Chapter 466: They Break When the Arrows Come

Spear shafts were pulled askew by corpses, and long spears were hacked apart in the throes of death. The mixed militia in the first and second rows began to encounter this problem. Some were wounded by weapons the bandits hurled. These men fell back, and those behind stepped forward to take their places.

This time, the camp had ample weapons and could resupply at any moment. The stockade wall was like a dike now, and the bandits and outlaws were like a flood. The flood crested the dike, seeking to drown the stronghold, but after surging inside, it met a second dike. All the floodwaters were firmly blocked outside.

For those assaulting the stronghold, there was a deadly problem: those in the rear had no idea what was happening up front, yet they all scrambled over each other for the heavy reward, none willing to fall behind. In other words, the momentum could not be stopped at all. The instant you stood atop the wall, no matter what you saw, you would be shoved down by the people charging up behind you. And the moment you went down, you faced a wall of long spears.

The unending shrieks from inside made those charging from behind think their own side was winning a great victory, and their spirits soared even higher. In the minds of these several bands of outlaws and brigands, any setback they'd suffered was only because they hadn't yet closed to hand-to-hand combat. Once the fighting started, how could the people inside this stronghold possibly be their match?

Only after roughly half the men had charged through did the pace finally slow, because someone was shouting at the top of his lungs: "There's an ambush in the stronghold!" "There's big trouble in the stronghold!"

The men shouting this were immediately shoved down by those behind them, but more and more people slowed their steps. The momentum began to ease. They finally realized this stronghold was a dragon's pool and a tiger's den.

The slope, however, had been completely filled in and leveled. Every man charging up had thrown down the dirt pack he carried in his hands, and the surface of the slope grew smoother and smoother.

"Going in there is walking to your death! Run!" someone shouted. The mob turned and fled in a clamoring swarm. The archer ranks a few dozen paces away had not yet parted. Someone yelled at them to clear the way.

Suddenly, the shriek of sharp arrows tearing through the air rang out. The men running hardest at the front were struck directly and collapsed. Everyone else scrambled to a halt.

"We're on your side, we're on your side!" someone among the bandits and mounted brigands shouted in frantic rage. The moment those words were out, another volley came. A dozen more men fell to the ground. Only then did the crowd realize something was wrong.

The Feng family's main force, which had barely moved until now, had advanced many paces forward and already sealed off every escape route. What made these mounted brigands and outlaws even more terrified was the sight of their own leaders standing on the opposite side. Some of those leaders wore expressions of shame and reluctance; others looked as though they had just barely escaped with their lives.

Several riders galloped over and shouted from horseback: "Go back! Charge inside and you may still have a way to live! Otherwise, you will be killed without mercy!"

Some men cursed, some wailed, but the archers loosed their arrows again without the slightest pity, and the main force that had been eyeing them like tigers also pressed closer.

To remain here meant certain death. The only choice was to turn back and charge — maybe there was still a way to live. These bandits were desperate men to begin with, and they made this choice easily. Cursing foully from their mouths, swearing oaths to heaven and earth, every last one of them turned around and charged back toward the slope.

Some tried to be clever and veered off midway, running toward the flanks. The archers shot them down without mercy. Even if a man dodged the arrows, he could not outrun the cavalry. He would be overtaken at once and cut down.

If you slowed even a step, arrows came from behind immediately. They ran faster and faster — even faster than during the first assault — scrambling over one another to climb the slope, scale the wall, and get inside.

The sounds of slaughter, battle cries, and agonized screams rose again. They could not possibly break through the formation inside. Every layer of it was made of long spears and bamboo pikes.

Only this time, they had no attention to spare for the archers outside...

Watching the chaotic horde of bandits, now seventy percent of them over the stockade wall, the archers immediately strode forward at a quick march. At about thirty paces from the wall, they drew their bows, nocked arrows, and loosed in a high arc.

Sharp whistles sounded one after another. After the first volley of arrows fell, piercing, wretched screams could be heard from within. Someone was still shouting: "Don't wound our own men..."

But that shouting was immediately smothered by the second volley, and then the third followed right after.

Almost at the same moment these arrows were loosed, a few brief, cut-off screams also rang out from within the Feng family's main force. The several leaders who had sold out their own men for silver all met violent deaths. The money and valuables on their persons were searched out and piled together.

"Old Li, you lead your men in a frontal assault. After one incense stick's time, I'll lead the Feng family's men and strike in from the left. The defenses below this stronghold's walls should be broken by then. You won't need to expend too much effort." Li Dajin was already mounted, speaking to Li He, who was likewise on horseback.

Li He nodded, and with a touch of shame, said, "Your method is still the better one. It looked troublesome, but in the end it saves a great deal of effort. Before dark, this stronghold will certainly be taken!"

Li Dajin gave one more instruction: "Don't be afraid of losing men. As long as you keep pushing forward, you can smash them!"

Amid the shriek of arrows tearing through the air, orders were shouted. The units under Li He's command filed out one by one and began to advance. The Feng family's men also started to form up.

When the first volley of arrows fell, Zhang Hubin felt a chill from his core to his skin. It's over. This time it's completely over!

There was no way to hold out for two more days, no way at all to wait for reinforcements from Xuzhou — even though those reinforcements were only a possibility to begin with.

Arrows plunged down in a parabolic arc. The mixed militia immediately suffered several dozen dead and wounded. Their formation collapsed outright. The refugees behind them and on both flanks, armed with bamboo pikes, simply scattered and fled. In face-to-face combat, the length of the bamboo pikes had given them some measure of confidence, but facing arrows, everything collapsed. The jianghu men on the flanks were also retreating and dodging. Even if they didn't value their lives, they couldn't die for nothing under a rain of arrows.

Zhang Hubin was lucky. He was standing at the very edge of the formation, barely outside the arrow fire's range. He shouted a few times, saw there was no way to hold the line, and could only retreat with the rest.

The second volley of arrows came, and then the third. The archers outside were steadily advancing. Inside the stronghold, people of every sort were struck by arrows and fell to the ground one after another, some struggling, some wailing in agony. The situation had completely collapsed.

The mounted brigands and outlaws who had fought their way into the stronghold finally caught their breath. Now they no longer had to face that certain-death spear formation. They could charge forward and fight. Shouting battle cries, they gathered into bands and began pressing the pursuit. But the rain of arrows from outside showed them no regard whatsoever. Those who did not die under the long spears died just as readily under the arrows from outside.

Even when they caught up, the young men wielding long spears fought in squads of three or five, coordinating with each other to thrust and kill. Their movements were very simple, as if this was the only thing they knew. But with just this one move, they still inflicted shocking casualties. The bandits were still at a disadvantage, yet at least they finally had some initiative. They couldn't even gain an advantage against the refugees. The refugees held their bamboo pikes and simply stabbed outward recklessly, with no thought for anything else. You ultimately could not get close to them, and instead were very easily stabbed to death.

But it was not these bandits and outlaws who decided victory or defeat. The rain of arrows was also shifting deeper into the stronghold. After every volley, the resistance inside the stronghold grew more chaotic and collapsed further. It was visibly on the verge of giving way.

"Chief Zhang, there's still time to leave now! When the bandits start fighting, there are bound to be places they can't cover!" a jianghu man shouted.

Zhang Hubin's shoulder had been grazed by an arrow, tearing open his padded cotton robe. He gritted his teeth and stared ahead. The rain of arrows had stopped now. On the wall top, the enemy's ranks were already visible. Though not as orderly as the Zhao Battalion, they were clearly elite and strong, utterly unshaken, and about to enter at any moment.

Facing an enemy like this, if he still had an orderly force in hand, he could put up a fight. But now the mixed militia had been smashed. The entire stronghold was in utter chaos. The refugees could only look out for themselves. Zhang Hubin had observed the enemy's main force — the one they had never committed — from atop the stockade wall. He knew they were no ordinary militia or private troops. They carried an oppressive weight just to look at. Against such a force, defeat was certain.

"You all go if you want. The men of the Zhao Battalion are not leaving!" Zhang Hubin gave his answer, crisp and sharp, roaring the words.

The jianghu man who had made the suggestion was stunned for a moment, but said nothing more. The jianghu men had not suffered many casualties from the arrow fire, but they no longer had the courage to keep fighting. They had already formed their own groups and were beginning to plot their escape.

"... Those of you who want to live, grab your bamboo pikes and get over here!" Zhang Hubin shouted, his voice hoarse.

The refugees inside the stronghold had already been organized into squads and given simple training. They could still fight. Zhang Hubin shouted there, and the uninjured squad leaders shouted along with him. The mixed militia gathered around them also shouted. Refugees began to move toward them.

Some refugees ran in another direction. After all, the enemy was only attacking fiercely from the front. Maybe they could escape by climbing over the wall now. The moment they reached that side, the jianghu men stationed there cursed them back. "There are cavalry outside guarding the perimeter! If you go out there, you're just serving yourselves up on a platter."

Other refugees hesitated for a moment, then still walked toward Zhang Hubin's side. Everyone remembered clearly the scenes from the journey all the way from Shandong. The jianghu men escorting them had not treated them as human beings at all, regarding them only as livestock, humiliating and killing them at will. These Xuzhou warriors before them now, though their rules were strict, gave them food and shelter and were protecting them at this moment. Which side to choose was an easy decision to make.

The refugees were, of course, panicked and at a loss, not knowing what to do. They also knew that catastrophe was upon them. When someone shouted orders, they obeyed directly. It was not just the men; even the able-bodied young women came over. They knew even better that disaster was at hand. If this stronghold was truly breached, a woman's fate would be ten thousand times more miserable than a man's.

"Form ranks! Form ranks!" Zhang Hubin bellowed. Everyone who had undergone training by the Zhao Battalion was shouting. Whether they were from the Zhao Battalion proper or the mixed militia, they all knew one thing: if they died in battle or were gravely wounded, the Zhao Battalion would absolutely not treat them poorly, and their families would be well cared for. But a deserter would die without question. Even if he himself survived, his family would meet no good end.

The arrow fire from outside had ceased. Inside the chaotic stronghold, people's hearts settled slightly. More and more gathered together. Following the drills from before, the able-bodied refugee men and women began to form ranks. The mounted brigands and outlaws who had charged in were once again forced onto the back foot. The moment they drew near, they died in front of the formation.

The faces of the refugees in formation were deathly pale. Some were weeping. Some bodies trembled violently. Yet they still thrust their bamboo pikes forward, stabbing out. If they didn't, those ferocious, murderous bandits would come slaughter them. Even as they moved, more and more of them kept looking up at the sky. If arrows came flying in again at this moment, they would run at once.