Chapter 64

Zhou Wu spat and said to Zhou Bin beside him, "Second Brother, this group is tough to handle."

"Who cares, just charge," Zhou Bin replied, "They are few in number."

Before his words had even finished, a cloud of dust rose on the official road, and the sound of hooves echoed. The faces of the Zhou brothers changed, and Zhou Bin turned to a large man and said, "Didn't Lord Ning say that Commander Lai wouldn't send troops?"

"I don't know," the large man replied indifferently, "If our godfather sends troops, we'll turn and leave."

All of Commander Lai's servants had called him godfather, or even great-grandfather, and had changed their surnames to Lai. Those with seniority had names, while those with less seniority were numbered for easy reference.

The archers in front of them all surnamed Lai, and they wouldn't dare to shoot arrows at the men sent by their godfather.

The Zhou brothers were suddenly in a panic, and the bandits blocking the road on both sides of the official road were also in chaos, scrambling back up the mountain. After a while of confusion, Yang Qiu and his men finally appeared before everyone.

"Mr. Zhou, do you dare to come down?" Zhang Han said with a teasing smile, unsure whether he wanted the other party to come down or to turn and run.

If they fled, Wang Changfu and the others could chase them, and the bandits' chaos would result in many casualties. The Zhou brothers' threat would be temporarily neutralized, but leaving the root of the problem unresolved still felt unsettling.

"Kill, Lai Eleven, it's up to you few!"

Yang Qiu and his men were still halfway down, not yet firmly established, and some of the bandits blocking the road began to throw stones to harass them. Zhang Han's men were few, and Zhou Wu, an old bandit, knew this was a rare opportunity. He waved his arm and shouted, "Brothers, follow me to kill! Kill this young master, and everyone will be heavily rewarded!"

Zhou Bin called out hoarsely, "Those who charge forward will be rewarded with twenty taels, those who injure someone with fifty, those who kill someone with one hundred, and those who kill Zhang Han with five hundred taels of silver!"

This was indeed a generous reward. Bandits usually handed over the loot to their leaders, keeping only a small portion for themselves. They usually spent their money on food and drink, saving little. Now, with the promise of such a reward, everyone's eyes turned red, and the two rows of men, some on foot and some on horseback, shouted and charged forward.

"Raise the shields, Yang Sijun, Wen Zhongfa, raise them higher!" Seeing the bandits charge, Wang Changfu began to call out, ordering everyone to dismount and form ranks.

The bandits and Zhang Han's group were about three to four hundred steps apart, not a great distance. Zhang Han and his men were all on horseback, and the bandits blocking the rear were in chaos. If they turned back now, the bandits would find it hard to catch up, but Zhang Han was determined to resolve the issue with the Zhou brothers and would not retreat at this moment. Not only did he not retreat, he rode to the center, watching Wang Changfu command.

The sun had already begun to tilt, and its heat had diminished. A cool breeze blew from the north, making people feel quite comfortable. However, Zhang Han did not notice these things. His mouth was dry, and his palate and tongue felt stuck together. He wanted to speak but found it hard to open his mouth.

"Water..."

Zhang Han managed to ask for water, but his voice was hoarse, as if he had been talking non-stop for ten to fifteen days. His voice sounded like dry, cracked earth, with no moisture at all.

Zhang Chun was also very nervous. His originally ruddy face had turned yellow and even a bit pale. Hearing Zhang Han ask for water, he fumbled for a while before handing over the water gourd.

Zhang Han drank several mouthfuls, and the dryness in his mouth improved. He smiled to himself, wondering why he was so nervous this time, as he had been in many fights and battles before.

Looking around at the lamas and porters, most of them were also nervous, their expressions tense, and many were using their tongues to press against their palates, clearly also feeling dry.

This was not their fault. In previous group fights, they knew it was just a fight, and unless by accident, no one would die, at worst they would be injured.

For people like the lamas, who were brave and fierce, injuries were like medals for soldiers in the future. Wearing a bandage, they would walk with a swagger, and their words would carry weight.

However, this was a fight, not a war.

The bandits in front of them all had blood on their hands and were there to take their lives, not just to fight over territory.

Although both sides were not very skilled, this was a real war.

"Don't be afraid, the more afraid you are, the sooner you'll die. If you turn and run, they'll cut you down from behind, aiming for your back without worrying about your retaliation. If you run like that, is there anyone more foolish in this world?"

Wang Changfu walked among the ranks, dividing the thirty-odd men into three small teams, each close to the others, forming a small square. Seeing the tension on everyone's faces, he kept shouting to encourage them.

Behind them, the bandits had been defeated by Yang Qiu and his men. The seventy-odd bandits were still a mile away, and Yang Qiu and his men were riding forward. Two horses turned back, and Wang Changfu nodded, thinking that Yang Qiu was a meticulous person. While fighting here, he was also sending people to Xinping Fort for reinforcements, ensuring they were in a position of strength.

As the two sides got closer, they could see each other's faces clearly. The bandits looked fierce, and Zhang Han's men also had a fierce expression. Both sides were shouting to boost their morale.

"Damn it," Wang Changfu muttered, "What are you shouting for in the middle of a battle? You're just exhausting yourselves."

When they were less than a hundred steps apart, Wang Changfu turned back from the front of the formation, mounted a horse, and rode to Zhang Han's side. He was afraid that the young master might be too nervous and might run away on his horse, which would mean the battle was over.

After all, this was not a real battlefield, and Zhang Han was not a general. Wang Changfu thought it would be better if he ran away, leaving the task of suppressing the bandits to the officials, rather than risking the lives of the people from Heyu Sheng.

At this moment, he saw several agile figures emerge from the bandit ranks, moving quickly and skillfully, with a steady and orderly pace. What surprised Wang Changfu even more was that each of them held a longbow, with quivers on their backs and at their waists.

Wang Changfu looked at Zhang Han and said, "This is bad, Young Master. Where did the bandits get archers? They don't look like ordinary archers; they are elite soldiers."

Zhang Han also saw them and smiled coldly, saying, "These are Commander Lai's soldiers."

"Commander Lai?" Wang Changfu asked, "Don't we pay him a monthly tribute?"

"It's not necessarily sent by him personally, but it's definitely related to Ning Yicheng," Zhang Han thought clearly. In matters like this, few people could think as quickly as he did. In a moment, he understood everything and said to Wang Changfu, "Now you understand why we have to solve this problem ourselves?"

Wang Changfu replied, "It's not just a problem; we might not be able to hold them off."

His expression became uneasy. The archers had already stopped, about eighty steps away, each holding a longbow and drawing an arrow. A series of "snap" sounds followed, and the arrows were shot in the blink of an eye, landing on their side.

Everyone involuntarily looked up. The bandits were using proper longbows, which were very powerful, and the arrows fell very quickly, almost too fast to see. These were not the hunting bows used by mountain people. Making a longbow was a complicated process, and a good bow took a long time to make. Using a bow and arrow was not a common skill, and the number of qualified archers in the Ming army was decreasing. At the beginning of the Ming dynasty, the founder had stipulated that at least twenty archers were needed in a hundred-household unit, but now even a command might not be able to select twenty qualified archers.

In the blink of an eye, five arrows landed in the formation. Three arrows stuck in the ground, startling everyone. One arrow pierced a bodyguard's chest, deeply embedded, with the arrow shaft and feathers still trembling. The bodyguard looked at the arrow in his chest, his eyes first showing disbelief, then he let out a惨叫. Another person was hit in the foot and was hopping on one leg while shouting.

"Those who are hit by arrows are not allowed to shout; roll to the side."

Wang Changfu shouted, but it had little effect. The two men continued to shout, and the people around them were in chaos, disrupting the entire formation.

In fact, if it were a group fight, these bodyguards might not have shouted so loudly if they were cut by a knife. But now, with their nerves on edge, the pain was amplified.

At this moment, the bowstrings sounded again, and five more arrows flew over. The bodyguards were in chaos, and everyone instinctively tried to dodge. The formation was completely disordered, and Wang Changfu ordered everyone to hold their positions. The porters still listened to him, but the lamas were in complete chaos, all hiding behind the shield-bearers. Yang Sijun and Wen Zhongfa had a long line of people hiding behind them, all bent over.

In the second round, two arrows missed, and three hit people, in the waist, back, and leg. These three also joined the previous two in their惨叫.

As they approached sixty steps, the bandits' shouts were clearly audible. The bandits' faces showed excitement. They also saw that the Heyu Sheng bodyguards had a large group of men behind them, with better weapons. This battle would be fierce, not like their usual raids on mountain villages. However, under the continuous shooting of the five archers, the front ranks of the bodyguards were in chaos, and the rear ranks were of no use. On the battlefield, when one side's morale waned, the other side's morale surged. With strong morale and an orderly formation, victory was within reach.

At this moment, the third round of arrows was shot. This time, they were shooting from a slope, and the distance was closer. Lai Eleven and his men used a flat shot, which was more powerful than a parabolic shot. Wen Zhongfa felt a jolt in his wrist, and then he saw the arrow tip pierce through his shield. He watched the arrow tip pierce his palm, and only then did he feel the pain.