Retreat in Defeat
Just as the fleets of the Fire Tribe and the Valley Tribe were sailing aggressively down the Fish River, Tong Dachui of the Tiger Tribe stood at the bow of his largest ship, a massive Chuantou with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin (50,000 kg), hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping across the river. The spring sunlight shimmered on the water, but a vague unease lingered in his heart, like a thorn stuck there, or a Shitou pressing on his chest, impossible to shake off. He squinted, like a Jingjue wolf, watching the thick smoke rising from the distant Little Valley Camp Outpost, billowing black smoke; listening to the faint, intermittent shouts of battle, his brow furrowed slightly, forming a small knot.
Huwei stood next to him, also looking in that direction, with his hands folded across his chest, tapping his fingers lightly on his arms. His eyes were shrewd, like a fox, with a short beard and slender fingers. There was a bit of doubt and confusion in his voice, and a bit of emotion as he spoke:
"This Valley Tribe is acting strangely. In the past, when the Valley Tribe dealt with our Tiger Tribe, they were always subservient, heads bowed and backs bent, like mice before a cat. Whatever our requests, the Valley Tribe would try their best to fulfill them, never daring to say no. I never expected that in just one or two years, they would become so disobedient, as if they had eaten the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard. Even when they were at a complete disadvantage, they still shot arrows at Hu Zhua and the others. They really don't know what's good for them and are truly courting death."
Hu Ya's voice carried a hint of solemnity and worry, his brow furrowed as he spoke, "The resistance at the Valley Tribe's Little Valley Camp Outpost is far more tenacious than we imagined. They're like Shitou in a latrine, stubborn and unyielding. Although their warriors are few in number, they're all fighting with their lives on the line, like they're possessed, like madmen. At this rate, if our Tiger Tribe doesn't send reinforcements, with only the Bear Tribe Bear Tribe's small force, it will take them at least until tomorrow to take down the Valley Tribe's Little Valley Camp Outpost."
Hu Zhua leaned closer, his voice tinged with urgency, anxiety, and resentment. "Dachui Hammer, let's send reinforcements! We can't wait any longer. This Valley Tribe is so ungrateful. If we can't deliver a strong blow immediately and crush them in one fell swoop, the other tribes on the Fish River will think our Tiger Tribe Tiger Tribe is weak. Who will be afraid of us then? Who will listen to the Tiger Tribe?"
The Tiger Tribe's Tong Dachui didn't answer immediately. He remained silent, like a statue, motionless. His brows were furrowed, and deep lines etched his forehead. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke slowly in a low voice:
"Now is not the time for our Tiger Tribe to take action. We cannot be hasty, nor can we afford to be. We can send craftsmen to the Valley Tribe's Little Valley Camp Outpost. They are skilled and capable, and can be of great help. I have a feeling of unease today, like a Shitou is pressing on my heart, or like something big is about to happen. My eyelids keep twitching. For now, we should just seal off this area of water and see what happens."
Hu Wei, Hu Ya, and Hu Zhua exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with a mixture of helplessness and confusion. They knew that although Tong Dachui was sometimes arrogant and disdainful of others, his intuition was always accurate, as sharp as a wild beast. Since he expressed unease, there must be a reason, and something big was about to happen. They all fell silent and dispersed to prepare themselves.
In the Little Valley Camp Outpost Valley Tribe tribe, Daiyan stood atop the watchtower, his hands gripping the wooden railing so tightly his fingers turned white. Looking down at the densely packed Bear Tribe cavalry outside, he was filled with anxiety. Although he knew reinforcements would arrive today— Quyong had sent a message at breakneck speed—he didn't know when they would arrive. His heart was in turmoil. With the assistance of the Tiger Tribe's artisans, the Bear Tribe launched wave after wave of attacks, like a tidal wave, each one higher than the last. Daiyan was already struggling to defend the camp. Although his warriors fought desperately, many wounded, casualties continued to rise.
Although few soldiers died, many were wounded. Hundreds lay groaning in the thatched huts; some had broken arms with bones protruding; some had broken legs and couldn't stand; some had arrows piercing their shoulders, bleeding profusely. The huts reeked of blood and echoed with cries of agony, like a scene from hell. Daiyan estimated that if the Bear Tribe continued their attacks at this intensity, he and his men would only be able to hold out until tomorrow at most. If the Tiger Tribe intervened to help the Bear Tribe attack Little Valley Camp, the Little Valley Camp Outpost would fall to the enemy before tonight.
Inside the camp were the wealth and treasures that Daiyan had collected over the years. Those things were his lifeblood, his precious treasures. These things were more important than his life. Daiyan would never allow the camp to be breached, he would never let his treasures fall into the hands of others, and he would never let his hard work be destroyed.
To incentivize the soldiers in the camp to defend themselves and fight to the death, Daiyan was generous for once. He ordered the warehouses opened and sacks of grain carried out, piling them in the center of the camp like a Little Mountain. The grain was allowed to be eaten freely, without rations, as much as they wanted. Those who killed many enemies received rewards from Daiyan: bronze knives, salt, cloth, and so on, all paid out on the spot. Daiyan also sent men to spread the word loudly, shouting throughout the camp so every soldier could hear. He warned that if the camp fell, their possessions would be ruthlessly plundered by the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe; even their freedom and lives would be uncertain. Wives and daughters would be taken, children would be killed, houses would be burned, and all their food would be looted.
Stimulated by the various benefits and crises at Daiyan, the morale of the Little Valley Camp Outpost remained strong, like an oil lamp that, though on the verge of extinction, was still burning. The soldiers, with red eyes like rabbits and gritted teeth like wolves, desperately fired arrows, raining them down; they fought back fiercely, refusing to yield an inch. They were like a pack of mother wolves protecting their cubs, like a pack of eagles guarding their nest.
Just as the battle raged fiercely at the Little Valley Camp Outpost of the Valley Tribe, shouts of battle shook the heavens and arrows flew everywhere. Yan and Quyong led a large fleet down the Fish River and rushed into the vicinity of the Tiger Tribe and the Bear Tribe.
Five colossal ships, each capable of carrying 100,000 jin (50,000 kg) each, led the way, their Chuantou raised high like five Little Mountain, five giant beasts, or five moving castles. Behind them followed fifty large ships, each carrying 50,000 jin (25,000 kg), and hundreds of smaller vessels, a magnificent procession like a giant dragon, a vast army, or a floating forest. The sails billowed in the spring breeze, whistling like birds in flight; the oars sliced through the water, splashing like fish swimming. Wherever the fleet passed, the river surged, Langhua splashed, like a boiling pot.
The watchtowers of the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe were astonished by the sudden appearance of the massive fleet on the upper reaches of the Fish River. Their eyes widened in disbelief, their jaws nearly agape, and their mouths gaped open like hippos'. They never imagined such a large fleet could exist on the upper reaches of the Fish River; it seemed as if it had fallen from the sky. However, they reacted quickly and, being well-trained, immediately sounded the warning with their bull horns. The deep, resonant sound of the horns echoed across the river, carrying far and wide, like the howl of wolves.
Soon, the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe received the warning, and chaos erupted within the fleet, like a pot boiling over or a hornet's nest being stirred up. Warriors ran around like headless flies; some shouted, their voices high-pitched and shrill; some searched for weapons, rummaging through chests and cabinets; some hoisted the sails, their hands trembling in disarray; some rowed, Shuihua splashing everywhere. Tong Dachui stood at the Chuantou, his face ashen, like the sky before a storm, dark clouds gathering. He gritted his teeth, his jaw grinding, and roared orders, his voice like thunder, directing the fleet to prepare for battle.
Just as they finished preparing their fleet for battle, the fleet was not yet fully deployed, and the formation was still somewhat chaotic, like a pile of loose sand. Yan and Quyong's fleet also arrived near the main force of the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe fleets. The two fleets were getting closer and closer, like two groups of bulls charging head-on, like two packs of hungry wolves pouncing on each other.
Yan stood at the Chuantou the largest ship, weighing 100,000 jin (approximately 50,000 kg), hands on his hips, his gaze sharp and cold, like two knives or two bolts of lightning. He raised his hand, his arm powerful, like a knife slashing down, and with a sudden swing, his voice echoed across the river like thunder, "Charge! Charge!"
The Fire Tribe's fleet, like enraged beasts or a pack of hungry wolves, charged towards the Tiger Tribe's fleet. A battle quickly erupted on the Fish River. Arrows rained down like locusts; catapult Shitou whistled through the air, crashing down like meteors; the battle cries shook the heavens, even the river trembled, and the fish were frightened into diving to the bottom.
The Fire Tribe's fleet held a massive advantage in both number and size: five colossal ships weighing 100,000 jin each against three, fifty large ships weighing 50,000 jin each against twenty, and the remaining hundred or so smaller ships against dozens. It was like an adult beating children, like cutting melons and vegetables. Tong Dachui had initially thought the Fire Tribe's ships were just for show, big but useless, easily broken upon impact, like paper or eggshells. But he was quickly proven wrong, his face burning as if he'd been slapped.
The Fire Tribe's large ships were fitted with bronze protective plates on key parts. The Chuantou, sides, and stern were all covered with thick bronze, gleaming with a bluish-green light in the sunlight, like wearing a layer of armor. Rams, cast in bronze, were also installed at the bow and stern; they were sharp and hard, like rhinoceros horns or wild boar Liaoya. The ships were also equipped with simple catapults, small but powerful, capable of hurling Shitou weighing dozens of kilograms a great distance, creating large holes in the ship upon impact. The Fire Tribe warriors were also well-supplied with bows and arrows; each carried two quivers filled with arrows, resembling hedgehogs or stacks of arrows.
The Fire Tribe's ships charged forward, like a sharp dagger piercing the Tiger Tribe's fleet, like a sword thrusting into the enemy's heart. A colossal ship weighing 100,000 jin (approximately 50,000 kg) was struck on the side by the Fire Tribe's ship; the bronze battering ram was deeply embedded in the hull, planks shattered, and wood chips flew everywhere like snowflakes. River water surged in like a waterfall. The Tiger Tribe warriors on board panicked; some jumped into the river, splashing around like dumplings being dropped into boiling water; some screamed, their voices shrill and mournful, like pigs being slaughtered; some were knocked down, falling onto the deck, their heads bleeding. The colossal ship slowly tilted, like a dying beast, like a collapsing mountain, and slowly sank into the water, strings of bubbles rising to the surface, gurgling and bubbling, like weeping.
The Fire Tribe's fleet made one round trip, like combing hair, and the Tiger Tribe lost a ship with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin and several ships with a carrying capacity of 50,000 jin. Ship planks floated on the river like leaves; corpses also floated on the river like logs; the river water was stained red, like blood. Seeing the dire situation, Tong Dachui and his men from the Tiger Tribe turned deathly pale, like blank sheets of paper, like white cloth. They knew they couldn't win; if they continued fighting, they might be completely annihilated, without even a chance to escape. Tong Dachui gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, like a rabbit's, as if about to bleed. He immediately ordered the bull horn to be sounded, issuing the order to retreat, his voice urgent and urgent, like a death knell, like a ghostly wail.
The Tiger Tribe's fleet turned Chuantou and raced downstream, oars flashing and splashing Shuihua everywhere, like a flock of startled ducks or a group of fleeing rabbits. Yan and his men sent Feiyu and Bailin with a fleet of ships in pursuit for a while, like hunting dogs chasing rabbits, sinking several slow-moving ships and shooting down many Tiger Tribe warriors who had fallen into the water, like target practice. Then, Yan himself led the fleet to continue to surround and kill the Tiger Tribe's ships that had taken on water and could not move, taking them down one by one, like picking up scraps or harvesting fruit.
The fleets of the Bear Tribe and the Valley Tribe's main force, led by Quyong, were locked in a fierce and evenly matched battle, like two bulls locked together, or two snakes entwined. Although the Valley Tribe's fleet had lost half its ships, leaving only five large ships weighing 50,000 jin each and dozens of smaller ones, it still held the advantage in numbers and size, like an adult against children. However, the Valley Tribe Tribe's ships had previously been pursued by the Tiger Tribe's fleet and had sustained some damage. Some sails were torn like rags; some hulls were cracked like open mouths; and some oars were broken like broken arms. Therefore, this battle with the Bear Tribe was so intense that neither side could gain the upper hand, like two boxers fighting until their faces were covered in blood.
However, the Bear Tribe saw that the Tiger Tribe's ships had been defeated by the Fire Tribe's fleet in a single round, like autumn leaves swept away by the wind. They had suffered a great loss at the hands of the Fire Tribe, and even the Tiger Tribe's Tong Dachui had given the order to retreat, fleeing like stray dogs. The Bear Tribe's fleet followed the Tiger Tribe's fleet, fleeing desperately downstream along the Fish River, not daring to look back or even glance at the past.
Quyong, the commander of the Valley Tribe, initially wanted to pursue and finish off the fleeing enemy, but upon hearing the faint sounds of battle cries from the Valley Tribe's Little Valley Camp, he became uneasy, his heart pounding. He worried that the Little Valley Camp wouldn't hold out, that Daiyan might be in danger, or that the Little Valley Camp might be breached. Therefore, he abandoned his pursuit. After confirming that the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe ' fleets dared not return, he sailed his boat to the Little Valley Camp on the east bank of the Fish River to reinforce it and check on Daiyan's Little Valley Camp.
At the Little Valley Camp Outpost of the Valley Tribe, Daiyan stood atop the watchtower, shading his eyes with his hand, and also saw the commotion on the Fish River. He saw the Fire Tribe's giant ship, as large as Little Mountain; he saw the Tiger Tribe's ship rammed and sunk, sinking like Shitou to the bottom; he saw the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe fleets fleeing in disarray, like stray dogs. His eyes suddenly lit up, like two lamps suddenly lit in the darkness, like the morning star before dawn. He was so excited that he almost jumped off the watchtower, his legs went weak, and he shouted, "They're here! They're here! Reinforcements are here! Heaven has not forsaken my Valley Tribe!"
Shi Lei, from the Valley Tribe's main force, arrived near the Valley Tribe Little Valley Camp with two thousand cavalry. The thunderous sound of their hooves shook the earth, raising clouds of dust that resembled a giant yellow dragon or a sandstorm. Xiong Lie of the Bear Tribe stood on a high slope, shading his eyes with his hand. He watched the fleet on the Fish River retreat, drenched like drowned rats; then he saw the Valley Tribe's reinforcements flanking from behind, attacking from both sides like pincers. He knew the situation was hopeless; there was no chance of survival. Continuing the fight would only result in his own demise. Gritting his teeth, he stomped his foot, crushing the Shitou on the ground, and cursed angrily, hurling insults at his ancestors for eighteen generations. Then, he led the Bear Tribe's cavalry in a swift retreat, like a gust of wind, like a flock of startled birds, leaving no time to pack up their tents or extinguish their cooking fires.
Watching the Bear Tribe and Tiger Tribe retreat like the receding tide, the people at the Little Valley Camp Outpost cheered loudly, their voices deafening, like thunder, like a mountain collapsing. The warriors raised their weapons, waving them and shouting; some embraced each other, tears welling in their eyes; some knelt on the ground, thanking heaven; some wept uncontrollably. They had finally held on; they had finally received reinforcements; they had finally survived.