Chapter 607: A Perfect Night for Killing

"Don't overestimate them. If there really were some big shots on the waters off South Zhili and Zhejiang, wouldn't we have heard? Wouldn't you know?" Zhao Jin asked with a laugh.

Liu Yong laughed along, but still said cautiously, "Big Brother, the Niu family has purged the jianghu men in the city several times. They must have their methods. We can't be careless."

Shi Manqiang, standing nearby, also had an expression of agreement. Zhao Jin straightened his face and said solemnly, "This isn't carelessness; it's confidence. Our defenses inside and out are this tight, and we hold this much strength. Why should I worry about the Niu family? If, with our arrangements at this level, the Niu family can still swagger right in, then we have a serious problem."

The second day passed without incident, and so did the third. Zhao Jin went about his daily routine, busy with the Qingjiang Great Market. No more informants disguised as vendors came around. Three days went by uneventfully, but Liu Yong and Shi Manqiang dared not relax. Every day they led men on a full sweep inside and out, issuing strict reminders everywhere. Now it was already the fourth day, and before they knew it, darkness had fallen.

The night was very quiet. At the third watch, Bayin relieved his companion on the wall and took the position himself. What they called a wall was actually a constructed wooden platform—it looked like a wall from the outside, but inside it was a wooden frame. This spot was far more comfortable than lying prone on a rooftop, where one careless move could send you sliding off or crashing through the tiles.

Bayin was not tall, with small eyes and a broad face, the typical look of the steppes. He didn't seem that burly either. Having wandered the grasslands since childhood, surviving by hunting and plundering, he had been hungry far more often than full. It was no surprise he had grown up looking like this. They used more Tatars for night watch because they were more sensitive and alert.

Qingjiangpu was far more humid and hot than the steppes, which Bayin found very hard to bear. He only felt some relief when it cooled down at night. Bayin did not like this place. Though his Han companions all said it was bustling and prosperous, Bayin preferred Xuzhou. There were fewer people there, and he felt much more at ease.

Because he had learned some Han speech in his early years, and had picked up more from people of the Great Ming during his years of wandering, combined with his decent archery and riding skills, he was quickly promoted to squad leader. Bayin knew this was a minor officer's title. He commanded twenty or thirty men, roughly equivalent to a chief of ten or a chief of a hundred.

Bayin was very happy here. Everything had rules; no one would deceive you, and no one would bully you by throwing their weight around. As long as you were willing to work hard, you would be treated well. What mattered most to Bayin was that there was good liquor here, and he could eat his fill. Nothing else mattered much.

Sometimes Bayin would also think about how, on the steppes, everything depended on birth and bloodline. Whatever your ancestors were, that's what you were now. The descendants of the Golden Horde and the offspring of various old-rooted nobles were still noyans and nobles of every rank to this day. An orphan like him, wandering the grasslands, was worth less in the great tribes than the dogs the nobles kept. The herdsmen in the tribes had the same fate, generation after generation. But here, in the Zhao Character Camp, following the great nobleman Master Jin, everything was different.

After wandering for so long, Bayin had a discerning eye. Master Jin had more gold and silver than any prince or taiji, and his troops were no less than those of a great tribal chieftain, yet his conduct showed not a trace of arrogance. Bayin had also heard older people say that a man like this could achieve great things. But the Great Ming was not like the steppes. On the steppes, the tribes attacked and killed each other endlessly, but the Great Ming was a monolithic realm of peace. Thinking of it that way, perhaps he couldn't achieve all that much after all.

The dark night was very quiet. Bayin was letting his thoughts wander on the wooden platform when suddenly, he heard footsteps. Very faint footsteps, as if there was no friction between shoe soles and sand. It seemed like bare feet walking on the road. Bayin knew that those of them who came from the steppes had one advantage: their hearing and eyesight at night. They had survived on the grasslands because they were all very sensitive to subtle movements and signs, able to detect the slightest stir. Otherwise, they could never have evaded the wolves and horse bandits of the steppes.

Bayin took a deep breath and gently picked up the bow and arrows on the wooden platform. In this vast area, only one lantern hung in the direction of Cloud Mountain Martial Hall; everywhere else was pitch black. Bayin remembered the orders from above: if anyone really came, let them walk further in, and act only on the signal. If they prematurely alerted the night-raiding bandits, they would be severely punished.

The faint footsteps grew slightly louder. Besides that, Bayin also heard some even fainter stirrings around him. He knew his companions had also noticed and were already prepared.

Bayin carefully lay down. Fortunately, he was not very tall, so the wooden platform was not too cramped for him.

"... Climb over the wall, kill everyone you see, then set fires..."

"... Leave as soon as you hear the gong, don't bother with money or women..."

He could hear the voices below, kept very low, but still very noisy and chaotic. There were also people gnashing their teeth and cursing, and others barking orders.

If the Zhao Character Camp were launching a night raid, there probably wouldn't be this kind of noise and chaos. Once an order was given, anyone who dared disobey would be executed on the spot by military law, and their family would receive no care whatsoever afterward. Bayin thought to himself.

In truth, this gang of night raiders below wasn't doing a bad job. If the Zhao Character Camp truly had no defenses at all, they could have snuck in like this without anyone noticing.

The place where Bayin was positioned was the second street. Only birds could overlook this area from above, and no one had had the time to walk through it before the Zhao Character Camp sealed it off. So they did not know that the three streets and buildings encircling Cloud Mountain Martial Hall had already been remodeled, becoming a complex of structures expanding outward layer by layer, with the martial hall at the center. In a sense, the streets and the houses lining them were the "city walls," and Cloud Mountain Martial Hall was the "inner city."

Suddenly, a sharp whistle rang out. Immediately, people moved within the quiet courtyards. One by one, black cloths were pulled off lanterns, which were then hoisted high on thick bamboo poles. Torches were lit and thrust into brackets on the walls everywhere. Before long, every street was brilliantly bright.

The moment the whistle sounded, Bayin narrowed his eyes, briefly adjusting to the change in brightness, then stood up, drew his bow, and nocked an arrow. He saw the street crowded with a bewildered crowd. At this distance, there was absolutely no way he could miss.

There were well over a hundred men in the street, all in short jackets, dark, thin, and small. Many were barefoot. Because of the street's width, their column was stretched very long. When they had entered, everything around was quiet. Now, with the lights suddenly flaring, none of them could react. Blinded by the glare, many could not see anything clearly for a moment.

"It's an ambush!"

"Quick—" someone shouted, but then his voice was replaced by a scream.

Dozens of archers on the walls and rooftops shot down from their elevated positions. Apart from the intersections at the front and rear, the side paths and courtyard gates were all sealed off. There was simply nowhere to flee. For the archers, they didn't even need to aim; they just had to draw their bows fully and let the arrows fly.

Dense, sharp whistles rang out. Two volleys of arrows quickly rained down. The night raiders, caught completely off guard, finally adjusted to the lamplight in the night and realized there was truly nowhere to run. The only option was to climb the walls and take out the archers, or wait to die. Someone began shouting, trying to suppress the chaos.

Just as this gang of night raiders started yelling and barely managed to steady themselves, they heard two gong strikes, which threw them into chaos once again.

"How can we flee at a time like this? There's no way to pull back!"

"That's not our gong signal!"

"The arrows have stopped!"

When the gong sounded, the Zhao Character Camp archers all ceased fire. Those on the walls climbed down from the wooden platforms. Then the gong sounded again, monotonous and rhythmic.

"People! There are people at both ends of the street!"

The arrows stopped, and the night raiders felt as if they had been granted a great reprieve, thinking they could now run. But they immediately discovered that both ends of the street were already packed solid with men, their formation standing very densely. The two columns were practically hugging the walls as they advanced. The men in front and behind held long spears and wore armor. Judging by the glint, it seemed to be iron armor. What kind of dragon's pool or tiger's den was this? A brawl between jianghu outlaws, and they were using long spears and iron armor!

"Forward!" someone outside commanded in a booming voice.

With a unified shout, the iron-armored, long-spear-wielding squads on both sides began to press toward the center. They leveled their spears and stepped forward.

All around them were companions dead or wounded by arrows. On both sides were enemies holding long spears. Where could they run? Climb the walls and scramble over—that was the only way left. But could they even get up there? There were surely still men waiting on the wall tops.

"Brothers, let's fight it out with these Xuzhou men!" someone shouted at the top of his lungs.

These night raiders truly had a desperate, death-defying spirit. When one man yelled, others answered. They quickly gathered on one side, brandishing their weapons and charging forward, shouting wildly, their eyes bloodshot. Stepping on their dead and wounded companions, splattered with the blood that had just sprayed, every man was drenched in crimson, a terrifying sight. In a gang fight, seeing such a suicidal charge would make most opponents give way by three parts. The point of a brawl was to kill the other side, but the prerequisite was keeping your own life. Why die together?

But those young men in armor, holding spears, closing in from both sides, were very silent, very calm. They looked as if they didn't know a gang of desperate bandits was charging at them, as if they didn't even know this was a life-or-death fight. They showed no intention of giving way. The long spears in their hands did not tremble; they pointed straight ahead. It was the night raiders who panicked first. The enemy's long spears kept pressing closer. What were they supposed to do? Crash straight into them? How could their own blades and axes, less than four feet long, contend with the enemy's ten-foot spears? Charging forward meant certain death. Should they roll under the long spears and hack at legs, or climb up the walls on either side...

Some simply could not dodge and crashed straight onto the spear points. Their thin clothes could not stop the razor-sharp blades; flesh and blood were pierced straight through. Others were nimble, and as the enemy approached, they dropped and rolled on the ground. But the moment they rolled under the first row of spears, they were stabbed by the diagonally downward-pointing spears of the second row, skewered straight through. Hearing these screams, some men bit down on their knife blades and turned to climb the walls. The moment they reached the top, someone on the wall hacked down at them, and they fell back screaming. First shot down by arrow volleys, now stabbed and hacked one by one, with no way to escape, corpses strewn everywhere. All they could see was death and injury; the stench of blood filled their nostrils.

Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count.

Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count. Thank you, everyone. Thank you, everyone. The word count after revision must not be less than the original word count.