Chapter Eight: Horses Tread the Long Street, Severing the Celestial Gate

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The battering ram was essentially a massive hammer suspended from a crossbeam, its design akin to the wooden mallet used to strike temple bells. Harnessing the momentum of its swing, it converted kinetic energy into a powerful impact force capable of shattering city gates—or at the very least, breaking the bars behind them.

Typically, the ram was topped with a triangular cover to shield it with wet mud and other fire-retardant materials. In battle, it could withstand volleys of arrows, falling stones, and even boiling oil, forcing its way beneath the gates.

If the gate’s material was insufficiently sturdy, this battering ram breaching beneath it usually signaled the fall of the city gate.

Such a siege weapon was overwhelming for a wealthy merchant’s mansion; it could easily break through walls and open a passage.

At this moment, the battering ram slowly advanced from the far end of the long street, drawn by two powerful oxen. Heavy wheels crushed the bluestone pavement, occasionally cracking the slabs with sharp sounds as they neared the front gate of the Lu estate.

“Master, if we don’t leave now, it’ll be too late,” Jiao Heng urgently called from the watchtower behind.

Morale has its limits.

Even though the Lu family treated their retainers generously, no one could guarantee that every one of them would be a die-hard willing to fight to the death in hopeless circumstances. Not to mention the Lu estate’s servants—no matter how elite an army, they could not maintain such unwavering resolve.

At present, the stalemate showed no signs of breaking, but once the courtyard walls were breached and the enemy poured in, Jiao Heng was certain that at least half the retainers guarding the estate would crumble and flee—not out of disloyalty, but due to lack of organization and training.

Lu Jinhe’s gaze darkened.

If they could hold out today, there would still be room to maneuver tomorrow. But if they failed today, the dead would never speak, and the enemy could easily plant forbidden items to pin the blame on the Lu family.

Outside, besides the armored soldiers, over a hundred mounted scouts were watching from a distance. Even if someone managed to break out, escape from their pursuit was impossible.

Lu Jinhe felt as if all hope had died within him.

The thunderous pounding of hooves approached rapidly.

The distance was still too great for Lu Jinhe to discern the rider’s face clearly; all he could see was a golden crown reflecting the setting sun, gleaming brilliantly—a crown that seemed vaguely familiar.

“Who goes there? Halt! The Arrow-Shot Battalion is here to capture traitors. Those who breach the line share the traitors’ guilt—release arrows!” a voice commanded loudly.

The golden-crowned rider sat immovable upon a black warhorse, three arrows striking his armor only to be deflected.

Reaching the front lines, he thrust his long halberd forward, sweeping it from side to side. Two shield-bearing soldiers were hurled into the air along with their shields, creating a gap in their formation.

The rider’s halberd spun around him like a dragon, tearing through the ranks and plunging into the crowd.

Heads flew, weapons shattered.

“Ah—”

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A lead armored soldier wielding a greatsword charged forward to block him, but the golden-crowned rider’s halberd swept through, sending the soldier flying like a scarecrow, limbs flailing as he crashed through a rooftop and tumbled inside, fate unknown.

Screams filled the air endlessly, shattered limbs and bloodied fragments scattered in all directions as the crowd parted like waves.

The black warhorse glided over the street like a boat on water, the halberd a roaring dragon overturning all in its path. The crowd fell like crops before a scythe, the long street turning into a river of blood.

The main road before the Lu estate’s gate was wide—about fifteen feet—but the black-armored rider charged down the eastern side of the street, the sixteen-foot halberd swirling left and right, covering nearly forty feet of ground, sweeping the Arrow-Shot Battalion’s troops clean away.

Only those who took cover close to the walls survived by chance.

“Heavens, who is this?” Jiao Heng exclaimed in alarm.

He had seen many large-scale battles, but never witnessed such a terrifying charge.

Others who break through enemy lines are considered outstanding heroes;

this black-armored rider, however, left nothing alive in his wake—utterly ruthless.

After advancing less than thirty meters down the street, he had slain at least sixty or seventy soldiers of the Arrow-Shot Battalion, and even the five armored officers leading them were no match.

“He seems to be—” Lu Jinhe rubbed his eyes, uncertain.

It wasn’t that he failed to recognize his own son, but rather that he could scarcely believe it.

“Form ranks! Spears, form ranks at once! What? You idiots didn’t bring spears? What did you bring, bags? Damn it! Archers, shoot him in the head—” Yao Chen cursed furiously while retreating inside the battering ram to issue orders.

Of course, his trusted men also sheltered within the ram.

Leading the squad to raid the Lu estate was a top-tier assignment. Though the Lu family’s wealth was mostly from fields, shops, and caravans across the land, the Lu estate—the residence of the family head—was the epitome of luxury and splendor.

Just the paintings hung on the walls alone—how could one sully the Lu estate’s reputation by hanging forgeries instead of originals?

If the estate was broken into, even a simple inkstone could fetch hundreds of silver taels.

Such a lucrative venture would never have fallen to Yao Chen if it weren’t for the fact that his sister, Yao Yue, was the favored concubine of the Arrow-Shot Battalion’s commanding officer.

Yet, while everyone dreamed of looting the estate’s riches, no one thought to bring spears; instead, everyone carried bags for their spoils.

Well, a few had spears, but these infantry combat spears were no longer than nine feet. They were flashy for demonstrations, effective in one-on-one fights, but facing a heavily armored rider on a mighty steed wielding a sixteen-foot halberd was a death sentence.

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The rider stood motionless, impervious even to thrusts.

This black-armored, golden-crowned knight was like a demon god. No one knew the weight of his halberd, but no one could withstand a single strike. Even Guo Tie, a burly man clad in full armor, was struck and sent flying like a leather ball for several meters—likely fatally wounded.

Hooves thundered relentlessly as the black steed slowed to a steady pace down the street, trailing a path of blood. The soldiers cowered against the walls on either side.

The rider had slain over a hundred men with little effort—it was the power of his weapon that made the difference. He merely swung the halberd a few times.

A general’s hallmark in battle is heavy armor, a strong mount, and a large, weighty weapon!

A volley of arrows might overwhelm even the rider, but heavy armor could block the most threatening shots, greatly reducing difficulty.

As for the weapon, it must be large and heavy. A general breaking through enemy lines faces foes from every side; each strike must carve out space for survival, or else he would be crushed alive.

The advantages of a large weapon are twofold: first, its wide range can strike down five enemies at once instead of just three;

second, even if the blow doesn’t kill, it can send enemies flying, creating vital breathing room.

Third, a top-tier general moves as one with his horse and weapon, switching effortlessly between light and heavy strikes—the strength of the horse equates to his own power. A weak mount means weak force.

At this moment, a group of officers and armored soldiers sheltered beneath the battering ram, sticking out crossbows and spears through gaps, hoping to resist briefly.

Lu Wu simply raised his halberd and struck it down.

Though the strike seemed slow, it tore through the air with a thunderous roar, sending shockwaves pulsating in all directions!

This blow was the eighteenth strike of the “Mountain Peaks” technique—“Breaking the Heavenly Gate”!

Boom—crack—boom!

The battering ram’s roof, designed to withstand falling stones, shattered; the ram collapsed with a thunderous crash, wood splinters and bloodstains scattered everywhere. The six armored officers hiding beneath turned into an indistinguishable pulp of flesh and blood.

The halberd continued its downward arc.

The bluestone road beneath cracked and sank, a trench extending three meters ahead where the halberd had struck.

The hundred-step long street fell utterly silent, as if gripped by a chill.