The warhorse was shot dead by the archer, and John Wood, who had taken an arrow in the shoulder and was hiding behind a huge boulder, saw his own commander personally charging forward. Remembering the master’s extremely cold face, he couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat.

Gritting his teeth, he let out a roar and charged out from behind the boulder with his shield raised.

Arrows flew like locusts. The archer standing on the hilltop showed no intention of leaving. His body was as light as a willow in the wind, dodging arrows one by one. Even as his body swayed, he never forgot to nock and shoot, easily killing several Ming soldiers who were exchanging fire with him.

Seeing that George Wood’s warhorse had already reached the slope, the archer’s face showed a mocking expression. He gently raised his hand, and a jet-black giant arrow flew straight toward George Wood’s throat.

George Wood lifted his slightly bloodshot eyes, lowered his head a bit, and turned the helmet plume toward the arrow. With a clang, the arrow glanced off the iron helmet and shot obliquely into the air.

The archer let out a soft “huh,” grabbed into his quiver with his left hand, and immediately had three arrows on his bowstring.

John Wood, in despair, spun the long saber in his hand and threw it out, then leaped forward, trying to shield George Wood from disaster.

The saber slashed a bloody gash across the archer’s face, flew past him, and finally fell powerlessly to the ground.

John Wood’s body also crashed heavily to the ground, but the arrows in the archer’s hand were not released.

George Wood’s warhorse snorted white breath, leaped powerfully, and prepared to trample this hateful archer to death.

The archer sneered, dropped all the arrows and the longbow to the ground, and already had a black war blade in his hand.

He slashed off the warhorse’s front hooves in midair, shifted his body slightly, and waited for the warhorse to fall so he could behead the enemy general.

The warhorse crashed to the ground, but the rider had vanished. A whistling wind sounded behind his ear. The archer was startled and quickly dropped to the ground. A fist-sized flail swept past in front of him. Startled, the archer rolled several times in the snow before getting up again.

George Wood stood just ten paces away, swinging the flail with one hand and staring at him coldly.

“Are you a Ming general?”

George Wood grinned and said, “I am George Wood, son of Wu Xiang, the Chief Military Commander of Shanhaiguan.”

The archer laughed, “At last, I see a man who can fight and dares to fight!”

George Wood spread his hands, then clenched his fists heavily and said, “Today, I’ll let you, a bandit slave, witness your grandfather’s skills!”

The archer’s expression gradually grew serious. He nodded and said, “Good, you do look a bit like a hero. After you die, I won’t cut off your head. I’ll spare one of your men so he can take your whole body back!”

George Wood sneered, “After you die, I won’t cut off your head either. I’ll spare one of your men so he can take your body back.”

With that, he removed his armor, revealing a strong upper body, holding a flail in one hand and a short saber in the other, ready to fight.

The archer also laughed loudly, tore off his white armor, and likewise revealed a chest as black as iron. “Let’s begin!”

George Wood lunged forward, and after two quick steps, suddenly dove to the ground. The flail shot up from the ground like a viper, heading straight for the archer’s abdomen.

The archer used his long blade to deflect the flail. As he tried to press forward, he suddenly heard a flurry of bowstrings. It was too late to dodge—five arrows fired at close range shot straight for his chest.

His forward charge stopped. Five arrows were embedded in his chest, each one buried half a foot deep...

“Despicable... scoundrel...” the archer managed to roar in anger before collapsing to the ground, his eyes nearly splitting as he stared fiercely at the gasping George Wood.

With the archer captain present, these sixty bandit slaves were like a wolf pack. Once the archer died, the remaining bandits became a disorderly mob, with no discipline left.

Under John Wood’s command, it didn’t take long to kill all these bandits one by one.

George Wood’s chest burned like fire. After gulping down strong liquor, he realized his hands were shaking violently.

Looking at the fewer than fifty personal guards left, then at the corpses lying in the snow, he felt the world was so cold it was unbearable!

☆ Character Profile No. 4

The Eight Great Bandits 3—Benjamin Walker

In the daytime, the sky was dazzlingly clear, not a cloud in sight, and the blue was so intense it made one’s eyes ache.

Benjamin Walker tightened his belt, swallowed the sour saliva filling his mouth, and forced himself to stand up and look into the distance.

The rice seedlings, as long as a finger, drooped listlessly, standing lazily on the yellow earth, stretching from his feet into the distance.

The water just poured left little trace on the ground; only a few seedlings at his feet, under his shadow, still had a bit of moisture at their roots.

If he moved his body even a little, that bit of moisture would be sucked dry by the scorching sun.

Sweat soaked his clothes, but as soon as he stopped, they dried quickly. The hot wind blowing on his body brought not a hint of coolness.

His youngest son staggered up from the bottom of the ditch, carrying a load of muddy yellow water. As soon as he entered the field, he couldn’t wait to pour the muddy water onto the ground...

“Dad, there’s no more water in the pond.”