Rebirth: Degenerate Slave Abuses Tyrant

Three days later, the northern walls of Ye Qie had been blown apart by Northern Yan’s heavy cannons.

The scent of blood was pervasive in the air while corpses piled up underfoot. The soldiers of Greater Zhou had blocked themselves in this narrow space, locking their jaws with the army of Northern Yan in a death struggle. The wall towers had fallen, and Ye Qie was no longer defensible. The Zhou soldiers knew that their deaths were certain and imminent, so why not take a few more of those Northern Yan soldiers to hell with them! The blood struggle raged on for three days. Even the most cowardly would have been provoked into blood lust, nevermind that they were all soldiers.

As the sun was about to set in the west, war cries were heard in the distance. The reinforcements of Greater Zhou had finally arrived.

Chang Ling lead a line of slaughter right to the city walls. Scanning his surroundings, all he could see was the dead piled up on one another, those who were standing were all stained with blood like living ghouls. “Xiao Wei!” Chang Ling couldn’t tell who was who between these ghoulish figures, and could only shout Luo Wei’s name.

The saber in Luo Wei’s hand dropped to the ground. Even the strong civilian youths had been dispatched by him to help defend the city, so how could he just stand around and watch? It was only after killing someone with his own blade that Luo Wei figured out how easy it was to kill someone. The saber he’d let drop to the ground was curled in around the edge of the blade. Just how many had died under his weapon? Luo Wei had counted up to twenty before he’d stopped.

“Xiao Wei! Luo Wei!” Chang Ling yelled from his horse. He didn’t dare imagine what Luo Qi would do if Luo Wei had died in Ye Qie.

“Big brother Chang,” Luo Wei drew a breath and waved to Chang Ling.

Chang Ling dismounted and covered the distance at a run of few paces. Luo Wei was splattered with blood all over. There was no way to tell whether it was his own blood or someone else’s, “Have you been wounded?” Chang Ling supported Luo Wei with both of his hands.

“They’re all small ones,” Luo Wei opened his mouth, even his teeth had traces of dust and grime.

The war cries ceased for a moment. The people of Ye Qie who’d endured three days of fear and terror all stepped outside onto the streets one by one, welcoming the reinforcements with shouts of excitement.

The old tribe leader, aged at least seventy, walked up to the temporary military barracks while supported by two of his grandsons.

Luo Wei got off his horse and quickly walked up to the man.

“Young master!” The old tribe leader addressed Luo Wei with a trembling voice that seemed to say he was holding something back, like he had so much to say but didn’t know where to start.

But it was Luo Wei who fell to his knees in front of the old man, “It was my fault that those who left to fight with us could not return.”

“Young master!” The old man’s aged tears cut grooves in his skin as he tried to help Luo Wei up with both hands, “Young master, you’re the savior of everyone who lives in Ye Qie, you shouldn’t blame yourself! Please accept this humble bow of thanks from an old man,” The tribe leader was about to get down as he spoke.

“Sir!” Luo Wei had already used up all of his energy. He wanted to hold the old man up but wasn’t able to and ended kneeling on the ground as well, unable to get up.

“Young master!” The old tribe leader sobbed, “Ye Qie is just a small border city, often suffering from soldiers fighting this and that. The young master is the only official of the court who’d be willing to live or perish with us!”

In a fit of sobs, Luo Wei held the old man’s hand, “Sir, I said that day that if the Northern Yan army wished to march into the city, they’d do it over my dead body! A man cannot go back on his word. It’s only that I’m useless, I couldn’t protect everyone in the city.”

The sky had gone clear a day before, but the winds over the border were still cold to the bone.

Joy and sorrow swirled within the city of Ye Qie. Not everyone was lucky enough to survive a life or death battle. Those who died are fated for the underworld, leaving only endless sorrow for those who had lied.

Wei Lan approached and helped both Luo Wei and the old man up.

The old tribe leader took three steps back, then knelt down again for Luo Wei. The residents of the city around them followed his lead and knelt too.

The old man spoke up to Luo Wei, “We, the people of Ye Qie, bow our heads in gratitude to the young master for saving our lives!”

Chang Ling stood behind Luo Wei, thinking how Luo Wei, even with his hair disheveled, his clothes torn, his body marred with blood and mud, could still move people with his beauty. Was this it then for the Luo family? After six generations of being chancellors, would everyone in Luo Qi’s generation be trailblazers, not content to sit around in court, and happily die in battle for their nation?