Taiheiki

Chapter 39 Impact
"Yes!" the groom replied, and hurried to the side to prepare the saddle. Zhang Bo'an stretched out his hand to call his son over, suppressing his anger and saying, "Ajie, I was angry and scolded you just now, but I shouldn't have done that. Now go and take your mother and brother and leave the farm immediately!"

"Take mother and brother and leave the village?" Zhang Jie was frightened by his father's words. "What's going on?"

"The reason why Zhang Ping left the village this time was probably because he fell into the enemy's trap! If I leave the village to chase him now, I may not be able to come back." Zhang Bo'an sighed: "If I guess wrong, you will have made a wasted trip and be laughed at by others; but if I am wrong, at least we can keep our Zhang family alive! Well, time is running out, you go first! Remember, no matter what happens, don't look back!" After that, he took the reins handed to him by the groom and walked out without looking back!

"I remember!" Looking at his father's departing back, Zhang Jie felt his nose sore and two lines of heat flowed down his cheeks.

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Yang Zheng had good eyesight and was the first to see the traces of the enemy outpost.

Under the banner of "The thief Cao is following Wei", Wei Cong sat on a leather mat and was carefully waxing the roller of his horn crossbow. In the next battle, he should not need to fight hand-to-hand, but he could still be a crossbowman. The enemy had the advantage in numbers, and his side needed every man.

woo woo woo woo!

When the horn sounded, Wei Cong hurriedly stopped waxing, threw the beeswax into the leather bag at his waist, stood up, and placed the horn crossbow across his arm.

"The thieves are coming!" Zhao Yannian's eyes flashed: "They really fell into the trap!"

"Whether they fall into the trap depends on who wins in the end!" Wang Shou snorted coldly, "If they win, then we will be the ones who fall into the trap!"

"Wang Shou, shut up!" Wei Cong shouted angrily. Although he had prepared himself many times, he was still a little nervous when the time came. He hit Wang Shou's butt with his horn crossbow and said, "Get back to your position and don't let those rowers mess up!"

According to the pre-arranged plan, Zhao Yannian would command the four mandarin duck teams trained by Wei Cong, while Wang Shou would command the oarsmen. The fifty improvised county soldiers would serve as a reserve, commanded by Wei Cong himself. Wei Cong reached the parapet and climbed a tree stump. He could see the barren fields stretching northeast, where the enemy would soon attack from beyond. Armed with ring-handled swords, spears, and crossbows, and carrying shields, there were at least two hundred, perhaps three hundred, perhaps even more. Their target was his head, and the thought of it made Wei Cong feel a throbbing in his chest, as if pierced by a spear.

"My dear, you must be well!"

Wei Cong subconsciously pressed his chest, where there was a small leather bag hanging from a thin rope around his neck. The bag contained Ah Jing's hair. He remembered the woman's eyes as she bid him farewell, but what he remembered most clearly was that night, her naked body in the candlelight, and the taste of her tongue in his mouth. He would be fine, he told himself.

On the breastwork not far away, a guy was ripping open his shirt and peeing into the shallow ditch outside. From his greasy and messy hair, it could be seen that he was Diwudeng. This guy was always so vulgar, but fortunately he was also a real warrior and a good archer. Fortunately, he was on my side.

Wei Cong placed his crossbow on his shoulder and walked along the parapet. He imitated what he had seen in biographies of famous generals, calling out the names of every man he remembered, patting them on the shoulder, and telling a few crude jokes to try to ease their tension. "Next time it will be better," he told a young rower with a childish face—"Next time you won't be afraid. Just point the tip of your spear at the enemy and thrust!"

"There's going to be a next time?" the young man asked. "Haven't we already finished our labor this time?"

"I mean, if you're willing!" Wei Cong explained somewhat awkwardly, "Of course, I'll pay you. How about fifty coins a day?"

"Take it!"

A voice interrupted the conversation between Wei Cong and the young rower. Wei Cong turned around and saw Wang Ge, his face flushed red. Under each of his arms were a bamboo basket filled with flatbreads. "One for each of you, take it!"

"Great!" A hand reached out from the side and took a piece of bread from the bamboo basket. The owner of the arm said vaguely, "It tastes good, thank you!"

"You're welcome!" Wang Ge replied sullenly, "I just heated it up. You've been waiting too long. You need to eat something!"

"Give my share to someone else!" said the young rower. "I can't eat it all!"

"Eat it!" Wei Cong picked up a piece and stuffed it into the young rower's pocket. He also took a piece for himself. "I don't know when I'll have my next meal!"

"Will thieves come?" the boy asked timidly after taking the cake.

"Pay attention to the orders!" Wei Cong took a bite of the cake: "There is nothing to be afraid of, we are well prepared. The thieves will come to die!" The horn sounded twice in a row. Wei Cong noticed that the young rower's lower clothes were wet. He pretended not to see anything: "Stay in your position, it will be over soon!" He pushed the winder hard to string his horn crossbow, then pulled out a crossbow arrow from the quiver, put it into the quiver slot, and shouted to the young man.

"Hold your position, follow orders, and trust me, it will be over soon!"

Wei Cong returned to the banner and saw the enemy already in the harvested fields, the foremost only twenty or thirty paces away from the graves. The county soldiers and the four mandarin duck teams under Zhao Yannian hadn't yet begun firing arrows, but the oarsmen, impatient as they were, began firing slings and shortbows at the bandits. However, it was a waste of arrows and energy, and the experienced bandits continued their advance without a care in the world.

"Are bamboo sticks useless to them? That would be terrible!" Wei Cong frowned. He still had hope for this vicious little trap.

The enemy was getting closer and closer, and Wei Cong could feel some kind of uneasy movement in his own ranks. He let out a long breath and was thinking about whether to order the bows to return fire when a thief who was using a short shield to cover his body suddenly fell to the ground, his shield thrown aside, and he hugged his feet, letting out a shrill scream.

"Finally, I hit them! I thought these thieves were immune to bamboo sticks!" Wei Cong let out a long sigh and turned his gaze to Zhao Yannian. The order to begin archery was also given. He gestured, and his soldiers began firing. Compared to the oarsmen, these archers were much more skilled. They were mostly targeting thieves who tried to help their friends who had stepped on the bamboo sticks. With the soft sound of arrows leaving the bowstring, more and more thieves fell, and the empty fields were soon stained red with blood.

"Don't retreat, don't retreat, charge forward, charge forward!" Zhang Ping shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to stop his men from retreating. To be honest, he had participated in several battles, but he was more accustomed to receiving orders than giving them. As he shouted, the bandits formed a dense formation, shields raised above their heads, and strode towards the embankment. Others crossed the cemetery and swarmed in, ignoring the bamboo sticks under their feet and rushing to the front of the trench.

They wore half-caps made of boiled cowhide, and their leather or linen clothes had thin iron plates sewn into the vital parts. Many of them brandished ring-handled swords and short spears, and some even carried two-handed axes. The setting sun shone on the blades of their weapons, giving them a dark red glow. They screamed in the local dialect while attacking the breastwork and those behind it, stabbing with spears and hacking with two-handed axes. The wicker baskets were hacked open, and mud and blood gushed out wildly. The crossbowmen Zhao Yannian had deployed behind the breastwork rained down crossbow bolts and arrows on them.

"What should we do?" a baby-faced rower cried out in a sobbing voice.

"Kill them back!" Wei Cong shouted loudly while stringing his crossbow.

Honestly, for the crossbowmen, there was no better target than the bandits huddled in front of the breastwork. Zhao Yannian, Diwu Deng, and Liu Jiu were all veterans of countless battles. They hadn't built the breastwork in a straight line, but rather a concave crescent. The breastwork at the ends of the arc was highest, the trench deepest, and filled with numerous sharp wooden stakes, creating a formidable appearance. The closer to the center of the arc, the lower the breastwork, the shallower the trench, and the fewer sharp wooden stakes.

So, in the fierce battle, the bandits instinctively chose the middle of the breastwork as their breakthrough point. They attacked from the sides, crossing the ditch, scaling the wicker basket-stacked breastwork, and charging the defenders. This time, Wei Cong happened to hit a target. As the man reached the top of the barricade, Wei Cong's crossbow bolt pierced his shoulder blades. In an instant, a spear pierced his abdomen, sending him collapsing onto his companions behind him, pinning them down with him. Wei Cong excitedly bent down, attempting to restring his crossbow, when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a strange fur hat rising from behind the earthen wall.

There was no time to think, plan, or call for help. Wei Cong dropped his crossbow, reached for his sword, and swiftly struck the first head that popped out. The blade split the leather cap and dug deep into the bone, sending the enemy tumbling back down with a scream. He knew from the shouts that more men were behind him. He stepped back, shouting. Four or five county soldiers rushed forward, their spears immediately piercing the next man, blood pouring from the wound like a leaking sack. Then they hurled torches down, driving the sneaking band of thieves away.

Wei Cong's attention had barely left the middle section of the breastwork when the situation completely changed. Diwu Deng and four or five other soldiers were still holding onto a small patch of high ground, but more and more bandits were surging onto the breastwork, threatening to overwhelm them.

"Follow me!" Wei Cong realized he had to do something immediately, or it would be too late. But before he could react, Zhao Yannian and his four Yuanyang teams pressed forward. They advanced in two horizontal lines, the wolf-whip warriors advancing under the cover of the shieldmen. The thieves had never encountered such strange weapons before, and they hesitated.

A leader shouted, charging forward, two-handed axe in hand. He swung his axe fiercely, attempting to sever the dense foliage surrounding the wolf-whip spears, but the resilient bamboo branches deflected the axe's blow. Hidden within the dense foliage, a spear pierced his lower abdomen with such force that it lifted him into the air. The thieves shouted and rushed forward, attempting a close-quarters fight. The wolf-whip spears swept across the ground, forcing them to retreat or leap to avoid them. The spears hidden within the bamboo branches stabbed out like venomous snakes, stabbing out and taking lives one after another. The thieves' attacks on the wolf-whip spearers were parried one by one by the two card players. Those stabbed were killed by the sword-card players and halberd-wielding players in the Yuanyang formation. Soon, the thieves were driven out, leaving a trail of corpses on the ground.

"This is incredible! It's completely different from what we usually see!" The baby-faced rower, who had just cried out for his end, stared in amazement at what was happening before him. Those skilled and agile thieves, wielding their weapons like the wind, were sent fleeing in panic. Any who dared to pause and resist were quickly slaughtered, like grass being mowed down. This kind of combat was completely different from the one-on-one and two-on-two battles he usually witnessed in his hometown. It wasn't as fancy or spectacular, but it was powerful, precise, and somewhat monotonous, like an old farmer harvesting ripe wheat. With every swing of his sickle, the wheat fell, but what fell before him wasn't wheat, but lives.

"Hmph!" an old rower snorted coldly. "That's true battlefield skill. It's all about taking lives, no need for all the fancy tricks. I wonder where this Wei Gongshi found so many veterans. This time, the Zhang family's thieves have hit a wall!"

"You mean Wei Congshi can win?" asked the baby-faced rower.

"I'm afraid it's not just about winning!" The old rower lowered his voice: "He obviously has such powerful veteran soldiers, but he didn't use them at the beginning. He was waving flags and blowing trumpets, which was clearly luring the Zhang family's thieves to attack him. I guess he still has some powerful tricks up his sleeve! The most powerful thing in the world is not a spear or a crossbow, but the human heart. This Wei is a very scheming person!" At the end, the old rower's voice was cold, and the baby-faced rower was so scared that he couldn't help shivering and nodded repeatedly.

When Zhang Boan arrived at the battlefield, Zhang Ping was furious about his recent defeat. He had just made a rough count and found that there were more than 80 people left inside and outside the enemy's fortress and had not returned. Although he brought more than 300 people this time, the loss was only about a quarter. But this quarter was the bravest and best in martial arts among Zhang's guests and troops. Almost all the others who returned were injured. The loss of combat effectiveness cannot be simply measured by the number of people.

"A Ping!" Zhang Bo'an saw his nephew, dismounted, and walked over quickly. "Why are you like this? What happened?"

If there was anyone present who least wanted to see Zhang Boan, it was definitely Zhang Ping. His face was livid, his head lowered, and he stared at the ground, not saying a word. Zhang Boan shouted, "Speak up! What's wrong with you? Why are you all injured?"

(End of this chapter)