The King, dressed in golden armor and a mask, could no longer cut every arrow in the air. Heavy shafts rang off his armor—he was leaning forward like a man walking into a storm, but it was as if his heart was singing because this was a great deed of a warrior. He laughed and ran faster.
A trap opened under his feet, and he almost fell—straight down the banks and into a thigh-deep pool. Two peasant Talons stepped to the edge of the pool and loosed arrows at him from a few feet away.
Li Zhuang, who had joined the king's army under the direction of some great master of his cousin, saw the charge falter and blew his horn. Men were falling into something—a line of pits, a hidden trench—
