The forces of the South Camp Eight Great Kings finally stirred.
It was the dead of night—the hour when human vigilance hit its lowest ebb, when eyelids grew unbearably heavy and even the most disciplined minds dulled.
Even modern people, hardened veterans of sleepless nights and late scrolling, would struggle to stay alert at such an hour.
Choosing this precise moment for his night raid, the South Camp Eight Great Kings felt victory was already more than halfway within his grasp.
Ten thousand rebel soldiers advanced in silence, each clenching a copper coin between their teeth.
This, he believed, was a masterstroke he had learned from Romance of the Three Kingdoms—a brilliant tactic that would ensure absolute silence.
Yet the moment they began marching, he discovered a rather embarrassing truth.
They could still talk.
"Damn it all…" the South Camp Eight Great Kings muttered around the coin.
"That blasted Romance of the Three Kingdoms really led me astray!"
With the coin still lodged firmly between his teeth, he continued complaining, speech perfectly intelligible.
"This lying book! You can clearly speak with a coin in your mouth. Look at me—I'm talking just fine!"
A sharp-eyed subordinate immediately seized the opportunity to flatter.
"Those literati who write such books are useless scholars!" he declared indignantly.
"They've never fought a real battle in their lives!"
"Exactly, exactly!" another chimed in hastily.
"This has nothing to do with the General. It's the authors' fault!"
"Our General can speak so clearly with a coin in his mouth—this is practically a divine skill!" a third exclaimed.
"Only the General could do this! Truly peerless!"
The South Camp Eight Great Kings suddenly frowned.
"Wait," he said slowly.
"Can't… all of you do that too?"
The subordinate instantly fell silent.
Thus, amid hushed but utterly pointless whispering, the rebel army continued forward.
They first detoured east, circling around to the eastern side of Wenshui County, then crept closer step by cautious step.
Moonlight spilled thinly across the land, illuminating only a few dozen feet ahead. Beyond that limited reach lay nothing but shapeless, ink-black darkness.
In such conditions, arquebusiers were effectively blind.
There was nothing to fear.
Nothing at all.
As they advanced, one rebel soldier suddenly felt uneasy.
"General…" he whispered.
"The bushes beside us rustled twice just now. It felt like something strange was moving alongside us."
The South Camp Eight Great Kings scoffed.
"A strange thing? How strange could it be?"
"Palm-sized," the soldier replied softly.
"Very small. I only saw a fleeting black shadow before it vanished back into the grass."
"Palm-sized?" the South Camp Eight Great Kings snorted.
"A rat, then. What else could it be? Stop being so paranoid. This is exactly when rats come out."
Chastened, the soldier could only continue forward.
Hidden within the undergrowth, the Dao Xuan Tianzun's avatar—the tiny reconnaissance body Li Daoxuan controlled—quietly poked his head out from behind a massive fern leaf.
"Hmph," he snorted inwardly.
Moments later…
They entered Gao Family Village's carefully prepared ambush zone.
The trap had not been laid directly at the city gates.
The reasoning was simple: once rebels reached the walls, they would naturally tighten formation and brace for combat. Their alertness would spike.
But here—still some distance away—they were relaxed, careless, completely unprepared.
Never in their wildest dreams would they imagine that soldiers from inside the city would advance outward to strike here.
Li Daoxuan instantly shifted his consciousness, transferring it into the small silver-thread Dao Xuan Tianzun statue pinned discreetly to Chen Yuanbo's chest.
In a voice only Chen Yuanbo could hear, he said calmly:
"You may begin."
Chen Yuanbo's heart leapt with excitement. He straightened at once.
"Issue the command," he said firmly.
"Begin the operation. Code name: Eliminate South Camp Eight Great Kings—abbreviated as Gan-Nan."
Fan Shangzheng, standing beside him, was completely baffled.
"Begun?" he stammered.
"The rebels have already arrived?"
Chen Yuanbo nodded.
"They're here. Right within that deep darkness ahead."
Fan Shangzheng panicked.
"How can you be certain? This official hasn't seen a single torch, heard a sound, or spotted even one rebel! It's pitch-black out there!"
Chen Yuanbo smiled faintly.
"A secret military method—Night Cry Communication. Those bird calls you just heard were messages from our scouts."
Fan Shangzheng was thunderstruck. He bowed repeatedly.
"I have served as an official for many years and believed myself well-informed," he admitted.
"Never did I imagine such methods existed. Truly, my eyes have been opened! Though…"
He coughed lightly.
"That operation name—Gan-Nan—may offend some people from Gannan."
The order had already been carried out.
A soldier rushed to a shallow ditch outside the city walls, struck a fire starter, and tossed it inside.
BOOM!
A blinding flash erupted.
Fire surged through the trench like a living serpent, racing forward in an instant.
Only now did the truth reveal itself—the engineers had earlier dug this ditch, packed it with dry grass, and drenched it in lamp oil.
Once ignited, the flames roared ahead, splitting, branching, racing outward.
In mere moments, firelight flooded the battlefield.
And standing squarely at the center of that blazing inferno were the South Camp Eight Great Kings and his night raiding force.
The rebels froze.
One instant they were creeping through darkness.
The next—fire exploded beneath their feet, ahead of them, around them.
Night turned into blazing day.
The rebels screamed and scrambled backward, desperate to escape the fiery trenches.
The South Camp Eight Great Kings recoiled in shock.
"An ambush!" he roared.
"Our plan has been exposed!"
Before his shout even faded—
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Arquebus fire erupted from the surrounding woods.
Illuminated by the flames, the rebels were exposed like figures on a stage. Meanwhile, the arquebusiers remained hidden in total darkness.
The rebels could see nothing.
The enemy saw everything.
Men fell in swathes.
Some rebels desperately loosed arrows into the dark—but how could they hit enemies they couldn't see?
Others charged blindly toward the woods, swords raised—only to run straight into gunfire and collapse mid-stride.
From afar, Fan Shangzheng watched as if witnessing a carefully staged performance.
Rebels screamed, stumbled, died—utterly disoriented, unable even to tell north from south.
"Utterly satisfying," Fan Shangzheng muttered, a grim smile tugging at his lips.
"To beat the rebels like this… truly refreshing."
At that moment, Hero Xiao—who had been seated nearby, motionless, cultivating his Ice Soul Condensing Qi Technique—suddenly rose to his feet.
Fan Shangzheng jumped.
"Oh! Hero Xiao—you're awake? You missed quite the spectacle!"
Li Daoxuan chuckled softly.
"No matter. What comes next will be even more exciting."
With a clean, ringing sound, he drew his sword.
"You all stay here," he said calmly.
"I have to charge in."
"Ah? Y-your Excellency?" Chen Yuanbo exclaimed.
Li Daoxuan smiled faintly.
"The South Camp Eight Great Kings is fleeing. Arquebusiers excel at distance, not pursuit. Charging out to capture someone alive is dangerous work…"
He stepped forward, sword in hand.
"So I'll do it myself."
And with that, he broke into a run, vanishing into the firelit chaos ahead.