Chapter 95 - Exterminate the Wokou

"Kill them."

Song Yan's voice had almost no fluctuation.

These seven probably hadn't done anything evil. Not because they didn't want to, but because they were too young and hadn't had time to do evil yet.

Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but Song Yan knew very well what 'if you don't remove the roots, the weeds will grow again in the spring' meant. He didn't want someone to suddenly show up at his door seeking revenge eighteen years later.

Since he had already started, he had to be thorough.

Not pouring boiling water on the ant's nest was already a mercy.

What's more, according to the laws of the Ning Kingdom, as local 'father and mother officials' to collude with the Wokou and slaughter the people of Great Ning was a crime worthy of exterminating the nine relations. They just died a few days early, so there was nothing to be concerned about.

Yang Chang's body trembled. That's over a hundred people, not over a hundred pigs. He just says to kill them and they're killed?

His mother, his father, his younger sister...

A series of faces appeared before his eyes. A hoarse, mournful cry came from Yang Chang's throat. Snot and tears streamed down his face.

His bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at Song Yan, as if he wished he could pounce on him and viciously bite off a piece of his flesh.

"The Yang family will not let you go."

"You will understand what a terrifying existence the Yang family is in the Ning Kingdom."

"Just wait for the coming revenge."

Perhaps because he knew that Song Yan would not spare his life, Yang Chang did not beg for mercy, but instead roared and cursed like a madman.

"I'll be waiting for you down below..."

"Then you'll have a long wait."

His toes flicked up, and with a thwack, kicked Yang Chang on the chin.

The chin instantly shattered.

His head was thrown back forcefully, and his cervical spine also snapped directly. His head, as if it had lost its support, lolled to the side, and there was no more sound.

Stepping over Yang Chang's corpse, Song Yan walked towards the inner hall.

Upon reaching the inner courtyard, he smelled a thick stench of blood. As far as the eye could see, the ground was covered with mutilated corpses, motionless, the expressions on their faces were of shock, fear, despair, and pain... Fresh blood gushed from their wounds, gathering together.

Zhang Long and Zhao Hu had also already dealt with the last seven targets. Besides the breathing of a few people, the vast inner courtyard was completely silent.

"Check again. Give every one of them another cut on the neck." Song Yan's voice was cold to the extreme, without a trace of emotion.

Zhang Long and Zhao Hu were stunned. They glanced at the corpses scattered everywhere:

"Young Master-in-law, is that necessary?"

They were professionals. If they said they wouldn't leave anyone alive, then there wouldn't be anyone still breathing. They were still confident in this regard.

Song Yan didn't speak, just nodded to signal Zhang Long and Zhao Hu to do as he said. Some things, once you start them, you must be thorough. There is no room for any slip-ups. He knew very well that when he was drawn into this vortex, his heart had to become hard. Misplaced mercy could cost him his own life.

Puchi.

Puchi.

Puchi.

The sound of blades entering flesh echoed in the night, making one's scalp tingle.

About half a quarter-hour passed again. Only then did Zhang Long and Zhao Hu return. All the corpses had been dealt a finishing blow, and all on the neck. Song Yan also let out a small breath and gazed in the direction of the city gate.

“Let's go. It's time to meet those Wokou!”

Five hundred veteran soldiers, relying on the wolf brush and the mandarin duck formation. Can they really hold off several thousand Wokou? Song Yan had no confidence in his heart.

But up until now, the screams were still concentrated at the city gate. It seemed that at least those Wokou had not yet broken through the mandarin duck formation's blockade. This was good news.

Ahhhh!

The shrill screams were still echoing in his ears. Hirata Saburō's heart was completely twisted into a knot, his face ferocious.

The ground in front of him was already covered with corpses. In a short time, at least several hundred of his subordinates had died under those strange bamboo poles and manure forks.

There were clearly only a few hundred people, yet they were stubbornly blocking five thousand men.

How is this possible?

Weren't these people of the Central Plains all weak sheep? When did they turn into fierce tigers?

Those strange bamboo poles had practically turned into a meat grinder. However many charged over, that's how many died.

These cunning people of the Central Plains were using the narrowness of the alleyways, making it impossible to even flank them from the side. If this continued, he was afraid all several thousand of his brothers would be ground to death here.

To bring five thousand brothers to plunder a county town, and if they didn't manage to rob anything, but instead left behind several hundred or nearly a thousand corpses, then he, Hirata Saburō, would become the laughingstock of all the Wokou.

The glory of the Hirata family absolutely could not be tarnished like this.

"Rokurō, you take some men, climb onto the rooftops, and circle around to the rear." Hirata Saburō gave the command in a deep, hoarse voice.

"Hai."

Hirata Rokurō nodded forcefully and selected a group of his subordinates to rush forward from the left and right. These subordinates were among the most agile. Ropes were wrapped around their arms, with grappling hooks at the end. With a forceful swing, the grappling hooks were thrown onto the rooftops, catching on the hard roof ridges. Using the ropes, one figure after another began to climb upwards.

Although a portion of them fell from mid-air due to the grappling hooks' positions being off, in the end, several dozen men managed to climb onto the rooftops.

Accompanied by kachakacha sounds, they quickly rushed towards the rear, and then with a leap, they had already fallen from mid-air.

Looking at the several dozen backs in front of him, a ferocious smile appeared on Hirata Rokurō's face.

As long as he killed these people, this blockade would be broken. The obstructions in the other alleyways would also crumble in an instant. At that time, the entire Ningping County would become his slaughterhouse.

The tyranny that had been suppressed for so long was almost about to burst from Hirata Rokurō's chest.

The Japanese saber in his hand was already raised high. His mouth opened, but before the word 'Kill' could be spoken, he suddenly heard a sound from behind. Hirata Rokurō abruptly spun around, his Japanese saber chopping down with the momentum.

Rip!

In a split second, something came into Hirata Rokurō's eyes. It was an arm-thick, one-chi-long black tube.

The top of it was sputtering sparks. What is this? A firework?

Hirata Rokurō thought this, and then... BOOM!

Following a deafening loud bang, the bomb exploded.

In that instant, a fiery light shot up into the sky, like a giant, blooming devil's flower suddenly blossoming on the earth.

The intense red light, accompanied by thick black smoke, stung one's eyes. The fiery light was mixed with scorching high temperatures. The air seemed to be instantly ignited. The heatwave, with the bomb at its center, rolled outwards in all directions like a surging tide.

Hirata Rokurō's body was almost instantly blown to pieces.

Immediately after, an incomparably powerful shockwave swept out with the force of toppling mountains and overturning seas.

The ground, as if struck fiercely by an invisible giant hand, trembled violently, and dust and gravel were thrown high into the air.

The shockwave spread along the road surface to the buildings on both sides, and the walls built of adobe bricks collapsed with a boom. Even the buildings further away were teetering on the verge of collapse under this impact.

In the cloud of dust, miscellaneous objects such as broken bricks, wooden blocks, and metal fragments shot out at high speed in all directions like a frenzy of hidden weapons.

One figure after another was also thrown into the air. Before they could even land, mouthfuls of fresh blood sprayed out, tracing scarlet arcs in the mid-air.

Even the farmers who were fighting at the front were staggered by the shock. The originally bloody battlefield came to a brief halt. One by one, the Wokou stared with wide eyes, looking at the sky, at the front, with faces full of shock. Even Hirata Saburō was no exception, the centipede on his face was squeezed together.

What was that noise?

Why was there such a loud roar?

Song Yan also let out a small breath. This hand grenade was specially made later. In fact, the changes weren't too great; it was just that the original ceramic casing was replaced with a thin cast-iron casing, and then it was made larger, thicker, and the explosive charge was increased.

Looking at the collapsed walls on both sides, the power had indeed increased quite a bit. It proves that yield is truth.

Originally, he was not prepared to use the hand grenades. This thing was a secret weapon. But Song Yan could not just sit by and watch this small group of Wokou attack the wolf brush soldiers from behind.

This was, after all, not a complete mandarin duck formation, and the disparity in numbers was too great. If they were ambushed from behind by the Wokou, the entire battle formation would instantly collapse, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

Of course, using these things on the Japs wasn't a waste either.

It's a pity that even though his mind contained all the classic knowledge from ancient to modern times, and even had the manufacturing blueprints for a nuclear bomb, theory is theory, and knowledge is knowledge. Whether this knowledge can be applied in practice is another concept.

What's more, the industrial level of the Ning Kingdom couldn't reach that level at all. Otherwise, he would have at the very least cobbled together a 'Little Boy' to send some warmth to the Japs.

Thinking this, Song Yan quickly stepped forward.

Although the dozens of Wokou had all been blown away, there were still some who hadn't died. He casually grabbed a Japanese saber, and with a puchi, stabbed it into the skull of a still-groaning Wokou.

A strange, viscous fluid then gradually seeped out from the crack.

Boom... boom... boom...

Just then, another burst of dull sounds came from behind.

Song Yan frowned, turned, and looked behind him. It was a dense mass of figures. Although their steps were disorderly, when mixed together, they were still shocking.

Were these the commoners who had been transferred earlier?

Under the moonlight, one could clearly see that their faces were still full of fear, yet there was not the slightest hesitation in their advancing steps.

In their hands were hoes, axes, kitchen knives...

They were originally docile commoners.

But at this moment, the savagery from their bones, and the hatred accumulated over many years, had also been ignited.

Without proper weapons, without any armor, having never received any training, under the moonlight, those figures seemed to exude an indescribable tragic heroism.

"Kill the Wokou!"

"Kill the Wokou!"

"Kill the Wokou!”

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