Chapter 31: Night Raid on Green Goat Stronghold

The moon hung high in the sky.

Lin Chuan led the others swiftly along the mountain path. He intended to exploit the time difference and reach Qingyang Mountain Stronghold before dawn.

The reason he had let that man go earlier was so he could deliver the message to Qingyang Mountain. Stealing the silver was merely meant to make him believe they had been ambushed along the way.

Qingyang Mountain lay more than forty li from here.

The messenger was on horseback and could only take the official road, allowing him to arrive in a little over an hour. They, however, were traveling on foot along a mountain trail and would need at least until midnight to reach the stronghold.

But Thread of Sky Pass was close to the stronghold. If the enemy intended to set an ambush, they certainly would not depart at night.

That gave them an opportunity to launch a surprise attack.

Just after midnight, Qingyang Mountain lay shrouded in dense fog.

Lin Chuan raised a hand, signaling everyone to halt. In the distance, the outline of the stronghold appeared and vanished within the mist.

A dozen or so crude huts had been built against the mountainside. The gate was constructed from logs as thick as bowls. Torches flickered at the entrance, illuminating the guards slumped against tree stumps, snoring like thunder.

“Rest for fifteen minutes.”

At Lin Chuan’s gesture, everyone immediately dispersed into the bushes beside the path.

Moonlight appeared and disappeared behind the clouds.

The men chewed on dry rations and washed them down with cold water as they rested for a short while.

“Corporal Hu, Wang Tiezhu, come with me. We’re going to capture a prisoner.”

Lin Chuan gave the order. “The rest of you wait here. Not a sound.”

Everyone nodded.

Lin Chuan led the two men toward the stronghold gate.

After carefully surveying the surroundings, he found only one guard.

He waved his hand. Hu Dayong silently crept up behind the guard, clapped his left hand over the man’s mouth, and pressed a short knife to his throat with his right. The guard was bound at once.

The entire process took no more than three or four breaths. Before the bandit could react, he had already been dragged into a secluded spot.

“Make one sound and I’ll send you straight to the King of Hell.”

Lin Chuan drew his wolf-fang dagger, pressing the blade against the man’s neck until it raised a thin line of blood.

The bandit’s eyes widened in terror, and he nodded.

Lin Chuan tore away the rag gagging him and asked, “Where is the messenger?”

“He—he’s already gone…” the bandit stammered, trembling like a leaf.

“Gone?” Lin Chuan gave a cold laugh. “Tell me. What is tomorrow’s plan?”

“The—the chief ordered us to set an ambush at Thread of Sky Pass at dawn…” the bandit said shakily. “If the men from Ironwood Fort take that route, we’re to slaughter every last one of them…”

“Where is the grain you robbed from the government?”

“It’s—it’s in Eagle’s Beak Village, in the village head’s courtyard… waiting for the Tartars to come and make the exchange…”

Eagle’s Beak Village?

Lin Chuan’s brow furrowed.

So that was it…

No wonder the Tartars had never raided Eagle’s Beak Village.

“When are the Tartars coming?”

“Tomorrow… tomorrow night…”

“Tomorrow?” Lin Chuan tightened his grip on the saber in his hand.

“Don’t kill me!” Tears and mucus streamed down the bandit’s face. “Master Zhang said that after killing the men of Ironwood Fort, we’re to send their heads to the Tartars. We could earn another handsome sum…”

“You’re not men of Magistrate Qin?”

“Great sir, spare me! We’re Master Zhang’s private soldiers. He ordered us to rob the grain. I’m only working for him—please, great sir, show mercy! I have elderly parents and young children at home…”

Killing intent surged in Lin Chuan’s eyes.

So that was the truth.

Everything had been plotted by Zhang the Landowner. What a sinister and vicious scheme.

“Throw him down.”

Lin Chuan turned and signaled to Hu Dayong.

A flash of steel passed. The bandit’s whimper abruptly ceased.

His body was kicked over the cliff, vanishing without a sound.

“We move in shortly. Leave no survivors.”

Lin Chuan’s voice was colder than the night wind.

Flames of rage ignited in the eyes of the others.

They had heard every word.

No one liked killing, but when others intended to kill you, there was no reason to show them mercy.

There were forty men in the stronghold, all desperate criminals Master Zhang had recruited from various places.

By day, they disguised themselves as bandits. In truth, they specialized in carrying out Master Zhang’s most shameful deeds.

“Move!”

Lin Chuan’s low command was barely audible.

More than twenty soldiers flowed into the stronghold like ghosts.

Lin Chuan led the way, moving swiftly along the shadows cast by the huts.

The huts on the left echoed with overlapping snores.

He signaled for Hu Dayong to circle around the rear, then took Wang Tiezhu straight toward the largest building in the center.

It was probably the bandit chief’s quarters. A dim oil lamp still burned inside.

The instant they pushed open the door, a powerful stench of alcohol washed over them.

Three bandits were gathered around a brazier, gambling. Dice clattered noisily in a bowl.

Before they could even raise their heads, Lin Chuan’s saber came down like lightning, cleaving through the back of the nearest man.

Wang Tiezhu swung his battle blade at another bandit’s neck, but the weapon lodged fast.

Only then did the last man realize what was happening.

He had just opened his mouth to shout when Lin Chuan’s saber pierced straight through his chest.

Wang Tiezhu’s face flushed red. Planting a foot on the man’s shoulder, he wrenched his blade free with all his strength.

“Everyone struggles the first time. Use more force next time.”

Lin Chuan patted him on the shoulder and strode outside, saber in hand.

Wang Tiezhu nodded and hurried after him.

The soldiers had already pounced upon the huts like a pack of wolves. Battle blades rose and fell as screams rang out one after another.

The smell of blood spread through the night wind.

The awakened bandits frantically seized their weapons. Torches flared one after another in the darkness, throwing the stronghold into alternating light and shadow.

The wooden door of the hut on the eastern side exploded inward with a bang.

Amid a storm of splinters, a bandit with a face full of coarse flesh charged out, a ghost-headed saber in his hand.

The shriek of his blade slicing through the air had not yet faded when his throat struck a streak of cold light.

Pfft!

A tri-edged arrowhead pierced cleanly through his throat.

The fletching trembled violently where it was lodged in the flesh, while beads of blood trickled down the shaft.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Sharp whistles tore through the night.

Er Gou stood with Zhang Xiaonian and two other archers, their war bows gleaming coldly in their hands.

Their left hands supported the bows, while three fingers of their right hands gripped the arrow nocks.

Aim, draw, release—their movements flowed as one.

Some arrowheads punched through chests, others locked into throats. In the blink of an eye, five or six bodies lay sprawled across the ground.

More bandits came charging out of the other huts.

“Form ranks!” Lin Chuan shouted.

The soldiers rapidly divided into four squads of five.

The first two men in each squad stood shoulder to shoulder with ironwood shields raised. The two in the middle gripped battle blades, while the last man carried a long spear, its tip extending through the gap between the shields.

The bandits charged with swords and axes raised high.

The shields of the front rank crashed together. The bandits’ blades struck the shields and burst into sparks, only to be deflected by the solid surfaces.

The soldiers with battle blades seized the opportunity to sweep horizontally. Their edges slashed into the bandits’ lower legs, spraying blood into the air.

As the bandits cried out, long spears thrust through the gaps between the shields, driving their points into the men’s chests.

The shields of the squad on the left suddenly parted, revealing a gap half a man wide.

The bandits thought they had found an opening and rushed forward, but the two blades on either side descended at once, cutting down the first two men.

The gap closed immediately, the shields forming a solid barrier once more and keeping the bandits outside.

The bandits surged around them in confusion, only to fall back screaming.

Hu Dayong had become drunk on slaughter.

He had served in the army for years, but this was the first time he had ever faced an enemy and cut through them with such ease.

If the previous surprise attack against the Tartars had relied primarily on catching them unprepared, then the exhilarating battle before him truly demonstrated his master’s brilliance.

Yes, this formation was Lin Chuan’s creation.

With only a few dozen men under his command, and with the enemy limited to small-scale border skirmishes, he needed a formation that balanced offense and defense and allowed the few to overcome the many—not a grand military array.

Thus, he had combined the essence of the Mandarin Duck Formation used by the Qi Family Army with the riot shields of later generations to create this five-man formation.

Five men formed the smallest combat unit, armed only with shields, blades, and spears.

The shield bearers no longer used rattan shields. Instead, they carried thick ironwood shields capable of blocking arrows and resisting blows from swords and axes.

The blade bearers were responsible for mid-range attacks. Their horizontal sweeps could cut off the enemy’s advance.

The spearmen thrust through the gaps between the shields, targeting vital points.

The true brilliance of the formation lay in the fact that, apart from the two shield bearers at the front, the other three men could switch roles at any moment according to the enemy’s movements.

In ordinary times, Lin Chuan had led his brothers in repeated drills, practicing transitions between formations.

They had trained for little more than half a month.

Yet now, during its first real battle at Qingyang Mountain, the formation proved utterly impregnable against the disorganized bandits, like a wall of bronze and iron.

The slaughter was almost entirely one-sided.

Before long, the sounds of combat gradually weakened.

Only the wounded remained, crying out in pain and begging for mercy.

The soldiers moved from place to place, inspecting the fallen and finishing off anyone who was not quite dead.

“Captain, come look over here!”

Hu Dayong stood at the entrance of one of the huts and shouted.

Lin Chuan hurried over, stepping across fragments of wine jars that covered the ground.

The moment he entered, he saw a wooden chest lying on the floor.

The chest stood half open, and the objects within gleamed with a hard, cold light in the firelight.

“We’ve struck it rich!”

Lin Chuan broke into a smile.