Chapter 256: Belated Reinforcements

The lone rider in the distance slowed steadily as he drew nearer. By the time he reached the eastern clearing, he was practically walking step by step, the rider on horseback glancing left and right without pause.

Once the distance closed enough to make him out clearly, Zhao Jin recognized who it was and let out a long breath of relief. Raising his long spear, he shouted, "Uncle He! Over here!"

The man started at the sound, then spurred his mount and hurried toward Zhao Jin. It was none other than Uncle He, the household guard from Wang Zhaojing's residence. No one had expected Uncle He's horsemanship to be so superb — his control of the horse was far better than anything the mounted troop had shown the day before.

By the time Uncle He reached them, he had already laid his bow across the saddle. Only after Zhao Jin removed his helmet did he fully relax. From horseback, he asked with deep concern, "Young Master Jin, the messenger said a large band of brigands attacked He Village last night. Is everyone safe and sound?"

Seeing a familiar face, Zhao Jin and his companions could finally truly unwind. He noticed that Uncle He's mount was drenched in sweat — no doubt from galloping the whole way.

"Thank you for your concern, Uncle He. We drove the bandits off. Everything's fine now," Zhao Jin answered in a clear voice.

"The messenger spoke of several hundred cavalry and several thousand infantry — and you drove them off, just like that?" Uncle He's words carried a note of disbelief. Then he laughed at himself and said, "When a man panics, his story gets muddled. Maybe..."

He stopped mid-sentence, because he had spotted the pile of corpses laid out off to the other side. A hasty battlefield cleanup meant no neat arrangement — they had simply been heaped into several large mounds, then covered with so much quicklime that nearly everything was obscured. They looked like compost heaps. When Uncle He first arrived, his attention had been fixed entirely on Zhao Jin and the others; he had only swept his eyes past these corpse piles. Just now, the thick stench had hit his nostrils, and then he had discovered them.

Uncle He forgot to speak. His mouth slowly fell open as he sat on his horse — utterly dumbstruck. For a man of his experience and temperament, such a stunned expression was a rare sight.

"... This... this is really..." Uncle He stammered incoherently from horseback.

"Uncle He, when will my father and the other uncles arrive?" Zhao Jin asked. He knew that the moment the messenger reached Xuzhou, every family elder would be frantic to rush to their rescue. Uncle He was likely the forward scout, probably because his skills with bow and horse were the most outstanding.

Jolted by the question, Uncle He snapped back to his senses. He coughed a few times on horseback before saying, "Those who can ride will be here within half a shichen. Those who can't will likely be later. Your messenger couldn't enter the city until the gates opened this morning — that's when word got through. Everyone went mad with worry, each scrambling for a way to get out of the city."

After saying this, Uncle He smiled from horseback and added with a hint of wryness, "Still, everyone understood perfectly well — arriving this late, we probably wouldn't find anyone alive. We'd only be here to collect your bodies. Or, with the slimmest of hopes, maybe negotiate with the bandits. No one imagined this outcome — that you would actually win."

Several hundred cavalry and several thousand infantry besieging one tiny estate — Zhao Jin's side barely had anyone who had even seen blood, and they spent their days drilling in seemingly useless training. How could there possibly be any hope of survival? The family elders must have been beside themselves with grief, coming only to retrieve the bodies. Their one remaining wish was probably just to recover the corpses whole.

Truth be told, none of the families held out hope that their children had been spared. The reason was simple: Zhao Jin and his companions had far too much blood on their hands, too many lives taken, blood feuds with too many factions. For their enemies to commit such enormous resources to a night raid and pitched battle, they would certainly leave no one alive. Of course, no one could have imagined this outcome either.

Uncle He's mount, agitated by the smoke and the stench of blood, fidgeted restlessly and took a few skittish steps. Uncle He yanked the reins and barked a reprimand. Once the horse steadied, he studied the veteran troop standing there with grim resolve, took in Zhao Jin and his companions still in armor and drenched in gore. The smile on his face turned to admiration. He nodded and said, "No small feat... truly remarkable. When I was riding over, I kept thinking — you boys are all fine sprouts; it'd be such a pity if you died. I never imagined you'd accomplish something like this. Let me go bring the good news to your families first!"

With that, he wheeled his horse around and spurred it away at speed. Watching Uncle He depart, Zhao Jin sat straight down on the ground. The others followed suit without a shred of decorum. This time, they truly let themselves relax. The veteran square behind them did the same. Holding firm all this time had been manageable, but that moment of release and rest had dragged all their exhaustion to the surface.

Chen Sheng sat down, paused in a daze for a moment, then turned to Zhao Jin and asked, "A large force is surely coming from the city. Won't that be a wasted trip now? Should we send someone on horseback to catch up and let them know?"

"Everyone, take off your armor. Loosen up and catch your breath!" Zhao Jin called out to the group first, then said to Chen Sheng, "How would it be a wasted trip? Let others see that our Zhao Camp isn't isolated and without backing. Let anyone still harboring ideas put those ideas to rest."

Chen Sheng nodded. He removed his own helmet and bracers, then helped Zhao Jin unbuckle his chest armor. With a laugh, he said, "After the fight we put up last night, who would still dare harbor any ideas?"

The Kong family and Cloud Mountain Monastery were just about the largest underworld powers in Henan, Shandong, and the Xuzhou region of Southern Zhili. The force they had deployed last night could only be described as a staggering mobilization. Yet even so, Zhao Camp had crushed them. Against battle strength like that, who would dare tug the tiger's whiskers again?

Steel plate, cotton-padded armor, and chainmail were all stripped off. The recruit troop sent men over to carry them back. Others brought out wooden stools from the buildings so the veteran troop could at least sit and have something to lean against. The atmosphere finally eased. Over on the other side, Dong Bingfeng was already fast asleep, propped against a bed frame.

Liu Yong, in his role as steward, came over to ask about food and drink. The rescue party arriving soon would be no small number, and although Zhao Camp had grain, there was certainly no time to prepare anything today. Jixiang's father and the hired hands had also been busy all night and were still at work making congee and boiling water — they simply could not spare a hand.

"No need to trouble yourself over such a small matter. Send word to the estate — however many people come, have them prepare everything," Zhao Jin said directly.

"Big Brother, won't that breed resentment?" Liu Yong was thorough in his thinking.

"This is my estate. Our estate. What we tell them to do, they should do," Zhao Jin replied without the slightest courtesy.

The He family compound fell quiet again. Zhao Jin, who had been forcing himself to stay alert, began to doze off. In that hazy, half-asleep state, a few people walked up beside him. Instinctively, Zhao Jin's body tensed and his hand went to the hilt of his short blade.

"Sorry about that — us old fellows couldn't sleep and ended up waking you." Hearing this voice, Zhao Jin relaxed. It was the old cavalrymen from the garrison. The one speaking was surnamed Wang.

Zhao Jin rubbed his eyes and looked up with a smile. "Uncles, won't you sleep a little longer? Last night was grueling!"

"At our age, sleep doesn't come easy. Besides, if we sleep too much now, we won't sleep tonight — just more trouble. Might as well tough it out during the day," the old soldier Wang replied with a smile.

That was real life experience. Zhao Jin rubbed his face. He still wanted to sleep, but he also knew that in Zhao Camp, he was the one who most needed to stay clear-headed. Better to avoid dozing off if he could help it.

Seeing Zhao Jin awake now, the old soldier Wang first raised a thumbs-up in salute, then began praising him. "This old man here hasn't slept much — I've been thinking about how you commanded the troops last night. Truly remarkable. What's the phrase... brave and resourceful. At the start, us old fellows were even thinking of taking you and Bingfeng and running. Who'd have thought you'd win — and such a resounding victory at that!"

"It was all thanks to the brothers fighting with everything they had — and you uncles helped tremendously too..." Zhao Jin remained seated, but no one thought it discourteous. On the contrary, it felt perfectly natural.

After a bit of idle chatter, a short, stout old soldier suddenly spoke up. "Xiao Jin, your command is so outstanding — did your uncle leave you some book of military strategy?"

At these words, all the chatting old soldiers turned to look. Another slapped his thigh as if struck by sudden realization. "Of course! That lad Zhenxing traveled far and wide — he might well have gotten his hands on some hidden manual of military arts. How else could Xiao Jin have such ability?"

The old cavalrymen chimed in one after another, the discussion growing animated. Even the companions who had been dozing nearby opened their eyes, and the veteran troop not far away listened with rapt attention.

Zhao Jin could only smile wryly. Still, the theory wasn't surprising. For someone of his age, experience, and breadth of knowledge to achieve such a victory was indeed far too astonishing. And people of this era loved to talk about secret methods handed down from ancient times — much like the martial arts manuals so popular back in the day.

"Keep it down, keep it down. A secret text like that can't be bandied about. Xiao Jin doesn't want people knowing either," another added with an air of great seriousness, as if covering something up.

Zhao Jin scratched his head, thought for a moment, then said with a smile, "Second Uncle did say — if you really want to study military texts, master Grandpa Qi's military manual thoroughly. That beats everything else."

Grandpa Qi was Qi Jiguang. The "Grandpa" was purely a term of deep respect, not necessarily indicating any relation or seniority. Unconsciously, Zhao Jin had picked up this habit too. Once he invoked that revered name, the old soldiers had nothing more to say. One, however, remarked with a sigh, "That lad Zhenxing — sometimes he acted like some bookish scholar. A real pity."

Zhao Jin fell silent as well. His second uncle had not been the purely fierce and fearless warrior type; his temperament had been quiet and composed. What the man said was true, and it stirred up memories.

After that, the topic shifted. The group began discussing the previous night's battle — how that mounted troop had never fought a real pitched battle, how they could manage sudden raids and camp assaults but couldn't charge a solid formation, how they lacked bloodlust and feared death. How the monk-soldier battalion had done well to train to that level, but unfortunately they too couldn't stand up to the real thing — the moment blades and spears clashed, they couldn't hold.

Zhao Jin did not interject. He simply listened to these seasoned veterans discuss. The discussion held no profound insights — it was simply commentary based on facts. The old soldiers had seen much and spoke from their own experience. But what struck Zhao Jin as odd was that no one expressed surprise that Cloud Mountain Monastery could mobilize over a thousand monk-soldiers, or that the Kong family could field a mounted troop of several hundred.

There was still law in this realm. For local strongmen to possess private armies of such scale, and to dare use them so openly — shouldn't that be shocking?

Reflecting on his own conduct, on his Zhao Camp — whenever he did anything, he always sought a justification that would pass muster with official law. No matter how forced the pretext, there had to be room for explanation. Zhao Camp had started under the guise of warehouse and trading company employees. When their numbers grew too large, they had voluntarily moved outside the city — cautious and careful, never leaving the slightest handle for others to grasp. Now, listening to others talk, he felt he might have been a bit too cautious.

In this age, as long as you were outside the city and beyond the reach of the law, the countryside belonged to the local strongmen. With wealth, influence, and blades, you could run rampant without restraint. Someone as cautious as him was surely a rare sight.

His mind was still a little foggy from lack of sleep. Zhao Jin slapped his forehead hard and decided to simply stop thinking about it. Being careful was never wrong...

Just as Zhao Jin slapped his forehead, he faintly sensed the ground trembling. He froze, thinking it might be his imagination. But the old cavalrymen chatting animatedly beside him all changed expression. The one surnamed Wang dropped straight to the ground and pressed his ear to the earth, listening intently.

"... From the east... a mounted troop approaching... several hundred riders..."

More than one person was on the ground listening. One report after another came in.

The faces of everyone who heard this changed. Then they all looked at Zhao Jin. By now, everyone felt Zhao Jin was all-capable, that he could take charge of anything.

Everyone rose from the ground. Zhao Jin pondered briefly, then spoke. "It could be reinforcements from our elders and uncles. But it could also be the enemy, brazen enough to come again. Better to be cautious. All squads, don armor and prepare — ready to meet the enemy!"

Unlike the chaos of the previous afternoon, the moment this order was given, the companions each moved to their posts, shouting Zhao Jin's commands as they ran. The veteran troop, which had been sprawled every which way, sprang sharply to their feet. The recruit troop came running out of the barracks. In mere moments, every squad had finished forming up. Only the donning of armor was cumbersome — some soldiers were still busy with it.

The old cavalrymen looked after themselves. They did not rush to act, instead watching the preparations within the compound with keen interest. In a short span, the courtyard had taken on a grim and imposing air. The entirety of Zhao Camp was now in a state ready to sally forth at any moment. This made the old cavalrymen blanch in astonishment. They exchanged glances, and one muttered, "And they still say there's no secret military manual. Without one, how could they be drilled to such a state!"

The eastern wall of the compound no longer existed, and the piles of bricks in front had been cleared away. Zhao Jin had the chevaux-de-frise and wooden barricades from the southern street — which had served little purpose — dragged over and set up in the breach, then had door planks and the like laid across them.

Unlike the chaos of the night before, now everyone moved with method. The veteran troop formed tight ranks behind the barricades and door planks — the tighter they packed, the less chance of being hit by arcing arrow fire. The recruit troop, meanwhile, was clustered in scattered groups, all positioned in dead angles unreachable from outside. Large as it was, the compound was still just a courtyard; this positioning didn't hinder movement. Even the squads arrayed furthest back knew exactly what they should be doing — some entered the barracks, others hauled supplies.

Seeing that all preparations were complete, Zhao Jin climbed the watchtower again. The courtyard wall had been rammed down, but the watchtower in the corner had been spared — it stood intact and unharmed.

From the height, he swept his gaze around. Far to the east, he could already see dust rising. The large cavalry force was nearly here. He was not the only one climbing high to look far — he could see that over in the mule and horse market, people had also climbed onto rooftops to peer out. Some were even watching not the east, but the compound itself.

Mountains that seem close can run a horse to death — the dust was visible, but it took nearly half a shichen before the large cavalry force arrived. Seeing their pace, Zhao Jin let out a breath of relief. Strike where they least expect it, speed is the essence of war — but in broad daylight, without the ability to move covertly, if this were the enemy, they would not be jogging along at such a leisurely, unhurried pace.

Still, Zhao Jin did not dare let his guard down — a matter like this allowed no chance of error. Fortunately, when the main body of riders reached about two hundred paces, they slowed again, while three riders spurred ahead. Once they drew near, Zhao Jin relaxed completely, for one of them was Uncle He, who had visited before; one was Wang Zhaojing; and the third was one of Dong Bingfeng's martial tutors.

"Stand down — reinforcements are here!" Zhao Jin shouted from the watchtower. Below, an involuntary cheer broke out at once; everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Jin climbed down from the tower, had his own men stand at ease, then went out with his companions to meet them. Before their side had even cleared away the barricades and wooden palisades, Wang Zhaojing had already dismounted well in advance. He wore a suit of light armor and carried a long, narrow-bladed sword on his back. He glanced at the corpses piled to one side, then looked back at the bloodstains and scorched black patches covering the ground. Shame gradually welled up on his face. When he saw Zhao Jin, he opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at his friends and could not help lowering his head.

From last night until now, they had eaten, and had even managed a little sleep, but none had had a chance to wash up. The blood and grime from the night before still clung to them — Zhao Jin and his companions were all like this, and so were the veteran squad and the recruit squad. Even without having witnessed what happened last night, just by looking at the marks on the ground to the east, at the piled corpses and weapons, and at the stains covering the men of the Zhao Camp, Wang Zhaojing could guess what had taken place.

"Brother Zhao, all of you brothers — had I been here last night, it would have been one more…" Wang Zhaojing's voice grew softer with every word, until at last he could not go on. He merely bowed deeply in salute.

Chen Sheng lifted his head, but the others all looked toward Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin stepped up and gave Wang Zhaojing a punch, saying with a laugh, "Talking like that — are you trying to embarrass Stone? That time at Gao Family Village, Stone wasn't there either."

Shi Manqiang chuckled. Chen Sheng's expression remained impassive. Ji Xiang, Dong Bingfeng, and Liu Yong all broke into smiles. Wang Zhaojing, however, did not smile. He lifted his head as if to speak, but hesitated a long moment and said nothing.

"We brothers can catch up later. First let's receive these elders who have come from so far away," Zhao Jin said offhandedly, then strode forward to greet them.

"Brother Zhao, Uncle Zhao, Uncle Chen, and Uncle Dong have all come by carriage. The rest are waiting for word back in the city," Wang Zhaojing added from behind. The elders of the several families either could not ride or were too old to do so.

Seeing the barricades being removed from the compound and people coming out to meet them, the main body of riders slowly advanced as well. Though Zhao Jin knew they were friends, not foes, he still felt a sense of pressure bearing down on him.

The towering height of men on horseback, the grim sight of armor and drawn blades, and that fierce, battle-hardened bearing — all of it was unlike anything Zhao Jin had seen before. He did not yet know their origins, but his first impression was unmistakable: these were elite troops.

There was no need to even mention the military-farmer households of the Xu Prefecture Guard and the Xu Prefecture Left Guard. Zhao Jin had also seen the common soldiers under the Xu Prefecture Regional Commander. Those men were a little better than farmers, but many of them looked no match for a sturdy peasant. Yet fierce, hardened warriors like the ones before him today — these he was seeing for the first time. On reflection, they closely resembled the men who had once followed at Dong Bingfeng's side.