Chapter 7: You Truly Are Worthless

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The night raid was a decisive victory, exhilarating and thorough.

With this combination of “retreat when the enemy advances, harass when the enemy retreats,” the Northern Di camp suffered heavy losses and was left in utter disarray.

Inside the command post, Zhao Zhao and Ma Zhong watched Zhao Yi with eyes that held more than just awe; there was an indescribable complexity in their gaze.

How many cunning and ruthless schemes did this boy have locked away in his mind?

“Clear the battlefield,” Zhao Yi’s voice broke the silence. He wiped the blood from his face, his eyes cold.

“Gather the bodies of our fallen brothers and find a place with good feng shui to give them a proper burial.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the mountains of Northern Di corpses piled outside the city, a chilling smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“As for those barbarian bodies…”

“Send someone to call out to their camp.”

“Want to collect your comrades’ bodies and give them a proper burial?”

“Fine.”

“Bring food, weapons, horses… bring all the valuables in exchange!”

“No exchange?”

Zhao Yi sneered coldly.

“Then throw them all out into the wild to feed the wolves!”

At these words, the room fell into stunned silence.

Zhao Zhao’s eyelid twitched violently; he opened his mouth to say something but swallowed the words back. This was no longer a son he could control.

The brothers Li Jin and Li Yin exchanged glances, both shivering simultaneously. Li Jin leaned close to Li Yin’s ear and whispered in a voice only they could hear:

“The Young General… really is a living Bodhisattva.”

Li Yin nodded in deep agreement, adding, “Yeah, he manages both the kill and the burial—one-stop service.”

The words reached the Northern Di camp, where Tuoba Hong, just roused from unconsciousness, upon hearing the deputy general’s report, felt a bitter taste in his throat and coughed up another mouthful of old blood.

Rage overwhelmed him!

Before he could catch his breath, a trembling bodyguard entered, holding a delicate wooden box with both hands.

“Great General, a Zhou cavalryman outside the city threw this at us and fled, saying… saying it’s a gift from their Young General to you.”

Tuoba Hong opened the box suspiciously.

Inside lay a brand-new… pink silk bellyband.

“Pfft—”

Tuoba Hong’s vision went black; a third mouthful of blood erupted from him, and he staggered.

Meanwhile, at Yanmen Pass, Li Jin, having completed his task, returned to Zhao Yi with lingering fear.

“My lord! Next time you do something like this, could you give us a heads-up?”

“I just put the thing down when I heard behind me screams like pigs being slaughtered—I nearly thought I wasn’t coming back!”

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When Li Jin heard Zhao Yi say the box contained a woman’s bellyband, his face instantly went pale, and his legs trembled uncontrollably.

Thank goodness I ran fast!

If caught, wouldn’t I be skinned alive?

“Press them,” Zhao Yi ignored Li Jin’s lingering dread and issued more orders. “Send someone to shout: if we don’t see the stuff before nightfall, your warriors better prepare to become wolf bait!”

Tuoba Hong’s fury knew no bounds, but he was helpless.

With the army’s morale shattered and spirits at rock bottom, he could not allow his soldiers’ corpses to be abandoned in the wilderness.

Reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and ordered piles of grain, supplies, and equipment stacked at designated spots beneath the city.

This maneuver earned Ma Zhong and the other generals’ utmost respect.

Without expending a single soldier, they got the enemy to obediently deliver supplies—how could this war be fought any other way?

That night.

Zhao Yi issued another command.

“Send men two li outside the city to dig trenches overnight!”

“Have our best archers lie in ambush there!”

At dawn the next day,

Before the gate of Yanmen Pass, Zhao Yi stood alone on horseback.

Behind him was no army, only dust stirred by the cold wind. Li Jin and Li Yin hid in the distance, shouting at the top of their lungs, repeating Zhao Yi’s taunts towards the Northern Di camp.

“Tuoba Hong! You coward raised in a placenta!”

“Have you worn the pink bellyband your grandpa sent you? Fits well? Want grandpa to send you two more to change?”

“If you’ve got the guts, come out and duel your grandpa!”

Inside the camp, Tuoba Hong was having his wounds dressed by the military physician. Hearing these words, his pale face flushed deep purple, and the last thread of his reason snapped.

“You’ve gone too far!”

He shoved the medic away; his muscular body trembled with rage. He didn’t want stratagems or tactics—now all he wanted was to tear apart that Zhao Yi with his own hands, the most primal way.

“Bring me my bow!” Tuoba Hong roared, snatching a sturdy bow from a bodyguard.

He mounted his horse, ignoring his deputy general’s desperate pulls, charging out of the camp like a mad bull utterly enraged.

“Stay back! Watch me kill that little bastard myself!”

Zhao Yi watched the charging figure from afar, his face not tense but rather showing an almost eager smile.

Tuoba Hong reined in his warhorse a hundred paces away, skillfully drawing his bowstring to a full crescent. The sharp arrowhead gleamed coldly in the morning light, aimed straight at Zhao Yi’s chest.

“You little bastard, prepare to die!”

“Whoosh—”

A sharp whistling sound cut through the air; the arrow shot toward Zhao Yi like a falling star.

Zhao Zhao and Ma Zhong atop the city wall felt their hearts leap into their throats.

“Thunk!”

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A muffled sound—the arrow struck Zhao Yi’s chest.

His body jolted as if hit by immense force. He looked down at the arrow lodged there, disbelief flooding his face. Then, straight as a rod, he fell from the horse, crashing heavily to the ground, motionless.

“Good!” A thunderous cheer erupted from the Northern Di ranks.

Tuoba Hong laughed triumphantly to the sky; all his humiliation and frustration seemed to vanish in that moment. Spurring his horse and brandishing a curved sword, he slowly approached the “corpse,” intent on personally severing the head that haunted his sleepless nights.

He dismounted and stepped closer, a victor’s grimace on his face.

Just as he bent down to strike—

Suddenly, the ground beneath him seemed to come alive, countless heads popping up!

Dozens of archers silently rose from camouflaged trenches, drawing bows and nocking arrows. Cold arrowheads converged from all directions, aimed squarely at him.

The Northern Di cheers cut off abruptly.

Tuoba Hong’s smile froze, his blood seemingly turning to ice.

A trap!

The “corpse” on the ground, Zhao Yi, slowly sat up, patting his chest. The arrow was firmly lodged in several thick layers of tough leather armor he wore underneath, not even scratching the skin.

He looked at the stunned, ice-cold Tuoba Hong and grinned.

“You think I’m as stupid as you?”

Tuoba Hong’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.

Zhao Yi stood up lazily, spreading his hands toward Tuoba Hong, his tone full of mockery.

“It’s all of us against just you.”

He snapped his fingers.

“Release the arrows!”

“Twang! Twang! Twang!”

Arrows flew like a locust swarm.

Tuoba Hong screamed inhumanly, desperately trying to crawl back to his horse—but it was too late.

“Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!”

Several muffled sounds rang out as multiple holes appeared in his buttocks and thighs. Like a balloon being punctured, he tumbled awkwardly to the ground but scrambled back onto his horse, fleeing in panic.

Back at the command tent, the Northern Di military doctor looked at his bloodied rear, wanting to laugh but daring not to, his face turning green with restraint.

Tuoba Hong lay on a cot, thick bandages wrapped around his backside, each breath stinging the wound painfully.

Deputy General Murong Hui knelt on the ground, bawling with snot and tears.

“Great General! We can’t fight anymore! That Zhao Yi is no ordinary man!”