Chapter 41: Fifty Against One, Victory Is Ours

Dunzi Peak possessed a unique terrain, standing loftily atop an earthen mound.

Yet it was surrounded by flat plains on all sides, with even the nearest dense forest lying nearly eighty paces away.

Looking out into the distance, some refugees had already perished out in the desolate wasteland.

As for why Xiao Han and his men had not lit the beacon towers, the reason was glaringly obvious.

That band of a hundred men was simply not worth the trouble of igniting the beacons.

Even if they had lit the signal fires,

mobilizing small troop detachments for such a minor skirmish was a cost they could not afford.

Viewed from afar, the garrison defenders within the stockade were indeed holding the Tibetan raiders at bay.

Among them, three stocky and robust Tibetan raiders, whose attire set them apart from the rest,

were hacking away with particular ferocity.

As luck would have it, following a period of recuperation and the influx of new refugees, Zhao Mang had repeatedly stressed the utmost importance of fortifying the camp's defenses.

At first, the men had taken his warnings lightly, but eventually, they completed the tasks under Zhao Mang's strict compulsion.

And sure enough.

The walls constructed back then had now become their protective umbrella.

Zhao Mang thought to himself that after this battle, these soldiers would likely obey his commands with even greater compliance.

A moment later,

Zhao Mang had identified that these three individuals were the core of the entire Tibetan raider band.

He had no other choice.

To capture the bandits, one must first capture their ringleader.

To ensure his bow could accurately dispatch the leadership figures among the Tibetan raiders, Zhao Mang and Wang Mazi advanced to a position about fifty paces away from the enemy.

At that moment, the Tibetan raiders were engrossed in their assault, shouting wildly,

all of them appearing utterly euphoric.

Their eyes burned with a craving for everything within their sight.

They remained completely oblivious to the two figures creeping up behind them.

At this juncture,

Zhao Mang drew his bow, nocked an arrow, took aim, and loosed!

It was a fluid motion, executed without a single moment of hesitation.

He was no longer the mediocre swordsman Zhao Mang of the past.

With a sharp whistle, the armor-piercing arrow left his grasp, tearing through the vast expanse of air.

In an instant,

the arrow reached the neck of the most burly Tibetan chieftain!

The Tibetan raider had no time to react whatsoever.

The arrow pierced straight through his throat.

Fresh blood immediately gushed forth as the burly warrior tumbled down from his horse.

The surrounding Tibetan raiders had yet to fully comprehend what had happened when

Zhao Mang nocked another arrow and drew his bow once more!

He targeted the second Tibetan chieftain.

What a pity!

This Tibetan raider possessed sharper instincts, and the fall of the giant chieftain seemed to have served as a warning.

The moment the arrow arrived, he shifted his body slightly, dodging the shaft that Zhao Mang had fired from behind.

Realizing the danger, the Tibetan raider immediately turned his gaze toward Zhao Mang.

Upon spotting Zhao Mang and his companion,

he let out a strange cry.

The surrounding circle of Tibetan raiders snapped to attention,

reacting in unison.

Spurring their horses, they charged straight toward Zhao Mang and Wang Mazi.

Seeing this unfold,

Zhao Mang did not overthink it. Having loosed his two arrows,

he vaulted onto his horse and, without the slightest hesitation, spurred his mount forward into an immediate charge.

At the same time, he roared at the top of his lungs: "Brothers in the stockade! Kill the bandits and eat meat!"

Zhao Mang's voice was exceptionally resounding.

Across a mere distance of fifty paces, his battle cry carried clearly into the stockade.

His words acted like a charge bugle, instantly igniting the emotions of everyone inside the camp.

Zhu Wuneng and Zhu Qiqi, guarding the stockade, snapped to awareness at once,

raising their voices in a thunderous shout!

"Brothers, let them have it! Shoot to kill!"

With that, they boldly exposed themselves, standing atop the parapet of the stockade

to launch their counterattack.

The two men were already elite soldiers with genuine battlefield experience,

possessing little fear of the Tibetan raiders; indeed, it was largely thanks to them that the camp had held out until Zhao Mang's arrival.

Emboldened by their example, the fighting spirit instantly infected the veteran soldiers who had seen combat before.

Drawing upon every ounce of focus, the veterans began drawing their bows and loosing arrows, inspiring the green recruits to join in as well.

Every single man summoned every shred of courage he possessed.

Finding their backbone at last, they shook off their initial terror.

Their archery suddenly improved by leaps and bounds, plunging the battlefield into utter chaos.

By this time,

the band of one hundred Tibetan raiders had already lost a dozen or so during their assault on the camp.

Now, another twenty or so were charging after Zhao Mang and Wang Mazi.

Fewer than seventy Tibetan raiders remained to continue the assault on the stockade.

The battlefield thus fractured into two distinct theaters,

turning a desperate situation into a manageable one.

In merely a moment,

thirty to forty of the remaining seventy Tibetan raiders were cut down.

Meanwhile, the refugees hiding within the stockade, particularly the able-bodied young men, finally mustered their courage.

Pulling out their farming tools such as hoes and sickles, they scrambled up the stockade's parapet

and hurled them down with all their might upon the Tibetan raiders beneath the wall.

The tide of battle completely reversed. Carried away by the excitement of the rout, Zhu Wuneng drew his signature massive saber and leaped straight down from the parapet

to charge into the thick of the Tibetan raiders.

Seeing Zhu Wuneng display such ferocious valor, Zhu Qiqi refused to be outdone and immediately followed suit, vaulting down right behind him.

As for Wang Wu, who had been guarding the foot of the parapet, he had grown long impatient; he flung open the gates and charged straight out.

Like a wolf descending upon a flock of sheep, Wang Wu had been starved of combat for far too long. Having been recruited by Zhao Mang, he had yet to find a proper opportunity to prove his worth,

and this time, he was utterly starved for battle.

The three of them acted like a raging wildfire across the plains, instantly igniting every single soldier around them.

Discarding their bows, the men drew their long sabers

and rushed forward as well.

Fifty against thirty—in the span of mere moments,

the tables were completely turned, and victory decisively tilted in Zhao Mang's favor.

Back on Zhao Mang's side,

the two cavaliers instantly crashed into the vanguard of the Tibetan horsemen.

A fierce, burning flame flickered in the depths of Zhao Mang's eyes

as he glared viciously at the Tibetan raiders before him.

His long saber was inherently longer than the curved scimitars wielded by the Tibetans.

The moment they clashed in the charge,

this distinct advantage became immediately apparent.

The leading Tibetan raider was sliced cleanly in half, horse and rider alike, by a single sweep of Zhao Mang's blade.

The onslaught was intensely ferocious, leaving Zhao Mang no time for contemplation. No sooner had he finished cleaving one raider

than the blade of a second Tibetan came slashing toward his face. K-
Zhao Mang instantly flicked his wrist, using his metal bracer to parry the enemy's strike.

One raider fell, only for another to take his place, but Zhao Mang was fully in the zone, following up with another lightning strike to decapitate a second foe.

Moving like an avenging deity, Zhao Mang carved a bloody trench right through the heart of the Tibetan cavalry on his lone steed.

His terrifying, monstrous strength saved him once more.

Not a single Tibetan raider could parry or dodge his sweeping blows, each one of them being cut in half.

Wang Mazi closely trailed behind him, contentedly picking off the stragglers.

The twenty-strong troop was chopped to pieces by the duo in short order.

As the two forces crossed paths and separated, the number of Tibetan raiders was abruptly halved.

Zhao Mang's terrifying combat prowess

struck such bone-chilling terror into their hearts that some of the surviving Tibetans lost all courage to wheel their horses around for a counter-charge.

Yet Zhao Mang had no intention of letting them escape. By now, his eyes were bloodshot from the slaughter, his entire body drenched in the gore of his enemies.

He cut a truly spectral figure of a killing god, relying solely on the long saber in his grasp.

At this moment, Zhao Mang was the embodiment of a legendary warrior amidst a sweeping horde,

engaged in endless reaping!

He wheeled his horse around and charged once more toward the hesitating Tibetan raiders.

By this time, the captain of the Tibetan detachment had already been slain by Zhao Mang during the initial charge.

Lacking any core leadership and watching that god of death bear down on them once more,

they scattered in all directions like startled birds, entirely devoid of the courage to face Zhao Mang in combat.

They fled desperately toward the dwindling remnant of their main force by the stockade.

Zhao Mang chased down and slew every single one he caught,

cutting them down as effortlessly as slicing melons and vegetables.

By then, the battle by the stockade had essentially been decided.

The remaining Tibetan raiders had long since been hacked to pieces by Zhu Wuneng, Zhu Qiqi, and their men, leaving corpses strewn across the field.

Seeing the fleeing Tibetans sprint toward them, the defenders showed no mercy,

charging straight ahead to meet them head-on.