Chapter 1131: Bandits

Trouble was trouble, but things still had to be done by the book. The village head and the steward had to send men to notify the nearby farms, warn them to guard against danger, and see if they could get any support. No one felt optimistic, though — the other villages' luck was probably no better than theirs.

Less than an hour after the messengers left, while everyone was still sifting through the burned grain, the outer sentries relayed a warning. Then the lookout on the farm's high point shouted at the top of his lungs, "People coming! Several hundred riders and men are coming!"

The moment this warning came, the tenant farmers inside the village fell into chaos. The faint-hearted even began to wail. The village head and the others, however, stayed relatively calm. The militia company commander was already shouting for everyone to form ranks. At a time like this, the militiamen showed no courtesy whatsoever — anyone running around in confusion got a savage whack from the shaft of a spear. Under this barrage of punches, kicks, and curses, order in the village was barely maintained. The militia formed up for battle, and the tenant farmers stood ready at their assigned posts.

The farm had only recently been established, and its manpower had been filled out gradually, so the high walls and deep trenches that should have been there were incomplete. Fortunately, the village head had never dared to slack off and had constantly pushed the farmers to dig trenches and build walls. By now, the outer trench had begun to take shape, but the wall was still only a low barrier. Building an earthen rampart by digging and piling soil — that truly required an enormous amount of labor.

Some barrier was better than none. Yao Qi stood behind the low wall clutching a sharpened, fire-hardened bamboo spear. Not far away, the militia had already assembled and formed ranks. They hadn't yet combined into a proper battle formation, but they were ready to fight at any moment. Everyone watched the approaching enemy in the distance with tense nerves. What made their hearts pound even harder was that the enemy had cavalry — no fewer than a hundred riders. The number of cavalry alone was no less than the entire militia's strength!

"Don't panic! These are just worthless small fry. Look at that chaotic mess — they're cowards who'll collapse at the first clash. As long as we hold firm, they won't break through!" the militia company commander bellowed. Though he was only twenty-three years old, at a moment like this, he was the one in charge of the entire farm. If anyone broke the rules, he had the authority to execute them on the spot.

"I've seen even the Tatars back on Pi Island — what do these horse bandits and brigands count for?" Yao Qi kept psyching himself up. Because he was strong and always obedient, Yao Qi had been placed very close to the front. He saw that the young militiamen, though all forcing themselves to look calm, were not trembling, and their ranks were not in disarray. That put Yao Qi somewhat at ease.

Just then, the force approaching from the foot of the mountain was no more than two hundred paces from the farm. The mounted troop, which had been advancing slowly with the main body, suddenly spurred their horses into a gallop, broke away from the formation, and charged straight at the farm. This sent a ripple of agitation through the farmers inside — some couldn't help crying out in alarm.

A force of nearly a hundred riders, no matter how ragged, once it spread out and came charging at full speed, still kicked up dust that blotted out the sky and made a terrifying din. Many of the farmers inside the village had turned pale. At this moment, the tenant farmers of Liaodong refugee stock, being former soldiers, performed somewhat better. Having seen real battle was, after all, different from not having seen it.

Just as they were about to reach the edge of the trench, the nearly hundred riders all wheeled and began circling the farm. Now that they were close enough, the militia and farmers could make out the details of the force outside. They were indeed bandits and horse thieves. The nearly hundred riders outside had not the slightest uniformity — they were a complete motley crew.

Cavalry was usually the most elite force in an army, and at first glance, they naturally carried a fierce, crack bearing. That kind of bearing was nowhere to be seen in the mounted troop outside. There were tall, short, fat, and skinny men, all dressed in a chaotic jumble, and hardly any of them were clean — most were filthy beyond belief. Their weapons were a hodgepodge too, though most at least had a decent blade.

These differences were minor. The disparity in riding skill among the nearly hundred riders was also enormous. Some were clearly seasoned, shifting and moving freely in the saddle, able to keep an eye on what was happening inside the farm even as they galloped in circles. Others, at best, were merely sitting on a horse. Though they were in the saddle with hands clutching the reins, they were practically hugging the horse's neck for fear of being thrown off. As they rode in circles, the skilled riders pulled ahead, while the poor ones fell behind.

What was even more laughable was that some rode sturdy horses, some rode obviously old nags, and some were even riding mules and donkeys. From a distance, it was a rolling cloud of dust; up close, it was a complete mishmash. Riding a donkey, you could hardly expect any shock charge — it was only good for saving a man's strength on the march and increasing mobility.

The mounted troop circled the farm, dust billowing, a terrifying display. No matter how motley they looked, this was still a real mounted force. Riding on animals, their speed of movement and force of impact were still superior to ordinary foot soldiers. If they could win, they could charge; if they couldn't, they could flee. Men inside the farm had already climbed to high points, watching the mounted troop's every move and shouting out reports at any moment.

At this point, the militia was stretched thin. The tenant farmers inside the farm were utterly unreliable. They hadn't undergone sufficient training, and the Liaodong refugees and Shandong locals were too different from each other — it was hard to forge them into a single cohesive force. More critically, the village's defensive works were far from complete. If there had been a high, thick earthen wall and a deep trench, the farmers might have had the courage to go up and resist. As it was, they didn't even dare approach the low wall.

"How can we possibly hold this whole perimeter? By the time we spread our men out to plug every gap, we won't be able to plug anything. Better to concentrate everyone in one place, lure them inside to fight. As long as they dare to butt heads with our one militia company, we can definitely make them hurt."

"What about the mounted troop? Can we hold against them?"

"Let them in. We've got shacks, houses, and storehouses in here. That damned mounted troop won't be able to get up any speed. And from the look of their horsemanship, they don't seem to have bows either. We're not afraid of them!"

The village head and the militia company commander were in conference. Despite the freezing cold, both men's foreheads were covered in sweat. And because of the thundering hoofbeats outside, they were practically shouting at each other — anyone nearby could hear them clearly. Yao Qi saw the village head about to nod in reluctant agreement when the militia company commander immediately turned his head and roared, "Everyone in the village, take your drill positions! Hollow square, facing outward on all four sides! Move! Anyone half a step slow, I'll cut him down myself!"

"Quick! Form up right behind us, move! The lookout on the roof stays put — everyone else, now!" The several militia squad leaders who normally drilled the farmers had already stepped forward and were shouting. Anyone who moved too slowly got an immediate whack from a spear shaft.

Drilling or no drilling made a difference after all. Though the farmers were unpracticed, they still knew how to stand together in formation. They also knew what a hollow square facing outward on all four sides was. Once they stood shoulder to shoulder, feeling they had comrades to rely on in front, behind, left, and right, their minds settled considerably. The agitated atmosphere inside the farm steadied as well. The bandits outside probably had no idea the people in the farm were preparing to fight them inside the village. The mounted troop kept circling, drawing closer and closer.

"Listen up, you inside! This is Shandong land, this is the place of us Shandong folk, young and old! How can it be taken by Liaodong savages and Xuzhou bumpkins? Any real man, stand with us and drive them out! Divide up this land and live our own happy lives!" someone outside was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"We Shandong men are men who stand tall under heaven! Why should we be trampled on and worked like oxen and horses? There's law under heaven — what right do these Xuzhou people have?"

"Any Shandong man, stand up and fight them to the death!"

After circling a few times, the mounted troop's speed slowed considerably. Amid the thundering hoofbeats, shouts and calls kept coming in — all in the dialect of the southern Lu mountains. Once these words were shouted, the militiamen were fine, but the Liaodong and Shandong farmers standing together immediately grew suspicious and alarmed. The farmers from Liaodong, in particular, were eyeing their Shandong companions beside them with wariness.

"Have you lost your minds? They talk about Shandong and Liaodong, but have these bandits and horse thieves ever shown mercy to Shandong folk? Have they ever gone soft when they were plundering you? Stand firm, all of you! The moment we collapse, these scum will definitely blood-wash this village — no one will survive! Anyone who dares to stir, I'll be the first to deal with him!" The militia company commander roared hoarsely, his head drenched in sweat, his nerves stretched taut.

The exact origin of these men outside was unclear, but one thing was certain: they were mountain bandits and brigands. Nothing else could produce such a rabble. The foot soldiers behind them were also crowding over in a noisy, chaotic mess. The clothes they wore were a riot of colors — some had even wrapped women's garments around themselves. There were young and strong, old and weak alike. The fierce, sturdy ones were better dressed and carried better weapons. The old and weak had nothing more than a bamboo spear or a wooden pole in their hands. In that respect, they might not even be better than the equipment inside the farm — at least the village guards' bamboo spears and wooden spikes had been sharpened, fire-hardened, and then soaked in filth. A single stab was hard to survive.

Compared to the mounted troop, who were shouting and putting on a show of might, these foot bandits' presence was much weaker. Still, the sturdy men among them were brandishing weapons and shouting threats, driving everyone forward without pause. Each of them was carrying a bundle of firewood and straw on their shoulder.

Seeing those bundled faggots, the eyelids of everyone inside the Zhao Battalion farm twitched. Anyone with half a brain could figure out what the firewood was for — it was for filling the trench and climbing the wall, something to step on. The bandits were going to use it to launch a direct assault.

"What do we do?"

"Same as I said. This rabble can't take casualties. If we hit them hard, they might just retreat!"

"And if they don't retreat?"

"Do you have any other plan right now?"

Neither the village head nor the militia company commander was very old, and by now they were nearly at each other's throats. But in the end, the militia company commander's orders took precedence. The two argued a few more sentences, then the village head cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted toward the outside: "Which outfit are you out there? This is the farm of Master Jin of Xuzhou, of Zhao Tianwang of Xuzhou! If you didn't know, no blame. If you pull back now, we'll let today pass. If you don't retreat, you can go ask around about the consequences!"

As soon as he finished shouting, the mounted troop circling around came to a halt directly in front. The big man leading them wore a tattered, falling-apart coat of mail and held a long-shafted saber. From horseback, he laughed roughly and said, "Who's this Master Jin? We don't know him. We only know the Emperor Grandpa in the capital. We only know that here in Shandong, there's no place for savages from Liaodong or bumpkins from Xuzhou!"

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