Chapter 43: The Secret Weapon!

"White double banners?"

Lin Chuan sprang to his feet, a ferocious smile spreading across the corners of his mouth.

"Damn it, we've finally got a big fish... Prepare for Operation Dog-Beating—"

The surrounding soldiers rose in unison.

Pang Dabiao suddenly realized that a terrifying light was burning in the eyes of these men.

That was not the fear of raw recruits heading into battle, but the thirst for blood peculiar to battle-hardened veterans.

"What is the meaning of this..." Pang Dabiao's throat tightened.

"On the eastern route, there is a unit of a hundred Tartars," Lin Chuan said. "Brother Pang, are you willing to come along and slaughter some Tartars?"

Pang Dabiao's heart gave a violent jolt.

This was clearly another new-fangled communication method concocted by Lin Chuan, but right now he had no time to inquire about the details.

What shocked him even more was the tone with which Lin Chuan spoke of a "hundred-man troop," as if he were talking about a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered.

He instinctively touched his waist saber.

Ten personal guards plus over thirty combatants from Tielin Fortress added up to less than fifty men.

Facing an entire troop of a hundred Tartars... how could they possibly hope to win?

"I'll send men to the main camp to ask for reinforcements," Pang Dabiao said.

In this border region, Tartar raiders crossing the border to plunder was an everyday occurrence.

Those grassland cavalry came and went like the wind, usually making off with valuables and livestock before anyone could react.

The main border army camp was dozens of miles away. By the time the signal fires for help were lit and reinforcements arrived, the Tartars would have long since vanished without a trace.

Over time, unless a massive army of the enemy invaded, the main camp would rarely mobilize forces for a small band of raiders.

"No need to trouble the main camp."

Lin Chuan shook his head and walked toward the armory.

At this moment, Tielin Fortress was already buzzing with activity.

The muffled thuds of heavy boots, the clanging of iron armor, and the ringing of swords intertwined into a solemn and stern symphony within the fortress.

Combatants nimbly donned their body armor, while auxiliary soldiers clutched quiver-bags and led warhorses back and forth across the stronghold.

Pang Dabiao grabbed Lin Chuan's shoulder armor:

"Are you out of your mind? The enemy is a full hundred-man troop! You can't beat them in a direct clash!"

"Brother Pang, we aren't going to fight them head-on."

Lin Chuan did not slow his pace, pointing toward the east.

"Three miles east of Liugou Beacon, there's the Gourd Valley. The entrance is only wide enough for three horses abreast, but the valley floor is a full hundred zhang wide. When the Tartars finish plundering and head back, we'll block both ends and beat the dogs in a closed courtyard!"

"Brother Lin!"

Pang Dabiao chased after him a couple of steps, attempting to persuade him:

"Even though you've killed a few scouting parties, this is a hundred-man unit! It's completely different from a small squad of cavalry!"

"Brother Pang, don't worry. Let me show you our secret weapon."

Lin Chuan reached the armory and came to a halt.

Several auxiliary soldiers were carrying out several camphor-wood crates from the warehouse.

The moment the lids were lifted, Pang Dabiao froze.

Neatly arranged inside the crates were grayish-brown stone spheres, their surfaces rough and uneven, with fuse holes faintly visible.

"Are these... throwing stones?"

Pang Dabiao frowned, reaching out to touch one.

"Don't touch!" Lin Chuan intercepted him with a sweep of his arm. "These are 'stone thunder-mines'; they detonate easily."

Pang Dabiao pulled his hand back as if struck by lightning, his eyes widening: "This is the secret weapon?"

Lin Chuan nodded.

He offered no further explanation, shouting in a booming voice: "Mount up!"

Over thirty soldiers leaped onto their horses in unison.

Another forty or fifty auxiliary soldiers loaded the stone thunder-mines into custom-made leather bags and slung them across their backs.

These seemingly ordinary stone spheres were packed with gunpowder and iron shrapnel inside, serving as killing instruments personally formulated by Lin Chuan.

"Is everyone ready?" Lin Chuan's voice exploded in the air.

"Ready!" Over eighty men roared in unison.

"Today, we'll broaden the Tartars' horizons!" Lin Chuan drew his long saber from its scabbard. "Let's fuck 'em up!"

"Let's fuck 'em up!"

The fortress gates swung wide open, and the sound of thundering hooves trampled across the earth like rolling muffled thunder.

Less than an hour later, the men and horses of Tielin Fortress galloped swiftly to the Gourd Valley.

Dust swirled in the valley, and chaotic hoofprints were clearly visible.

Lin Chuan reined in his warhorse, narrowing his eyes as he looked into the distance at the smoke and dust that had yet to dissipate, a cold smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Move!" At his command, the auxiliary soldiers immediately scattered.

As iron pickaxes flew, rows of shallow pits quickly appeared on both sides of the valley path.

Each pit was barely a foot deep, yet they were laid out with extreme precision.

Staggered front and back, echoing left and right.

Pang Dabiao's brows were tightly knitted as he continued to advise Lin Chuan:

"Brother Lin, these horse-trapping pits are far too shallow..."

"Who said these are horse-trapping pits?"

Lin Chuan squatted down, personally burying a stone-mine into the earth.

With practiced dexterity, he carefully arranged the fuse before meticulously covering it over with loose soil and turf.

"Just wait and see."

On a mountain ridge in the distance, an observing soldier suddenly raised a flag and waved it.

"Centurion, they didn't go to the village," shouted Hu Dayong. "They went toward the other fork in the road."

"The other fork?" Lin Chuan blinked. "Isn't that Squire Zhang's estate..."

"Squire Zhang?" Pang Dabiao asked, stunned.

Lin Chuan thought for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter: "We're in for a good show..."

Inside the Zhang family's sprawling residence.

Squire Zhang sat in the master chair with a gloomy expression.

"Master, the Second Young Master's illness..." the steward began cautiously.

"Shut up!"

Squire Zhang slammed his teacup to the ground, sending porcelain shards scattering in all directions.

"Accursed Lin Chuan! He broke my son's hand, and now he's cut off the Second's livelihood..."

A trace of viciousness flashed across his eyes as he turned to his confidant and lowered his voice:

"Contact that person. Price is no object; I want Lin Chuan's head!"

The confidant was startled: "Master, that person's price is exorbitant..."

"No matter how high, I'll pay it!" Squire Zhang raged. "As long as Lin Chuan dies!!!"

"Yes, Master!" The confidant bowed and hurriedly retreated.

Squire Zhang slumped limply into his chair.

In a hazy stupor, he seemed to hear the sounds of crying and screaming.

"Ah—spare me!"

Piercing shrieks echoed one after another.

"Something's wrong!"

He jerked his eyes open and bolted out the door.

Meeting him head-on was a Tartar who struck him down to the ground with a single punch.

More and more people were being dragged out by Tartar cavalry and forced to their knees in the center of the courtyard.

The cries of female dependents and the sobs of children, mingled with the snapping sounds of leather whips, sounded exceptionally grating amidst the flickering firelight.

Squire Zhang collapsed in a pool of blood, watching helplessly as his most favored concubine was dragged into the courtyard.

The centurion tore open the concubine's garments with a single grasp, squeezed her full bosom, and nodded.

"Take her away!"

"No—please don't!" Squire Zhang cried out, weeping and begging for mercy.

The centurion turned around, the tip of his saber hooking up Squire Zhang's chin.

"Squire Zhang, you've got guts of steel!"

The centurion's Han Chinese was spoken with a heavy grassland accent.

"You actually dared to use poisoned grain to harm my people!"

"Your Excellency, please examine the facts!"

Squire Zhang's voice was completely out of tune.

"It was the border army! The border army swapped the grain! My Zhang family has always been utterly loyal to the Blood Wolf Tribe..."

"Shut your mouth!"

The centurion waved the curved saber in his hand.

Squire Zhang felt a sudden coolness on his right ear, immediately followed by a searing wave of agony.

Covering his bleeding wound, he let out a slaughterhouse-pig squeal.

"Ah—!"

Amidst the shrieks, the centurion said coldly:

"I'll give you five days to hand over one hundred thousand taels of silver as penance, otherwise..."

His sinister gaze swept across the courtyard full of kneeling members of the Zhang family, finally stopping on Zhang Shiren.

That pale face was wrapped in gauze on one half, the seeping blood already blackened.

His remaining eye was filled with sheer terror, and upon seeing the centurion's gaze, his entire body trembled like a sieve in the wind.

The centurion's line of sight drifted downward.

Where his right hand should have been, there remained only a bandaged stump.

"Otherwise, your entire family will end up just like him, reduced to cripples!"

The blade flashed once more, and Zhang Shiren's left hand was severed cleanly at the wrist.

Amidst spurting blood, the eldest young master of the Zhang family writhed and wailed on the ground like a maggot.

The centurion sheathed his saber and vaulted into the saddle.

The Tartar cavalry galloped away, hauling away female captives along with looted gold, silver, and grain.

Leaving behind only a ruined courtyard and roaring flames,

alongside a crowd of people surrounding the young master in utter helplessness.

Squire Zhang collapsed in the pool of blood, his gaze blank and vacant for a moment.

At last, an unshakeable, bone-deep hatred erupted within his eyes—

"Lin Chuan... I will make you pay blood for blood!"