Chapter Seventy-Two: Breaking Through the Door!

On Liu Bo’s side were nearly all the fighting men of Cangshan Stronghold, including the Third Chief, Zhou Liang, as well as several valiant farmhands. On Li Yun’s side were the constables of Qingyang; apart from Li Yun himself, the most formidable among them was naturally Zhang Hu.

Zhang Hu and Li Yun, each taking a handful of constables, crept up either side of the mountain path, one to the left, one to the right. These mountain trails had been worn gradually underfoot, and on either side, there was scarcely any semblance of a path. For constables unaccustomed to the mountains, the going was arduous, made worse by the necessity of traveling without torches; several stumbled and fell, lacerated by the sharp stones, their blood staining the earth.

Li Yun, Zhang Hu, and Li Zheng, however, had grown up among these hills. Even in pitch darkness, they managed without difficulty. By now, Li Yun and Zhang Hu had little energy to spare for their comrades behind; they each drew their single-edged sabers and began painstakingly climbing higher into the night.

Li Yun’s eyesight was keen. Advancing about twenty meters, he discerned a figure crouched in the thicket ahead. The roadside vegetation here was nothing like the pruned or landscaped greenery of a garden but tangled and wild; ambushers lying in wait were nearly impossible to spot on such a moonless night, unless one was forewarned.

Li Yun held his breath and thrust his blade hard into the man’s back. He was exceptionally strong—the blow pierced through completely. The man managed only a single strangled cry before his soul fled to the heavens.

The echo of his scream was soon joined by another, not far off; clearly, Zhang Hu had made his move as well.

Having dispatched his opponent, Li Yun swiftly withdrew his blade and shouted, “Rats of Ten Kings’ Stronghold, how dare you ambush officers of the law!”

At his shout, Chen Da and the others—who had been advancing slowly with torches—quickly hurried forward. The sudden blaze of light, coupled with Li Yun’s commanding voice, startled the hidden bandits. In panic, they scrambled from their hiding places and fled back toward the stronghold, too unsettled even to put up a fight.

These bandits, long resident atop Ten Kings’ Peak, knew the terrain intimately. Li Yun’s speed and agility were insufficient to catch more than four or five; the rest melted away into the night.

When Li Yun and the constables reached the gates of Ten Kings’ Stronghold in pursuit, the fortress doors were already shut tight. Within, torches flared, and a volley of arrows rained down, forcing Li Yun and his men to fall back to a safer distance.

There, Li Yun plucked a spent arrow from a crevice in the rocks and examined it, frowning. “Eagle-feathered arrows—these rogues live in luxury.”

Eagle feathers, used for fletching atop birch shafts, marked the finest arrows—each costing dozens, even hundreds of coins. Such costly arrows were not standard issue, more an extravagant display; ordinary armies used poultry feathers, far less expensive.

Li Zheng took the eagle-feathered arrow from Li Yun, whistling in surprise. “Ten Kings’ Stronghold is truly well-off. In our own stronghold, only Third Uncle has a few of these and scarcely ever uses them.”

He glanced toward the fortress, frowning. “Odd—why hasn’t Old Ninth made his move? If his side fails, all our efforts here are wasted.”

The constables stationed at the front—just over twenty men—were there to draw the bandits’ attention. The true assault depended on Liu Bo’s group, who were taking the narrow path. Only if they could sneak into Ten Kings’ Stronghold would tonight’s raid be a resounding success. Otherwise, with at least two hundred inside the stronghold—sixty or seventy capable of fighting—Li Yun’s force of twenty would stand no chance.

Li Yun watched the fortress, brow furrowed. “It seems the bandits were warned tonight. They must have learned Sun Shouli was captured. That side path will be guarded as well.”

No sooner had he spoken than flames flared on the far side of the stronghold, followed by shouts and the clash of weapons.

Li Zheng drew a deep breath and murmured, “Second Brother, it’s begun.”

Li Yun nodded, eyes fixed on the main gate. “Old Ninth has more men. The defenders will send reinforcements that way. Hu!”

Zhang Hu answered at once. Li Yun gripped his saber, waited a moment, then hissed, “Charge with me!”

He rose, glanced back, and shouted, “After me! Into Ten Kings’ Stronghold!”

Li Yun’s guess was spot on. Since the fall of Cangshan Stronghold, there had been infighting within Ten Kings’ Stronghold, leaving them short-handed. As Li Yun and his men surged toward the gate, the arrows dwindled to a sparse handful.

It was night, and visibility was low; in such conditions, arrows could strike only by chance—only a truly unlucky soul would be hit. The lower density reduced the threat considerably.

With Li Yun and Zhang Hu leading the charge, morale soared; these constables, timid only months before, now pressed forward bravely. Not one turned back.

In moments, they reached the gates of Ten Kings’ Stronghold.

Just as Li Yun was about to reach the gate, it suddenly swung open. Two or three dozen people poured out—or rather, were thrust out from within.

Among them were men and women, some clutching weapons, but all trembling with terror, their legs barely able to support them. In the torchlight, it was clear that about ten were women, most in rags, some even naked, having been driven out in disgrace.

These were no bandits, but villagers captured and forced up the mountain—now driven out as cannon fodder.

The constables, being officers of the law, were stunned by the spectacle and froze in place.

Suddenly, a few of the male villagers sprang up, hacking at the nearest constables with their weapons. Caught off guard, two were slashed on the arm, and another wounded in the back.

Cries of pain reached Li Yun’s ears.

Li Zheng, not far away, cursed furiously, “Beasts!”

Chen Da hurried to Li Yun’s side and shouted, “Chief, what do we do?”

The ground here was more open. Li Yun had already switched to a long spear, which he now brandished, surveying the field with a commanding voice: “Those who are not bandits—drop your weapons and lie on the ground!”

“You have three counts to comply!”

Captain Li pressed into the fray, skewering a bandit hidden among the villagers with a single thrust—his presence was awe-inspiring. “Any who do not lie down will be treated as bandits!”

His shout sent most of the captives sprawling, trembling, to the ground.

Spear in hand, Li Yun gazed at the fortress ahead, his voice low but resolute. “Brothers, they’ve nearly no one left guarding this gate. With me—charge inside!”

Indeed, barely ten men still guarded the gate.

At Li Yun’s command, the force surged forward.

Unlike Cangshan Stronghold, Ten Kings’ Stronghold was ringed by a low stone wall. While sturdier than a hut, it was no city gate—nowhere near as impregnable.

Li Yun led the way, a dozen constables throwing their weight against the doors, shattering the bolt within.

Spear in hand, Li Yun stormed into Ten Kings’ Stronghold!

The remaining guards retreated in panic.

Captain Li strode through the stronghold, glancing left and right, a growing sense of unease gnawing at him.

There should have been far more defenders here. Where had all the bandits gone?