Two more boulders tore through the air.
They rose above the city wall like misplaced moons, dragging the eyes of everyone—villagers, guards, bandits alike—upward in helpless awe.
Then—
BOOM!
BOOM!
The stones crashed down once more into the bandit ranks.
Blood, dust, screams.
The momentum of the charge snapped like a rotten rope.
Some bandits stopped running.
Some turned their heads.
Some took a single step back—and then another.
Fear, once born, spread faster than courage ever could.
On the wall, the villagers stared.
Then someone laughed.
"Hahaha! That felt good!"
"Smash them again!"
"Li Da! Gao Yiyi! Don't stop!"
Moments ago, these same people had been shaking so hard their teeth rattled. Now their hands felt strangely steady, their hearts buoyed by the simple truth of war:
When the other side keeps dying, fear starts changing sides.
Below the wall, Li Da and Gao Yiyi didn't need encouragement. The two blacksmiths were already sprinting toward the next pair of catapults, iron hammers swinging in their hands.
On the ramparts, several villagers craned their necks, watching with round eyes.
Bai Yuan exploded.
"Where are you looking?!" he roared. "Eyes outside the wall! Archers—prepare!"
The shout jolted everyone awake.
They turned—and their blood ran cold.
A cluster of the fiercest bandits had already closed to within ten paces of the wall.
"Fire! Fire!" Bai Yuan screamed, his voice nearly tearing apart.
The Bai family retainers reacted instantly. Bows snapped up, strings twanged—
Four or five arrows streaked out and struck true.
Li Daoxuan clapped softly outside the box.
"Nice shooting."
But then he frowned.
The bandits who'd been hit didn't fall.
They staggered, cursed, and kept charging.
Television lied.
On a real battlefield, arrows didn't magically kill. A light bow could punch holes, draw blood, maybe cripple—but killing cleanly required luck.
Three arrows don't beat one blade, Li Daoxuan thought. And three blades don't beat one spear.
Several bandits loosed arrows in return.
Swish—swish—swish.
Dozens of crude shafts arced toward the wall.
Li Daoxuan sighed.
My villagers aren't even wearing proper armor yet.
He reached out casually.
In the box, a colossal palm appeared before the wall.
The arrows struck it—
and bounced.
His skin, thickened two hundredfold, deflected them as easily as raindrops on stone.
Only Gao Yiye could see it.
The bandits assumed their arrows had simply hit the wall.
None of them realized the villagers had latched onto a god who didn't believe in fair play.
Above the wall, two more boulders sailed overhead.
The rear ranks of the bandits scattered in panic—but the front line had already reached the base of the wall.
Several men slammed a long siege ladder into place.
"Stones!" Bai Yuan roared. "Pour the oil!"
The household guards seized the prepared rocks and hurled them downward.
Compared to arrows, stones were honest weapons.
A head struck cracked open like a melon.
A scream cut short mid-breath.
Behind them, village women—already organized—lugged kettles of boiling oil up the stairs and passed them forward.
The guards tipped the kettles.
Scalding rapeseed oil cascaded down.
Shrieks rose from below, sharp and unbearable.
Once emptied, the kettles were pulled back. The women retreated, refilled them at the roaring cauldrons behind the wall, and returned again.
This oil was precious.
Every kettle hurt to pour.
But no one hesitated.
Somewhere between the third and fourth run, something changed.
The villagers stopped thinking.
They started acting.
Gao Chuwu dashed forward, grabbed a stone bigger than his head, and hurled it down.
"I'm here!" he shouted.
Zheng Daniu followed. "Me too!"
More villagers surged forward behind them.
"We can help!"
"Give us stones!"
At first, only a dozen guards had been fighting—and it wasn't enough.
Now?
Big stones.
Small stones.
Large kettles.
Small kettles.
The wall became a storm.
The first wave of bandits at the base collapsed completely. Those carrying the battering ram dropped it, abandoned the log, and fled.
But not all of them broke.
Further back, another group adjusted their approach.
They raised ladders several meters away—out of range of falling stones, beyond the reach of boiling oil.
The ladders tilted.
Clatter!
They slammed against the wall.
Several villagers rushed to push them over.
Bai Yuan nearly tore his throat out.
"Don't push!" he shouted. "You won't move them! Spearmen—step in! Thrust at anyone climbing!"
He had explained all of this before the battle.
Every scenario.
Every response.
Now?
Most of it had evaporated from people's minds.
Bai Yuan hopped, cursed, pointed, and yelled nonstop.
Fortunately, the bandits were no better.
No formations.
No coordination.
Just raw ferocity and bad decisions.
One bandit climbed first, hatchet in hand.
A villager stabbed downward with a sharpened bamboo spear.
The man shrieked and fell two zhang, hitting the ground flat on his back.
Between the spear and the fall, he wouldn't be standing again.
The next man was different.
Huge.
Wrapped in thick cowhide armor.
A villager stabbed.
The bamboo tip struck his chest—and stopped.
The man didn't even flinch.
He laughed, swung his broadsword—
Crack.
The bamboo spear snapped in half.
The villager stumbled back in terror.
The man vaulted onto the wall and threw his head back, laughing.
"My name is Yi Dao!" he roared. "Remember it well! Today, I slaughter every last one of you!"
Villagers rushed him from all sides.
He didn't fear numbers.
Cowhide armor turned blades.
Yesterday, at Bai Family Fortress, he'd cut down five guards alone.
He swung.
Clang!
The sound wasn't flesh.
It was metal.
Yi Dao froze.
He stared at the villager he'd struck.
"Iron armor?" he breathed.
For the first time since climbing the wall—
Doubt crept in.