Chapter 67: Pleading and Opportunity

  Qian Bu Li flipped back onto his horse, a benevolent smile spreading across his face: "Looks like it was just a misunderstanding?"

  The middle-aged man replied with a nervous expression: "Yes... sir, this is a misunderstanding."

  "But I hope you won't go too far." Qian Bu Li sighed: "Although this maid deserved her punishment, she's already dead, so just give her a proper burial."

  The middle-aged man saw Qian Buli say this, let out a long sigh and nodded repeatedly: "What the adult says makes sense, what the adult says is reasonable."

  The young man's entourage saw the situation ease up a bit, and they also relaxed, putting their long swords that had already been drawn back into their scabbards. The young man was still somewhat resentful, but most people in the world know the principle of bullying the weak and fearing the strong, so he didn't dare to provoke the mysterious soldiers in front of him again.

  "Is that the young master of your house? What's his surname?" Qian Buli glanced at the young man.

  "Sir, my family's young master is surnamed Chen." The middle-aged man approached with a smile: "You..." He didn't have the chance to finish his sentence. A sharp dagger had already flown out of Qian Buli's hand and stabbed into his throat. The middle-aged man covered his throat with both hands, his eyes bulging like a dead fish, staring at Qian Buli in shock. Then his body swayed twice before collapsing to the ground.

  Before his body fell to the ground, Du Bing's horse had already rushed to his front, and with a raised gun, he stabbed him in the chest. The spearhead penetrated from the front of his chest and came out from his back, and fresh blood flew far behind him.

  Du Bing's horse didn't stop, his arms exerted force to lift the middle-aged man up and then flung him out. The middle-aged man's corpse happened to land right in the middle of that young man's followers. That middle-aged man was tall and sturdy, his weight not much different from Du Bing's, plus he was wearing a full set of armor, so with one crash, two people were knocked down.

  That group of attendants were shocked and pale, and they hastily drew out the long swords that had just been sheathed. But before they could form a battle array, the cavalry squad had already charged in front of them, with a row of spears thrusting towards their bodies like a forest.

  The difference between a long sword and a spear is huge, with the ancient saying that "one inch longer is one inch stronger". Unless personal martial arts skills have reached a certain level, this huge difference can lead to a decisive victory or defeat in an instant.

  In the blink of an eye, seven or eight attendants of that young man were knocked down. The meaning of the word "experience" was fully revealed at this moment. Those who swung long swords to resist were all wearing tight-fitting clothes, while those wearing armor were desperately fleeing backwards, even abandoning their lives-saving long swords on the ground. People who have been on the battlefield or received training know that without archers' support and heavy shields, fighting against cavalry armed with spears on flat ground is simply seeking death!

  There was only one person wearing a tight-fitting garment, whose hands were particularly agile. The long sword in his hand just split the spear that stabbed quickly, and with a "ding" sound, his long sword broke from the middle, while the cavalry's spear was also shaken away. The man in the tight-fitting garment sidestepped his body, like a fish jumping up, and drew out a dagger from his waist with his backhand, stabbing it into the cavalryman's throat.

  Then the man was about to push the cavalry's body down from the war horse, but just as he had just sat on the saddle, a strong gust of wind shot past his ear. His instincts made him swing his dagger to block it, and at the same time, he turned his head around, only to see a large muzzle flash, followed by a blackout. The intense pain made him involuntarily let out a loud cry, but the cry had just started when it stopped, because several avenging spears had already stabbed into his body, taking away all his vitality.

  Du Bing sneered and drew out his long spear, charging forward on horseback. Then, with a sudden bow of his head, he grabbed the young man's collar, just like holding a small cat or dog, and lifted him up, placing him in front of himself. As a commoner, Du Bing still didn't dare to easily lay a hand on a noble, even if the other was only a knight. This had nothing to do with one's bravery or courage; it was simply a matter of being influenced by the society one lived in.

  Money's loyal guards closed in from both sides, chasing and killing those who tried to escape. The previous resistance crumbled instantly like the most fragile sand wall in the world under the sharp spear tips. Blood flowers bloomed one after another, and the end of the massacre was as swift as its beginning.

  Du Bing spurred his horse to run back, and with a fierce throw, he tossed the young man from his warhorse onto the ground. The young man fell to the ground, shouting "Ah yo! Ah yo!" as he retreated backward. A soldier with ill intentions jabbed the young man's buttocks with a spear, causing him to start crawling forward in a daze again. In the end, he actually crawled under Du Bing's warhorse's belly.

  Sun Zhongde dismounted his war horse, flew up with one foot, and kicked the young man out without being polite. A spoiled young master couldn't withstand such torture? The young man was in so much pain that he covered his stomach on the ground and rolled over repeatedly. Now he wanted to stand up but couldn't.

  "You... you can't do this! I am a noble... I am a noble!" The young man shouted, gritting his teeth.

  His response was a contemptuous laugh.

  "Sir, please spare me! My father will give you a large ransom, sir, please spare me..." The young man struggled to sit up halfway and begged Qian Budiao.

  "It wasn't long ago that someone else begged you like this, right?" Qian Buli turned his head to look at the woman on the millstone: "Since you didn't give others a chance, why should I give you one?!"

  "Adult, I am a jazz......" This might be the only reason he could find.

  At this moment, a sharp whistle suddenly came from the dense forest next to the village. With the rustling of leaves, several figures jumped down from the trees. One of them, a robust man with blood on his chest, walked towards Qian Buding with big strides, while the others stayed in place, holding crude short bows and nervously sizing up the cavalrymen who were cleaning up the battlefield. "Cleaning up the battlefield" meant shooting a few more rounds into those who were still alive or already dead, as ordered by Qian Buding.

  Money waved his hand, signaling the soldiers not to make things difficult for the sturdy man. He could see that the sturdy man should be a villager, and the wound on his chest was clearly left when he resisted the violence.