Chapter 88 - Kill All, Burn All, Plunder All?

The cold, silvery radiance scattered over the boundless sea like a light gauze. The beach by the sea was like a winding silver ribbon, every grain of sand sparkling with a faint light, as if finely crushed diamonds were spread across the earth.

The waves surged in one after another, the crests of the waves sparkling under the moonlight, like stars falling into the sea, rising and falling, flashing, and leaping.

The distant sea horizon merged with the sky, making it impossible to distinguish where the sea was and where the sky was.

The crescent moon's reflection swayed with the waves on the sea's surface, as if another moon were slowly rising from the bottom of the sea.

Quiet, peaceful, beautiful.

One by one, boats appeared abruptly, and the beauty was torn to pieces.

The boats were not large, probably able to hold about thirty to fifty people.

The boats were very dilapidated. The gunwales and decks were covered in tattered marks from sabers and axes, as well as dark brown stains, like blood that had been dry for many days, filthy and foul.

There were many boats. The coastline was densely packed with them; at a glance, there were no fewer than a hundred.

One by one, figures leaped down from the boats, treading through the seawater and gradually gathering together. A dense black mass, probably no fewer than five thousand men.

Most of the Wokou wore no armor, their bodies mostly wrapped in a grayish-black robe, dressed as ronin.

However, their weapons were quite excellent: all were long Japanese sabers. The body of the saber was relatively light, the blade had a long, narrow curve, and was extremely sharp. Under the moonlight, it glinted with a cold, sinister light. There was no doubt that ordinary leather armor could be easily cut open.

The hilt was made of wood, polished and wrapped with fish skin on the outside, which could effectively prevent it from slipping when used with great force.

All gazes were focused on the man at the very front. That man was slightly taller, with dark skin. A saber scar ran from the space between his left eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and diagonally down to his right cheek, like a centipede crawling on his face.

Hirata Saburō.

The leader of this band of Wokou.

Beside him were Hirata Rokurō and Hirata Shichirō, both his brothers.

Swish.

A bright silver Japanese saber was raised high, its blade pointing straight at the crescent moon in the firmament.

"Move out!"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The gathered Wokou were like a giant black square, moving towards the distant Ningping County. A sound like muffled thunder came from the ground.

There were actually some villages nearby, but they had long been deserted. After all, they were close to the ocean and had no county town to block the way, so they were frequently plundered by the Wokou. Even if there were still people living in these villages, there were probably very few.

In the eyes of these Wokou, these people of the Central Plains were simply foolish.

They only knew how to bury their heads and farm. What use was that?

After much difficulty, they grew grain, but a large portion had to be handed over to the government, and they were also exploited by landlords. The small portion that was left would then be plundered by them.

These could no longer be considered people; they were purely prey.

If not for having a more important target tonight, they would have at the very least gone over for a round of hunting.

A distance of a dozen or so li was not far for these Wokou. In a short time, they had already charged to Ningping County town. Looking at the tall city walls, Hirata Saburō's gaze was sinister, twisted, and excited.

To break into a county town to burn, kill, and plunder was truly a first for him…

Although Ningping was just a county, its walls were still five or six meters high. The Wokou were skilled at raids, but siege warfare was not their strong suit.

Creeaak...

Just then, the sound of heavy, hoarse friction rang out. The thick city gate in front of them opened bit by bit. Behind the gate were, strikingly, eight gate-guarding soldiers.

"Mr. Hirata, we have opened the city gate at the appointed time, according to the Lord County Magistrate's order. The rest is up to you."

The leading soldier had a face wreathed in smiles. His gaze swept over the dense black mass outside the city gate, and his heart skipped a beat.

Good heavens.

There must be several thousand of them, right?

Ningping County is probably going to have a river of blood flowing through it.

But what does that have to do with a gate-guarding soldier who earns three hundred qian a month?

The silver the Lord County Magistrate sent over is worth more than ten years of my salary.

In this world, every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost!

Hirata Saburō's mouth split into a grin, pulling at the twisted scar on his face. The centipede seemed to come alive, writhing on his face, looking even more unnerving.

The next instant, with a swish, the Japanese saber in his hand swept out horizontally.

Pfft.

The thick smell of blood spread near the city gate.

The soldier who had just spoken and was still dreaming of a beautiful future was instantly cut in half at the waist. The two halves of his corpse fell to the ground, fresh blood mixing with intestines and spilling all over the ground. The mix of blood and stench was nauseating.

Cut in half, he didn't die right away. His upper body was still convulsing, his widened eyes full of terror and disbelief, as if he couldn't believe he would meet such an end.

He was unwilling to accept it. He had just received a large sum of silver and hadn't even enjoyed it yet. He still hadn't redeemed Xiao Cui from the Red Sleeve Pavilion and brought her home...

The remaining seven men also hadn't expected such a thing to happen. Their faces all changed drastically. Before they could even react, the crowded Wokou at the city gate pounced on them like hungry wolves, their Japanese sabers plunging in and out of their flesh with pfft pfft sounds.

Fresh blood shot out, and the ground was instantly dyed scarlet.

"Gentlemen..."

Hirata Saburō's voice was exceptionally hoarse. It sounded like rusty iron blocks being pressed together and rubbed. It was from a time during a raid when he was ambushed by a hunter.

An arrow had whistled past his neck, tearing a wound in his throat. Although he had survived, his vocal cords were damaged.

His gaze swept over the county town before him. The flat road surfaces would absolutely never appear on their small island. The houses of wood, brick, and tile were also incomparable to the thatched huts on their small island.

The bright, clear moonlight enveloped the county town, as if scattering a silver-like light everywhere. His hoarse voice roared:

"Kill all these people of the Central Plains."

"Burn all their houses."

"Plunder all their grain, wealth, and women."

The Japanese saber pointed forward: "Kill!”

Amidst the roars, Hirata Saburō took the lead, charging at the very front. In Hirata Saburō's eyes, the docile people of the Central Plains were just a flock of sheep, posing not the slightest threat.

Grain, wealth, women... stimulated the nerves of every beast. They howled neurotically, their wooden clogs trampling on the road surface.

The clack-clack sounds mixed together, as dense as raindrops. With several thousand men moving at once, the entire county town seemed to tremble slightly.

The warm night wind blew in his face, lifting his robes as he ran at high speed. The thrill of the speed made his animal blood boil. Slaughtering the weak people of the Central Plains like pigs and dogs was his most satisfying enjoyment, even more exciting than conquering women.

Finally, Hirata Saburō charged up to a civilian house. He flew up and kicked the door open, originally wanting to raise the curtain on the slaughter.

But the inside of the house was a complete mess. Not a single valuable item could be seen, and even the bedroom was empty.

Not home?

Originally full of excitement, this was like having a basin of cold water poured over his head. Hirata Saburō's heart was filled with an indescribable depression.

He thought this was just an accident, and led his men to charge into another room, and then it was the same scene.

Still no one?

What on earth was going on?

Hirata Saburō's face was completely twisted together. He had wanted to vent with blood and death, but now the depression in his chest was accumulating more and more, and had gradually evolved into a mad rage.

His gaze swept around.

All he saw were his companions emerging one by one from the civilian houses, their hands empty.

Damn it, could they have been deceived?

Thump…thump…thump.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly came from all directions.

Hirata Saburō's expression changed slightly. He fired a whistling arrow. The numerous Wokou quickly gathered from all directions, forming a circular formation.

Looking around again, he saw that near the city gate, figures were walking out from every alleyway, not a single one was missed. It was as if they had formed a giant fan, completely surrounding the area by the city gate.

A trap?

The moment this thought appeared in Hirata Saburō's mind, he heard a burst of mocking laughter from beside him. Looking closely, one could see that although the people walking out of the alleyways were tall, they were all dressed as farmers.

The most important thing was what they were holding in their hands.

Things like rattan shields could still be considered defensive gear for battle, and a manure fork could barely count as a weapon. But what was that thing the men in the very front were carrying?

Was it bamboo?

Can this thing be considered a weapon? How much killing power can it have?

Throughout the history of ancient warfare, the 'langxian' was an extremely special weapon. It was not like the battle-axe, long pike, spear, or saber that endured through the ages. Instead, it was a flash in the pan. When the Wokou were eliminated, the 'langxian' also vanished into the long river of history.

This weapon was simply born specifically to counter the Wokou.

Against the arrow rain of a Central Plains army formation, the 'langxian' was useless.

Against the charge of the northern barbarian cavalry, the 'langxian' had no effect at all. Only against the Wokou was it a nemesis.

And in this era, it was the first time the 'langxian' had appeared.

Seeing these farmers actually carrying bamboo to fight, a burst of mocking laughter instantly erupted among the Wokou. It was clear they didn't take the 'wolf brush' seriously at all.

"Family Head, give me a thousand men. I will go and slaughter these people of the Central Plains," Hirata Shichirō took the initiative to request battle.

Against a few hundred farmers, a thousand men was enough.

He had finally seen living people after so long. He was already a little impatient to taste the flavor of fresh blood.

Unlike Hirata Shichirō's smugness and flamboyance, Hirata Saburō's brow was tightly furrowed.

Although he also didn't think a group of farmers carrying bamboo could have much killing power, for some reason, there was an indescribable oppression in his chest:

"Be careful. Something's not right."

"Elder Brother, no need to worry. A thousand against a few hundred, the advantage is with us."

Hirata Shichirō puffed out his chest, waved his hand, and led the thousand men under his command to charge towards the nearest farmers.

A thousand men may not sound like much, but when gathered together, they were a dense black mass.

Under the moonlight, heads bobbed.

The sharp saber edges glinted with a desolate, cold light.

A thousand Wokou launched an explosive charge, sweeping forward like dark clouds covering the land.

Accompanied by incomprehensible, wailing howls and faces that were excited and twisted, it was like the night parade of a hundred demons, carrying an unstoppable pressure.

But that group of so-called farmers stood their ground. Even in the face of an enemy several times their number, they didn't show the slightest bit of fear. Seeing the enemy had already arrived in front of them, one by one, they shouldered the wolf brushes in their arms and thrusted forward.

Crackle-slap.

One by one, the bamboo branches whipped across his face, stinging with a burning pain. Hirata Shichirō's vision was severely affected, and his forward momentum paused for a moment.

Just then, a pikeman gripped the manure fork in his hands and thrusted.

Pfft!

Hirata Shichirō only felt his body tremble, and a sharp pain came from his lower abdomen. Looking down, he saw there were strikingly three new holes in his stomach.

The next instant, the manure fork was pulled back.

Dragging out soft, tubular things.

Could those be his...

Intestines?

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