The sect leaders of dozens of Martial Arts clans in Liaodong have heard of the urgent war situation and have led their disciples to join the battle.
Each carries a Long Sword on their back, with resolute eyes and agile steps, exuding an air of Jianghu heroism.
They are like an unstoppable flood, pouring into Yizhou City, injecting new vitality and hope into this battle.
Several major guilds are unwilling to fall behind, organizing mbers to participate in the siege of the Wokou. They quickly assembled, with high morale, and for a ti, the spirits in Yizhou City were greatly uplifted. Their participation tilted the scale of this battle towards justice.
However, this put unprecedented pressure on the Wokou Leader in Yizhou City, including Iwata Taro, Itoda Ichiro, Miyamoto Musashi, Tengtian Gang, Kato Yoneichi, Kudate Ken, and others. After deliberation, they decided to launch an attack on the Ming Army inside Yizhou City ahead of schedule, hoping to kidnap the King of Korea amidst the chaos to turn the tide.
They are like a group of trapped beasts, desperately searching for an escape outlet.
In the early sumr night, Yizhou City was seemingly shrouded by a layer of gloom, a tense and solemn atmosphere perating every corner. The air was filled with a suffocating sense of oppression, as if even ti had halted at this mont.
A gentle breeze lightly brushed through, bringing a hint of coolness, yet unable to dispel the pungent sll of war smoke in the air. This scent was like a mark of war, deeply imprinted in everyone’s heart, reminding them how precious peace is.
On the city walls, the blazing torches illuminated the resolute faces of the soldiers defending the city. The flas flickered, seemingly narrating their determination and courage. They gripped their weapons tightly, knuckles turning white with exertion, eyes steadfastly fixed outside the city, their gaze exuding fearlessness and vigilance, ever ready to confront the enemies that might appear.
Their figures, silhouetted against the firelight, appeared exceptionally tall, like insurmountable mountain peaks.
In the streets within the city, patrolling soldiers and militia ca and went in a constant stream, their footsteps echoing in the silent night, each step seemingly treading on the hearts of people, adding a touch of unease to this ancient city.
The houses on both sides of the street had their doors and windows tightly shut, with only faint light exuding from inside the windows, as if a glimr of hope in the night.
The residents either hid in their hos praying silently for an early end to the war or quietly discussed the recent battle, their voices suppressed to the lowest possible, filled with uncertainty and worry about the future.
In the city hall, Shi Feiyang, Li Song, and others were nervously discussing strategies.
The atmosphere in the hall was grave, with everyone seated around the table, brows furrowed, their eyes focused on the map.
Shi Feiyang pointed to the map, analyzing the possible attack routes of the Wokou and counter-strategies. They knew each decision affected the safety of the city’s residents, so no detail could be overlooked.
anwhile, Lin Wanqing, Xie Wen, and experts from Liaodong Martial Arts were secretly dispatched to the Yizhou Post House, moving with agility like a bolt of black lightning towards the post house.
No doubt, that place was the focus of the Wokou attack, and the worry for the King of Korea was pivotal to the entire battle, placing a heavy responsibility on their shoulders.
At this tense mont, Itoda Ichiro, Miyamoto Musashi, Tengtian Gang, Kato Yoneichi, Kudate Ken, and other Wokou had already infiltrated the post house like phantoms, dressed in black, holding sharp blades, their eyes exuding greed and ferocity, as a fierce battle was about to erupt there.
Banji Tairou’s eyes glowed with a bloodthirsty light, resembling a ravenous wolf. He suddenly waved, leading a team of Wokou, pouncing towards the city walls like hungry wolves, a fierce montum seemingly aiming to devour everything.
These Wokou moved with extre agility, climbing the city walls at astonishing speed, like lizards racing along the walls. The moonlight shone on them, reflecting their hideous faces and the shimring coldness of their Long Swords, as if they were ssengers from Hell, carrying the breath of death.
In the blink of an eye, Iwata Taro had already climbed to the top of the city wall, his movents swift and decisive, appearing silently like a ghost in the darkness on the wall.
He landed his feet steadily, his figure turning ghostly, as his Long Sword drew a cold arc, precisely the chilling "Wind Blade Slash." This sword technique devoid of style yet contained endless murderous intent, and as the blade swung, it was enveloped by a howling wind, akin to a sudden storm, with a forward montum seemingly aid at slicing all enemies standing in its path.
The blade flashed, a sharp cold gleam cut across, and a Ming Army officer guarding the city head had barely ti to react before a blade cut across his throat, blood gushing out like a fountain, his eyes widened in terror, he slowly fell, life abruptly ceasing at that mont.
The Wokou under his command also wielded "Wind Blade Slash," and for a ti, the blade light flickered, cold light grim. These Wokou were skilled in swordplay, each slash was as fast as lightning and deadly, and they were like a pack of bloodthirsty beasts, rcilessly harvesting lives, turning the city wall instantly into a Xiuluo Scene.
Although the Ming Army officers and the Martial Arts defenders on the city head fought hard to resist, they seed powerless in the face of this fierce swordplay.
They swung their weapons, attempting to block, yet Wokou’s blade speed was too fast, often striking before a weapon could be raised. So had their arms chopped off, severed limbs carrying blood flying in the air; so cut in the chest, blood instantly stained their clothes as their bodies flew backward like kites cut loose. The screams rose and fell, echoing on the city wall, sending shivers down the spine.
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