Chapter 459: The Drum Sounds

Had the overseer caught him slacking off and dozing? Wei Mugen's face fell at once. He'd be getting the whip soon, and might even go hungry on top of that.

But then nothing happened. The bamboo-branch and dead-grass cover above his head had let light through before, but now it was pitch black. Something warm and wet was dripping down. Was it raining? At this time of year, it would only snow. Now fully alert, Wei Mugen caught the smell of blood. It was blood!

From Shandong to Xuzhou, Wei Mugen had grown all too familiar with that smell. He was finally, completely awake. Someone was sprawled on top of the cover, still dripping blood — most likely already dead!

"Got one head!"

"Don't snatch it — I'm the one who hacked it off!"

"These bastards really had a trick or two. Must've been some old hand who set this up..."

"Good thing we crept up on foot, or they'd all have gotten away!"

The shouts and curses outside carried clearly into the pit. The voices were all unfamiliar, but the tone was one Wei Mugen knew well — it was exactly the same as the beasts who had tricked and forced them into coming to Xuzhou.

From far off came the urgent clanging of gongs inside the stockade, people shouting and yelling. They must be on alert over there. Wei Mugen suddenly remembered that a wide stretch around the stockade had been cleared of wild grass — any bandit there would be spotted at once, and the stockade would shut its gates and stand guard.

Those rules turned out to be useful. Wei Mugen actually found himself thinking that, and then his whole body began to tremble. If he went out, would he be caught and killed? Or would it be like that march from Shandong to Xuzhou all over again? He'd rather die.

"If bandits really do come, and you spot them early, you go report it. If you can't spot them, then hide and don't move. Run when you get the chance."

Remembering those rules from back then, Wei Mugen curled up into a ball, not daring to take so much as a deep breath. Even his sharpened bamboo pole today was half a length shorter than usual. Going out would be suicide.

Scattered footsteps passed by, then came the thunderous rumble of hoofbeats. Wei Mugen felt the very earth of his dugout pit tremble. He did not dare move a muscle.

He could hear a large mounted force circling around. People were cursing, others screaming in agony. Someone called out, "Everyone stay clear of the stockade! Lord Li said we wait for the main force tomorrow before we attack. We just need to lock this place down. Once we break through tomorrow, we'll carve those archers into a thousand pieces!"

There were a few jianghu men in the stockade with strong archery skills. In the first few days, they'd often hunt game to add to everyone's meals. Wei Mugen felt a surge of grim satisfaction.

But there were so many riders. Several times they swept right past the edge of the pit, and each time Wei Mugen broke out in a cold sweat, his coarse cloth robe nearly soaked through. Later on, he had no energy left for fear. He gripped that half-length bamboo spear tightly and resolved that no matter who came in, he'd fight them to the death!

Darkness fell, and still Wei Mugen had not been discovered. He dared not stay in the pit any longer. Once the night cold set in, he could easily freeze or die of exposure.

Hoofbeats still sounded around him, though far more scattered now.

With extreme caution, Wei Mugen crawled out of the pit. He kept his entire body pressed flat against the ground, not daring to lift himself even slightly. His pit was in a grassy flat, and the surrounding area had not yet been cleared.

There was firelight in the direction of the stockade. By its faint glow, Wei Mugen looked at the corpse lying across the top of the pit. The head had been hacked off. From the person's clothing and appearance, Wei Mugen recognized who it was.

It was one of the jianghu men from Xuzhou, on the older side and gentle-natured. He had once given Wei Mugen pointers — taught him how to grip a bamboo spear, how to thrust to kill. Wei Mugen hadn't felt particularly grateful at the time, but now, seeing the corpse, tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.

Wei Mugen pulled the short blade from the jianghu man's waist — that was how he'd recognized him. He tossed aside the bamboo spear, took the short blade, and looked up at the sky. As a child, he'd heard the village hunters say you could tell direction by the stars.

Flee where? Back to Shandong? Wei Mugen dismissed the thought at once. He remembered that headless corpse, remembered all the bitter toil of these days in the stockade...

He'd finally found a place to settle and make a life. He wasn't going to let these bastards destroy it. Wei Mugen made up his mind. He clenched the short blade between his teeth and began crawling forward, inch by inch.

To everyone in the refugee stockade, it felt as though night had barely fallen before the sky began to lighten. Perhaps the tension and terror of the night had kept anyone from resting — before they knew it, the night had passed.

It had been just yesterday afternoon when, one by one, the hidden sentries outside were killed. After one man's dying scream, the bronze gong on the stockade wall rang out. According to the prearranged plan, the entire stockade mobilized. The able-bodied refugees split into squads, most standing guard with bamboo spears. Others boiled water and cooked. Still others secured the storehouses and the pond. A small stream ran through the stockade, but water had to be stored in advance.

"Hold this stockade well, and Lord Jin won't treat you poorly! Even if something happens to us, our families will be taken care of. And if anyone's thinking of wavering — you all know Lord Jin's methods well enough!" A young man on the stockade wall roared at the top of his lungs.

The refugees found it strange. So many ferocious, hardened men — how was a youngster their leader?

Standing at a shielded position on the stockade wall, Zhang Hubin's brow was tightly furrowed. He saw that the Xuzhou jianghu men and the mixed militia units all still looked fairly resolute. Even where there was fear on the refugees' faces, they hadn't reached the breaking point yet.

When Zhao's Battalion set up the new refugee stockade, they naturally had to station a trusted man of their own here to oversee it. Zhang Hubin, a company commander and village head, had always been regarded as both brave and resourceful, so he was sent this time.

For various reasons, Zhang Hubin had not brought his own company. Instead, a total of twelve capable squad leaders had been drawn from the various companies to accompany him. These Zhao's Battalion officers had command authority over the mixed militia units everywhere. Once they controlled the militia, the jianghu men naturally had to follow orders as well.

In normal times, however, Zhang Hubin did not reveal his status. He simply followed the established procedures. Before setting out, everyone — from refugees to jianghu men — had undergone training. All the rules had been set in advance; they just had to come and follow them.

But in the current situation, he had no choice but to step forward and take charge.

Over a hundred riders were prowling outside the stockade, all of them looking skilled with bow and horse. Yesterday they had not only killed the sentries outside, but had also intercepted and killed every messenger the stockade sent out for help.

Those few dozen riders were the least of it. The bigger problem, visible from the high vantage of the stockade wall, was the large force advancing from the distance. Their only option was to hold out.

"... With so many of them out there, how can we hold..."

Someone below was muttering quietly. Unease rippled through the refugees, the jianghu men, and even the mixed militia. The stockade wall was not high. With people constantly moving up and down, carrying supplies, the truth outside could not be hidden.

"We've got over two thousand able-bodied people here! As long as we don't go out to fight, we can definitely hold!" Zhang Hubin shouted.

Back when Zhao's Battalion was still divided into veteran and recruit squads, Zhao Jin and his companions would often talk freely in front of the household troops, essentially explaining military principles and training to them. Eager to learn and improve, Zhang Hubin had always listened very carefully.

"It's only this big a space! If ten of them charge in, we meet them with ten — or even twenty! We won't be at a disadvantage! Even if they have ten thousand men, they can only send in that many at a time. Inside and outside this stockade, we'll always have the numbers. More men against fewer — what are you afraid of!" Zhang Hubin roared, recalling those lessons.

The stockade was a quadrilateral. The fighting between enemy and defender would happen along these four sides. The number of men who could actually engage in combat was only as many as could be packed along those four sides. No matter how many more there were, they could only wait behind. In such a situation, numerical superiority meant nothing for a stretch of time.

The people below listened with partial understanding, but seeing the young man so confident steadied them considerably.

After Zhang Hubin finished speaking, the mixed militia and jianghu men began sending the refugees up onto the stockade wall, interspersing themselves among them. Zhang Hubin gave clear instructions to his dozen or so core men, each assigned to a specific section. Unlike the anxiety and worry of the others, these young officers from Zhao's Battalion proper were actually excited — they saw a chance to earn merit and distinguish themselves.

"Find a few men who ride well. The moment there's an opening, send them out at once. The key thing is to get word back!" Zhang Hubin grabbed a trusted subordinate and said in a low voice. He saw the bigger picture and was not as optimistic as his comrades.

The Feng family's main force had set out at first light. Compared to the tense readiness inside the refugee stockade, everyone on the Feng side was relaxed.

Yesterday's surprise attack had inflicted heavy casualties on the stockade's outer sentries, which made everyone feel the place wasn't worth mentioning. With so many men and so many strong fighters on their side, once they really got going, they could flatten it without much effort.

"Good thing we came now. A month later and the carts wouldn't be able to move — they'd just sink into the mud." Li Dajin looked at the carts traveling alongside and remarked with feeling.

That Battalion Commander Li, Li He, was right beside Li Dajin. The two of them had the highest status; everyone else kept their distance. And that Feng Bao was, as usual, surrounded by a cluster of people, far apart from them.

Battalion Commander Li looked around and said with a grin, "This show of force isn't much smaller than when the General Commander puts down bandits. Your Feng family is spending this much effort to fight over this desolate place — got more silver than you know what to do with? Why not just charge straight into Xuzhou?"

"The Feng family sees this land as their lifeline. They're terrified someone else will claim it. Don't let the desolation fool you — once it's properly worked, it'll be prime farmland right away. It borders the canal and the sea. If they can take this whole area, what a estate that would be — nearly half a prefecture's worth of manors. Anywhere else, that'd be almost a whole prefecture of territory," Li Dajin explained.

Li He shook his head, grinning. "Quite the scheme. Even grander than our General Commander."

"Different things entirely. The root of it is still salt. That's a trade you can work your whole life, and your descendants for generations will never use it up," Li Dajin replied.

They talked as they traveled. By the time the sun rose, they had reached the front of the refugee stockade. The moment he saw the stockade's layout, Li He's brow furrowed. "Da Li," he said grimly, "how long has this stockade of theirs been here?"