Chapter 414: A Chance Encounter, Nothing More

Zhao Jin and his companions fought with fierce courage, and the household troops were no slouches either. All the men who had come along this time were veterans from the old household ranks; their spear techniques and their coordination in battle were drilled to perfection, and they had been tempered in several bloody fights. The scene before them did not rattle them in the slightest. In squads of three or five, they covered each other and thrust their spears to kill.

The open space enclosed within the wagons was narrow to begin with. When three or five long spears thrust forward in unison, there was truly no room to dodge. Some men were forced back against the wagons and then nailed dead to the spot by the spears.

For Zhao Jin's squad, clustered in tight formation, the greatest danger came when they broke ranks into a scattered melee. But by the time everyone had spread out to kill the enemy, the outcome was already decided.

These riders who had come charging in were no death warriors. The moment battle was joined, the companions who had rushed to the very front were sent to their accounts one after another. Dozens had already been shot dead outside moments before, and in that brief span, nearly a quarter of their number had been lost. Moreover, those who had charged at the very front were the most reckless and fiercest among them.

When they were being killed outside earlier, they still clung to the illusion that they could win if they rushed in for close combat. Now they knew they had kicked an iron plate. Who would still dare to keep throwing their lives away?

Those who had already leaped inside scrambled over each other to climb back out. Hearing the continuous agonized screams of their familiar comrades inside, the men outside no longer dared to charge in.

Just then, more panicked shouts rang out from outside. The people within the ring of wagons could hear the dense sound of hoofbeats passing by the perimeter.

"Run!" "Who set this trap!" Wails and curses rose from outside. After Zhao Jin and his men had mopped up the remaining enemies, they peered through the gaps between the wagons and saw the riders outside mounting their horses in panic, fleeing in all directions with no thought for anything else.

What did it matter that the withered grass and snowy ground might hide mud pits and marshes, where one misstep meant death? No one could afford to care about that now. The only thing that mattered was getting away.

In a few moments, the clamor of shouts and killing around them fell utterly silent. All that remained were the agonized screams and groans of some of the wounded, along with a few lucky ones kowtowing and begging for their lives. The guides knew to hide beneath the wagons, and those riders knew to crawl under there as well.

"Master, there are no more bandits gathered outside. All is safe now!" Someone outside shouted at the top of his lungs. Zhao Jin nodded.

This time he did not climb onto a wagon. Instead, he ordered the household troops to push the wagons aside, and they walked straight out. Inside, corpses lay strewn across the ground; outside was a scene of utter chaos. A dozen or so riders of the Zhao Character Battalion who had left earlier were now back on their horses, their faces alight with gleeful excitement.

When the charging bandits had clambered over and rushed into the wagon fortification, the Zhao Character Battalion's mounted troop, which had led their horses away to hide in the distance, executed a feigned retreat and counter-charge. If the bandits dared to gallop across the withered grassland, they had the guts to do the same.

While the two sides were locked in tangled combat, these dozen-odd riders struck with their counter-charge. Inside, the sound of killing shook the heavens; outside, men's hearts were already seized with panic. When they suddenly saw cavalry charging toward them, their morale instantly collapsed. They no longer had the courage to keep attacking. There were still nearly two hundred men outside, most of whom had dismounted and were preparing to charge in. When they saw the cavalry coming, all they could think of was mounting up and fleeing.

There were even some unlucky wretches who had no time to mount their horses. Some bolted straight into the withered grassland on either side and ran for their lives, while others could only fall to their knees and beg for mercy.

Only after seeing the scene outside did Zhao Jin climb onto a wagon. In such a chaotic situation, rashly climbing to a high vantage point made one an easy target.

Standing atop the wagon and looking around, the withered grass and snowy ground were no longer monotonous. Fleeing bandits were everywhere, but not a single one looked back, nor did any regroup. They were no longer a threat.

"They really are just local bandits!" Zhao Jin muttered to himself. Standing on the wagon, he gave the order in a clear, ringing voice: "Take prisoners! Kill all the wounded! Clear the position immediately and prepare to continue the march!"

After saying this, he shouted at the dozen or so excited cavalrymen: "What are you standing around for? Get to the front and bring those horses back, quickly!"

The corpses were easy to deal with — they were simply tossed to the roadside. By the next day, only mangled skeletons would likely remain; there were plenty of wolves in this desolate grassland. In such a sudden encounter battle, the household troops of the Zhao Character Battalion naturally did not hold back. Most of the wounded enemies were gravely injured and on the verge of death; they were given a quick end and tossed aside as well.

There were also a dozen or so who had not managed to flee and had fallen to their knees begging for mercy. These men were largely unharmed and were all herded into a group. The three guides were also called over.

The dozen or so men knelt on the ground, pleading only for their lives. Zhao Jin swept them with a cold gaze, and then his long spear suddenly thrust forward. One man who was wailing and begging for mercy was pierced straight through the chest. He slumped limply to the ground and died.

That sudden act instantly silenced everyone. Even the three guides were so frightened that their faces turned pale and their bodies trembled.

Zhao Jin pointed his long spear at another man, who immediately began to tremble all over. But he was already bound tightly and could not move at all. The bloodstained spear tip simply pointed at him, pushing his mind to the verge of collapse.

"Who are you people?" Zhao Jin asked coldly.

"…This lowly one… this lowly one is a pole-bearer from Grass Den, one of Grass-Skimmer's men…"

Question after question was asked. In their terror, no one dared to tell anything but the truth; in fact, everyone scrambled over each other to speak.

Grass Den was a lawless zone, but ordinary goods could fetch high prices there, so merchant caravans often came and went. It was only during the twelfth month that no one came. However, these caravans usually had one background or another, and all the necessary connections and notices had been arranged with every side. It was difficult to make a move against them — or rather, difficult to make a move openly.

Zhao Jin's party looked like a merchant caravan, and moreover, looked like one of those inexperienced caravans that rashly came seeking fortune. The various pole gangs indeed had spies and informants in the outlying villages, and several gangs had received word.

Zhao Jin's party had several dozen men, over a dozen wagons, and that many horses. A single pole gang only had a few dozen men, and a large gang had just over a hundred. None of them were confident they could swallow this on their own. So in the end, several groups joined forces, planning to work this job together and have a fat New Year.

"Don't the lords of Grass Den have a rule against touching merchant caravans that come to trade?" During the questioning, Old Peng suddenly spoke up, his face showing a rather indignant expression.

Beside him, Yi Jinbao coughed dryly twice and glanced cautiously at Zhao Jin before saying, "Old Peng, you actually believed that nonsense? Over the years, so many people have vanished without a trace in Grass Den — where do you think they went?"

"Did no one send you here?" Zhao Jin pressed further.

The horse bandits who were asked this question all shook their heads in blank confusion. Zhao Jin pondered for a moment, then turned and called to Liu Yong, "Have your men interrogate them thoroughly. Use any means necessary. See if you can get anything else out of them. When you're done, dispose of them."

Liu Yong nodded. The horse bandits kneeling on the ground still had no idea what was about to happen to them. They only saw that short, armored man turn his head and bark an order, and several grim-faced middle-aged men walked over.

The prisoners were all dragged into the withered grass by the roadside. Zhao Jin's party hurriedly righted the wagons and hitched the recovered horses back to them. Zhao Jin, his companions, and the three guides all pitched in with the labor. Amidst this bustle, one after another, piercingly agonized screams rang out from the roadside, making the three guides' hearts pound with fear.

Before long, the roadside fell utterly silent. Liu Yong and those several men emerged and also joined in the hurried work.

"…There's something called Grass-Skimmer, Double-Headed Tiger, Old Yellow Hair — seven pole gangs in total, working together… No signs that anyone put them up to it. These groups were all thrown together on the spur of the moment…"

There wasn't much else to be gleaned from the questioning. Aside from their own capital-free business, the main activity of these Grass Den bandit pole gangs was sweeping through Grass Den to intercept private salt dealers. Every time they seized a shipment, not only did the salt goods become theirs, but they also received reward silver from Yangzhou and Haizhou.

It was just that when the twelfth month arrived, business dried up. Grass Den was bitter, cold, and desolate, so the pole gangs all came out to the villages near the cities to rest, recover, and amuse themselves. They already had close ties with the powerful households of Suqian and Shuyang, who gave them shelter. Moreover, those villages formed by refugees were one with them, inside and out — either passing them information, or taking part in dividing and storing the loot. Some of the able-bodied young men from the villages even voluntarily joined the Grass Den bandits.

When Zhao Jin led his caravan here, no one had sent word ahead, and the amount of goods and possessions they brought was simply too great, which naturally drew the bandits' covetous eyes.

"…Among those dozen or so men, there were a few leaders. I exhausted every method on my end and couldn't get anything more out of them. There shouldn't be any deeper scheme…"

Liu Yong spoke in great detail. He and Zhao Jin worked together to right a wagon. Zhao Jin glanced at the three guides on the other side and said in a low voice, "The Peng uncle and nephew probably don't know the score, but that man surnamed Yi might still be thinking of profiting off us somehow."

He hadn't even finished speaking when Yi Jinbao, who had been helping on the other side, came running over at a quick pace. After a few steps, he was blocked by the vigilant household troops. Yi Jinbao pleaded a couple of times, and Zhao Jin signaled to let him through. The moment Yi Jinbao reached him, he fell to his knees and kowtowed, protesting in a tearful voice, "Master, this lowly one was blinded by greed! I was still thinking that if you, Master, were robbed, this lowly one could get a share of the spoils. But seeing what just happened, I now understand — those damned, cursed bandits would never have left any witnesses alive!"

Yi Jinbao spoke in a jumbled, incoherent rush. Only with a blade practically at his neck could he finally make himself clear.

The reason was simple. Yi Jinbao was far more seasoned and worldly-wise than the Peng uncle and nephew, and he was intimately familiar with the ways of Grass Den. One look at Zhao Jin's party and he knew trouble was coming — the Grass Den bandits would not let them pass. He had traveled here many times and had a cordial relationship with several pole gangs. Yi Jinbao had been thinking that after the Grass Den bandits intercepted Zhao Jin's party, he could rely on his familiarity with the people to stay behind, and conveniently take over the business of storing and fencing the stolen goods. It would have been a tidy windfall either way.

But after seeing the situation just now, Yi Jinbao knew that if the Grass Den bandits had truly succeeded, they certainly would not have left him alive either. And as it happened, among the dozen or so prisoners just captured, several faces were very familiar. When Liu Yong led his men off to interrogate them, Yi Jinbao was seized with panic and anxiety, terrified that he would be recognized and then implicated by association. The more he thought, the more frightened he became, and so he came stumbling and scrambling to beg for mercy.

Zhao Jin believed Yi Jinbao's account, because the man had been found by Sun Jia. After being hired, he had gone home once with his silver, and during that process, he had been tailed by men from the Zhao Character Battalion. He had no time to collude with outsiders. But the intention to sit back and watch Zhao Jin's party be attacked by bandits, and then profit a little from the sidelines — that was likely no lie.