Their martial arts were stronger than the iron cavalry, but as Jianghu experts, they had never encountered such enemies.
Seemingly fearless, seemingly unaware of death, they charged forward relentlessly.
One person would die, and another would step over the comrade's corpse and rush forward, continuously slaughtering. A right arm broken, they'd use the left; both arms broken, they'd crash with their bodies, bite with their teeth. They had never seen such a burning combat will; some even lost their lives unexpectedly.
Even with a dozen heavy cavalry, forming a formation after dismounting.
With the aid of war horses, dealing with a Seventh Rank Martial Artist skilled in long-range attack wasn't difficult.
Because at this stage, there wasn't any substantial difference between martial artists.
Sheng Zhehan struggled to keep his body from collapsing, looking at the gruesome battlefield around him, his breath somewhat rushed, and fatigue—extreme fatigue.
