Chapter Eleven: The Locusts Take Flight

Gu Liubai glanced at Chen Tu, unable to comprehend either.

“He’s called Hu the Blacksmith, but we usually call him Old Hu Third,” Chen Tu said with a faint smile. Only now did his smile carry genuine confidence. At this moment, for the first time, he felt he had the upper hand against Gu Liubai. With the four crossbowmen down, the confidence that had vanished overnight was rapidly returning to him.

Gu Liubai smiled slightly.

He naturally understood why Chen Tu felt this way. It was like a top scholar from the Tang Dynasty arriving in a remote village only to find his poetry and prose inferior to that of a young boy he met by chance in the fields.

These people from Yinshan, a hive of activity, were undoubtedly the top experts in their field.

Their methods did not disappoint him.

After the four crossbowmen fell, silence enveloped the scene; blood continuously seeped from their backs, radiating heat.

The old man Chen Tu called Old Hu Third slowly lowered his hands and straightened his body, remaining still for a moment.

He wore a wide-sleeved cotton robe, shivering slightly as though sensitive to the cold, with flakes of snow falling off him constantly.

The Grim Cypress Slope returned to quietude, and even the mules and horses seemed to sense the strange atmosphere, falling silent in unison.

A middle-aged man in a cyan robe emerged from a nearby tent, a long sword in a matching turquoise scabbard hanging at his waist. His face was carved with resolute lines, as if etched by a blade.

Among the strong, there was a natural intuition. With just a glance, Shuerhan felt a deep unease.

The middle-aged man in the cyan robe did not look up at Gu Liubai or Shuerhan stationed above. Instead, he coldly fixed his gaze on the old man called Old Hu Third by Chen Tu and asked harshly, “Who exactly are you people?”

“We...” Old Hu Third seemed somewhat slow-witted. After uttering two words, he paused before continuing, “You don’t know who we are?”

Chen Tu appeared excited, raising his voice condescendingly toward the man in cyan, “Hey, brother, is your surname He?”

The middle-aged man suddenly lifted his head. “I am He Fenglin. You know my reputation. You are Tang people; it seems you have deliberately made enemies of us?”

Chen Tu bowed respectfully, replying earnestly, “We are compelled by circumstances, each fighting for our lives. When the flood comes, even the Dragon King’s temple cannot stand.”

He Fenglin sneered coldly, but the murderous gleam in his eyes diminished considerably.

However, when he looked at the two men clad in black armor nearby, his heart grew troubled.

He had initially planned to eliminate Huo Feilong first, cutting off these two’s retreat completely. But now, the ambush outside Grim Cypress Slope had been dealt with; the enemy no longer needed to break out or flee. The archers above had been shot down, and the terrain of the Spring Breeze Tower was elevated, placing them at a severe disadvantage.

His hesitation was clear to Shuerhan, who sneered and said, “Strategist, these people came specifically for the two of us.”

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