The bandits on the opposite side were now clearly visible. Their equipment varied, and they carried flags of different colors, obviously coming from various horse clans united together, resembling a storm of black and brown sweeping in.
Before the battle even began, a few arrows had already been fired sporadically by the bandits, hitting refugees in front of the village gates. Some were wounded, while others scattered in panic, trying to evade the arrows. Seeing the chaos, the bandit leader burst into loud laughter.
The villagers hiding behind the gate grew increasingly anxious. The bandits' powerful bows emitted deep, resonant twangs as they fired. Refugees in the front lines continued to collapse backward, arrows buried halfway into their chests, demonstrating both the devastating force of military-grade bows and the bandits' clear intent to intimidate the defenders.
A few more arrows lodged deep into the stockade wall, trembling slightly as clumps of dirt tumbled down. The sight filled the farmers with dread, while the refugees below the walls had already descended into complete chaos. The old village chief ordered everyone to take cover behind the walls. The wall, made of tough bamboo and a mixture of gravel and mud, was sturdy enough that the bandits, known for their horseback prowess, were unlikely to risk a frontal assault.
Pleased with his success in instilling fear, the bandit leader grinned in satisfaction. He planned to nail the young men of the village to the ground one by one as a warning. Turning to a few of his best bowmen, he barked an order:
"Go! Kill those fools defending the village with their bamboo spears. Shoot them dead and hang their corpses from the bamboo poles for everyone to see!"
The bandits cheered enthusiastically, their grotesque voices ringing out. This kind of cruel game was their favorite. They relished watching the living tremble before them, bowing to their commands. To them, cruelty was the quickest way to force submission. Many of them had already forgotten that just last month, they themselves had been refugees. Now, they were high-ranking enforcers, and of course, nothing pleased them more than forcing the submission of someone with noble or official ties.
The two most skilled horsemen galloped forward like the wind. The bandit leader, Jin Laoda, burst into laughter and turned to the leaders of two smaller gangs beside him.
"Look at these two brats! They're the fastest killers, the most ruthless! Open your eyes and learn something!"
"Yes, yes, the stronger the general, the better the soldiers!"
"These two once pulled a man's guts out and hung them on their horses. Do you know how long a person's intestines are? It was my first time seeing someone with guts so long! Hahaha!"
"Jin Laoda, I can chop off a head with one swing, but it seems I'm still no match for your men!"
"Hahaha, you're nothing! Hahaha!" Jin Laoda laughed wildly in front of the two small gang leaders, mocking them without restraint.
But his arrogance was quickly shattered. As the two bandits prepared to kill the young villagers who were using bamboo spears to fend off the horses, a simple hunter's homemade bow suddenly fired from behind the stockade wall, 50 meters away. The arrow pierced straight through the chest of one bandit, exiting from his back and lodging into the rear of his horse. The immense force flipped the bandit backward to the ground, where he lay motionless.
"Fifty meters?" one of the gang leaders exclaimed in shock. These hardened men, who lived by the blade, knew all too well the limits of hunting bows: past 30 meters, their power was barely enough to cause harm. None of them had expected such lethality from so far away.
The other bandit, more experienced and a long-time partner of the fallen rider, instinctively moved to assist. But as soon as he saw the fatal wound, he knew it was hopeless. Acting quickly, he turned his horse to retreat, shouting,"There's a sharpshooter! A military sharpshooter!"
If it truly were a military marksman, this hasty maneuver would have been fatal before it was halfway complete. But in such a remote village, how could there possibly be a military sharpshooter?
Even so, the bandit's fate was sealed. Before he could reach cover, a second arrow struck him in the side, piercing his waist and throwing him sideways off his horse, his body flying two to three meters through the air.
Jin Laoda inhaled sharply. This shot had come from over 70 meters away and had struck the target from the side—a much smaller and more difficult target. If someone claimed it was a military sharpshooter's work, he wouldn't doubt it for a second.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes, peering toward the stockade wall in suspicion. Could there really be soldiers hiding in the village?
Hearing the ominous whistle of arrows, the remaining bandits retreated hastily. Still, nearly ten of them fell from their horses without warning. The losses were devastating, leaving some of the gang leaders heartbroken, others quietly relieved, and still others filled with regret. In this era, every mounted rider was a treasure to a gang, and those skilled in mounted archery were the cream of the crop. Losing so many at once was a heavy blow.
The two small gang leaders beside Jin Laoda didn't even bother saying goodbye before spurring their horses forward to inspect their losses.
After a long pause, Jin Laoda's face darkened. He motioned for his men to form ranks in front of the stockade. A thousand bandits gathered before the small village, their dense numbers like a black cloud blotting out most of the sky, leaving only a sliver of blue.
Jin Laoda signaled for his strategist to step forward. The man, dressed in a patched-up coat that marked him as someone of considerable wealth in these desperate times, approached. Upon closer inspection, faint bloodstains could be seen on his clothing. Holding a white cloth flag, Niu Strategist's scarred and filthy face was filled with arrogance and malice. His yellowed, uneven teeth and dirty fingernails made him appear even more revolting.
"Listen up, people of the village! We are Jin Laoda's forces! You've made a huge mistake, and Jin Laoda is furious! You're in big trouble now!"
"But today, Jin Laoda is merciful. He's giving you one last chance!"
"Lay down your weapons and open the gates! Hand over the sharpshooter in your village and bring us his head, and we'll let the rest of you live!"
Behind the stockade, one of the younger villagers shouted angrily,"You filthy bandits! You come to rob and kill us, and it's somehow our fault? We're defending ourselves, and you call that a crime? You want us to lay down our weapons and call it your mercy? Are you out of your mind?"
Strategist Niu sneered, baring his yellowed teeth."Watch your tongue, boy! If you hadn't tried to side with the border army, would we have come after you? If you hadn't provoked us, would we be killing you? You've got what—maybe fifty able-bodied fighters, tops? We've got a thousand men here, real fighters. We've razed hundreds of villages, maybe even thousands. Think carefully—surrender now or wait until we break in and take your heads ourselves! Surrender now, and out of Jin Laoda's kindness, we'll only cut off your right hands to spare your lives!"
Some of the elderly villagers climbed onto the stockade wall, pale-faced, and pleaded with the village chief."Chief, these bandits wiped out several border towns before coming here. I heard they slaughtered one of those towns for three straight days when it resisted! We can't fight them!"
"Our little village has nothing worth defending. Let them take what they want, and we'll rebuild slowly. As long as no one dies, everything can be negotiated!"
The chief turned back to see that it was the elders of the wealthier families speaking. He hesitated, lost in thought.
Seeing the chief's silence, the elders grew emboldened. They turned to the villagers and barked,"Who fired those arrows earlier? Step forward and confess!"
The younger men glared with defiance in their eyes but remained silent when they saw it was the wealthiest families' elders demanding answers. Their parents and children were tenants of these families, and fear of reprisal kept them quiet.
Then, a cold female voice rang out from a corner. Sora stood up and declared,"Chief, it was me. I did it alone."
The moment her voice echoed out, the younger villagers erupted into cheers. Though some dared not openly praise her, wary of the elders' wrath, the admiration in their eyes was undeniable.