Chapter 61: That was damn satisfying to slaughter!

Seeing those two Rondi grandmasters depart, Wang Li whirled around and flashed, reappearing instantly atop the city gate tower as if by teleportation.

He stood there, his crimson battle robe snapping loudly in the harsh wind, his golden armor gleaming dazzlingly under the blazing sunlight.

His imposing aura was like a towering mountain, planted firmly and immovably in place. Forget a thousand horses and ten thousand troops; even if a deity himself were to arrive, he would not dare to cross that line by a single step!

"Wang Li, he is the stabilizing pillar of the Yanmen Pass. With him here, this fortress is as solid as an unassailable bastion of gold," Zhao Ergou thought to himself with deep admiration, his resolve to become the greatest warrior under heaven growing all the more unshakeable!

On the side of the Rondi grand army, the Left Worthy King watched in fury as his two grandmasters returned empty-handed, stamping his feet in rage yet utterly helpless.

That Wang Li was simply too monstrous! Taking on two opponents at once without losing the upper hand—he hardly seemed human!

"Damn it all! How is Wang Li this ferocious? Fighting two opponents simultaneously and holding his ground—how on earth are we supposed to fight this?" The Left Worthy King cursed bitterly, completely out of options.

Now they were left with only two paths: either eliminate Wang Li and then sweep across the land like a collapsing mountain to crush Yanmen Pass, or figure out a way to breach the gates and force Wang Li to retreat.

Otherwise, capturing Yanmen Pass would truly be harder than ascending to the heavens!

***

The setting sun looked like a drunken old man, his face flushed crimson, spending his final dregs of strength upon the battlements of Yanmen Pass. He stained the cold, lifeless stones with a layer of blood-like hue, bearing an eerie resemblance to the warm blood shed by the valiant men upon the battlefield.

Those Rondi bastards finally could not bear it any longer, tucking their tails between their legs and fleeing in defeat. They left behind a sprawling carpet of corpses plastered across the ground like repulsive dog-skin plasters, sickening to behold.

Upon the ramparts, only a handful of brothers remained standing. Each of them was caked in blood like a gory gourd, devoid of a single clean patch of skin, their very breaths carrying a reek of iron and blood.

They had won, yet no one could muster any joy. Everyone slumped like frost-bitten eggplants, utterly dejected.

Out of an entire battalion filled to the brim with brothers, fewer than three hundred could still draw breath. The rest lay scattered down there, never to return.

This battle had been infuriatingly agonizing, damn it all!

The morale of the men at Yanmen Pass had taken a grievous blow this time. From the highest commander down to the lowliest private, everyone felt as though a crushing boulder pressed against their chest.

Everyone knew that if the fighting continued like this, within ten days, Yanmen Pass would become a ghost town!

***

Zhao Ergou stood amidst the carnage, gazing at the heap of Rondi corpses—men who had been swapping boasts and joking around with him not long ago, now thoroughly cold and dead.

"Killing them felt damn good!"

Zhao Ergou let out a roar so fierce it made the surrounding corpses shudder thrice. "How many did I slaughter today? A hundred? Two hundred? Hahaha, I am a born God of War!"

His tattered tunic had long since lost its original color, his armor was etched with overlapping blade gashes, and his hair was tangled like a bird's nest. His face was caked thick with blood, impossible to tell whether it belonged to him or his enemies.

"Do not speak to me of titles and nobility; a single general's success is built upon ten thousand withered bones? Utter nonsense!"

Zhao Ergou spat, his phlegm laced with streaks of blood. "I *will* earn titles and nobility! I *will* leave my name carved in history! Those ten thousand withered bones belong to the enemy, while the glory belongs to the name of Zhao Ergou!"

He strode purposefully down from the ramparts, each step carrying the whistling wind. The killing intent radiating from his body had not yet dissipated, making him look like a newly sated fierce tiger—majestic, awe-inspiring, and utterly domineering!

"Do not speak to me of titles and nobility; a single general's success is built upon ten thousand withered bones!"

When uttered by others, those words sounded tragic and solemn, yet when spoken by Zhao Ergou, why did they brim with such unconcealed excitement?

***

At the foot of the city wall, Zhao Ergou's clever, gleaming eyes rolled around. *Well, look at that, isn't that our squad leader?*

The corners of his mouth split open to reveal a flash of pearly white teeth. Like an overexcited husky, he broke into a sprint straight toward the squad leader.

***

The squad leader had spotted Zhao Ergou from afar. The brat's battle robe was so shredded it looked like it had been peeled off a beggar, and his armor was layered with endless sword marks, making him look like discarded scrap metal picked up from the battlefield.

The squad leader knitted his brows tightly. *This rascal must have sneaked off to scrap with the enemy again!*

"You little punk, did you go sneaking up onto the ramparts to hack people down again?"

"Hehe, Uncle, you wrong me! I was slaying the enemy for our country. Such is the glory of our generation!"

Zhao Ergou grinned shamelessly, smiling so brightly that he showed not a shred of embarrassment, acting as though he had just accomplished some monumental feat.

"Stop spouting nonsense with me and get serious!" The squad leader glared, putting on a stern face for show.

Zhao Ergou instantly dropped his playful grin and assumed a solemn expression. "Uncle, that's where you don't understand! True power is forged through baptism in blood and fire! How can one see a rainbow without weathering the storm? How can one grow rapidly without engaging in genuine, hand-to-hand combat?

"Let me tell you, I went on a killing rampage today! Guess what? With my skills, I must have hacked down a hundred or eighty Rondi whelps at least! Haha, I am truly a born God of War!"

Half of these words were meant for the squad leader, and the other half for himself—partly to pump himself up, partly to boast.

All that talk about serving the country was just lip service, empty rhetoric for appearance's sake.

Zhao Ergou's real objective was to kill enemies to harvest battle energy, making himself stronger! Only by doing so could he live more comfortably in these turbulent times and fulfill his dream of winning titles and military honors!

Of course, this was his greatest secret, one he wouldn't utter even if beaten to death. If he told anyone, who would still treat him like a brother?

"Well, there is some truth to what you say. The strong truly should grow through combat." The squad leader nodded in agreement, a trace of appreciation flickering in his eyes.

"Uncle, you saw General Yang fighting those two Rondi grandmasters today, didn't you? That sight—tsk tsk—it was like a heavenly deity descending to earth, absolutely breathtaking! Let me tell you, *that* is what a real man looks like! Every move and stance shook the earth and mountains!"

Zhao Ergou said with a look of pure adoration, his eyes sparkling as if he were envisioning his own future self.

"Yes, I saw it. Grandmaster-tier powerhouses are indeed terrifyingly formidable." The squad leader wore a similar expression of yearning. That kind of world-shattering power—which man did not crave it? Which man did not wish to become such a mighty warrior?