Chapter Forty-Five: Night Raid on Severed Cliff Mountain

Zhao Hengyi believed that after coming to the Great Yan Kingdom, his greatest advantage was not in his knowledge of forging iron, manufacturing crossbows, modifying looms, or any other odd bits of wisdom. His true strength in this land lay in his ability to inspire people and his vision and insight that far surpassed the era.

Whether it was the old soldiers who had fought on the battlefield against the barbarians, or the household retainers trained by Song Ying’an, compared to those he had known in his previous life, these people were all incredibly pure and straightforward. A few rousing words were all it took for everyone’s blood to boil, their hatred for the bandits of Duanya Mountain reaching its peak in an instant.

No, there was still one person who remained clear-headed—the ever-smiling Song San.

But that didn’t matter; this steward would not be going to the battlefield.

The intelligence Song San brought was far more than a detailed map. Every heinous, enraging act committed by the bandits of Duanya Mountain over the years had been meticulously recorded. Murder, robbery, kidnapping, pillaging, human trafficking, and even the most inhumane atrocities—each and every deed stirred the blood and wrath of all who heard of them.

Compared to these heartless crimes, the bandits’ practice of extorting grain from villages, causing common folk to starve, seemed almost unremarkable.

Zhao Hengyi’s approach was unique. If he were to rely solely on the old soldiers and retainers—none of whom hailed from Yushu Bay—as the main force to fight the bandits, it would be difficult to motivate them by simply stressing how dire Yushu Bay’s plight was. These men felt no sense of belonging to the place.

But by laying bare the bandits’ monstrous deeds before everyone, just the sheer wickedness of such acts was enough to ignite righteous anger and a sense of duty in all.

Though it might not have been entirely above reproach, Zhao Hengyi felt no guilt.

Speed is of the essence in war. After devising their plan, the group set out swiftly toward Duanya Mountain.

After handing over thirty of his most capable retainers to Zhao Hengyi, Song San ceased to involve himself, instead remaining at Yushu Bay with a few servants in blue robes and caps, saying he would await the good news of Young Master Zhao’s triumph over the bandits.

This man was clearly more than a simple steward, but Zhao Hengyi had no interest in speculating about Song San’s real identity at this critical time and agreed without hesitation.

After Zhao Hengyi and his party departed, Liu Shuang, who had been placed under guard on the back hill by order of the village chief, managed to escape due to a shortage of manpower. This scoundrel, known only for gambling, had almost been forgotten by the villagers. Apart from the guards receiving a scolding from the chief, Liu Shuang’s escape caused no stir at all.

At sunset, Zhao Hengyi and his men arrived near Duanya Mountain.

On his instructions, Song San had already dispatched people to prepare large quantities of supplies needed for the assault on Duanya Mountain. Though the number of tools was not great, they were varied, and many of the items couldn’t even be found on the open market. Yet now, everything was meticulously organized and arrayed before Zhao Hengyi.

The campaign against the bandits was not only a chance for Song San to observe Zhao Hengyi but also an opportunity for Zhao Hengyi to test this steward’s abilities. Thus far, Song San had provided a perfect answer.

The hunting and guard teams were again sent out to serve as scouts, while the main force preparing to storm the bandit stronghold rested and listened to Zhao Hengyi’s final tactical briefing.

It was not that Zhao Hengyi underestimated the bandits, but in this era, even if the Duanya Mountain bandits were more formidable than those of other gangs, it did not change their essential nature as a disorderly rabble.

The only real difficulty in attacking Duanya Mountain was the stone wall that blocked the sole path up the mountain.

Once they reached the summit, the main force—each man armed with a crossbow and practiced in its precise use—could rely on their skill and experience to turn the battle into a one-sided massacre.

Most of the supplies Zhao Hengyi had asked Song San to prepare were meant to deal with that stone wall.

According to Wang Dahu and the other veterans, the wall was clearly the work of seasoned soldiers.

Three to four meters wide, it allowed men to stand atop and shoot arrows, hurl rocks, roll logs or pour boiling oil—tools of siege warfare. On either side of the wall, two arrow towers had even been built, allowing archers to create deadly crossfire against attackers.

No ordinary bandit would have such military acumen.

Yet, no one was surprised by this. In the Great Yan Kingdom’s current troubled times, countless veterans discharged from the border armies turned to all manner of livelihoods—some returned to farming, some became bodyguards for the wealthy, some labored in the cities, and some, driven by desperation, took up a life of banditry.

If there was anything to blame, it was this cursed age.

Even the veterans who served Zhao Hengyi were about to risk their lives for the sake of a paltry two hundred coins a month.

Zhao Hengyi had Song San prepare not just supplies, but also seven or eight nimble craftsmen.

As the final rays of sunlight faded from the earth, the craftsmen, using their own tools, worked quickly and skillfully to fabricate a series of wooden components—simple in design, but essential for the assembly of catapults and mobile watchtowers.

Of course, these two siege engines, usually intended for open warfare, were merely Zhao Hengyi’s backup plan; the most effective approach remained a stealthy night raid.

The main assault force—eighty men, carefully selected—was divided by Zhao Hengyi into eight squads of ten, each under a squad leader.

With the craftsmen’s wooden components in tow, the force quietly positioned itself at the base of Duanya Mountain, waiting until the darkest hour before dawn, when human vigilance was at its lowest, to launch their attack.

The bandits of Duanya Mountain proved indeed different from other gangs. At the base of the mountain, along the only path up, sentries and hidden posts had been arranged, with shifts changing every two hours.

This only confirmed suspicions: the bandit chief, known as the One-Eyed Golden Eagle, must have come from the military, likely a veteran of the border armies.

Yet, on the stronghold defense line of Yonggu City, no one had ever heard of a man named Fang Dayong. Perhaps he hailed from another frontier, or perhaps the name was an alias.

Still, such precautions might have worked against other bandits or the local militias, but when faced with a force made up of elite veterans from the Mysterious Battalion and Song Ying’an’s handpicked retainers, the defenses were woefully inadequate.

Eager to show their mettle before their new master, the veterans, led by their squad leaders, silently eliminated six hidden posts one after another.

Just when Zhao Hengyi thought his men would be able to reach the base of the stone wall and scale it to kill the guards atop, a piercing scream suddenly split the night.

A figure leapt from the top of the stone wall and crashed heavily onto the hard ground below.

Bang!