shouted, "All troops, charge! Advance to the camp!"

"Kill!" The footsteps surged forward like a mountain rushing into the sea. In an instant, the clang of weapons rang out, and a chaotic battle ensued.

"I, Guan, am here. Who will fight me to the death?!"

Those present were all awestruck and moved by what they heard. The Martial Saint, a peerless genius, moved like the sun and moon traversing the sky, carving a bloody path through the chaos.

His towering figure stood like a mountain, so imposing it was suffocating. His roar was as deep and powerful as a lion's or tiger's cry echoing through the valley.

With a sway of his bulging iron arms, the Martial Saint swept his sword across the ground, causing blood to gush from his shoulders. His head then rolled to the ground with a thud.

The body lay sprawled on the ground, still convulsing.

"Ever since his defeat at Maicheng, the Martial Saint has become even more ferocious, roaming freely both inside and outside the city, never suffering a single defeat. His illustrious military achievements and numerous victories truly make him a god descended to earth!"

"There used to be people who considered Lu Bu as an equal, comparable to the God of War. But ever since Lu Bu died at the White Gate Tower, the God of War sees everyone else as nothing, his strength knows no bounds."

Wherever the Martial Saint stood, wherever he fought, it was like the sun hanging in the sky, shining brightly and blinding people.

When those lowly scoundrels of Jiangdong mention the Martial Saint, which one doesn't tremble in fear? Which one doesn't feel their soul shake?

Guan Ping swung his blade, sending streaks of light flying, striking the back of a man's armor. He changed his attack to a thrust, precisely piercing through the gap in the armor, creating a hole from which blood gushed forth, and the corpse immediately collapsed.

"kill!"

He then charged forward suddenly, sweeping his blade horizontally. Several crisp "crack" sounds rang out as the halberd shaft snapped in two. The bandit's hand trembled, he groaned, and stumbled backward into the crowd.

The father and son fought side by side, terrifying the rats of Jiangdong.

"Clang clang clang!" The Jiangdong camp sounded the retreat and withdrew eastward. Without the defense of their camp, they had no idea how to stop the Martial Saint's invincible momentum.

The Jiangdong youths, unable to escape, bit their lips in anguish, trying to hold back their tears: "We surrender! We surrender! Please give us a way out!"

The Martial Saint waved his hand and said, "Arrest them all, tie them up, and do not kill the prisoners without permission."

More and more people surrendered, their voices growing louder and louder. In their eyes, pride was less important than life.

The Han army chuckled, their faces beaming with excitement as they seized the prisoners. Some touched their chests, wondering if they were dreaming. An impregnable fortress had fallen just like that—it was unbelievable.

Their hearts were surging; something called "glory" was taking root and sprouting.

Suddenly, wisps of smoke rose from the camp. A fire had broken out and was spreading to the surrounding area.

Guan Ping paled: "This is bad! The enemy is creating chaos!"

The Martial Saint had originally intended to pursue, but now he simply abandoned the idea. Chasing after the fleeing soldiers was far less important than rescuing supplies.

"Fight the fire quickly before it spreads. The brothers need this batch of supplies to get through the winter."

……

The horses' hooves thundered, as if treading on lightning. Zhu Ran's heart stopped, and when he opened his eyes again, he found that he was not dead; air rushed into his lungs with overwhelming force.

A person was pointing ahead, but he couldn't see who it was or what was happening at the camp. Suddenly, he realized that his memories were fading, and he wanted to stop it but was powerless to do so.

Cui Yu shouted, "General, they haven't chased after us!"

All the vivid memories suddenly flooded into Zhu Ran's mind, and he replied faintly, "Hmm."

It was as if the nightmare hadn't happened. He was still the same as before, good at pretending.