Chapter 81: The Thirteen Guardians Raid the Camp

Xiliang Army Camp.

“General, the enemy is setting up nets at the gentle stretch downstream of the Luo River.”

The night was dark, the moon was bright, and a demonic wind howled—perfect weather for a raid!

Li Jue waved his hand dismissively. “Ignore them. Pass down my orders: tonight, every man is to sleep in armor with his sword at his side. If, at the sound of the drums, anyone fails to assemble before a cup of tea can be finished, he will be executed!”

“Yes, sir.”

Niu Fu unconsciously hugged the Tai’e sword closer in his arms as he watched the scout depart.

“Zhiren, do you think the enemy will try to raid our camp tonight?”

Li Jue looked Niu Fu up and down. “General Niu, that’s a fine sword you have there. You’re not thinking of…”

Niu Fu bristled immediately. He knew he didn’t command as much respect in the army as Li Jue, but that didn’t mean he feared this commander-in-chief. Let Li Jue try to do something about him holding onto the Tai’e sword!

He sneered coldly, “My father-in-law gifted it to me because I had no sword. Do you envy it, Zhiren?”

“I wouldn’t dare…”

Li Jue, rebuffed, dropped the matter and became serious once again. “If there’s battle tonight, A’fu, you lead the troops straight forward. After the charge, strike directly at the enemy’s main camp. As for any stragglers blocking the mountain pass, leave them to me.”

The allied forces wanted to raid his camp, and Li Jue harbored the same intent.

Unfortunately…

There were thirteen men across the river, all formidable warriors, none of them the least bit afraid.

Beside him, however, was only a cowardly mediocrity.

If only the enemy’s cavalry would attack, then ten thousand Xiliang iron cavalry could charge into their camp and cut them down like wheat—whether to fight or withdraw would be entirely their choice. If they set the camp ablaze, igniting the enemy’s supplies, the enemy would inevitably be forced to retreat.

To Niu Fu, all this sounded like two words: certain death.

Especially after Li Jue pointedly brought up the Tai’e sword, the feeling grew stronger.

If he just held the pass at Hukou and things went badly, he could always retreat westward. But if he ventured deep into enemy territory and Li Jue pulled back, wouldn’t he be trapped like a beast in a cage?

“If you want to go, go yourself. I’ll lead three thousand Flying Bears against the enemy!”

“You!” Li Jue suppressed his anger. “A’fu, you’ve never commanded the Flying Bears. It would be inconvenient.”

“I haven’t commanded them?” Niu Fu jabbed his own nose, furious. “Has Fan Chou? If you refuse, you’re just guilty of ill intent and scheming to harm me! I’ll go to my father-in-law right now and report you!”

Why had Li Ru predicted that Li Jue was unlikely to survive?

Because of Niu Fu.

You needn’t fear a godlike enemy—what you should fear is a pigheaded ally.

With a cowardly, self-serving deputy with strong backing holding him back, it would be a miracle if Li Jue made it through alive.

Even Li Ru hadn’t foreseen that the two would fall out after just one night.

Now Li Jue ground his teeth in hatred, even tempted to execute Niu Fu before the battle.

But recalling Dong Zhuo’s blatant favoritism, he could only swallow his bitterness.

“Fine, fine! But remember, you must hold back the enemy’s advance to the west. Not a step of retreat until I return.”

Niu Fu’s demeanor changed instantly; he beamed, thumping his chest. “Of course! Don’t worry, General!”

For a moment, Li Jue even considered withdrawing his forces entirely.

But he couldn’t bear to give up the strategic advantage, and the prospect of a glorious victory still beckoned…

If he defeated the allied forces, he might even be made a lord of ten thousand households…

“Good. Then remember—absolutely no retreat!”

“Yes, sir!”

...

Elsewhere.

After hauling the last Xuchu across the river, Chen Cong was utterly exhausted, sprawled on the ground, coughing up river water and gasping for air.

Thirteen men, excluding himself made twelve, and only Sun Ce could swim.

All of them were broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, clad in armor, carrying weapons and strong bows—heavier than dead pigs.

Luckily, though the Luo River was swift, it wasn’t wide.

After eleven back-and-forth trips, the crossing was finally done.

Xuchu, covered in river mud, spat a few times and seemed to enjoy himself.

The group rested briefly, using the moonlight and dense riverside forest for cover, then moved west for nearly twenty li, finally making their way to the rear of the Xiliang camp.

On the next crossing, Chen Cong had a sudden inspiration: instead of struggling with manpower, he handed the rope to the smallest among them, Yue Jin, flung him across to the far bank, and had the others cross by holding the rope.

The group then circled back east, sneaking up behind the Xiliang camp, finding, as expected, no patrols in sight.

“I’ll say it again: when chaos breaks out and we rush the camp, seize horses first, then set fires. Anyone who doesn’t get a horse runs into battle on foot.”

Low voices answered, “Understood,” and they crouched behind the low riverbank to rest.

It was close to the third watch of the night when suddenly, the camp drums thundered.

From outside, nothing was visible, but the rumble of hooves faded into the distance, and Chen Cong’s eyes shone.

“Grab horses first, then set fires. Once the flames are sky-high, regroup at the eastern gate. No idea how many are in the camp right now—stay alert, don’t die, scatter!”

With a tiger’s roar, Xuchu charged in the lead straight for the camp. Ignoring the scattered arrows from atop the walls, letting them clatter harmlessly off his armor, he leapt at the gate, his massive body smashing it to splinters.

The rest followed, darting into the camp behind him.

Li Jue, wary of Niu Fu’s possible blunder, had kept his wits and left behind two thousand of his ten thousand cavalry to guard the camp.

Should the battle at Hukou go poorly, these troops could rush to reinforce at a moment’s notice.

Most were clustered to the east, so when Chen Cong’s group attacked from the west, they met almost no resistance. The scattered Xiliang riders couldn’t possibly compete with this band of tigerish warriors.

Even Chen Zining, famed as the world’s greatest fighter, could only seize a few stragglers with his bow.

The group seized horses, and as they moved, they kicked over every brazier they passed.

By the time the Xiliang men realized the camp was under attack, the blaze was already roaring to the heavens, illuminating the night as if a divine light had descended to save all living things.

Chen Cong galloped to the eastern gate, where a thousand elite cavalry stood in formation without panic. Brandishing his great axe, he plunged into the crowd.

For him, wielding such a weapon posed little challenge.

He was already well-practiced with axes and halberds; with his prodigious strength, swinging an axe as if it were a knife was perfectly doable.

Then came Xuchu.

The man was a true opportunist.

Xiliang cavalry each had three horses, the Flying Bears four, but on campaign, the Xiliang riders only kept one with them, while the Flying Bears had two for switching.

The rest of the horses were resting in the camp.

Xuchu, somehow armed with a long whip, drove every startled horse he encountered eastward as he ran, herding at least two thousand. When the stampede began, even Chen Cong, charging ahead, wasn’t spared.

His own tall steed was knocked down by the panicked herd, and if he hadn’t leapt onto a watchtower nearby, he’d have been trampled to pulp.

“Fatty Xu! Are you trying to get me killed?!”

Xuchu roared with laughter. “Hahaha, Chen Zining, this first merit is mine! You’ll have to wait your turn!”

Damn fool.

A true brute.

Chen Cong cursed under his breath, yanked a horse from the rear of the herd, and swung up.

He couldn’t help but smile.

The sight of horses thundering through the camp—he had to admit, it was magnificent.

Too bad the land beyond the eastern gate was open country; with the horses packed tightly together, it was impossible to drive them any further in order.

Otherwise, if this stampede had charged toward Hukou ahead, they could have frightened the enemy generals to death.

After Xuchu’s charge, Zhang Fei came riding in, wielding a banner as a whip and laughing as he drove the horses forward.

Unfortunately, the cavalry at the camp’s head had already been trampled to mush. The stampede, now without purpose, merely churned the mangled remains into finer pulp.