The withered yellow grassland is endless, and the bloody remnant sun on the horizon adds a bit of gloom to this. If it weren't for the smoke of war in the distance, this uninhabited grassland would seem to be able to exist so quietly forever.

It doesn't seem accurate to say that there is no one. In the north-west of the steppe, a horse was galloping south. It was a young soldier, the military helmet on the top was gone, the messy black hair sticking to the sweat on the blood-stained face, only a pair of black eyes were still clear. The young soldier's lips were chapped, and he was silent, neither the shouts of the whip horses nor the lamentations of self-pity. Only the figure of the forward bow rises and falls rhythmically with the running of the war horse under the crotch. Although the sword at his waist had long since lost its scabbard in the battle, it was still tightly tied by the young soldier in his torn robes. The blade of the knife is as clear and traceless as the eyes of a young man, although it drinks the blood of the enemy, it is not stained in the slightest.

The speed of the war horse under the young soldier was extremely fast, and if he didn't look into the distance, the more than 100 cavalry pursuers behind him would already be faintly visible. Judging from the situation at this moment, it will not take a quarter of an hour for the boy to escape from his pursuers. But this was just an extravagant hope after all, and before the boy could continue south, a sky-breaking arrow roared from the right front of the boy with the momentum of thunder, pointing directly at the young man's door. Fortunately, the young soldier reacted quickly, dodged his head slightly, and dodged this hidden arrow.

More sharp arrows followed, but fortunately, although the young man did not look very old, he was already a veteran of many battles. Before the sharp arrow could get close, he had already leaned over and drew the knife, but when he saw the wrist flipped, the volley knife kept moving, blocking the close range of sharp arrows. It's a pity that arrows rain down, and no matter how experienced and powerful the young man is, he will inevitably fall to the ground with arrows from the war horse under him.

The unbearable look in the young man's eyes flashed, and after falling down with the war horse under him, he rolled on the spot, dodging the rest of the arrows. But before the boy could get up, the rumbling sound of horses' hooves came from far and near. It's a fatal situation where there is an ambush in front and a chasing soldier in the back.

The young man was not flustered, his eyes were firm, and he raised his knife and stretched it forward. All I want in my heart is to fight hard, only to die.

He still remembered that before joining the army, the person in the house said to himself that no one in the army could not die, it was himself, and in the war, he was just an ordinary soldier. Today's death in battle can be regarded as a disgrace to the prestige of the family's fierce generals, but it is a pity that the master in the house has taught him for many years.

"Okay, I'll pay it back today." Thinking of this, the young man grinned, and his already chapped lips were bleeding even more. The boy didn't care, and kicked up with both feet, bursting into the enemy group, hoping to earn a few more lives before the enemy could complete the siege. But he underestimated the speed of the enemy's cavalry, and before he could cut over the first two horses, the ambush had already completed the encirclement, and the pursuers in the distance were already roaring.

For the fellow villagers in the south of this grassland, the grassland barbarians will always be barbarians, they have no orderly tactics, no powerful battle formations, and only by virtue of their natural brute strength and unique rangers, they can live in this world. Therefore, in today's battle, the Northwest Army suffered heavy losses, was defeated by the light enemy, and mistakenly fell into the treacherous plan of the barbarians. If before today, some people said that the barbarians were deceitful and caused the Northwest Army of the Daxing Empire to suffer casualties, not to mention that the Chaotian Pass between the Daxing Empire and the grassland would feel that this matter was a fantasy, and the entire Daxing world would laugh fiercely. I have a great way to revitalize the Northwest Army, and 100,000 good men will not lose to the uncivilized grassland barbarians.

But today, it's really different. The young man now wants to tell that Xiongguan and tell that Daxing that the Northwest Army is gone, and it is still defeated by the barbarians they looked down on before. But looking at the current situation, the young man shook his head inadvertently, this news now seems to be only told to the world by the grassland barbarian in front of him.

The young man was hit by arrows in his legs, but he still didn't want to kneel, that is, he didn't even want to sit down, and he used a knife to support himself, which was the last pride of being a Daxing soldier and being a Northwest Army. There were about 300 cavalry of the steppe barbarians in front of him, and they were majestic, all of them were in leather armor, crossbows, scimitars, and big bows. has fought many times, and the boy has long known that this is the elite of the barbarians, heh! Three hundred elites, when did their heads become so valuable.

The elite of the grassland has changed the habit of shouting and wandering during the previous hunting, and everyone has a serious expression, raising their knives inward, and even the neighing of war horses is almost inaudible. They didn't seem to be facing a trapped teenager, but a group of Daxing Northwest Army who would not die in a hundred battles. Of course, today, even the previously invincible Northwest Army has fallen under their swords and crossbows. And the reason why the formation is so strict is not that they care about the true identity of the young soldier in front of them, but that they are also soldiers, which is the last respect they give to this young man. The young man is destined to die, because the military advisor in the military tent said that there is no one to live in the Northwest Army today, and he should be the last person in the Northwest Army.

The orderly procession slowly separated from the middle, and out of it a horse, the man was not dressed in leather armor like the rest of the cavalry, but wore a bright red general armor in the style of Daxing, and his appearance was about fifteen or sixteen years old, with sword eyebrows and starry eyes, and a handsome posture at a glance.

After stopping the horse, he stared at the young man of about the same age in front of him for a long time, and said in a non-standard Daxing official dialect, "You are the last person in the Northwest Army today, and the one who killed you to rejuvenate the Northwest Army is my grassland Zaha, and it is me Mutuo who kills you."

The young man, whose legs were bleeding and his robe was torn, knew that Zaha was the largest tribe of the steppe, and it was also the tribe where the steppe lord belonged. He also knew that the young man in front of him who called himself Mu Tuo must have an extraordinary identity. But at this point, none of that matters. He tightened the war knife in his hand, silently calculating the distance between himself and the other party, if he could capture the other party before he was shot into a sieve, then there was no chance of survival.

Three zhang, this distance for ordinary people, it takes about ten steps, and for him, it may only take two steps plus a forward rush to reach it. Even if his legs are injured now, and his foot strength is not higher than normal, he can get close at most five steps. When the young man's mind turned, he was ready to give it a go, but it was also death, so why not fight it? What's more, he has never been a person who accepts his fate, otherwise, he would not have run from the imperial capital of Daxing to the northwest side.

It's just that before the young man could fight to the death, the young general Mu Tuo, who was in bright armor, seemed to see through his thoughts, smiled slightly, turned his horse around, raised the horsewhip in his hand to the sky, and said something in the grassland language, and then left the sight of the young man who was ready to fight to the death.

The young man was fluent in the grassland dialect and knew that the meaning of that sentence was "Daxing the Northwest Army, dying". He also knew that his life was probably coming to an end, "the general died in a hundred battles, and the strong man returned in ten years", the imperial capital that he couldn't go back to, and the relatives he couldn't see might only be in the afterlife.

The bows and crossbows of the steppe cavalry had been set up, and the boy could even see those arrows flashing in the cold cold light in the afterglow of the setting sun. Each bow and crossbow had been drawn, the hand raised by the cavalry centurion had reached its highest point, and the next moment, as the arm fell, it was a scene of a hundred arrows being fired.

There is nothing more than this, but at this moment when time is stagnant, suddenly a horse comes from the southeast, fast as thunder, and the momentum of one person is more powerful than a hundred horses.

And faster than this man was an iron arrow, an arrow made of pure iron from the tail feathers to the shaft to the arrowhead.

Therefore, the hand of the steppe centurion never had a chance to fall again. An arrow pierced his throat, and the centurion fell from his horse, killing him instantly.