The Most Powerful Young Master of the Northern Song Dynasty

Chapter 18: Forced to Be a Hero

Once he’d figured this out, Da Bang put on a brave face, held his head high, and declared, “I’ve said all I need to say. If you want to kill a kid, go ahead and kill me—but don’t give Old Chen any more trouble. If you so much as furrow your brow, I’ll admit defeat!” Old Chen, meanwhile, smiled bitterly to himself: It’d be best if no one got killed. Damn it, even if you just kill that little demon and spare me—with me, Old Chen, present at the scene, yet Wang Anshi’s son ends up dead—will I still have my life when I get back? Will my entire family still be alive? Splatter Once again, the sword flashed, and blood spattered. Old Chen was stunned, unable to believe his eyes. He simply couldn’t believe it—that Bai Yutang had actually… cut off her own left pinky finger. Yes, this time Bai Yutang hadn’t struck anyone else—she’d struck herself. Pale-faced, Bai Yutang gave the bloody severed finger a light kick, sending it flying toward Wang Bang, and said coldly, “You’re right to say I’ve broken my word. Here, I’m returning it to you. Let’s consider you a representative of the authorities. Now, I’m even with the authorities. But I’m not done with Zhan Zhao—he’s as good as dead.” After all, she was just a child—Wang Bang burst into tears, clutching her severed finger as she chased after Bai Yutang, sobbing, “Sister Bai, I was wrong. I’ll never speak ill of you again. I just wanted to show off in front of you a little; I didn’t know it would make you so angry. I’m so sorry.” “Come any closer and I’ll beat you to a pulp.” Bai Yutang stomped her foot menacingly, but her anger got the better of her—she staggered, fainted, and collapsed onto Wang Bang. “Hey, hey… no!” With her big sister falling on top of her, the petite Wang Bang was pinned to the ground. The feisty girl was quite heavy, completely covering Wang Bang and making it hard for him to roll over. Plus, with her plump, round butt pressing down on him, even though Wang Bang was still “young,” he wasn’t exactly eager to move—it actually felt pretty good. He’d barely been comfortable for five seconds when he noticed a strong smell of blood in the air. It seemed Bai Yutang’s hand was bleeding faster and faster—could she really have fainted from such intense anger? He had to find a way to stop her bleeding. Forget about using his fingers—with the medical technology of this era, even if they managed to reattach them, it would be worse than having them gone altogether. Just as Wang Bang was struggling to free himself, he suddenly heard Old Chen let out a bloodcurdling scream as he fled for his life, not even bothering to keep his own ears safe. Damn Old Chen—if you won’t come help, just wait until I get my hands on you later. As he thought this, Wang Bang finally managed to wriggle free from Bai Yutang’s “grip,” but he didn’t have time to stop her bleeding. He saw a relatively large, elongated object slithering among the wild grasses nearby, though it was too dark to make out clearly—only a faint, shadowy outline visible in the moonlight. The creature seemed to be stimulated by the overwhelming scent of blood, growing increasingly restless and moving faster and faster. “Oh no—it’s Grandma’s tongue!” When Wang Bang caught another glimpse of the “long, slender object” as it emerged, he was so terrified he nearly lost his wits. He tried to lift Bai Yutang’s leg to drag him away, but he was too weak to move him. He was tempted to leave Bai Yutang behind and run for his life, but that would seem a bit cowardly. Besides, Wang Bang wasn’t sure if the wild wolves outside would be full after devouring Old Chen. If they weren’t, wouldn’t he be doomed the moment he stepped outside? Since he was doomed either way, Wang Bang decided to at least go out in a way that looked cool. Having made up his mind, Wang Bang clutched the Tai Chi Seal and stamped his foot: “Spirits of Heaven and Earth, the Dao of the Universe is revealed…” He forgot how to continue the incantation, but in any case, “You demonic creature, listen carefully: the bloodline of the Wang family is protected by the Heavenly Gangs. You’d better not come near me—if you do, it’s war… Go ahead and try me.” As it turned out, the vibrations from his stomping actually managed to lure that thing out at last. It wasn’t Grandma’s tongue, but it was enough to make Wang Bang’s blood run cold. It was a giant centipede, nearly a spirit in its own right—thicker than a human arm and over two meters long. Nearly a thousand legs moved in rapid unison as it circled the ground, seemingly intent on closing in. Wang Bang felt as if he were about to die. Even something as cute as a fist-sized dung beetle could terrify him—let alone this creature? Bai Yutang lay on the ground, blood flowing more and more freely from her injured hand. She had regained consciousness, but the delay had caused her to lose too much blood, leaving her body too weak to stand. After a few attempts, Bai Yutang gave up trying to stand and said weakly, “That centipede is practically a spirit. A single touch from it would kill you instantly. Fortunately, it’s stupid—its massive body makes it difficult for it to control itself, so it’s uncoordinated. It wants to come over, but its body just spins and twists on its own. Wang Bang, run away on your own. Don’t worry about me.” Wang Bang cried out in the most sincere tone he’d ever used since arriving in the Song Dynasty: “I’m no hero, but I want to die by your side. Those hungry wolves out there might not be any gentler than this beast.” Bai Yutang froze for a moment. While the giant centipede was still spinning on the ground, Wang Bang added, “Can you stop the bleeding on your own?” “I should… be able to.” “Then let’s each accept our fate.” Wang Bang quickly bent down, picked up an ear and a finger from the ground, ran over to this side, and rolled around, letting his cotton robe wipe away the bloodstains from Bai Yutang’s area, then ran to the other side and stamped his feet. At that moment, the smell of blood was strongest on Wang Bang, and the vibrations were coming from his direction. So the centipede crawled back toward Wang Bang. It seemed drunk and unsteady—perhaps it had suffered a stroke or something due to old age. In any case, that was the general idea, causing the creature to move now fast, now slow, sometimes involuntarily weighed down by its own body and circling around. So even though its legs moved quickly, its entire body lacked coordination, and it was consistently unable to catch up to Wang Bang. Wang Bang finally saw the parallel. The Song army was by no means small, yet it was just like this centipede—lacking coordination everywhere, with the left and right flanks out of sync and the command center failing to act. Thus, just as in the Song-Xia War of that time, when Xia Song played tricks and shirked his responsibilities, while Fan Zhongyan and Han Qi clashed over differing battle strategies and tore each other apart, the officers under their command were like the legs of this centipede: although their quality wasn’t too low and their equipment wasn’t bad,some followed Xia Song’s orders, some followed Han Qi’s, and some followed Fan Zhongyan’s. When they clearly needed to advance in a straight line, they veered left and right, causing the stupid centipede to start circling around, exhausting themselves in the process—which ultimately led to Han Qi’s defeat at Haoshui River. Once the battle strategy was clarified, fear was overcome, and the true nature of the enemy was uncovered, it was inevitable that the sly Wang Bang would, just as he had defeated Bai Yutang, ultimately triumph over this brainless centipede. Or perhaps it wasn’t brainless at all—it had too many brains, just like the Great Song Dynasty, which had too many elites; too many monks, and the temple starts to lean. As he let his imagination run wild, Wang Bang’s fear began to fade. Coupled with the thrill of fantasizing about rescuing a damsel in distress, his movements grew increasingly skilled, his courage grew bolder, his tactics became more refined, and his familiarity with the terrain deepened. Finally, dawn broke. The giant centipede had been completely worn down by Wang Bang’s war of attrition and lay curled up on the ground, too exhausted to move. If it could understand human speech, it would have died of rage long ago, because Wang Bang had been cursing it the whole time, using vibrations to lure it into action. Wang Bang was truly a shrewd tactician; whenever faced with a situation, his mind would almost instantly formulate some kind of equation. After maneuvering against the giant centipede for half an hour, Wang Bang had identified a pattern. Certain specific sounds would make the centipede particularly excited, and once excited, its body would engage in even more uncontrollable “repetitive, inefficient movements.” In other words, this creature’s “instruction set” was far too primitive; it was extremely inefficient at handling specific tasks, expending a great deal of energy while managing to accomplish only a minimal amount of work. So, while the giant centipede’s stamina was actually on par with Wang Bang’s, it was simply too stupid to know how to use its stamina effectively. Since it didn’t have a significant advantage over Wang Bang in terms of sheer power, it ultimately lost due to its architectural limitations. To put it in military terms, it lost due to its application of strategy and tactics. In the faint red light of dawn, Wang Bang, acting with great caution and stealth, tested the giant centipede several times to confirm that it wasn’t faking it—it was genuinely exhausted and had collapsed.