The Great Ming in the Box-Chapter 210: Ghost Fist Technique
Hearing Cheng Xu’s words, Bai Yuan’s spirits rose instantly. He looked ahead and spotted a large group still standing under the trees opposite by moonlight—the Seventh Team’s reserve force, all elderly and weak, women and children, not yet committed to battle.
Understanding flashed across Bai Yuan’s mind—striking at what the enemy must defend! The enemy would rush back to protect their families. And those blocking the Seventh Team’s path? They were surely the Seventh Team members. No doubt.
He pointed toward the group of vulnerable civilians: “Feign an attack there!”
The Gaojia Village Militia roared in unison and charged at the Seventh Team reserve.
This charge genuinely startled the Seventh Team. Those were their families. Their weak spot.
The Seventh Team fighters abandoned their engagement with Second Team enemies and wheeled around to intercept the Gaojia Village Militia.
Chaos erupted instantly. Breaking formation mid-battle—especially with reckless scattering—was suicidal discipline only bandits would tolerate.
Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu, leaders among Gaojia Village’s ranks, spearheaded the assault. Towering figures clad in heavy armor, they plowed forward unstoppably.
A Seventh Team youth sprinted from the flank to block them. Gao Chuwu swept his spear sideways, sending the man flying.
One of Ye Bu Shou’s fierce bandits, witnessing this, raised a pot lid shield to parry. Zheng Daniu thrust his spear—the iron tip caught the lid with a clang, failing to penetrate—but the sheer force slammed the shield brutally into the bandit’s chest, knocking him flat.
Another Seventh Team bandit lunged from Zheng Daniu’s blind spot, stabbing with his bamboo spear. The sharpened bamboo tip scraped uselessly against Zheng Daniu’s iron armor.
Unfazed, Zheng Daniu crashed straight into the spear. Snap! The bamboo spear broke against him, the wielder instead hurtling backward onto the ground with a thud.
A Second Team peasant from Qingjian County sprang out, swinging a stone lock hammer down onto the bandit’s skull. Settled instantly.
Now the battle entered surreal territory.
Seventh Team bandits desperately scrambled back to protect their families. The Gaojia Village Militia became center stage, a magnet drawing all chaos. Yet Second Team fighters chased and hacked at the Seventh Team from behind.
No tactics. Just anarchy.
Realizing chaos converged upon his position, Bai Yuan—disliking being the focal point—still steeled himself. He’d known the stakes when he ordered the feint. Seeing reckless enemy surges, he bellowed, “Tighten ranks! Spears up! Raise spears!”
After rigorous drills, the militia reacted fast—a compact shield wall formed instantly, iron spearheads gleaming menacingly.
Their professional spearheads proved deadlier than the bandits’ crude bamboo spikes. Facing this coordinated thicket of blades, the chaotic bandit swarms found no purchase. Bamboo tips occasionally slipped through, only to clang harmlessly against armored chests.
The Seventh Team couldn’t breach it.
So the Second Team seized the chaos to unleash carnage upon the Seventh Team from behind.
A three-way melee raged.
The disorder demanded a true commander. Someone needed to take control—on either side.
But Bai Yuan hadn’t seen such chaos before; inexperienced. Dian Deng Zi stood dumbstruck. Helpless.
The duel continued—their leaders still locked blade-to-blade.
Amid the fray, Cheng Xu and Ye Bu Shou exchanged another blow. Clang! Ye Bu Shou’s sword deflected. Cheng Xu’s waist knife struck the cotton armor with a thunk—still unable to penetrate deeper.
Ye Bu Shou grinned, exhaling—a moment to snatch breath and taunt. But before words formed…
Cheng Xu abruptly released his waist knife, letting it fall. Simultaneously, he lunged forward—a swift motion—seizing Ye Bu Shou’s head. A sharp, precise twist.
Crack! Ye Bu Shou’s neck broke. His body crumpled lifeless.
“Heh! Glad I stole that Ghost Fist Technique!”
Cheng Xu had realized his waist knife couldn’t pierce the armor. So he abandoned it, unleashing modern Army Combat Techniques he’d secretly learned from cliff inscriptions. This neck snap—clean, lethal, instant. Armor? Worthless when your neck is exposed.
Killing the man who knew his true identity brought immense relief. Vision instantly cleared—no ghostly grandmothers haunting him. Safe. Imperial Guards wouldn’t come knocking.
He retrieved his knife, hewed Ye Bu Shou’s head off, and lifted it high, roaring, “Ye Bu Shou is dead!” Pandemonium erupted among the Seventh Team ranks.
Now leadership didn’t matter. Everyone screamed—purely panic—fleeing downhill immediately.
Gao Chuwu and Zheng Daniu surged forward to pursue. Cheng Xu snapped, “Halt! Don’t chase! Fighting bandits at night on a pitch-dark mountain is madness? You’ll kill yourselves stumbling into ravines before they kill you!”
Both giants froze mid-step.
Meanwhile, Second Team fighters moved to follow. But seeing the Bai Family Fortress forces stand still, they paused too.
Scrambling wildly, the Seventh Team retreated down the west slope and vanished into darkness within moments.
Finally over.
Cheng Xu chuckled, inspecting militia casualties. Tally showed only two twisted ankles and some scratches—no deaths, no serious injuries.
Li Daoxuan’s fanatical “armor first” doctrine may violate The Great Ming Code, but it worked brilliantly. Things that didn’t work wouldn’t need prohibition.
Cheng Xu smirked twice, then turned to Dian Deng Zi’s group. Fewer dead—just several—but many lay injured.
Life of rebellion meant expecting wounds and death. Qingjian County folk were notoriously tough. Bleeding but silent, they endured wounds stoically. Survive or die—they trusted fate.
Bai Yuan approached: “Bring the wounded. We descend immediately. Healing salves await at Bai Family Fortress.”
Dian Deng Zi beamed, ordering the retreat instantly.
Over three thousand people—wives, children, injured on stretchers—retreated from Huanglong Mountain overnight. Reaching Bai Family Fortress, Dian Deng Zi wisely confined his people outside the walls on bare plains.
Bai Yuan quickly distributed the Deity’s “immortal realm healing ointment” to Qingjian County’s wounded, and ordered steamed buns made from fine white flour passed out as sustenance.
Since killing officials and freeing Zhao Sheng, rising up in revolt, these Villagers of Qingjian County finally received compassion—reveling in peace and safety. The sheer gratitude moved them to weep openly beyond Bai Family Fortress.
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Chapter 210: Ghost Fist Technique
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