The northwest in mid-September was already bitterly cold.
Xu Maoxiu had been lying prone on the hillside for quite some time. His legs and feet were starting to go numb when someone slowly crawled over beside him.
“How is it?” Xu Maoxiu asked in a low voice.
“The fire pit is still warm,” Fan Jianglin replied quietly.
“They didn’t even leave a single person behind. All of them are gone—why?” Xu Maoxiu murmured as he craned his neck to peer into the valley ahead.
There weren’t many trees in the valley—most had been cut down to prevent ambushes and to make defense easier.
At a glance, the tents and bundles were all still there, but the place was eerily quiet, devoid of any human presence. Only birdsong echoed through the mountains.
Xu Maoxiu frowned, as if something had just occurred to him.
“It’s not far from here to Longgu City…” he said.
“So what?” Fan Jianglin asked.
“It would be quite convenient for a surprise attack,” Xu Maoxiu said.
Fan Jianglin widened his eyes.
“A surprise attack? The leader of the Fujiang Tribe is in Longgu City! He’d have to be mad to rebel!” he whispered sharply.
“But what if… someone else has gone mad?” Xu Maoxiu replied.
Fan Jianglin looked like he wanted to say more, but Xu Maoxiu raised a hand to stop him.
“Let’s head back and report to the lords. Let them decide,” he said.
The two of them slid down the hillside, grabbed their horses nearby, and galloped off.
The atmosphere in the camp five hundred meters away was relaxed. Although the journey had gone smoothly, the long-distance travel had still left everyone tired. There were still dozens of li to go before they would reach the castle, but the thought of finally entering the city—where they could eat, drink, and sleep in comfort—put the soldiers in high spirits.
“What did you say? Longgu City is in danger?”
A commander frowned as he looked at the two men standing before him.
As per usual practice, scouts had been sent ahead and to the rear during the march, though they were more of a formality. After all, with the imperial military banners flying, what bandit would be foolish enough to throw themselves at death?
They were almost at the gates, and now these two scouts were claiming the city was in danger.
Longgu City was the largest fortress on the northwestern front, always heavily guarded. The western rebels rarely dared provoke it.
“If the city’s garrison has been emptied… it’s not impossible,” Xu Maoxiu said.
An empty garrison in Longgu City?
“You don’t know shit,” the commander cursed, waving them off. “Get lost.”
“My lord, we’ve been stationed in Longgu before—we know it’s not the first time it’s faced sneak attacks…” Fan Jianglin said.
The commotion attracted the attention of others nearby.
“What’s going on?” a few officers came over to ask.
Xu Maoxiu looked up and saw that among them was Zhou Liu-lang.
But Zhou Liu-lang didn’t even glance their way, as if they were complete strangers.
The commander quickly stepped forward to relay what Xu Maoxiu and Fan Jianglin had said.
“That’s impossible,” one of the officers said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just because a surrendered tribal camp is empty, you think it means they’re planning a sneak attack? They probably just went out hunting.”
Maybe they really were overthinking it.
After all, it had been nearly two years since they’d last been stationed here.
Xu Maoxiu and Fan Jianglin exchanged a glance, then lowered their heads and quietly stepped aside.
“Well, there’s nothing much going on anyway—might as well go take a look.”
Someone suddenly spoke.
Xu Maoxiu looked up and saw that it was Zhou Liu-lang who had spoken, though his gaze still never landed on them.
“…Both lords are present. It’s better to be cautious,” he continued. “There’s no harm in checking it out, after all.”
He placed extra emphasis on “both lords.” These two had been traveling together the whole way, and although they appeared cordial on the surface, in truth they had been subtly tugging against each other the entire time. Otherwise, the journey wouldn’t have taken them so long.
If someone with an agenda were to report this incident, even if nothing was truly wrong, trouble could still come of it.
After a quick discussion, they decided to send Xu Maoxiu to lead a small party to investigate.
“I object!”
Liu Kui shouted, glaring at Xu Maoxiu.
“My lord, this is a complete waste of effort!”
A waste of effort?
Several of the officers frowned.
“If it really was a surprise attack, those people would have been gone a long time by now. Our cavalry has no chance of catching up,” Liu Kui said with a snort.
Long-distance movement puts heavy strain on a horse’s hooves. After all this travel, their mounts were no longer capable of sprinting at high speed—let alone catching up to or overtaking those people, investigating, and then rushing back to report…
It simply wasn’t feasible. And if that couldn’t be done, then yes—this truly was a pointless task.
The gathered officers fell into silence.
“You’re just looking for an excuse to run off!” Liu Kui shouted, eyes wide with accusation.
Xu Bangchui spat in disgust.
“Our horses can make it,” someone suddenly said.
Everyone turned to look—it was one of Xu Maoxiu’s men.
Xu Sigen stepped forward, his face flushed, clearly agitated.
“Our horses can do it,” he repeated.
Liu Kui scoffed again.
“What’s so special about your horses? Besides, you lot don’t even have spare mounts,” he said.
When they departed from the capital, all soldiers were issued horses. Xu Maoxiu’s group of seven had received an extra set of seven mounts from Cheng Jiao-niang, but they hadn’t been granted official double-mount status. Not long into the journey, the government-issued horses were reclaimed under some excuse.
“They are different,” Xu Sigen said. Normally not a man of many words, his agitation made him even more tongue-tied. “Our horses are different. Our horses… their hooves are completely intact.”
His words left the others momentarily stunned.
“How is that possible?” everyone asked with a frown.
They had been traveling slowly—partly because the two lords couldn’t handle long-distance fatigue, and partly because, halfway through the journey, the horses’ hooves began to wear down, forcing them to slow the pace.
Everyone’s horses were damaged—how could theirs not be? Were their horses some kind of heavenly steeds?
“These are the horses our little sister gave us! If they’re from our sister, then they must be amazing!” Xu Bangchui shouted.
Her!
Zhou Liu-lang suddenly understood—so that was it.
She had chased them down in the middle of the night. How could it have been just to deliver a few ordinary horses?
But those horses… everyone had taken a curious look in private, and they really did seem quite ordinary…
Xu Sigen had already brought the horse over, excitedly pointing at its hooves.
“Look at our horse—its hooves aren’t damaged,” he said.
Everyone crowded around. They hadn’t paid much attention before, but now, following his gesture, they saw that the seven horses all had something dark and blackish on their hooves.
“What’s this?” one of the officers asked, reaching out to touch it.
Iron…
“This is…” Xu Sigen opened his mouth but couldn’t quite name it—his sister hadn’t told him what it was called. Still… it was iron, and it was on the horse’s hooves…
“They’re horse hoof covers! They protect the hooves from wearing out.”
“Just these bits of iron?” someone asked in disbelief, crouching down for a closer look. It was nothing more than a few pieces of raw iron, seemingly scorched onto the hooves—completely unadorned and plain.
“Just these pieces of iron,” Xu Sigen nodded earnestly. “And with my careful tending, the horses haven’t suffered the slightest damage the whole way.”
Even though they saw it with their own eyes, the people around still looked doubtful.
“All right, there’s no time to waste. We can talk more later. Since your horses are unharmed and can still move quickly, then go ahead,” Zhou Liu-lang said.
“Young Master Zhou, this matter is indeed a bit uncertain. Just because some tribal people have disappeared doesn’t mean they’re up to no good. If it stirs up trouble, are you willing to take responsibility?” an officer asked coldly.
The surrendered tribes had always been treated well and pacified by the court to maintain border stability.
If someone carelessly took on the blame of undermining that policy, it wouldn’t be a trivial matter.
Xu Maoxiu and the others looked at Zhou Liu-lang.
“I’ll take responsibility,” Zhou Liu-lang said without hesitation, still not bothering to look at Xu Maoxiu and the others. “I trust her.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
Trust?
Those present glanced at Zhou Liu-lang, then at Xu Maoxiu and the others, astonished.
They… know each other?
“Who else could you trust but us? Honestly, when it comes down to it, we’re your brother too…” Xu Bangchui said, grinning broadly.
Brother?
Those standing nearby who overheard were even more astonished.
Xu Maoxiu shot him a sharp look.
“He’s not trusting you or me,” Xu Maoxiu said quietly. “He’s trusting her.”
“Who’s ‘her’?” Xu Bangchui asked.
“Our sister,” Xu Maoxiu glared at him, swung himself onto his horse, and said, “Let’s go.”
Xu Bangchui chuckled and happily followed suit.
The other men picked up their bows, arrows, and spears and mounted their horses as well. But just as Xu Sigen was about to mount, someone suddenly yanked him away.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Xu Sigen shouted.
The man on horseback had already ridden off ahead.
“I’ll be watching you! Try to run, and I’ll shoot you dead first!” Liu Kui shouted back from his horse, brandishing the three-foot bow slung across Xu Sigen’s horse.
“Forget it, Sigen, you’re not going,” Xu Maoxiu shouted, stopping the men who were about to chase Liu Kui, urging his horse forward. “We have more important things to handle first.”
The night wind howled, battle flags fluttered fiercely, and the torches atop the city walls swayed, sending smoke billowing into the sky.
“My lord! My lord! The men can’t hold on much longer!”
A soldier, stained with blood, rushed forward shouting.
Before he could finish, an old man standing on the wall kicked him to the ground.
The old man was about sixty years old, his beard and hair streaked with white, his face dark and weathered with deep wrinkles. He wore heavy armor layered upon him, but it did not hinder his swift movements in the slightest.
“When have my men ever failed to hold?” he bellowed fiercely. “Dare to disturb our troops’ morale—behead him!”
No sooner had he spoken than his attendant beside him raised his sword and struck.
The soldier did not even scream; his head was severed cleanly and rolled to the ground.
Silence fell over the city wall.
“Light all the flags and torches! Everyone—including the support staff—get up on the walls!” the old general shouted, pointing down below the city wall.
A chorus of agreement rose from the wall, accompanied by the noisy footsteps of many. Soon, in the darkness, the city walls of Longgu were thick with fluttering banners and packed with people like ants, nearly filling the long and wide city gates.
In reality, there were fewer than three thousand defenders in total. Nearly a hundred had been wounded during the day, and after half a day of fierce fighting and the heavy toll on their bows, many soldiers’ arms were weak and exhausted. Their arrows were shot weakly and without force. It was easy to imagine that when the next wave of attackers came, their arrows would barely make a sound against the enemy’s armor.
The old man stood on the city wall, ignoring the attempts of his attendants to restrain him, his gaze fixed on the dark wilderness beyond.
Though only a few scattered lights dotted the wasteland, the old general’s murky eyes seemed to pierce through the night, seeing the tens of thousands of Western bandits hidden beneath the darkness. Their horses were fine-bred, heavily armored; their bows and crossbows deadly weapons—all watching this city with predatory eyes.
“My lord, the message has already been sent out. Why hasn’t the garrison commander returned with the troops yet…” a personal aide whispered, his voice betraying his anxiety.
“He’s definitely been held up,” the old general said.
“My lord, if no reinforcements come, we won’t be able to hold…” the aide continued quietly.
The old general didn’t look at him, nor did he order his immediate execution.
He turned his head to look inside the city.
Inside, the city was brightly lit. Though no people could be seen, it was easy to imagine the terrified expressions on everyone’s faces.
“Even if we can’t hold, we must hold,” he said. “Not a single civilian inside will be harmed before we all die.”
If the city fell, the entire northwestern front would suffer a devastating blow—one not just of men and material, but of morale as well.
Of course, the old general would never say that aloud.
As his words fell, a sudden uproar rose from the wilderness.
The bandits had started their assault again.
The old general’s spirit jolted; just as he was about to shout orders, another uproar came from inside the city, and a column of smoke rose from the rear.
Seeing this, the soldiers’ faces turned grim.
An attack from behind!
The old general strode swiftly to the other side of the wall and looked back.
“My lord, what should we do?”
The attendants could no longer hide their panic and shouted out.
“What’s there to fear! One enemy, we fight; two enemies, we fight! Whether it’s a thousand or ten thousand—just fight!”
The old general spun around and shouted.
The anxiety from being attacked from both front and rear immediately vanished. He looked out into the heavy night, full of vigor, and tore off his armor, revealing his bare chest to the cold night air.
Having hardened his body through years of training, the sixty-year-old man was thin but still robust.
“Beat the war drums!” he commanded, raising his hand.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The drumbeats thundered through the air, joined by the clashing sounds of swords, shields, bows, crossbows, spears, and halberds.
“Victory! Victory! Victory!”
Voices rose from the city walls, growing louder and louder, carried by the night wind.
The spirit was like a soaring rainbow—unyielding and indomitable.
That’s the sound—that’s the sound, the sound I’ve heard countless times in my dreams!
Finally, it’s here! Finally, it’s here!
Xu Maoxiu, crawling on the ground under the cover of night, his eyes red and body trembling, clawed desperately at the earth.
“They’ve started the assault on the city…” Liu Kui whispered beside him.
Everyone turned their gaze forward. In the darkness, those who had been crouching in the dirt slopes along the official road began to emerge like phantoms. The guards atop the city gates spotted them, no longer hiding their footsteps. Torches were lit, and in an instant, like countless sparks scattered across the sky and land, they surged toward the rear gate of Longgu City.
“Damn it…” Xu Bangchui was about to jump up.
Liu Kui grabbed him firmly.
“You’re crazy!” he hissed.
“You’re blind!” Xu Bangchui hissed back, grabbing Liu Kui’s arm hard.
“You’re the blind one—we only have six men!” Liu Kui spat, spraying Xu Bangchui’s face.
“The Fujiang tribe has hundreds!” Xu Bangchui shouted back, his breath foul as it hit Liu Kui’s face.
Liu Kui shook him off harshly.
“Your horses are all talk—do they really work? Why hasn’t the main army caught up yet?” he growled with hatred.
The night wind whipped fiercely, and the shouts and screams ahead grew louder and more numerous.
“Longgu City must be undermanned, which is why it’s being targeted for a surprise attack,” Xu Maoxiu said in a low voice. “The remaining troops are surely all at the front, and after half a day of intense fighting, if enemies come from the rear now, they hardly have anyone left to hold them off…”
“You don’t need to tell me that!” Liu Kui cursed, glaring furiously at the city gates already blazing with fire.
“Light the torches,” Xu Maoxiu stood and ordered. “Gather all the dry branches around—whatever you can find—and light them all…”
Fan Jianglin and the others immediately responded and went to do so.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Liu Kui shouted again. “Playing a bluff—six people? Who are you trying to scare?”
Xu Maoxiu reached out and unstrung his bow, staring ahead.
“Scare as many as we can,” he said.
The fierce beat of war drums never ceased.
“Kill them!”
“Our wives, children, and civilians are all inside the city—brothers, we cannot let these bandits break through!”
Amid the shouts, twenty or thirty men on the city walls repeatedly resisted the hundred attackers.
Arrows rained down relentlessly; companions fell one by one, battle flags tumbled, and muffled groans and cries of pain echoed continuously.
It’s no use—truly no use now…
“Commander, look!”
Suddenly someone shouted.
Their voice was especially sharp and piercing amid the screams and shouts.
Why look now?
Instinctively, everyone looked up and froze in surprise—though that momentary pause caused an arrow from below to pierce a man’s arm.
But he didn’t feel any pain; instead, he lunged toward the city wall’s edge, his eyes fixed intently on the distance.
In the distance, flickering points of fire appeared like ghosts. At a glance, it looked like dozens of figures moving in a winding, swaying formation.
“Reinforcements! Reinforcements!”
The people on the city walls broke out in goosebumps, shouting wildly.
As if responding to their cries, the chaotic sound of hooves rang out not far away. Though faint, it was clearly the advance cavalry.
“Damn it, I’ve never been this ashamed in my life!” Liu Kui shouted as he urged his horse forward, dragging a bundle of burning branches behind him, leaving a trail of fire on the ground.
“Ashamed?” Xu Maoxiu shouted back from nearby, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow. “What kind of shame is that? The real shame is if any of us die too soon and don’t take down a few enemies!”
As he spoke, he released arrow after arrow from his bow without pause, shooting straight at the enemy ahead.
Under the flickering firelight, the bowstring in Xu Maoxiu’s hand trembled and blurred into a faint shadow, while the sharp whistles of his arrows streaked through the air without pause.
If you stood opposite him, it would look like a waterfall of arrows pouring down—and yet, all of it came from just one man.
As the saying goes, one man can hold off ten; this must be what it means.
“Good grief, his archery really is impressive!” Liu Kui exclaimed, unwilling to be outdone, as he drew his own bow.
The tribal raiders attacking from the rear were not equipped with sturdy armor, and Xu Maoxiu’s bow easily pierced their protection. Moreover, his shots were exceptionally precise, targeting fatal points that quickly felled a swath of enemies before the city gates.
The cries of the wounded filled the air. Raids are terrifying by nature, so when the raiders themselves were suddenly ambushed, panic set in.
The attackers’ confusion only fueled the defenders’ morale on the walls, who launched a counterattack while raining arrows like raindrops from both front and flank.
The distant fires cast an eerie glow as the originally well-organized 300-strong assault force descended into chaos.
The news quickly reached the front gate.
“Reinforcements! Reinforcements have arrived! The rear gate is secure! The rear gate is secure!”
The messenger shouted hoarsely, spreading the news into everyone’s ears.
Reinforcements?
The bare-chested old general, sweating heavily in the autumn night, showed a flicker of excitement and disbelief in his eyes.
He beat the war drums even more fiercely. This news, combined with the drumbeats, shook the entire army. The morale, which had already been flagging, was greatly revived.
The infantry on the walls regrouped and formed battle lines again, pointing their spears and swords at the bandits who had climbed onto the ramparts.
The archers at the rear, who had long been too exhausted to draw their bows, once again strung their bows and shot waves of arrows.
The enemies who had already breached the walls were pushed back step by step, unable to break through this final line of defense. The battle stalemated for a time.
Time passed without anyone knowing how long. The old general’s arm had gone numb as he stared fixedly ahead, though his mind was elsewhere—focused on the rear.
Where were the reinforcements?
Where were the reinforcements?
Why was there still no sign after so long?
So, maybe… there were no reinforcements at all…
This time, the city was really going to fall…
Tears or sweat glistened on the old general’s face. Around him, more and more men fell, and even the flag-bearing support troops joined the fight.
“Victory! Victory!”
From the distant horizon came faint shouts, mingled with the pounding of countless hooves.
“The reinforcements are here! The reinforcements are here!”
The cry rang out again, this time different—the messenger pointed toward a direction.
Far off in the night sky, fires lit up half the heavens.
“Victory! Victory!”
The shouts and drumbeats grew clearer and louder, blending with the drums here until they drowned out the sounds around them.
At last, the enemy camp sounded the retreat horn, and the bandits below the city walls withdrew like a receding tide.
They’re retreating! They’re retreating! We’ve held the line! We’ve held the line!
I, who served in the army for forty years, has once again fulfilled my mission without disgrace.
The old general could hold on no longer and collapsed onto the war drum.
Thank goodness! Thank goodness!
…
Standing before Longgu City, surrounded by burning flames and scattered corpses, Zhou Liu-lang couldn’t help but pull on his reins. The seventeen-year-old youth’s expression flickered under the torchlight.
Looking at the hellish scene, breathing in the stench of blood that filled the air—this was something he could never have experienced on the training grounds.
This was the front line.
This was the battlefield.
This was slaughter.
This was the destiny of generals and soldiers!
Zhou Liu-lang couldn’t hold back a howl and loosed a volley of arrows into the sky from his bow.
“Who saved us?”
Looking at the opened city gates, at the soldiers and civilians pouring out in a flood of excitement, hearing the hoarse, trembling cry of the old general leading them—
The young man froze for a moment.
Who saved them?
Of course—it was them, the hundred or so soldiers who had risked their lives to rush here, who had lit fires, beaten war drums, and created momentum all along the way.
But then… how had they themselves made it here?
They should’ve been sitting dozens of li away, drinking by the fire, waiting for the man named Cheng the next day.
They had saved an entire city…
And when it came down to it, the credit belonged to the seven horses that carried them on their long forced march.
Seven horses.
No—now only five remained. The two that had doubled back to deliver the message had died: one collapsed on the road, the other perished upon reaching the camp.
Without those horses…
Without their mad gallop to catch up and discover the traitorous tribesmen—without their mad dash to carry back the call for reinforcements—none of this would have happened.
“It was the horses that saved you…” Zhou Liu-lang murmured.
The scene was noisy and bustling—no one heard his words.
Zhou Liu-lang turned his head to gaze toward the distant eastern horizon.
Seven horses… actually saved an entire city…
Did that girl, when she gifted those horses—
did she ever imagine this would happen?
