DLERB -Chapter 98 This Is the Local Specialty I Brought for the Xiongnu!

That sound was not a war drum.

Nor was it a horn.

It was like muffled thunder rolling from the depths of the horizon.

Or like the heartbeat of a giant, pounding against the earth again and again.

On the city wall, everyone stopped what they were doing.

The Qin soldiers locked in a bloody battle.

The roaring Xiongnu barbarians charging forward.

All of them instinctively turned toward the direction the sound came from.

South.

At the far end of the vast wilderness that connected heaven and earth—

a black line appeared.

An incomparably straight, pitch-black line.

Fusu leaned against the battlement, unable to see clearly what it was.

He only felt that the line was rapidly growing thicker.

Like a drop of ink falling into clear water, spreading at astonishing speed.

“What is that?”

A veteran Qin soldier with one arm severed spoke in a hoarse voice.

Fusu did not answer.

Beside him, a royal guard used the last of his strength to prop himself against the wall and stand up.

“It looks like… cavalry?”

Cavalry?

Where would cavalry come from?

Hadn’t all of Great Qin’s mobile forces already gone to Hangu Pass to deal with the rebel armies of the Six States?

Below the city wall—a stir also spread through the ranks of the Xiongnu army.

Touman Chanyu narrowed his eyes.

He too had seen that black line.

“Go take a look.”

He ordered a personal guard at his side.

A Xiongnu scout galloped out on horseback, then quickly returned with a puzzled expression.

“Chanyu! It’s Qin cavalry!”

“Qin cavalry?”

Touman Chanyu laughed.

“How many?”

The scout hesitated for a moment.

“Hard to tell. Their formation is too dense… probably no more than five thousand men.”

“Five thousand?”

Touman Chanyu’s laughter became utterly unrestrained.

The Xiongnu generals around him burst into laughter as well.

“Five thousand? Are they here to die?”

“Have the Qin gone mad? They think five thousand men can charge against our three hundred thousand troops?”

“Hahahahaha! That’s not even enough to fill the gaps between our teeth!”

Touman Chanyu waved his hand, stopping the laughter.

He raised his gaze toward the distance once more.

The cavalry force had drawn closer.

Now he could see clearly—the banner at the front.

It was black.

Embroidered upon it with golden thread was a ferocious dragon baring its claws and fangs.

“The Black Water Dragon Banner of Great Qin,” a Xiongnu general said.

Touman Chanyu nodded.

But his brows slowly furrowed.

Something was wrong.

Beside the Black Water Dragon Banner was another flag.

A banner with the same black background and golden lettering.

On it was only a single character.

A character he had never seen before—arrogant and domineering.

“Ying.”

“Ying?”

Touman Chanyu read the character aloud, his face full of confusion.

“The Qin Emperor’s surname is Ying, but that is the style of a royal banner. Which Qin prince would use his own surname as his royal standard?”

No one could answer him.

Because the cavalry had already stopped.

Just beyond the range of the Xiongnu bows.

Like a silent black wall.

On the city wall—

Fusu also saw it clearly.

He saw that royal banner bearing the character “Ying.”

His body began trembling uncontrollably.

Not from fear.

But from an absurd yet overwhelmingly real premonition.

Then—he saw the black cavalry formation split apart to both sides, like Moses parting the sea.

A magnificent Ferghana horse slowly walked out.

The horse was enormous.

But the rider atop it was very small.

So small that he nearly sank into the massive saddle.

Fusu’s pupils suddenly contracted.

The royal guard beside him rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“Th-that’s… a child?!”

Below the wall, Touman Chanyu saw it as well.

The confusion on his face instantly turned into wild laughter.

“Hahahahahaha!”

“A little brat!”

“Great Qin truly has no one left! They actually sent a milk-drinking child whose hair hasn’t even grown in to be a general!”

“Pass down my order! Capture that child alive!”

“I’ll turn him into my chamber pot!”

Even louder laughter erupted from the Xiongnu ranks.

They looked at that tiny figure as though it were the greatest joke in the world.

Ying Zheng sat atop his horse.

He pulled out a strip of dried meat from his robes, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed hard.

As if the three hundred thousand wolf-like Xiongnu troops before him were merely scenery in his backyard.

From a small pouch hanging beside the saddle, he took out a brass single-tube instrument.

And raised it before his eyes.

Through the lens, he saw the figure atop the city wall—his cheap older brother, covered head to toe in blood, his white robe already dyed red.

Fusu.

He also saw below the wall the Xiongnu leader wearing a golden crown, pointing at him and laughing wildly.

Touman.

“Tsk.”

Ying Zheng curled his lips in disdain.

“What an ugly laugh.”

Beside him—

Ying Zheng stood clad in black armor, his expression as cold as the frost of the northern frontier.

He looked at the on the city wall, at Fusu’s miserable state.

A savage killing intent spread from his body.

He tightened his grip on the longsword in his hand.

“Ziye.”

His voice suppressed towering fury.

“Let your father lead the charge.”

“I want to twist that bastard’s head off with my own hands!”

Ying Ziye lowered the brass tube in his hand.

He reached out and tugged lightly on Ying Zheng’s reins.

“Father Emperor.”

“Don’t rush.”

He spoke with an innocent expression.

“Before killing people, shouldn’t we set off some fireworks to liven things up first?”

“Let them hear a bang.”

Ying Ziye froze for a moment.

Ying Ziye turned his little face and casually waved toward the rear.

“Divine Mechanism Battalion!”

“Step forward!”

“Boom!”

Three hundred cavalrymen rode out from behind the main formation in perfect unison.

These three hundred men were different from the ordinary black-armored heavy cavalry.

The warhorses beneath them were even more powerful.

The muscles on their bodies bulged high like solid rock.

Each of them carried a pitch-black clay jar in one hand.

And a fire starter in the other.

“Light them.”

Ying Ziye’s voice was crisp and pleasant.

The three hundred strongmen hesitated not at all.

They blew their fire starters alight and ignited the short fuse protruding from each clay jar.

“Fizz—”

A faint sound of burning fuses rang out.

Sparks and wisps of green smoke emerged.

Touman Chanyu’s laughter stopped.

Frowning, he stared at the strange actions before the Qin formation.

“What are they doing?”

“Lighting fires? Holding broken jars?”

A Xiongnu general sneered disdainfully.

“Chanyu, enough nonsense with them!”

“Let me lead men over there and capture that little brat!”

Touman Chanyu was enraged by Ying Ziye’s fearless demeanor.

“Fine!”

“Take ten thousand cavalry and charge!”

“Crush them for me!”

“Woooooo!!!”

The horn of attack sounded once more.

Over ten thousand elite Xiongnu cavalry broke away from the main army like a black flood.

Howling like beasts, kicking up endless dust, they viciously charged toward Ying Zheng’s five thousand riders.

The earth trembled violently beneath their iron hooves.

On the city wall, the Qin soldiers who had only just regained a sliver of hope turned pale once again.

“It’s over…”

“They’ll be swallowed whole!”

Fusu gripped the battlement tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

However—Ying Zheng remained completely motionless.

He merely watched the tidal wave of death sweeping toward him.

Under his breath, in a voice only he could hear, he softly counted.

“Three hundred paces…”

“Two hundred fifty paces…”

“Two hundred paces…”

Now!

He suddenly raised his tiny hand.

“Throw!”

At the command—the three hundred strongmen of the Divine Mechanism Battalion let out earth-shaking roars.

The muscles in their arms tightened instantly as they used every ounce of strength in their bodies to hurl the burning clay jars forward with all their might!

Three hundred black dots whistled into the sky.

Drawing perfect arcs through the air.

Like three hundred black locusts.

Crossing a distance of two hundred paces, they smashed precisely toward the charging Xiongnu cavalry formation.

One Xiongnu centurion at the very front saw a black object flying toward his face.

He burst into laughter.

“What’s this?”

“A gift from the Qin? Wine?”

Bold and fearless, he neither dodged nor avoided it. Stretching out his ape-like arm—he caught the clay jar firmly in his hand.

It felt heavy.

He lifted it before his eyes and curiously examined it.

Then he saw it—the rope-like fuse at the mouth of the jar had already burned to its very end.

It was hissing with its final sparks.

The smile on the centurion’s face froze.

In the distance—a mischievous grin appeared on Ying Ziye’s little face, like a prankster whose trick had succeeded.

He slowly raised both hands and covered his ears.

His lips moved soundlessly.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”