The Knife Within

In that desperate strait, Boles, this "Old Marshal," became the villagers' pillar of strength through his composure and prestige.

The instinct to survive overwhelmed fear. The village's squad leader was the first to react, shouting in a hoarse voice, "The Old Marshal is right! Fight them to the death! Holding the village is the only way to live!"

"Right! Fight them!"

"Hold the village!"

The villagers' blood was stirred. They rushed back into their homes one after another, taking out all kinds of farm tools, kitchen knives, even tearing down door planks and carrying out tables and chairs. Under the soldiers' command, they frantically blocked the village entrance, reinforced the low earthen enclosure, sealed the windows of the houses facing the street, stationed archers on the rooftops, and turned the entire village into a temporary fortress.

Boles jumped down from his horse and personally directed the deployment.

Rich in experience, he quickly judged several key defensive points and assigned their limited troops sensibly.

The hundred-odd personal guards became the backbone of the defensive line, while several hundred organized young and able-bodied villagers filled the gaps, responsible for throwing stones, passing supplies, and rescuing the wounded.

Very soon, the bandit vanguard, like a tide, had come howling up to the crude obstacles at the village entrance! Battle erupted in an instant!

"Loose!" the guard captain roared until his voice tore.

The archers among the personal guards, commanding the high ground, shot out a dense rain of arrows. The bandits charging at the very front instantly fell in swathes, but those behind stepped over their companions' corpses and continued surging madly forward like beasts without the slightest reason!

They rammed the obstacles with their bodies, hacked at them with crude weapons, and even climbed the earthen wall directly with their bare hands!