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Sun Jian kept his eyes locked on that distant figure lurching and swaying atop the canopied carriage. To him, this was the target he most desired to obtain. He had no personal history with Liu Biao, nor any personal grudge against him. It was simply that Liu Biao stood in the way of his path forward.
There had been a brief moment when Sun Jian wondered why Liu Biao would appear here at all, and there had also been a moment when he questioned whether pursuing into the mountains was too risky.
Should he continue the attack, or should he give up here?
Continuing the attack naturally meant bearing greater risk. But if he gave up, would he simply allow the Liu Biao before his eyes to escape back into Xiangyang City with ease?
Once Liu Biao fled into Xiangyang, Sun Jian was almost certain that Liu Biao would never again come out to fight. To defeat Liu Biao then, the only remaining option would be to storm Xiangyang City by force.
And could he really afford to expend all his soldiers beneath the sturdy walls of Xiangyang?
Therefore, compared with the potential rewards before his eyes, it seemed worth taking a little risk.
Sun Jian had weighed the situation. Based on the utterly demoralized troops he had just seen, even if their individual capabilities were strong, they would never withstand a single ferocious charge from his personal guards.
Sun Jian simply did not believe that, once they had entered the mountain terrain, that broken-down carriage could still manage any kind of suicidal speed. Mountain roads were far more rugged than the flat ground outside. If they wanted to die by crashing, then by all means, let them keep speeding.
Perhaps if they crashed and died, it would actually save him some trouble.
Just as Sun Jian expected, once the canopied carriage entered the valley, its speed dropped noticeably. It could no longer race ahead, because any more speeding would have guaranteed a rollover.
As soon as the carriage's speed decreased, the distance between it and Sun Jian began to shrink continuously. Sun Jian could almost make out the patterns on the brocade robe worn by the "Liu Biao" on the carriage.
Fortunately for Fei Qian, a large banner bearing the character "Huang" soon appeared ahead of him. Huang Zhong stood with his soldiers on either side of a narrow mountain pass. After letting Fei Qian and his group pass through, he quickly closed up the formation again, blocking the pursuing Sun Jian on the outside.
"A defeated wretch!" Sun Jian could not bear to give up the prize of "Liu Biao" just like that, so he gritted his teeth and ordered his soldiers to charge forward.
Sun Jian had never been lacking in courage. In his view, this was Liu Biao's final line of defense. If he could just punch through the small battle formation of that defeated general in front of him, then "Liu Biao" would become a trophy in his hands. There was another very important point as well: Sun Jian did not believe that a unit whose commanding general was fleeing for his life and which had already been routed once could still possess any meaningful fighting strength.
Huang Zhong expressionlessly watched Sun Jian's soldiers charging forward with mad howls. He then swept his gaze over the pale faces of the original Xiangyang garrison troops under his command. Silently, he reached into the bow case hanging behind his horse and drew out his own longbow. Without hurry or haste, he plucked at the bowstring a few times, then reached back with his other hand and drew three arrows from the quiver on the opposite side. Tilting the bow slightly, he actually nocked all three arrows onto the string at once.
The wolf-tooth arrowheads, specially crafted by the Huang family workshop, gleamed with a distinctive cold blue light. As the bowstring creaked and groaned, the longbow in Huang Zhong's hands was gradually drawn to full tension. The three arrowheads looked like a three-headed venomous serpent, fixing their gaze upon the swarming soldiers of Sun Jian's force.
Huang Zhong was clad in a full suit of scale armor and sat upright on horseback, half a body taller than the ordinary soldiers around him. At this moment, with his bow drawn like a full moon, he radiated an imposing authority without any need for anger, and he could not help but draw the eyes of Sun Jian's soldiers charging at the front.
Huang Zhong did not hold the bow at full draw for long. After taking brief aim, he released. A sharp twang rang out, and the three arrows shot from the string, streaking through the air so fast they left blurred afterimages. Like a cobra that had been coiled in waiting, now baring its fangs, they bit viciously into Sun Jian's vanguard.
Huang Zhong's bow was a powerful weapon he had specially commissioned for himself. It had once been tested at the Huang family's hidden compound against armor of various types, and at a distance of one hundred paces it possessed tremendous penetrating power against well-made lamellar and scale armor. If one were to rate its draw strength, it was at least a four-dan bow or stronger. At that level of power, one might as well call it a crossbow rather than a bow.
A strong bow exceeding four dan in draw weight, a distance of less than one hundred paces, and arrows specially made by the Huang family—the missiles flew with extraordinary stability. In one instant they were on the bowstring, and in the next they had already arrived in front of Sun Jian's soldiers.
The immense force contained in the arrows allowed them to easily punch through the chest of the soldier charging at the very front, then bore into the body of a second man before finally coming to a stop.
The first man who had been pierced through now had a hole in his body that looked as though it had been made by a firearm from later generations. The meager leather armor and two-piece breastplates worn by Sun Jian's soldiers might as well have been nonexistent, offering not the slightest bit of protection.
Huang Zhong could not aim all three arrows at three specific high-value targets. He simply directed the middle arrow at important figures such as company commanders or platoon leaders, while the two arrows on either side, given how densely packed Sun Jian's troops were, would strike someone no matter what.
But even so, a single release brought down six men. This devastating strike not only shocked Sun Jian's soldiers, but also greatly boosted the morale of his own side. It was only at this moment that many of the soldiers realized that the middle-aged officer of the Huang family who had always been at the front was no incompetent fool.
When Huang Zhong drew three more arrows and nocked them onto the string, the charging infantry of Sun Jian's force hesitated in their steps. Several company commanders and platoon leaders felt as though they had been targeted by some predatory bird, their scalps tingling with dread. One of Sun Jian's company commanders, though hidden within the ranks, still felt it was not safe enough. He quickly ducked down behind the shield of a sword-and-shield soldier, tensing his body and preparing to dodge at any moment.
The corner of Huang Zhong's mouth curved up slightly, and he released. An ordinary wooden shield was almost useless against a four-dan strong bow. The oxhide stretched over the wooden shield tore apart like paper under the bite of the hard wolf-tooth arrowhead. The wooden body of the shield was pierced through with a large hole, splinters flying in all directions. And the company commander hiding behind it, even though he had braced himself, had no time to dodge at all. He could only watch helplessly as the arrow buried itself into his shoulder.
That company commander of Sun Jian's forces let out a scream and toppled backward.
Such was the terror of a single arrow—brutal beyond measure.
Huang Zhong fired three arrows at a time, three times in succession, instantly killing more than ten of the soldiers charging at the front. It was as though he had driven extremely sharp steel needles into Sun Jian's forward troops, punching more than a dozen deep holes into their ranks. The expressions on the faces of Sun Jian's vanguard infantry changed at once. They exchanged stunned glances, unable to believe their own eyes.
That middle-aged warrior on horseback, with a single bow in hand, seemed to have transformed into the most merciless of death gods. The moment his gaze locked onto someone, death was certain.
The faint glints of cold light on the bowstring seemed capable of dragging away a man's very soul and annihilating everything. Before that bow, no matter how one was armored or how one tried to dodge, it all seemed utterly futile. All that remained was to wait for death to descend. This sense of helplessness instantly enveloped Sun Jian's forward troops, and their morale collapsed in a single breath.
Huang Zhong alone, with nothing but a bow, had halted the charge of an entire unit.
The original garrison soldiers of Xiangyang suddenly felt an unnamed power rising from somewhere deep within their bodies. Their faces flushed red involuntarily, and they gripped their weapons tightly. Some raised them high, while others beat them together, and in unison they roared out in jubilant cheers.
They were paying tribute to Huang Zhong in this manner.
Paying tribute to their own courageous commander.
In an instant, morale soared like a rainbow.
Such was the majesty of a single brave general.