The Mountain Chieftain Who Won by Lying Down

Lin Mo stood at the bend of the mountain path, squinting at the silent stronghold on the mountainside.

The silhouette of Black Wind Stronghold was faintly visible in the morning mist, its wooden and stone walls, about ten feet high, built according to the terrain.

It was backed by a steep cliff, with only a winding mountain path spiraling upwards.

At this moment, there were only three blurry figures on the ramparts, dozing listlessly against the wall.

"It's really deserted," Lin Yi said, standing beside Lin Mo, his voice suppressed with excitement. "Lord, how should we proceed? Force our way in, or..."

"Force our way in for what?" Lin Mo glanced at him, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "We're here to take over, not to tear the place down."

He turned to look at the two captives kneeling on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs – Zhang San and Li Xi.

At this moment, their faces were ashen, their bodies trembling, and their eyes were filled with a desperate will to survive.

"Do you want to live?" Lin Mo crouched down, his tone calm.

"Yes! Master! We desperately want to!" Zhang San answered quickly, nodding his head like a pecking chicken. "I have an eighty-year-old mother upstairs and a three-year-old son downstairs..."

"Enough," Lin Mo raised his hand to stop his tearful plea.

"I'll give you a chance. Go to the stronghold gate and tell them to surrender. If you succeed, I'll spare your lives, and you can work in the stronghold from now on. If you fail..."

"We understand! We understand!" Li Xi also hastily declared.

"There are only a few old and weak people left in the stronghold now, and Liu Lao Liu, who's in charge of logistics. They're all cowards! Just tell them the chief is dead, and they'll open the gates and surrender!"

"Very good," Lin Mo stood up and gave Lin Er a look.

Lin Er stepped forward and untied the ropes binding the two men, but then tied a thin rope around their waists, holding the other end in his hand.

This was a makeshift "leash" to prevent them from escaping.

"Zhang San, Li Xi."

Lin Mo looked at the two captives who had been untied but were now leashed by their waists. "It's your turn to perform. Shout loud and clear, and tell the people inside to be sensible."

"Yes, yes, yes! Sir, don't worry!" Zhang San nodded repeatedly, his face practically overflowing with sycophancy. "We will definitely make them open the gates and surrender obediently!"

"Go," Lin Mo waved his hand.

The group silently ascended the mountain path. When they stopped in an open area about a hundred feet from the stronghold gate, the three old mountain bandits on the ramparts finally noticed the movement.

"Who's there?!" A one-armed old bandit suddenly stood up, squinting downwards.

The next second, he gasped.

A dense crowd of figures, all young faces armed with weapons.

Even more shocking was the young man at the very front of the formation, wearing intricate iron armor and wielding a Mountain Splitting Axe...

"Th-that's the chief's armor!" another lame old bandit exclaimed, "And the axe! The Mountain Splitting Axe!"

"Did the chief fall?!" The third, a hunchbacked old man, stammered, "Look at those two... it's Zhang San and Li Xi! They're being led by ropes!"

Chaos erupted on the ramparts.

The three mountain bandits clung to the battlements, staring intently at the approaching group, their faces growing paler by the second.

Just then, Zhang San yelled at the top of his lungs:

"Brothers in the stronghold! Don't shoot! It's us! Zhang San and Li Xi!"

As he shouted, he waved his hands vigorously, as if afraid the people on the wall wouldn't see clearly.

"Zhang San! Did you fucking defect?!" The one-armed old bandit roared, but his voice held more fear than anger.

"Brother Wang! A wise man knows when to adapt to circumstances!" Li Xi also shouted:

"The chief is dead!! All the brothers who went out with him are dead! These heroes outside... are here to take over the stronghold!"

"Nonsense!" The hunchbacked old man cursed. "The chief is a Tough Soldier! All the men he took were elites! How could they..."

"Look at the armor! Look at the axe!" Zhang San interrupted him, his voice choked with tears.

"Brother Wang, look for yourselves! The chief's belongings are on him! We saw with our own eyes that the chief's head was chopped off! Blood spurted three feet high!"

Silence fell on the ramparts.

The three old bandits stared intently at Lin Mo's iron armor and Mountain Splitting Axe.

Then they looked behind him at the dozens of "demonic figures" with identical, cold eyes.

Finally, their gaze fell upon Zhang San and Li Xi, being led like dogs.

Facts spoke louder than words.

"Creak—"

The stronghold gate suddenly opened a crack, and a thin old man with a goatee, about fifty years old, poked half his body out.

It was Liu Lao Liu, the steward in charge of logistics for the stronghold.

Liu Lao Liu squinted, carefully observing the approaching party from below the mountain.

When he clearly saw the armor and weapons on Lin Mo's body, his pupils suddenly contracted.

"Gulp." Liu Lao Liu swallowed.

He shoved open the stronghold gate and stumbled out, followed by five other mountain bandits who were either old or injured.

When they were still thirty feet from the party, Liu Lao Liu dropped to his knees with a thud, his forehead hitting the ground.

"This is Liu Lao Liu, steward of Black Wind Stronghold, leading the remaining brothers... to welcome the lord into the stronghold!"

The five mountain bandits behind him also knelt, their movements flustered, their postures humble.

The three old bandits on the stronghold wall saw this and scrambled down, rolling and tumbling, before running behind Liu Lao Liu to kneel, their heads buried low.

The entire process was smooth, almost comical in its seamlessness.

Lin Mo stopped, standing before the nine men kneeling on the ground, his Mountain Splitting Axe planted on the earth, emitting a dull thud.