Chapter 1733: Chapter 64: Eight Hundred Years of Vigorous Valor in the Central Plains

The specially crafted Hooked Scythe Spear whistled in the wind, emitting a somber low hum.

Zhou Xianping froze, as if he were dreaming, watching a tall young man ride in on a Dragon Colt, decisively slashing and killing that Turkic war general, dismounting nimbly, and reaching out to grab the Hooked Scythe Spear embedded in the ground.

Whoosh——

As the wind blew, the newcomer’s battle robe fluttered, carrying a somber killing aura.

The armor on his body and the fluttering Qilin Pattern battle robe proved his identity.

The young man crossed past him, moved to the front, and naturally took control of the Zhou Family’s Hook and Scythe Formation, just like he learned from his youth; he had studied this formation for so long, it was too familiar.

Zhou Xianping murmured: "...Liu Ying?"

The child once protected by Zhou Xianping had crossed him, stepping onto the battlefields of the world.

But how is he here?

Zhou Liuying lightly kicked the tail end of the battle spear, the Hooked Scythe Spear spun in a circle and was grasped in his hand, its spear point aimed forward, as if the war generals from the Qilin Army and Chen Country’s final elite standing together.

Zhou Liuying took a deep breath.

This was once a scene from his dreams, at least, a dream from his youth.

But at this moment, he merely held this long spear, standing within Chen Country’s military formation, his voice somber and fierce: "Prince Qin’s war general, Zhou Liuying, ordered to aid, Chen Country’s Zhou Family Hooked Scythe Spear Brigade, awaiting dispatch!"

"Together with you, in this difficult time."

"Hook and Scythe Formation, arise!!!"

And Ye Zhongdao watched the youth wearing armor, wielding a long spear, and gazing silently with a disdainful look; both had a moment of clarity, but the youth urged the warhorse and seamlessly blended into the entire Qi Mechanism of the Night Rider Cavalry.

Ye Buyi was silent, his gaze fixed ahead, holding a long spear in his hand, still as succinct as ever: "Chen Country has no reinforcements left."

"But."

"Central Plains people remain."

Central Plains people remain.

These five words dissolved the hostility towards Chen Country’s Night Rider Cavalry, such a top-notch corps, yes, under these circumstances, on this battlefield, the appearance of Central Plains generals is enough to trust.

Reinforcements... is it?

Which general will be dispatched?!

Is it Yue Pengwu, or Chen Wenmian and Xiao Wuliang.

Or...

The somber hum of weapons spread out, the sound of war horse hooves hitting the ground, resounding like rolling thunder.

Zhou Laosan spat out a mouthful of saliva, lifting the blade in his hand; his helmet had fallen somewhere, anyway it blocked a blow for him, worthy of those few pieces of iron.

His hair was blown onto his face, stained with blood, wet and messy, truly in a dire state, using all his strength to pull the knife from the Turkic soldier’s face opposite him; that man was still young, lacking experience.

Therefore, he fell for it; this was the experience he gained from crawling and fighting on the battlefield.

Falling for such a tactic, no loss, no loss.

Damn it, I’ve rolled around in the Yama’s hall, that’s how I learned this tactic.

He laboriously raised his head, he was an old soldier, not a particularly capable one; not all soldiers have the talent to practice martial arts, someone like him, not good at martial arts or literature, spent most of his rewards on drinking and eating meat.

Surviving under this heaven, muddling through years, his hair turned white, yet he still remained unclear.

Still a common soldier, once a squad leader, but after all the soldiers died, he lay beneath several bodies and hid to survive, getting hit more than ten times on the back, with a single sweep.

Years have passed in confusion like this.

Yet he doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand.

How did former comrades become traitors, why fight this today, fight that tomorrow, and forget the nation in the midst of fighting? Those prestigious general’s thoughts, he really can’t comprehend, can’t make sense of.

He’s just a common soldier, never seen any Great General.

The highest ranking officer he’s known is a Colonel, overseeing a hundred of them, the leader commands where to attack, they follow, but, how come in fighting, Great Chen fell?

He panted heavily, pulling out the knife, which was firmly tied to his hand with coarse cloth, preventing it from slipping, he grinned: "Hey hey, Zheng, you said it, this time I survived, I’ll go back and drink up your coffin funds..."

He heard no response.

Glancing over, Zheng’s knife lay discarded at the side, the blade curled.

Why did he recognize it as Zheng’s knife at a glance.

Because on the handle, that old fellow carved a silly-looking dog’s head.

That guy lost his parents young, his sister married far away, didn’t see her for decades, heard during the birth of her seventh child, at first glance it was another girl, didn’t breathe through, died in childbirth.

Only left with a dog.

Central Plains blades are sharp, but not sturdy enough, damn barbarians have thick armor, just like wearing a layer of raw iron blocks; when wielding a sharpened blade and it hits that thing, the edge curls immediately.

If not careful, if slightly applying too much force, the blade would break.

Zheng enlisted the same year as him.

That year they were dispatched to the Western Regions, led by General Lu Youxian.

General Lu Youxian’s tactics, those who understand know, one word, steady.

Two words, boring.