Chapter 56: Can We Show Weakness Right at Our Own Doorstep?

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Liu Xiong, upon seeing the fierce bandits flee without a fight, felt a surge of hatred. Gripping his blade, he swung fiercely at one of the bandits, shouting angrily, “Don’t run! Come back…”

With one slash, he felled a bandit who was turning to escape; the outlaw’s body tumbled down the slope along the official road.

Suddenly, a bandit wearing a red military cap swung a spiked club with great force. Liu Xiong barely managed a shout before he was thrown from his horse, collapsing onto the ground. His body writhed and twitched as the club smashed his head into a bloody mess.

The bandit grabbed the reins, flipped gracefully onto his horse, and spurred it down the official road, vanishing like dust.

At the forefront, He Shihui suddenly faced a swift light arrow. With a sharp “ding,” it pierced through a gap in his armor and struck his abdomen. However, the arrow’s force was blunted by the armor, barely breaking the skin.

Bai Shan squeezed his legs tightly against his horse’s sides, urging it to gallop faster. Thirty riders gradually formed a horizontal line, with He Shihui in the center front, Bai Shan and Sun Dashan flanking him on the wings, charging toward the bandits.

A bearded bandit leader clad in a purple cloak sat astride a tall horse, gripping a bow and shouting incessantly, “Shoot the horses! Damn it, shoot the horses! Don’t let them charge through!”

He raised his hand, nocked arrows, and with two swift shots, killed two fleeing bandits. Still shouting, he commanded, “Retreat! Get back! No running!”

Under his urging, more than thirty bandit archers quickly drew their bows, sending a volley of light arrows wildly flying at He Shihui’s group. Though armored, the close range meant many riders were struck by arrows.

Within moments, three warhorses collapsed from arrow wounds. Fortunately, the riders reacted swiftly, leaping off their horses at the moment of the fall and continuing the charge on foot against the retreating bandits.

The bandits fired just one volley before the riders closed in. He Shihui swung his three-eyed gun repeatedly, smashing many bandit archers who often didn’t even have time to draw their swords before being knocked down.

The bandits howled in pain and desperation, scattering down the sides of the official road.

Among them, the chieftain of the Crooked Head Mountain, wearing a purple cloak and mounted on a horse, stood out conspicuously. Bai Shan spurred his horse directly toward him.

With a short axe in hand, Bai Shan struck fiercely. The chieftain failed to dodge in time and used the back of his bow to block. With a sharp crack, the bow broke. The axe slashed across the bandit leader’s chest, spraying blood in a crimson arc.

Enduring the searing pain, the chieftain tried to turn his horse, but another rider swung a heavy club diagonally, striking him squarely in the waist. With a thud, he fell to the ground.

In the ensuing melee, most bandit archers were killed or wounded. The rest fled down the official road, desperate to escape.

Only one bandit leader remained on the opposite side—a man wearing a green cloak—leading about seventy mounted bandits. He had sheathed his bow and now brandished a long knife, shouting loudly, “We outnumber them two to one! Charge and kill them all! Grab the silver and the women!”

Roused by his words, the bandits began to form ranks. Most sheathed their bows, arming themselves with long knives and heavy clubs suitable for mounted combat; only a few kept their bows ready.

They arranged themselves into two lines—about thirty riders in the front and around forty in the rear—and began to trot forward.

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Leading forty riders, He Shihui had scattered the foot bandits and shouted loudly, “Brothers, in the capital, in front of the Tartars, we never backed down. Today, at our doorstep, how can we show fear?”

“No… no… no…”

The riders roared in unison.

He Shihui continued to rally them, “Fight bravely! Kill the bandits!”

“Tiger... Tiger... Tiger...”

They shouted together and charged.

Forming a horizontal line, they trotted forward toward the bandit cavalry about a hundred paces away.

He Shihui had emptied his three-eyed gun and now wielded a long knife, shouting loudly to urge his horse forward. At eighty steps, they accelerated.

“Kill! Kill!”

At fifty steps, they broke into a full gallop. Forty warhorses bore forty brave riders, charging headlong at the enemy bandits.

In cavalry battles, true head-on collisions were rare. On open ground, when two sides met, one would usually break before impact. Even if both held firm, at the last dozen paces, they would turn their horses aside, circle around, reform their ranks, and charge again—waiting to see which side would collapse first.

Horses themselves had a strong instinct to avoid collisions; they wouldn’t foolishly ram into opposing mounts. True heavy cavalry charges involved bridling the horse’s head so it could not see ahead and relying solely on the rider’s control to charge relentlessly.

Moreover, true heavy cavalry had armored horses as well as armored riders.

Of course, there was also a third possibility—like today—where both sides maintained gaps during the charge, weaving through each other to create a chaotic mêlée.

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He Shihui spurred his horse into the enemy ranks, swinging his long knife to knock down a bandit. A spray of blood shot from the bandit’s neck. He continued swinging, hammering the hilt into a bandit’s chest and knocking him from his horse.

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“Bang... bang...”

Behind him, the riders closed in. The sharp reports of three-eyed guns echoed again, and two bandits fell from their horses, struggling and howling.

Suddenly, a heavy club swung down, striking the head of He Shihui’s mount. Blood splattered as the horse collapsed with a thunderous crash, throwing He Shihui to the ground. He lay flat on his back, swinging his long knife upward, slicing through the belly of a warhorse. Blood and entrails spilled onto the earth.

The bandit who had been on that horse landed, barely managing to roll, but before he could rise, a rider behind him struck his head with a heavy club. Blood and brain matter flew in all directions.

Seizing the moment, He Shihui rolled and leapt up. Another bandit rushed toward him but was knocked from his horse by a swinging spiked club from a rider. He Shihui hurried forward, grasped the reins, and vaulted onto the horse left behind by the fallen bandit.

The official road was in utter chaos. Official soldiers and bandit horsemen clashed wildly; shouts of battle mixed with cries of pain and despair. Bodies of men and horses lay strewn, blood mingling with guts and brain matter, the stench of death overwhelming.

To the south of the road, Sun Dashan led about a dozen riders who had broken through the bandit cavalry. Wielding a heavy club, he roared, “Charge back! Kill the scum! Kill them!”

They wheeled their horses around and charged again with fierce shouts.

“Bang... bang... bang...”

The sharp reports of three-eyed guns echoed once more.

Bai Shan swung his short axe, knocking down two bandits. Suddenly, the enemy fired a volley of three-eyed guns. A rider beside him was thrown backward, blood spurting from his chest.

His horse was also hit; staggering a few steps, it collapsed.

Before the horse fell, Bai Shan leapt from its back toward a bandit behind it. Clamping his legs tightly against the horse’s belly to avoid falling, he reached out with his left hand, grabbing the bandit’s face. With a swift twist of his short axe, its blade sliced inward at the bandit’s neck. Blood sprayed as the bandit’s life fled.

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Note: Another chapter will be released at noon!