Lion Ridge, Gathering Hall.
The Mountain Stronghold was not large. At most, it had thirty or forty people crammed into several dilapidated Thatched Huts.
Though it was called the Gathering Hall, it was really just a somewhat larger shed. The west side let in the wind, and it did not even have a proper door.
Li Tieniu, the Great Chieftain, squatted on the threshold, chewing half a hard cornbread bun that he could not swallow no matter how long he chewed.
"Boss!" A lackey came running up from the foot of the mountain, so out of breath he could barely speak. "Boss! Down there... down there..."
Li Tieniu did not even raise his eyelids. "What are you panicking for? Speak slowly."
"Down there... there are so many people! A whole black mass of them! They're all soldiers!" The lackey's voice had gone shrill.
The cornbread bun in Li Tieniu's hand fell to the ground with a slap.
He froze for a second, then suddenly sprang to his feet and kicked over the table beside him.
"Brothers! Grab your weapons! Get ready to run!"
The Mountain Stronghold instantly erupted into chaos.
"The soldiers are here?"
"Run, run!"
"Where do we run?"
"The back mountain! There's a small path up there!"
Li Tieniu grabbed his chipped machete, kicked aside a subordinate blocking his way, and ran toward the back mountain.
Then he froze.
More than a dozen Black Clad Men stood on the small path behind the mountain.
They had identical faces, identical black clothes, and identical cold, stern eyes.
They held short crossbows in their hands, the Crossbow Bolts gleaming with an eerie green light as they all pointed at Zhao Tiezhu.
Li Tieniu's machete clattered to the ground.
"Spare my life, hero—"
Before his voice had even faded, an earthshaking