Chapter Thirty-Six: The Failed Siege

Master Hou was scrutinizing the mountain cave encampment before him, contemplating how to seize it with the least casualties. The only real concern in this camp was the three squat wooden arrow towers, their range long and their lethality immense, easily capable of suppressing any martial fighter lacking armor.

To attack such a camp, it would have been best if the fighters had brought spiritual wooden shields. Yet, before coming, they had not anticipated that Ye Mo’s cave camp would be fortified with arrow towers, and so had not prepared any shields.

He was about to suggest to Young Lord Zheng that they return and quickly craft a batch of spiritual wooden shields before attacking again. However, Zheng Yiqing, eager for revenge and relying on his superior numbers, impatiently ordered the fighters to charge.

Master Hou changed his mind—after all, their forces were overwhelming, and perhaps they could storm the camp in one assault without the trouble of making shields. He swallowed his suggestion and followed Zheng Yiqing forward.

At Zheng Yiqing’s shouting command, the fighters advanced toward the cave camp in loose formations, groups of two or three. Half were Zheng’s own men, the other half former captives, never having fought side by side, their intentions varied. Some were desperate to earn merit before the Young Lord, others had no desire to attack Ye Mo’s camp and purposely lagged behind.

Some, sly in thought, hoped others would charge ahead so they could follow and reap the spoils. Zheng Yiqing, Young Lord; He An; Steward Cao; Master Hou—all of high status—naturally could not lead the charge as cannon fodder, but remained at the rear urging the fighters forward.

Such a group, discordant in purpose, lacked any semblance of order, their formation utterly fragmented. Though there were twenty martial fighters, only three or four truly threw themselves forward seeking glory and reward. The rest straggled behind in pairs and trios.

Within the cave camp stood three arrow towers, each rising nearly thirty feet, easily covering the surrounding area for ninety feet. Over that distance, the towers could unleash five or six volleys, a road of bitter casualties for any intruder.

Swish!

Swish!

Swish!

Spiritual wooden arrows and sharp wooden spears whistled through the air, shot at the foremost fighters, growing larger in their pupils as they sped near.

Those in front scrambled to dodge, swinging swords and blades in wild defense, stumbling backward repeatedly.

They blocked the way for those behind, and the entire charging force fell into chaos.

The hiss of arrows filled the air, a nightmare for the attackers.

“Clang! Clang!”

“Splat!”

“Ah!”

“Ah, my leg! My leg’s been pierced, help me!”

With every volley poured down, cries of agony rang out.

These fighters were not regular troops clad in heavy armor, nor were they sea beasts with natural scales. Most wore only common clothes, with the best in mere leather armor. Relying on leather armor to withstand the dense hail of spiritual wooden spears was impossible. The piercing force from the tall arrow towers far exceeded anything fired from the ground.

Before they had even crossed thirty feet, the three or four leading fighters were struck by spears or arrows, falling heavily wounded, one even impaled through the chest by two spears, pinned to the earth and dying on the spot.

Three wounded, one dead.

The fighters were stunned, never expecting these squat arrow towers to be so deadly.

The rest, seeing the carnage, quickly retreated; none wished to be the pincushion. Even Zheng Yiqing’s own men withdrew, let alone the captive fighters.

Life was their own; survival above all, only then could they hope for future rewards.

Their retreat shattered the formation, and the fighters fled back to the distant forest.

A disordered charge ended fruitlessly.

Zheng Yiqing’s men regrouped thirty yards from the camp, out of range of the arrow towers, with the forest for cover.

“Stop!” Ye Mo waved his hand, ordering Mo Ling, King Tiger, and the others to cease fire, conserving spears and arrows.

The three took the chance to catch their breath. They had finally driven the enemy back beyond thirty yards. Any further charge would exact a heavy price.

“Useless! A bunch of failures! Over twenty men can’t even storm a tiny camp!” Zheng Yiqing’s face was twisted with rage.

“No need to rush, Young Lord!” Master Hou sneered. “Why not provoke them? Insult them! Stir them up, make them come out!”

“Oh? Will that work?... Let’s try it first!” Zheng Yiqing replied doubtfully, lacking better ideas.

Master Hou ordered a loud-mouthed fighter to curse and provoke the camp.

The burly man nodded eagerly and began to hurl insults at Ye Mo’s camp.

“If you’ve got guts, come out! Hiding in a turtle’s den isn’t heroic!”

“Bah, you cowardly turtle, get out here!”

“Haha, I bet this kid’s nothing but a soft-bellied weakling, scared out of his wits already!”

Inside the cave camp, King Tiger and Yang You were enraged, shouting insults back.

Mo Ling, furious, drew her strong bow and fired toward the thirty-yard mark.

Swish!

An arrow shot toward the burly man.

He hurried behind a tree to dodge.

Thud!

The arrow, spent, struck the root of the tree before him, its shaft trembling.

Mo Ling saw the man dodge easily and could only sigh in frustration. The distance was too great, and the trees beyond thirty yards hadn’t been cleared. Even a master archer would struggle to hit him.

“Trying to shoot me from that far? You must be starving, haha!” Zheng Yiqing’s men laughed, growing even more arrogant.

No matter how the fighters insulted, the vile words never ceased.

In the camp, Ye Mo gazed indifferently at Zheng Yiqing in the distance. The curses were like wind past his ears; his expression unchanged, unmoved.

Let them curse.

He had grown up struggling in the city streets, trading blows and insults with fishwives and beggars, his skin thick as city walls. Moreover, his cultivation of the Wave-Slaying Art trained him daily to face storms; the greater the tempest, the calmer his heart became, the steadier his sword.

Master Hou watched Ye Mo closely for a change in expression, but was disappointed. “This youngster’s skin is thick as a wall. Trying to provoke him is futile; he won’t fall for it!”

The two young fighters manning the towers, however, were furious, shouting back and nearly ready to rush down and fight.

But without Ye Mo’s command, they dared not act.

Master Hou turned and saw Zheng Yiqing’s reddened eyes blazing with fury. Yet, this fire could not reach Ye Mo inside the camp, and he could only glare helplessly.

“Sigh!” Master Hou wisely kept silent. He knew the Young Lord’s foul temper—impatient and irritable, demanding swift results. If things didn’t go his way, he would rain down furious abuse.

With the Young Lord so angry, any suggestion to return and craft shields for another assault would only earn him a tongue-lashing.

The more indifferent Ye Mo remained, the more irate Zheng Yiqing became.

This was a slap in his face, again and again, undermining his authority.

“He An, your martial prowess is unrivaled in Zheng, peerless. Can you cross that distance, scale the wooden fence, and enter the camp to slay the archers atop the towers?” Zheng Yiqing demanded fiercely.

He An had not joined the earlier charge, instead staying close to protect him. It seemed that to take this cave camp, they would have to deploy this peak martial fighter.