The commander might change, but a man’s goals didn’t.
The adage was the perfect description for this situation. If someone would’ve told Denel this, he would’ve understood as well.
The savage army’s hopes at victory rested solely on Denel.
He was the man with the power to grasp victory, but if he was to be removed, then the outcome would be obvious.
Zhong Yu’s army’s safety rested on himself, meaning if anything happened to him, the tide of war would change, even for the worse.
Wang Daniu laid there as he moved his lips but it all came out as muttering so no one understood him.
Then someone came along with a blade and his head rolled. Blood splattered the ground drawing the curtains on a hero’s era. Who would be the next hero to walk on stage?
Today’s era was filled with lots of opportunities, with people striving forward just for the faint hope of being a god among men, to live a glorious life filled with supreme power.
But the era of Wang Daniu was over.
Perhaps not long after, his friends and family would recall Wang Daniu with sadness for a while then forget him. Who would ever keep his memory, his era alive for eternity?
Zhong Yu was calm, his hand gripping the sheathed plain sword at his waist.
For a weapon of murder to be held as accessory was both a blessing and a curse.
It earned glory at the waist of a leader, eyed by many with admiration. It was the symbol of power and every movement changed the world.
Yet this weapon of killing couldn’t fulfill its lifelong purpose, in the hands of a strong master, used to cut off enemy heads and bathe in their blood, in his path to the throne.
Today, this plain and yet unusual sword, left its sheath, glinting in the sun.
Zhong Yu lifted his sword with a solemn look and stared at Denel while ordering his men, “Attack, kill him!”
The soldiers filed out and separated into two groups to surround Denel.
They all glared at him with malice eyes, filled with excitement and horror mixed with ruthlessness.
It was this man who had their leader killed. By getting his head, the new empty spot may very well be theirs.
In one fell swoop they’d become lords over others, living a life of prestige and wealth.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Life and death, glory and honor, wealth and women, ambition and power. All rested on one’s blade, to go out there and take it, to win, and to succeed. While the losers, become forgotten bones.
A soldier’s duty was to kill and to die by the blade on the field of battle. His wish was to die in glory, not from illness like a peasant.
The mood grew heavy, bloodlust spreading and making breathing hard. They looked at each other, each hoping their comrade would go first and showed the way.
No one was that eager to throw their lives. The vanguard always died. Just how many had to die, how many sacrifices, before they understood this truth?
Those who didn’t laid in the mud, their bones nurturing the earth, bringing bountiful harvests for the year to come. No one cared about them, they had their lives to prioritize.
Some anxious people couldn’t take it anymore and shouted, finding confidence and safety in it.
They aroused the spirits of others. ‘With others paving the way, my survival will rise!’
The first one to run at Denel was bisected at the waist by his blade. The halves separated and the man’s face was filled with fear and regret.
The critically wounded Denel was like a cornered beast, going berserk and alert.
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Any that dared approach ended up in pieces, driving fear into the rest.
The chargers were riveted in place from fear and the battle ground to a halt, looking at each other in hope there was another way, taking unnecessary risks.
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Zhong Yu watched his weak troops with a frown. ‘If they don’t die in this war, I’ll give them a real punishment, making them wish they did.’
So he hinted at the Yellow Turban Army to take the lead, forcing the service army and slave corps to kill Denel
The Yellow Turban Army was overjoyed, eager to risk their lives in battle. While the service army and slave corp were furious.
As they were all sensible people here, they knew Denel would kill them while their families were under the Yellow Turban Army’s control.
They were sure to revolt, turning their blades at the Yellow Turban Army, having ill will towards them and to let them feel on their own skin that even slaves could get angry.
No matter how much discontent they had, the servants and slaves advanced still. This time they took slow steps, not rushing headlong. They found strength, and more importantly safety within numbers.
As their vigilance rose, Denel saw fewer and fewer weaknesses he could exploit, translating into higher danger for him. Heavily wounded and bleeding all the while, he found life and strength leaving him. He had to break the stalemate or he’d be a goner.
Zhong Yu – Oppressed people more often than not, would rather obey than revolt.