Well, what else were we supposed to do? Run? With a half-dead old man who could barely stand on his own? Yeah, that would’ve gone spectacularly well.
So naturally, Jian and I did what any reasonable people would do when cornered by fifty armed soldiers. We decided to fight our way out like the total bad-asses we were.
"You take the left, I’ll take the right?" I suggested, cracking my knuckles.
"Works for me," Jian replied, already summoning his earth cultivation energy. The ground beneath us began to tremble with power.
Zhang raised his sword dramatically, probably thinking he looked cool as hell, and screamed, "Attack!"
And just like that, all hell broke loose.
Jian immediately slammed his palms into the ground, and massive pillars of stone erupted from beneath the charging soldiers, sending at least five of them flying through the air.
They crashed into their comrades behind them in a domino effect of armored bodies and clattering weapons. It would’ve been hilarious if we weren’t fighting for our lives.
Meanwhile, I went straight for the hand-to-hand combat approach because that’s where I shine. The first soldier that reached me swung his sword in a wide arc, an amateur move to be honest, and I ducked under it easily, using his momentum against him.
I grabbed his arm, twisted it at an angle that made him scream, and used him as a human shield against the spear that came flying at me from the right. Don’t worry, his armour was too strong for the spears to pierce through.
"These guys are actually somewhat competent!" Jian yelled over the chaos, blocking a sword strike with a wall of earth he’d raised just in time.
"Yeah, I noticed!" I shouted back, narrowly avoiding a spear thrust aimed at my ribs. "Zhang must’ve brought his A-team!"
And he really had. These weren’t some bumbling idiots. These soldiers actually knew what they were doing. They moved in coordinated formations, covered each other’s blind spots, and didn’t fall for the same tricks twice.
It was honestly kind of annoying how professional they were being about trying to kill us.
Jian sent another wave of earth spikes shooting up from the ground, impaling shields and forcing soldiers to scatter, but they regrouped almost immediately.
He managed to take down another three with a particularly nasty root attack that wrapped around their legs and slammed them into the stone walls.
I, meanwhile, was in the middle of what could only be described as organized chaos. I generally made myself as difficult to hit as possible.
My fist connected with a soldier’s jaw with a satisfying crack, and I immediately spun to elbow another one in the throat. He went down gasping for air.
A sword came at me from the left, I caught the soldier’s wrist, redirected the blade into his buddy’s shoulder, then kicked the original attacker hard enough in the chest to send him sprawling backward into three more soldiers.
"That’s seven for me!" I called out, breathing hard.
"I’m at eight!" Jian responded, looking equally exhausted but managing to sound competitive about it.
We fought like our lives depended on it, which, you know, they did. Every movement was calculated and every strike had to count. Jian’s earth cultivation created barriers when we needed defense and devastating attacks when we needed offense.
My hand-to-hand combat kept the soldiers too busy dodging and blocking to organize any effective counterattacks.
But here’s the thing about fighting fifty trained soldiers, even when you’re taking down multiple enemies, the math just doesn’t work in your favor. For every soldier we defeated, two more seemed ready to take their place.
We were making progress, sure, but we were also getting tired.
Really tired.
After what felt like an eternity of non-stop fighting, I did a quick headcount of the groaning, unconscious soldiers scattered around us. About fifteen down. Only thirty-five to go. Great.
"Jian," I panted, wiping blood on my forehead, "we might’ve bitten off more than we can chew here."
"You think?!" he shot back, creating another earth barrier to block a volley of arrows that came flying at us. "I’m running low on qi!"
And that’s when things went from bad to worse. The remaining soldiers, learning from their fallen comrades’ mistakes, started coordinating their attacks better. They began surrounding us in a tight circle, shields raised, spears pointed inward like we were animals being corralled.
Which, I suppose, we kind of were at that point.
We were being cornered, pushed back step by step, until our backs were literally against the cold stone wall. Zhang stood at the front of his remaining forces, looking bruised and pissed off but triumphant. The smug asshole actually started smiling.
"Any last words?" Zhang asked mockingly, raising his sword for what was probably meant to be a dramatic finishing blow. God, the guy really loved his theatrics.
"Yeah," I said, desperately trying to think of something cool to say before we died. "Go fu-"
But I never got to finish that eloquent statement because suddenly, we heard it. A rumbling. And it wasn’t from Jian’s earth cultivation. This was louder and heavier. It sounded like... footsteps? Lots and lots of footsteps. And voices. Angry voices.
Zhang’s confident expression faltered with confusion replacing his smirk. "What the hell is that?"
The rumbling got louder and louder, coming from the direction of the town. The ground literally shook beneath our feet. The soldiers nervously glanced at each other, their formation starting to waver. Even in our exhausted state, Jian and I exchanged hopeful looks.
Whatever was coming, it was big.
And then we saw it.
Or rather, we saw them.
A massive mob of villagers came pouring around the corner like a tidal wave of righteous fury. There had to be at least a hundred of them, maybe more, all carrying whatever weapons they could find. Pitchforks, hammers, kitchen knives, wooden planks, you name it.
They looked extremely furious, shouting and chanting in unison.
And leading this glorious, chaotic revolution at the very front, looking like the world’s most unlikely war commander, was none other than Qinyue.
She was flanked on one side by Liangyu, who looked equal parts terrified and resigned to his fate, and on the other side by Han, who was holding a frying pan like it was a legendary sword and had tears of patriotic zeal streaming down his face.
Qinyue stopped at the head of her makeshift army, locked eyes with the shocked soldiers, raised her fist high into the air, and screamed at the top of her lungs, "FOR IRONBELL!!"
"FOR IRONBELL!!" the entire mob roared back in perfect unison.
It was simultaneously the most ridiculous and the most badass thing I had ever witnessed in my entire life up until that point. Zhang’s face went from confident to confused to horrified in about three seconds flat.
"What the-" he started to say.
But Qinyue didn’t give him time to finish. She immediately launched into action, her hands igniting with brilliant flames as she channeled her fire cultivation. Massive fireballs shot from her palms, forcing the soldiers to scatter and breaking their formation completely.
The flames didn’t hit anyone directly, she was being careful not to kill, just terrify, but the sheer heat and spectacle were enough to send them into panic.
Liangyu, not to be outdone, slammed his hands into the ground just like Jian had been doing. Thick roots and stone pillars erupted all around the soldiers, creating chaos and confusion.
He worked in perfect synchronization with Qinyue, his earth techniques providing barriers and obstacles while her fire techniques kept the soldiers from regrouping.
And then the villagers charged.
It was absolute mayhem. These weren’t trained fighters. They were bakers, farmers, shopkeepers, parents, but they were angry, they were united, and they significantly outnumbered the remaining soldiers.
The soldiers, who were already exhausted from fighting us and now faced with an angry mob and two more cultivation users, didn’t stand a chance.
What followed was less of a battle and more of a complete rout. Soldiers were getting hit with frying pans, tackled by multiple villagers at once, tripped by Liangyu’s roots, and scared shitless by Qinyue’s strategic fire blasts.
Zhang himself got mobbed by at least ten villagers who had apparently been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time.
Within minutes, minutes, it was over. Every single soldier was either unconscious, restrained by angry villagers, or had straight-up run away. Zhang was tied up with rope, still conscious but looking like he deeply regretted every life choice that had led him to this moment.
The villagers were cheering, hugging each other, crying with relief and joy. Some were chanting "Ironbell! Ironbell!" while others were making sure the soldiers stayed down. It was chaotic and beautiful and totally insane.
Jian and I just stood there against the wall, mouths hanging open, too shocked to move or speak.
A middle-aged villager with flour still dusting his apron approached Qinyue, dropped to one knee dramatically, and asked with genuine reverence in his voice, "Where next, mighty queen?"
Mighty queen?!
I looked at Jian. Jian looked at me. We both looked at Qinyue, who was standing there covered in soot, hair wild, looking incredibly pleased with herself.
"How did you manage to lead a damn revolution?!" I finally managed to sputter out. "We were gone for like three hours! Maybe four!"
Qinyue just shrugged casually, like starting a popular uprising was something she did every other day. She turned to address the crowd.
"To the palace," she declared, pointing toward where the royal residence loomed in the distance.
The crowd erupted in cheers again, raising their weapons and tools into the air.
God help us all. But honestly? God help the king more.