Chapter 39 All's Fair in War and Deceit

"Could that person be playing tricks on us?"

A trace of biting chill surged from the depths of Mangbuzhi's heart.

In the fixed mindset of the Tibetans, the Tang people were all deceitful and untrustworthy.

Although this surprise attack had now reached the harvest stage, and from the initial layout to the present, the other party had shown sufficient sincerity, at this very moment, he still began to doubt their true intentions.

"And..." Muzan hesitated, leaving his words unfinished.

"And what?" Mangbuzhi drew in a sharp breath, only to be violently choked by the smoke and break into a fit of coughing.

Muzan said with a troubled expression, "And quite a few people are saying there is a youth in the city whose eyes glow with a green light, and whoever he stares at dies."

"What utter nonsense!"

Mangbuzhi roared between coughs. Tibetans did not believe in ghosts or sorcerers, but he now knew that a truly grave problem had definitely emerged in the city.

"Did Qiubu go to the west?"

"He went."

Hearing that Qiubu had already gone to the west, Mangbuzhi felt somewhat reassured. He figured that the frantic fatty who kept spewing foul language was about to die.

"Then follow me to the granary!" He made up his mind instantly.

No fewer than a hundred corpses already lay scattered around Xu Tuibei, and even Feng Shuqing, who had been guarding his flanks, felt a hint of exhaustion.

A Tibetan, taller and more robust than him, appeared before his eyes.

Qiubu, the foremost warrior under Mangbuzhi's command.

He was even taller than Xu Tuibei, his body carrying just as much bulk, but appearing far stolid. Amidst the swirling smoke, wielding a giant wolf-tooth club as he approached, he looked like a fierce beast from primordial antiquity.

Revealing only a grim smile without even a loud shout, Qiubu rushed out from the mist, hoisting the wolf-tooth club with both hands and smashing it down toward Xu Tuibei with straightforward, unadorned brute force.

The wolf-tooth club did not even bear runes to channel vital Qi, but the formidable vital Qi erupting from Qiubu's hands still allowed it to surpass the speed of the long sabers wielded by the previous Tibetan cultivators.

"Clang!"

Without any fancy techniques, the Mo Dao and the wolf-tooth club collided violently.

The flesh on Xu Tuibei's body rippled like waves, and pain appeared in his eyes for the very first time.

The immense force directly tore open the webs of his hands, and the Mo Dao almost flew out of his grasp.

This man's vital Qi cultivation was slightly inferior to his own, but he possessed innate divine strength, and his physical power far surpassed Xu Tuibei's.

Qiubu looked down upon Xu Tuibei entirely.

Outside the city, he had already felt that although Xu Tuibei was crazy enough, he was no match for him.

For matters that could be settled with a wolf-tooth club, he couldn't even be bothered to waste words.

Yet at that exact moment, he felt a sharp pain at the center of his brow.

An arrow, no larger than a fly, landed right between his eyebrows.

"Deceitful Tang people!"

This thought flashed through his mind instantly.

"Who could possibly shoot with such pinpoint precision right between my eyebrows under these circumstances?"

This was the second thought that surged in his heart.

The thick smoke in the west was somewhat less dense, though some still drifted over. Moreover, it was the dead of night; down below the gate tower where the melee raged, torches could still provide illumination, but high above the gate tower, these Tang people had deliberately extinguished the wind-proof lamps used for lighting from the very beginning, using stacks of straw to draw their arrows.

Besides, he had just charged out to strike Xu Tuibei with his club.

To suddenly halt amidst such momentum and still take an arrow right in the head—how was that possible?

Among two tens of thousands of cavalry, no such divine archer should have existed!

Just as Xu Tuibei thought he was doomed for sure, he saw Qiubu suddenly lean backward.

Looking closely, he saw that Qiubu had taken an arrow right between the eyebrows, blood streaming all over his face so that his eyes couldn't even open.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!"

The very first thought that popped into his mind was that heaven was helping him and his time had not yet come. Without the slightest hesitation, even the piercing pain in the webs of his hands seemed to vanish as his Mo Dao swept forth like a tempest, directly severing Qiubu's head.

"Splat!"

As blood spewed like a fountain from Qiubu's neck, the exact same thought finally arose in his own mind: "Whose timing was calculated so impeccably, and who could shoot with such precision?"

"Ah!"

Countless Tibetans beneath the gate tower cried out in terror.

They had all been engulfed in the melee and had barely witnessed the process of the battle. Hearing Xu Tuibei's wild laughter continue, and then realizing the very next instant that Qiubu's head had been lopped off, they even felt the urge to turn tail and run.

Mangbuzhi was marching toward the granary.

The smoke was so dense that tears streamed continuously from his eyes.

Along the way, Tibetans were shouting out to avoid friendly fire in the zero-visibility conditions.

Clearly, such situations occurred frequently.

At that moment, he heard the earth-shaking shouts echoing from the west.

"That fatty is dead."

A relieved smile finally appeared at the corners of his mouth.

He had never imagined for a second that the one who died would be Qiubu.

Nor did he know that west of Peshawar, the morale of his subordinates had plummeted to rock bottom.

...

As the vanguard general, Mangbuzhi still possessed considerable adaptability.

Upon entering the city, he had established a tactic of assembly and clearance.

Teams of a hundred men each advanced by sector.

This enabled the Tibetans to quickly sweep the streets and alleys near the East Gate Avenue clean.

Though the smoke was hard to dispel, warhorses could still be driven away.

After dispatching specific personnel to drive off the horses, the number of headless-fly-like warhorses in the area from the East Gate Avenue to the granary decreased noticeably, posing no obstacle to their march.

Yet Mangbuzhi felt no joy of victory.

The further he marched along this avenue toward the granary, the more corpses of Tibetan warriors he saw.

Corpses of the Tang army were scarce.

Almost nonexistent, in fact.

Some Tang corpses found in the streets clearly did not belong to border garrison troops.

This was utterly illogical.

He grew all the more convinced that the intelligence was flawless.

The combat prowess of those two empty-handed Chang'an officials must be terrifying.

As for the sorcerer youth whose eyes flashed with green light and who allegedly killed anyone he stared at for a few moments, he naturally did not believe a word of it.

Conquering this city and making the proud Great Tang bow its head before the Tibetans once more was inevitable.

Although these casualties were unprecedented even for a battle-hardened commander like him, it was clearly due to the enemy's smoke-defense ambush. Once the granary issue was resolved, those two cultivators and the remaining Tang forces would not be worth mentioning.

When they were still a few miles away from the granary, a strange commotion suddenly arose ahead, seemingly mixed with shouts of joyful surprise.

"Could it be that before I even arrived, the granary has already been taken?"

Mangbuzhi felt a surge of joy—his men, after all, were not to be trifled with!

"Report! Pei Xinglie's daughter, Pei Yunqu, has been captured."

Yet the voice that immediately rang out stunned him.

It wasn't that the granary had been taken; they had captured someone alive. Pei Xinglie's daughter—who was that?

For a moment, the name sounded vaguely familiar, but the next instant, it fully registered in his mind: the Duke of Pei's daughter? That Duke of Pei who had his second daughter in his fifties? Pei Yunqu—wasn't that his most beloved second daughter?

Mangbuzhi was ecstatic!

How much leverage could they trade for from the Pei family with this?

"Could there be a mistake? Why would Pei Yunqu be here?" Yet he managed to retain a sliver of rationality.

"There is absolutely no mistake!" Muzan ran over, his face beaming with joy, and patted his own head in guarantee, "They said it's confirmed beyond doubt. Her treasured sword is the renowned Shadow-Celadon from the Luoyang Sword Workshop—one of a kind, personally commissioned by Pei Xinglie himself!"

"...!" Mangbuzhi was left speechless.

He never expected such a monumental achievement to be waiting for him.

Before he could even issue the order to keep her alive at all costs, people ahead kept shouting, "They're coming! They're coming!"

Two officers clad in chainmail were seen escorting a young maiden as they strode over quickly.

The maiden appeared utterly exhausted, yet she stubbornly tilted her head back and continued to hurl curses.

One of the officers carried a short sword in his hand, clearly the legendary renowned sword Shadow-Celadon painstakingly crafted by the Luoyang Sword Workshop.

From the hilt to the blade, it flowed with a luster like porcelain and jade; under the flickering firelight, the blade reflected intricate patterns.

The entire sword seemed impervious to even a speck of dust, yet rather than looking like a lethal weapon, it resembled an exquisite piece of jade or porcelain.

His gaze was firmly captivated by this sword, but suddenly, he felt something was amiss.

Both officers appeared somewhat lean, and among his vanguard troops, there seemed to be no such two men.

He must not let someone else's subordinates snatch this merit.

"Who are you?"

He furrowed his brows and asked.

At that very moment, the person holding the Shadow-Celadon raised his head.

The chainmail worn by Tibetan officers also covered the face, leaving only two eye sockets exposed. The moment this person looked up, Mangbuzhi caught sight of two faint, eerie green glows.

The Shadow-Celadon moved.

Like a cresting wave surging forth, it stabbed toward his lower abdomen!

Mangbuzhi was no weakling; he slammed both hands onto the saddle, vital Qi surging through his entire body. The vital Qi expanded outward, instantly forming two massive cyan wings around him.

His entire body flew backward like a snowflake caught in a gale.

Yet at that exact moment, the other chainmail-clad Tibetan officer drifted in with the wind, and a faint, ethereal sword light pierced straight into his throat before he even had time to lower his head.

Thud!

Mangbuzhi's robust body crashed to the ground. Landing squarely on his backside, his hands still maintained the posture of striking the saddle, but he could never stand up again.

Muzan watched in horror as those two figures rapidly retreated to one side, the chainmail peeling off their bodies in a flash.

The maiden, who had appeared completely exhausted, sprinted into the nearby alleyway at the very first possible second.

The dozen Tibetan warriors closest to the two figures had barely taken two steps when they heard a cry of absolute terror. Mangbuzhi's eyes had dimmed, and his breath had ceased forever.

On the western gate tower, Qiubu, the premier warrior of the Tibetan vanguard army who had gone to kill Xu Tuibei, was dead.

And now, the supreme commander of the eight-thousand-strong vanguard army, the renowned Tibetan general Mangbuzhi, had breathed his last on the way to conquer that granary.