Chapter 50: Executing Aha! Zhu Ying: Those who offend the majesty of my Great Ming shall be executed

After the thunderous gallop of ten thousand horses.

Zhu Ying led three thousand Ming cavalry charging forward.

Looking at the dense shield wall ahead and hearing the surrounding shouts.

Even amidst the chaotic environment, Zhu Ying caught a crucial piece of information.

"The Tartar chieftain is right here!"

Zhu Ying's eyes lit up.

Listening to the surrounding Tartars shouting to protect their chieftain, how could Zhu Ying not understand?

The greatest military achievement of this camp raid was within reach.

With this thought, Zhu Ying's gaze swept across the field.

He immediately spotted several hundred Tartar personal guards holding torches and upright shields. In their very center stood a single man who was not wearing leather armor but furs instead; looking disheveled and shaken, one could tell at a glance that he was the Tartar chieftain.

"Brothers!"

"Slaughter every last Tartar!"

Zhu Ying let out a thunderous roar.

He spurred his horse directly forward.

The fine steel saber in his hand was already poised for action.

"Quick! Kill him, quickly!"

Seeing Zhu Ying charging toward them, Ahachuo shouted in terror.

The front line of Tartar guards immediately charged toward Zhu Ying with long spears in hand.

Several spears thrust directly at Zhu Ying.

Spears were the natural counter to cavalry.

It was evident that the Tartar tribe truly feared Zhu Ying like a ferocious tiger; they had even equipped their personal guards with long spears.

Facing these charging Tartar spearmen, Zhu Ying felt no fear. To his eyes, their charging speed appeared as if in slow motion.

"Die!"

With a casual slash, the blade flashed a cold light through the night.

As the saber swung, a streak of light cut through the darkness.

"Ah! Argh!!!"

The Tartar soldiers in front of him let out wails of agony as six or seven heads were instantly severed, their headless bodies flying backward.

"Killed a Tartar soldier, gained 10 points of Inner Breath, gained 10 days of lifespan."

"Killed a Tartar soldier, gained 10 points of Inner Breath, gained 15 days of lifespan."

"Killed a Tartar soldier..."

The panel notifications continued incessantly.

Zhu Ying's warhorse did not stop its charge.

Looking at the hundreds of Tartar soldiers before him, his eyes were filled with killing intent. He licked his lips and fixed his gaze directly on Ahachuo, who was being protected. They were all his prey.

Under the cover of night.

Ahachuo seemed to sense Zhu Ying's bloodthirsty killing intent, causing his entire body to tremble.

"Go! Kill him!"

"Kill him for this chieftain!" Ahachuo roared, pointing at Zhu Ying.

"Charge!"

"Kill!"

The several hundred guards surrounding Ahachuo all gripped their weapons and charged toward Zhu Ying and the Ming cavalry.

However, at this moment, in the heart of their own tribe and their ancestral home, the roles of attacker and defender had been reversed.

Zhu Ying was the first to break through.

His personal guards followed closely behind, and thousands of Ming soldiers also charged into the fray.

"Kill!"

Zhu Ying roared like a tiger descending from a mountain.

His long saber swung wildly.

"Mad Dance Saber Technique."

The blade's light flickered through the night.

With his incredible speed, a single movement translated into a dozen strikes.

The dozen or so Tartar soldiers charging at him were swallowed by the flashes of his blade almost instantly.

"Ah... Argh..."

Screams rang out continuously.

A dozen Tartar soldiers fell to the ground, struggling in pools of blood before dying.

"Killed a Tartar soldier, gained 10 points of Inner Breath..."

The panel prompts were non-stop.

Zhu Ying's war saber continued its relentless sweeping.

The horse charged; the saber swung.

One Tartar soldier after another was cut down.

Zhu Ying was like a God of Slaughter descended to the mortal realm—unstoppable, fierce, and invincible.

In this close-quarters combat, in this battle of cold weapons, Zhu Ying could be described as a man capable of taking on a thousand enemies.

As Zhu Ying charged, the soldiers behind him showed no hesitation. The personal guards, in particular, were in a frantic rush, forced to gallop rapidly to keep up while swinging their sabers to strike the enemy.

As Zhu Ying's guards, they deeply admired their master's peerless bravery, but they were also quite exhausted; every time Zhu Ying charged, they could barely catch up. Their master was simply too fierce—perhaps he didn't even need their protection at all.

"Follow the Commandant!"

"Kill!"

"Kill all these damned Tartars!"

"Kill..."

The three Thousand-man Commanders, Wei Quan and Luo Hua, along with the Deputy Thousand-man Commander, Zhang Wu, roared as they led their troops into the slaughter, swinging their blades wildly and killing the Tartar soldiers indiscriminously.

It was a feast of carnage.

Facing thousands of Ming cavalry, the several hundred Tartars were quickly decimated in number.

Zhu Ying was the first to tear through the Tartar lines.

He was now only a few yards away from Ahachuo.

Looking at Zhu Ying charging with his saber raised, Ahachuo gripped his own weapon tightly, terror surfacing in his eyes as he wavered between fighting and fleeing.

But seeing how fiercely Zhu Ying fought—treating his soldiers like mere vegetables to be sliced—his heart was filled with dread.

No one is unafraid of death, and as a tribal leader, he was no exception.

Almost instantly, Ahachuo pulled his reins and hurriedly turned his horse, attempting to flee.

"Thinking of escaping?"

"You are my military merit!"

"If I let you escape, how will I get promoted?"

Zhu Ying let out a cold laugh.

He gave his horse a violent kick.

The warhorse let out a neigh and surged forward with extreme speed.

Sensing the killing intent behind him, Ahachuo's expression changed drastically. He looked back to see Zhu Ying raising his saber, charging toward him at a terrifying speed.

"No!"

Ahachuo screamed in despair.

In the next moment.

The blade descended.

With a sickening *crunch*.

Ahachuo's final consciousness spun wildly as his head was severed.

Zhu Ying reached out and caught the head in his hand. To an ordinary person, the bloody head would be something to avoid at all costs, but Zhu Ying was completely accustomed to it. He simply hung the head from his waist—this was tangible military merit.

He had charged into the Tartar ancestral home and slain their chieftain.

Even if the Jianzhou Tartars were only a small tribe with a population of barely a million, they were still a distinct ethnic group. While such a feat might not compare to the legendary achievements of crushing foreign nations or reaching the heights of the Great Wall, for Zhu Ying to accomplish such a feat at his age and with such meager forces was enough to invigorate the entire Great Ming Empire.

"Killed Jianzhou Tartar Chieftain Ahachuo. Gained 200 points in all attributes. Reward: One Tier-1 Treasure Chest."

As he successfully slew Ahachuo, the panel's notification sounded, and the rewards were issued.

Zhu Ying looked around at the nearly slaughtered Tartar soldiers and the Tartar civilians fleeing in all directions.

Zhu Ying raised his saber and let out a mighty shout, channeling his inner breath through his throat so that his voice rang out like thunder through the night.

"Today!"

"I, Zhu Ying, have slain your Jianzhou Tartar chieftain to avenge the violation of our Great Ming territory!"

"Those who violate the majesty of our Great Ming shall be executed!"

Zhu Ying's roar echoed outward in all directions.

It reached the ears of countless panicked Tartars.

Hearing Zhu Ying's words, the morale of the fleeing Tartars was utterly crushed.

"The chieftain is dead!"

"Zhu Ying, the Ming general—he killed the chieftain!"

"The chieftain is dead!"

"Our tribe is finished..."