Chapter 1
"Come on, Fang, wake up. The assault will begin soon."
Inside a small military tent, overcrowded with poorly equipped soldiers, a middle-aged man stirred at the sound of his name being called.
Looking up at the person calling him, Fang slowly wobbled to his feet, his red face a clear indication that he was still drunk from yesterday's drinking.
"When are we attacking, Awu?" Fang asked while putting on his armor.
"In about an hour. We will be the first line to attack," Awu, the man who woke Fang up, replied.
In response, Fang simply sighed. Looking around the tent, he started hurling orders at the other sleeping men. As they woke up at his commands, it became clear that most were just village kids, likely conscripted.
After five minutes, Fang stepped out of the tent. His armor was a mess, covered in scratches and marks. His long hair was tied in a bun, his beard was messy and poorly trimmed, and he was missing an eye. Scars ran all over his exposed body.
Overall, he didn't stand out among the thousands of soldiers emerging from small tents. They were forming a disorganized assault line facing the fortified city walls, about two kilometers away.
Like Fang, most of these soldiers were poorly equipped. Many looked young and malnourished, while a few older ones, like Fang and Awu, had more solid builds.
"What's the plan, Fang? Same as usual?" Awu asked, smiling.
Awu was similar to Fang—poorly equipped but with a decent physique compared to the rest of the soldiers. He was slightly shorter, standing at 175 cm, while Fang was 180 cm. Both had black hair and brown eyes. Awu had fewer scars than Fang, but a few still marked his body.
In response, Fang simply nodded. He glanced around at the formation of soldiers assembling, as if waiting for something.
And as if the heavens answered his call, a storm of fire arrows was launched toward the city walls. In response, the three-thousand-strong army, positioned two kilometers away, began jogging forward.
"Waste of fire arrows," Fang muttered.
"Can't say I'm surprised," Awu replied. "The commander is some kid from the imperial court. He got promoted thanks to his connections, and this city is just a training exercise for him."
Fang didn't respond, only picking up speed once they passed the one-kilometer mark.
"Will we die?" A soldier who overheard their conversation couldn't help but ask.
"Maybe. It all depends on your luck. We have a shit commander today, but even under a good one, you can still die a quick death. All I can say is—try your best to survive."
This time, it was Fang who spoke.
The soldier simply nodded nervously, sweat dripping down his face. He, Fang, and Awu were near the end of the first assault wave. Behind them, a row of elite cavalrymen in black armor galloped at a moderate distance. On paper, they were there as support—but in reality, their job was to kill any deserters.
After another five minutes of running, the second-kilometer mark was passed, and the attacking soldiers reached the wall. Naturally, the defenders were prepared. They fired countless arrows, cutting down nearly a hundred attackers already. Large rocks and debris rained down from catapults stationed within the city.
Upon reaching the towering 30-meter-high walls, the attackers rushed to place ladders to climb. These ladders had been carried during the charge. Some were successfully set up, while others were destroyed by the defenders.
Once the ladders were secured, the attackers began climbing like ants, and fierce fighting erupted on top of the walls.
Fang and Awu were still waiting in line to climb a ladder, both men crouching behind taller soldiers to shield themselves from arrows.
Time passed, and the defenders on the wall were slowly being outnumbered. Fang and Awu finally reached a ladder and started climbing.
As he climbed, Fang felt something was wrong. Trusting his instincts, he suddenly let go and jumped off the ladder, crashing down ten meters.
His decision proved to be correct.
In a desperate move, the defenders brought a cauldron full of boiling oil to the edge of the wall.
They poured it down onto the same ladder Fang and Awu had been climbing.
"Ahhhh!"
"Jump! Quick, jump!"
The effects were immediate. Those at the top suffered the worst, their faces melting as the burning oil spilled down the ladder.
Soon, all thirty-plus men on the ladder were being scalded. Some, more than others. Awu wasn't lucky enough to avoid it.
But it didn't end there. As the screaming soldiers fell and rolled on the ground in agony, a defender threw a torch onto them.
Instantly, flames erupted.
To the horror of everyone—including Fang, who was crawling away, still injured from his earlier jump—more than thirty men were suddenly engulfed in fire.
"Ahhhh! Help me! Help!"
"Do something! Pour water on me!"
They screamed and begged, but no one came to help. Their fellow soldiers ran in different directions, all desperate to avoid their burning comrades.
"Fang! Help me!"
Fang, who had managed to stand and was running away, turned his head at the familiar voice.
There was Awu, burning alive, tears streaming down his face as he reached out toward Fang.
Fang simply gave him an apologetic look before turning away, heading for another ladder to escape the inferno.
But before he could reach it, another wave of screams erupted—from the opposite side of the burning crowd.
Turning his head, his eyes widened in horror.
The city gates had opened.
A horde of black-armored cavalrymen surged forth, charging into the attacking soldiers.
The poorly equipped attackers stood no chance. They were being slaughtered like pigs in a meat grinder.
Fang was in a dilemma. He could either turn and run or make it to another ladder.
Each ladder was separated by 20 meters. However, a mass of panicked soldiers had the same idea as him, blocking his path.
It became a race against time—either he pushed through to the ladder, or the cavalrymen cut him down first.
"Out of my fucking way!"
Swinging his mace, Fang smashed his way through the crowd, uncaring that these men were his comrades.
But it was working. He managed to clear ten meters, his blows sending men sprawling.
"What are you doing?! Are you insane?!" one soldier cried out.
He didn't have time to register his thoughts before Fang's mace caved his skull in.
It's important to note that while most of these "soldiers" were nothing more than cannon fodder with no martial training, Fang was a third-rate warrior. And although third-rate was the lowest among martial artists, it was still a massive difference compared to an ordinary mortal.
However, the cavalrymen were all second-rate or first-rate warriors. That's why they were cutting through the attackers like wheat. And now, they were only a few meters away from Fang, who had finally reached the ladder.
"Slaughter them all! We will show these dogs the consequences of attacking our kingdom!"
The booming voice came from a green-armored bearded man on horseback. His wild white hair and massive beard gave him the aura of an uncontrollable beast.
And he was one.
He noticed Fang, who had fought his way to the ladder and was now climbing desperately, shoving aside those above him.
Smiling in admiration at Fang's ruthlessness and drive for survival, the armored man grabbed the spear on his back and hurled it straight at Fang's heart.
Fang sensed the danger.
But it was too late.
Looking down, he saw the grinning armored man below him—just as a massive hole opened in his chest where his heart had been.
Once again, he dropped from the ladder.
This time, for the final time.
As his vision blurred, his entire life flashed before his eyes.
An orphan. No parents. No love. Conscripted at fifteen. Forced into battle after battle for twenty years. Barely surviving. No martial talent—third-rate was his limit.
His main activity in life was: War. Alcohol. Prostitutes.
"What a shitty life," Fang muttered.
And then, everything went black.