Si Xiuyong stood there, stunned!

A moment ago he'd bristled at Feng Qizheng calling him useless. Now it suddenly struck him that useless was about right.

He'd fought Ruan Wei all this time and gotten nowhere, and Feng Qizheng had needed just two moves to make Ruan Wei cough up blood.

He could see it plainly: this man, who wasn't even especially big, was frighteningly strong!

One strength puts down ten skills.

And Feng Qizheng wasn't only born with monstrous strength. He knew how to fight, too.

With an angry roar, he pounced on Ruan Wei like a tiger and brought the modao slashing down.

"Take him alive..."

Yuan Long had seen what was coming and bellowed the order.

The man was no small fry. He was still worth interrogating.

Feng Qizheng changed his stroke mid-swing, turning the chop into a thrust. The blade drove into the muddy ground under Ruan Wei and then heaved upward, flinging dirt everywhere and pitching Ruan Wei into the air.

The modao spun end for end, and its haft slammed into Ruan Wei's gut.

Thud!!!

Ruan Wei screamed and crashed to the ground. Another mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips, and he had no fight left in him at all.

His men were already terrified of the Ning'an Army's butchery.

When they saw their general go down, they nearly lost their minds with fear.

The Ning'an Army and the modao army fell on them like tigers and cut through them like chopping melons and slicing greens.

The enemy went down in great swaths, like wheat before the sickle.

Yuan Long roared, "Ruan Wei is beaten! You still want to fight on? Lay down your weapons and surrender, and you might keep your lives."

Feng Qizheng bellowed after him, "General Yuan, what the hell's the point of jawing with them? If they don't throw down their weapons and surrender, we kill every last one!"

Soaked in blood, he was the god of slaughter himself. One stroke, and another enemy soldier was split in two.

Si Xiuyong shouted, "Men, it's over! We're all sons of…