They revered Lin Chen as a mountain and trusted him as a rock; only then had they earned the weight now resting on their shoulders.
In this battle, they swore to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lin Chen and nail every last traitor who fed from within to the bluestone streets of Western Liang City.
The mobilization had barely ended when Lin Chen led the troops out. More than a thousand men, armored in full and carrying gleaming blades and spears, marched in mighty procession toward the Fierce Tiger Gang's main headquarters.
The townspeople along the way stopped to watch. The relief grain had just been distributed, and the city was enjoying a rare lull. Now that such a force had suddenly appeared, full of killing intent, who would not be curious?
Some stood on tiptoe to look, some crowded together at street corners to whisper, while even more simply trailed after the force from afar to see what would happen.
Before long, the army had arrived before the Fierce Tiger Gang's main headquarters.
The vermilion gates were shut tight as iron. Not even a wisp of wind could pass through their seams, making them look like a sealed tomb.
Lin Chen let out a cold laugh—such petty tricks were not even worthy of carrying his shoes.
He waved his hand at once and ordered the gates broken down.
Long Wu and Four Tigers immediately led men forward, raising battering rams high while iron hammers came crashing down together.
Lin Chen stood behind the formation, his gaze sharp as an eagle's as he stared fixedly at the gate tower's upturned eaves and the crenellations along the walls. In his mind, he was already calculating every coming ambush, every flare of firelight, every possible turn of events.
At the same time,