"Archers, ready."
Twenty longbows were drawn, arrows aimed at the official road.
"Shoot the horses first. Once the horses go down, the carts won't be able to move. Even if they try to run, they won't get far."
Zhao Feng nodded and aimed his arrowhead at the horses pulling the first cart.
Lin Taichu did not give the order right away. He was waiting for the convoy's last cart to pass directly in front of the slope. Once even the last cart entered range, the entire convoy, from head to tail, would be covered by their arrows.
The last horse-drawn cart entered range.
"Loose."
Twenty arrows shot out at the same time, slicing through the air with a shrill whistle.
The Cultivators escorting the convoy reacted. Someone fired a distress signal into the sky, and a streak of red light shot upward before bursting apart dozens of zhang above the ground.
"Second volley. Shoot the men."
Twenty arrows shot out again, this time aimed at the escort Cultivators charging toward them.
"Third volley, cover them. Zhao Feng, take men and move the grain."
Zhao Feng led ten men rushing out from behind the slope and ran toward the official road. Lin Taichu took the remaining ten men and continued firing arrows, the hail of shafts pinning the four escort Cultivators behind the carts so they could not lift their heads.
Zhao Feng ran to the side of the first horse-drawn cart and lifted the oilcloth over it. Inside was grain, stacked neatly bag by bag. He grabbed two sacks of grain, hoisted them onto his shoulders, turned, and ran back toward the slope.
Each of the ten Guards carried two sacks of grain. After running back and forth twice, they moved away forty sacks of grain.
"That's enough. Withdraw."
Lin