Come Over Here!

Li Ang looked at the Gatu people across the river, then at the mail coif in his hands, then raised a hand to inspect the chainmail on his body. Suddenly, he instructed his men not to make a sound.

He then put on the coif, stepped onto the wall that resembled a fortress rampart, and exposed his upper body above the crude wooden barricade.

In his hand was an Eagle Strike Bow, borrowed from that Horn Caller Ranger.

Ansen called out worriedly, "My lord..."

But the moment the words left his mouth, Li Ang waved a hand behind his back to stop him.

Li Ang simply stood there quietly and even waved toward the other side of the river.

Seeing Li Ang wave, someone also stepped out from the Gatu formation across the river.

Probably a leader.

After all, he too wore a mail coif of the same style as Li Ang's.

As a nomadic people of the plains who lived on horseback, born raiders, the Gatu people neither excelled at nor possessed the means to forge high-tech equipment such as plate armor.

Their armor mainly consisted of studded leather or light chainmail.

Of course, that was also because their style of combat was unsuited to plate armor—they valued the mobility needed for raiding, as well as the endurance and agility required for mounted archery.

Among Gatu warriors, the most formidable and brutal elite war riders, as well as the Gatu warlords who commanded armies, all favored these mail coifs that concealed their faces.

Probably because they had done too many bad things and feared being recognized...

The Gatu man approaching them was probably a minor warlord.

Unlike most of the Gatu cavalry behind him, he wore heavier lamellar armor, and his warhorse was clad in plated iron barding.

Clearly, he was someone who did not need to conserve his horse's stamina too often, so he deliberately pursued greater survivability—leader's privileges, in other words.

Though that equipment looked dusty and gray, neither flashy nor remarkable among the Gatu people, that was the true face of battlefield gear. Dressing too handsomely or conspicuously would get one focused down by the enemy.

The Gatu warlord looked at Li Ang, who was also wearing a coif, and seemed somewhat hesitant. He stopped at the bridgehead across the river and asked something.

But with a river between them, it was impossible to hear clearly.

And even if they could hear him, they probably would not understand...

Seeing this, Li Ang raised the bow in one hand and waved it, then crooked a finger with the other and shouted.

"Come over here!"

His manner was relaxed and natural, as though he were greeting an old friend.

Originally, this was merely to boost morale—to show his men that their lord did not fear a powerful enemy, that he was calm and at ease, so they could relax a little.

Besides, the other side probably could not hear what Li Ang had shouted anyway...

But unexpectedly, that Gatu warlord actually came over!

He brought only two attendants onto the wooden bridge. Three men and three horses formed a line as they trotted onto it.

Those two attendants were probably Gatu war riders—chainmail and coifs, dressed exactly like Li Ang!

They did not abruptly rein in their horses until they reached the middle of the bridge—the three Gatu men had finally seen the rampart blocking the other end of the bridge within the camp...

It was blocked completely!

And at the instant they reined in their horses, Li Ang burst into loud laughter. "Shoot the two in back!"

This helmet, originally meant only to conceal faces, this crude scheme conceived on the spur of the moment, had actually proven useful!

As he spoke, the Eagle Strike Bow in his hand fired an arrow at an unbelievable speed, as though he had barely aimed at all.

"Bispa!!"

The Gatu warlord shouted loudly. Somewhat panicked, he tried to turn his horse around and return, but his attendants behind him blocked the way.

And at the instant the Gatu warlord turned around, a feathered arrow traced a slight arc through the air and precisely pierced his calf.

The arrow sank deep—his calf was covered only by a leather riding boot, and the shaft nailed the Gatu warlord's leg directly to his horse's belly!

The horse reared and shrieked miserably. Its violent movements sent a mist of blood bursting from its abdomen, yet it still did not bolt. It merely shook its head and tail, whinnying in agony as it paced in place.

That truly was a superbly trained warhorse.

What a pity...

Li Ang drew his bow once more.

This arrow passed through the warhorse's eye, its trembling fletching carrying away several drops of the horse's tears.

The warhorse no longer cried out. It collapsed silently onto the bridge with its master, its massive corpse pinning down the Gatu warlord's nailed leg.

Of the two attendants behind him, one was moving to the side to clear a path, while the other abandoned his horse and flung himself before the fallen Gatu warlord, apparently intending to shield him with his own body.

Several crossbow bolts flew at the same time from the firing slits in the wall's barricade. With nowhere to evade on the bridge, the two brave Gatu war riders were struck one after another.

The one moving aside fell from his horse and dropped into the river—this shabby little bridge had no railings.

The one shielding his master got his wish and was shot into a porcupine, collapsing before the Gatu warlord.

This Gatu warlord was probably quite a fierce tribal chief. Straining with all his strength, he looked back at Li Ang, who held the bow, and desperately shouted an incomprehensible Gatu phrase: "Wusa! Gatu!!"

This short Gatu cry probably had an effect similar to "Ura." The Gatu cavalry across the river immediately began shrieking wildly as they surged toward the bridge, cries of "Wusa" echoing into the sky.

"Kloze! Get ready!"

Li Ang shouted, nocking an arrow and aiming at the Gatu warlord, yet he did not draw the string again.

The Gatu cavalry across the river were about to charge onto the bridge, their thunderous hooves sending violent tremors through the ground.

The Gatu warlord, who had been watching Li Ang calmly wait for death, seemed to realize something. He struggled to rise, but the horse trapped him and he could not free himself. He could only twist around and shout at his subordinates, "Bispa!!"

He crossed both hands before his chest, seemingly intending to wave a signal—he was probably trying to make a gesture ordering them to stop advancing.

But before he could complete the motion, Li Ang shot him down again.

This arrow pierced the crook of his arm, nailing his hand to the bridge.

The command that had not yet fully left the Gatu warlord's mouth turned into a shrill, meaningless scream. He struggled with extreme violence, even wrenching free the leg pinned beneath the horse's belly.

The arrow in his leg snapped from the struggle, and blood poured out, yet the fierce warlord still struggled as though he meant to stop his men from charging.

But Li Ang's third arrow pierced the bend of his other leg, locking him completely to the bridge.

He could no longer stand.

Those three precise but nonlethal arrows made the minor warlord howl violently.

But the more he howled, the more it drove the surging Gatu cavalry to desperately rush onto the bridge toward their leader.

The Gatu people were people too, and they had a strict hierarchy. They had to rescue their leader.

This bridge, hurriedly repaired as it was, was very narrow and had no railings. Even with exceptional horsemanship, it could accommodate only two riders abreast.

Moreover, horses would instinctively slow down upon it—living creatures had an instinct to avoid danger, and the hastily laid planks were thin and soft. The horses could sense it.

At the moment the fastest Gatu cavalrymen had just reached the bridge, a volley of crossbow bolts flew out. Several riders screamed as they fell from their horses, while wounded mounts spun in circles on the bridge, blocking the enemies behind them.

Then sharp buzzing sounds rang out repeatedly. The otherwise mediocre crossbowmen displayed their maximum killing potential in this target-practice-like situation.

The bridge gradually piled up with wounded men and corpses.

And beneath the bridge, the water had already been dyed red with blood.

The Gatu riders were blocked by the casualties at the bridgehead and by horses that had lost their masters.

Some of the smarter Gatu people had already dismounted. They had realized that horses were not faster than men on this bridge.

Some of the Gatu people took out their nomad shields and stepped over the bodies at the bridgehead.

A wave of infantry charges began.

If people stood side by side, the bridge could probably fit three or four across.

Several dozen Gatu people advancing behind shields now packed the far end of the bridge. Flat-firing crossbow bolts achieved little against the shields, and the crossbowmen slowed their rate of fire.

Only the bow in Li Ang's hands could still precisely bypass the cover of the shields, arrow after arrow biting into Gatu flesh.

But one bow and one man could not truly stop the advance of dozens of shield-bearing warriors.

The Gatu people ultimately charged to the middle of the bridge, reaching their leader's side.

But at that moment, crisp cracking sounds began to ring out from the bridge piers beneath the wooden bridge.

"Kloze! Cut!"