Zu Dashou's expression darkened slowly, the kind of expression a seasoned general wore when something felt fundamentally wrong, not because of danger, but because the situation itself made no sense.
He had been surrounded.
That much was clear.
Yet instead of pressing the advantage, the enemy had started chatting like they were attending some casual gathering, and to make matters worse, there was even a soft looking young woman standing off to the side, speaking in a gentle, almost syrupy tone as if she had wandered into the wrong scene entirely.
What kind of battlefield was this supposed to be?
Did they think he was a joke?
A surge of anger rose in his chest as his thoughts spiraled, his pride as one of Liaodong's famed commanders flaring up like dry grass catching fire.
He was one of the so called three great generals of Liaodong, standing alongside He Kegang and Zhao Shuaijiao, and if not for the bizarre and unreasonable firearms these people had pulled out of nowhere, Jinzhou City would not have fallen even if Hong Taiji himself had come knocking.
And now these people dared to treat him like this.
The insult cut deeper than any blade.
"Kill them!" he roared, his voice exploding across the battlefield as his patience finally snapped.
The personal guards around him surged forward at once, their movements sharp and decisive, the kind of discipline forged through countless real battles.
The moment they moved, the Guyuan Frontier Army on the opposite side reacted instantly, rushing forward in a wave that felt less like soldiers and more like a sudden landslide.
Steel clashed against steel, blades ringing out in rapid succession as the fight erupted without hesitation.
Not a single shot was fired.
Blades met blades, sparks jumping in the air as men collided head on.
Zhou Daya tilted her head slightly, her soft voice carrying a trace of genuine confusion that somehow remained completely sincere even in the middle of chaos.
"Eh, we clearly have matchlock guns, so why are the brothers all using swords?"
Li DaoXuan appeared beside her as if he had always been there, his presence as casual as someone strolling through a marketplace instead of standing in the middle of a battlefield.
"At a moment like this, using blades feels more romantic," he said, spreading his hands with an expression that suggested he had just delivered a profound truth.
Zhou Daya blinked, her concern immediately overriding any attempt to understand his logic.
"But that's dangerous," she said softly. "Master, shouldn't you stop them?"
Li DaoXuan shrugged, looking entirely unconcerned.
"If I step in now and tell them to switch to guns, it might hurt their feelings," he replied. "Wounds are a badge of honor for men, so what if they get cut a couple of times…"
He was still speaking in that carefree tone when his eyes suddenly shifted, catching a glimpse of something that made his expression stiffen for just a fraction of a second.
A Guyuan soldier had just taken a hit.
The blade came dangerously close to his neck, missing by mere inches as the soldier twisted his body at the last moment, the strike slamming into his shoulder armor instead.
The aluminum alloy plate held, deflecting the attack with a dull clang that sent the enemy blade bouncing away.
The soldier himself did not seem particularly shaken, his body already moving again as if near death moments were just part of his daily routine.
For him, death was just another possibility in war.
For Li DaoXuan, however, it was something else entirely.
Those were his people.
His tiny people.
A flicker of anger flashed across his face as he stepped forward without hesitation, his body slipping straight into the chaos of clashing blades.
A Jinzhou soldier thrust his weapon toward the back of a Guyuan soldier, aiming for the kidney with lethal precision.
Li DaoXuan stepped in between them as naturally as someone stepping into shade on a hot day, placing himself directly in the path of the attack.
The blade sank into his abdomen with a wet sound.
He looked down at it for a moment, then lifted his head and grinned.
A slow, unsettling grin.
The Jinzhou soldier froze.
Anyone would freeze.
The man he had just stabbed was smiling.
Behind Li DaoXuan, the Guyuan soldier had already turned around, his eyes widening as he realized what had just happened, a surge of emotion rushing through him so fast it almost broke his composure.
He swung his blade in a clean arc, striking down the stunned attacker in one motion.
Li DaoXuan moved again, stepping left to block another strike, then right to intercept a different blade, at one point even grabbing a weapon with his bare hand, his actions less like fighting and more like deliberately tilting the balance.
It was not a fair fight anymore.
The Guyuan Frontier Army already had better food, better rest, and better training, their physical condition giving them a natural advantage.
Now they also had someone interfering directly, skewing every exchange just enough to tip the outcome.
The result was inevitable.
Within moments, Jinzhou soldiers were falling one after another, their formation collapsing under pressure that kept increasing without pause.
Soon, only two figures remained standing in active combat.
Chen Qianhu.
And Zu Dashou.
As a commanding general, Zu Dashou rarely fought on the front lines, his reputation built more on strategy than personal combat, and while he was far from weak, he was not exceptional compared to hardened frontline fighters.
Chen Qianhu, on the other hand, had spent recent years immersed in the colorful distractions of life, filming, signing autographs, and drifting toward a more command oriented role, his martial skills no longer as sharp as they once were.
When the two clashed, the result was unexpectedly… underwhelming.
To the surrounding soldiers, it looked less like a duel between generals and more like two amateurs stubbornly refusing to admit they were outmatched.
The Guyuan soldiers, now relaxed with victory already in hand, began to cheer from the sidelines.
"Zu Dashou, come on, put some strength into it!"
"Don't lose this one, or we're going to look down on you!"
"Zu Dashou, cut him!"
Zu Dashou's mind stalled.
Why were the enemy soldiers cheering for him?
He was fighting their commander.
Shouldn't they be cheering for their own side?
Was this some kind of psychological tactic?
Chen Qianhu's face darkened with rage.
"Damn it, all of you shut up!" he roared.
Zu Dashou thought grimly that this made perfect sense, because any commander would be furious if his own troops were cheering for the enemy.
Chen Qianhu lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air.
Zu Dashou dodged narrowly.
The crowd erupted.
"Ah, what a pity, Zu Dashou!"
He swung back instinctively, forcing Chen Qianhu to dodge in return.
"Beautiful move, Zu Dashou!"
Confusion piled on top of confusion, pressing down on his mind like a weight he could not shake off.
In the middle of combat, his thoughts began to drift, trying to make sense of something that refused to be understood.
That single moment of distraction was enough.
A fist suddenly filled his vision.
"Bang!"
The impact landed squarely on his face, sending him stumbling backward as pain exploded across his senses.
"Nice punch, Zu Dashou!" the crowd shouted.
"I'll kill you all!" he roared in fury.
Another punch slammed into his face before he could finish the sentence, cutting him off mid curse.
His body tilted backward, balance breaking as he began to fall.
Chen Qianhu stepped forward, his blade swinging down, only to be stopped by the protective mirror plate on Zu Dashou's chest.
"Catch this, Zu Dashou, here's a hammer!" someone shouted from the side.
Zu Dashou instinctively reached out.
Another voice immediately snapped back.
"Why are you reaching for it, you idiot, that's for Zu Dashou!"
His hand closed on empty air.
Chen Qianhu grabbed the hammer.
Then he brought it down.
Hard.
The blow struck Zu Dashou's chest with a heavy thud, the kind of impact that made even bystanders wince.
Zu Dashou let out a hoarse cry, rolling across the ground in a desperate attempt to escape.
Chen Qianhu raised the hammer again, then again, his movements turning into a relentless barrage as he smashed downward like someone playing a violent game of whack a mole.
Each strike sent dirt and stone flying, some blows hitting the ground, others landing directly on Zu Dashou's body.
At first, Zu Dashou could still roll, still dodge.
After a few hits, his movements slowed.
Then stopped.
The hammer continued to fall.
Again.
And again.
Until there was nothing left to resist.
Silence settled over the battlefield in the wake of the final strike.
Chen Qianhu stood there, chest heaving, lifting the blood stained hammer high above his head as he turned toward Zhou Daya, his face breaking into a wild grin.
"Did you get that on film?" he shouted. "Did you capture it? I killed Zu Dashou with my own hands! I finally cut off this cursed fate, hahaha!"
The Guyuan soldiers erupted into cheers.
"Good! Zu Dashou wins!"
"Our Zu Dashou defeated the enemy's Zu Dashou!"
"The one on our side is clearly the real one, the other one looked like a decent guy, there's no way he could be Zu Dashou!"
Their voices overlapped in a chaotic chorus that made absolutely no sense and yet somehow fit perfectly into the absurd reality of the moment.
And just like that, with confusion, laughter, and blood all mixed together, Jinzhou City changed hands.