Defending the Camp
After the warriors of the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe crossed the Fish River, they did not immediately launch an attack. Instead, they regrouped on the riverbanks and gentle slopes for a period of time before surrounding the Valley Tribe's main camp.
The Wolf Tribe was responsible for surrounding the north gate of the Valley Tribe Tribe's main camp. Their cavalry were scattered across a slope outside the north gate, setting up sentry posts at intervals. Several men rode in groups, their eyes fixed on the camp walls. Yexiao Owl, riding a gray horse, stood at the head of the column. His horse was grazing with its head down. He didn't urge it on, but simply sat on its back, his legs gently gripping the horse's belly. Behind him, more than twenty cavalrymen were spread out in an arc. He occasionally turned his head to glance at the distant camp walls, then looked away. He didn't order them to advance or retreat; he simply stood there, as if measuring the camp's reaction speed with the passage of time.
The Bear Tribe was responsible for surrounding the south gate. Their troops formed ranks on an open area outside the gate. Xiong Lie stood on a high cart in the middle of the formation, his feet on a thick wooden plank, his hands on the cart railing. His gaze passed over the edge of the shield formation in front of him and landed on the battlements of the camp wall. He squinted slightly, as if trying to discern whether the moving figures behind the battlements were warriors or ordinary tribesmen. He occasionally turned his head to say something to the person next to him, his voice cut off by the wind. The person next to him nodded, turned around and ran a few steps along the formation to relay the order. His boots creaked slightly as he stepped on the cart's plank, shifting his weight occasionally.
The Tiger Tribe was responsible for blocking the eastern dock. Their fleet was lined up on the water, completely blocking the river in front of the dock. Several giant ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 catties were positioned across the middle of the river, their Chuantou facing the shore. Archers on the decks were lined up in several rows, their bows already nocked but not drawn. Some people sat on the deck, bending over to adjust their quivers, straightening each arrow shaft one by one. The ships were spaced about two zhang apart, just enough for small boats to pass, but definitely not large ships. The Valley Tribe's ships that had been moored at the dock had been removed, and the mooring posts were empty, with only a few ropes still attached, one end dangling in the water, swinging back and forth with the waves.
Only a small number of troops were monitoring the west gate of the Valley Tribe headquarters. Dozens of cavalrymen were scattered on the dirt road outside the west gate, maintaining a distance of about one or two arrow-lengths, not approaching the camp gate. The horses stood by the roadside, some grazing with their heads down, and others looking up in the direction of the camp gate. This was the result of the three tribes' discussion: if the Valley Tribe broke out from the west gate, the cavalry of the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe could pursue and chase them from the north and south sides, encircling and intercepting them on the open plains. At that time, even if the Valley Tribe escaped from the camp, they would be caught up and defeated by the cavalry on the flat ground. Meanwhile, the main force of the Tiger Tribe could take advantage of the emptiness of their camp and directly attack the east gate of the Valley Tribe headquarters from the direction of the dock.
Daiyue, from the Valley Tribe headquarters, stood atop the watchtower, two steps higher than usual. His hands gripped the wooden railing, his knuckles slightly white, his robes swaying in the wind. His gaze moved from the north gate to the south gate, then to the dark mass of boats on the eastern river, before returning to the south gate. He didn't speak, but his fingers tapped lightly on the railing, a rhythm neither too fast nor too slow, as if counting the number of people and boats outside the camp walls. A few steps behind him, Fengren stood.
Daiyue said, "It seems the Tiger Tribe is serious. The fleet they brought this time is much larger than the one they brought last time. The number of ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin is more than double what they used to have. I wonder if they will send more troops later. If they do, our situation will be even more troublesome."
He didn't turn his head as he spoke; his gaze remained fixed on the distant silhouettes of the ships.
Fengren continued, "Fortunately, the chief had anticipated that the Tiger Tribe would arrive in the next couple of days, so he didn't divert his forces to rescue the already breached Little Valley Camp Outpost. He also had the Bean Tribe and their core tribe send two thousand able-bodied warriors to assist in the battle. Otherwise, with our main force of the Valley Tribe of just over six thousand warriors, it would have been extremely difficult to cope. Now we still have at least eight thousand troops at our disposal, which should be enough to hold them off for a while."
He paused, glanced at the figures arrayed outside the camp wall, and lowered his voice slightly, saying, "The people sent by the Bean Tribe, although they are all able-bodied, are not as well-trained as our own soldiers. I had them assigned to the second line, instead of putting them directly at the front. Let them see how our people fight first, so that when they are needed to fill in, they will know what they should do."
Daiyue nodded and said, "Yes, with our limited forces, we definitely can't hold out against the constant attacks from those three tribes. We hope that the Fire Tribe can send enough personnel to support us in time after receiving the signal. Otherwise, our Valley Tribe will not only suffer a great loss of strength this time, but may even be wiped out. The Little Valley Camp is already gone, and we can't afford to lose our headquarters as well."
He paused, turned to look at Fengren, and raised his voice slightly, saying, "Quyong led our Valley Tribe's main fleet; they didn't manage to attack us, did they?"
Fengren shook his head and said, "No, Quyong very alert. As soon as he saw the Tiger Tribe's fleet in the distance, he led all the boats upstream along the Fish River."
Upon hearing this, Daiyue's tense expression relaxed slightly, as if a long-burdened Shitou had been moved a little. He pursed his lips, then relaxed them again, saying, "That's good. These ships are the result of our hard work. Now that the Little Valley Camp Outpost has been lost, these ships are what our Valley Tribe has painstakingly accumulated. We can't afford to lose them again. The Tiger Tribe is truly cunning. I don't know what method they used, but they managed to get the Wolf Tribe and Bear Tribe to lead the attack and inform our warriors that our Little Valley Camp Outpost was attacked by those two scoundrels. Our relatives and tribesmen died at their hands, and they looted all our food and supplies. If they dare to make a move, we'll make them pay this time."
Fengren nodded without asking any further questions. He turned and strode down the watchtower. His boots made short, even sounds as he stepped on the wooden steps, neither too fast nor too slow. He paused on the last step, glanced back at Daiyue, and then continued towards the camp.
That evening, the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe launched their first probing attack on the Valley Tribe's main camp. The attacking forces pressed forward simultaneously from the north and south gates. Soldiers led the way, shields clashing together with short, sharp clanging sounds. Spearmen followed behind, while archers drew their bows further back, volleys of arrows flying over the camp walls with a continuous whooshing sound. Some arrows embedded themselves in the wooden stakes, their fletching still trembling slightly; others flew over the walls and landed inside the camp, embedding themselves in the mud, their shafts bouncing on the ground before stopping. Valley Tribe warriors leaned out from behind the battlements, thrusting their spears downwards. Some were struck in the shoulder by the spear tips and fell from the ladders, landing on the ground outside the camp walls, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The first wave of attacks lasted about half an hour, gaining little advantage. Both the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe suffered losses of about a hundred men each. The attacking forces slowly retreated into the twilight, regrouping once they were out of arrow range. Scattered corpses and several overturned ladders lay on the ground outside the camp walls, the broken wooden poles showing faint, fresh marks in the twilight. The Valley Tribe warriors on the camp walls did not pursue. Some put down their spears and leaned against the battlements, catching their breath; others bent down, picked up an arrow from the ground, glanced at it, and put it down again. The enemy forces outside the walls were retreating, their footsteps and short commands gradually moving into the distance, like a receding tide slowly returning to its rightful place.
That night, the camps of the Wolf Tribe and Bear Tribe were lit by fires all night long. Some people were sharpening their blades, the sound of the whetstone moving back and forth on the blades like a low conversation; others were adjusting the tension of bowstrings, running their fingers along the string from end to end and then releasing it; still others were whittling newly felled wood into crossbars for ladders, whittling away piece by piece, a thin layer of sawdust falling around the fire. The whittled pieces of wood were stacked one by one on the open ground next to the tents, the crossbars almost uniform in thickness, showing that they had been done many times. The firelight shone on the faces of those sitting and working, casting clear light and shadow on their silhouettes. Someone yawned and then continued to whittle wood.
Early the next morning, just as dawn broke, the Wolf Tribe and Bear Tribe launched an even larger-scale attack. Before the morning light had fully spread and the dew on the camp walls had dried, the first wave of attacks began. They were much better prepared than the day before, increasing the number of siege ladders from a few to more than a dozen, and the battering ram had been moved from the temporary camp to the front lines. It was a hammer made from a single thick log, with a bronze battering head at the front. The hammer was suspended from a wooden frame by ropes, and people pulled from the front and pushed from the back, the wheels pressing deep ruts into the muddy ground.
When the battering ram stopped, its head was aimed at the center of the camp gate. Several men held the rope and swung the ram back and forth, striking the wooden planks of the gate repeatedly. With each strike, the gate dented inward a little, and the hinges creaked dully, as if the planks were using their own strength to withstand each impact. Inside the gate, the warriors of the Valley Tribe used wooden poles and sandbags to brace the gate. Someone squatted behind the gate, holding one end of the wooden pole with his hand. The impact from the shaking of the gate traveled along the wooden pole to his palm, and his fingers trembled slightly with the vibration before quickly regaining their balance.
One after another, soldiers climbed the ladders. Some were pushed down, landing on the shields below and rolling to the ground. Others climbed over the ramparts and wrestled with the guards. The clash of blades was short and frequent, rising and falling amidst the shouts of battle. The guards took turns advancing. Some retreated with freshly soaked bloodstains wrapped around their arms, sat against the wall for a moment, then stood up and walked back to the wall.
Two attacks were launched in the morning, and two more in the afternoon. Each attack seemed to be scheduled at the same time—first, a rain of arrows; then, ladders against the wall; battering rams striking the wooden gate; then, soldiers climbing the wall, being pushed back; and then retreating, leaving behind a new batch of corpses and more broken ladder wreckage. The wooden bar inside the camp gate had been replaced with a new one; the original one had been cracked, with the crack extending from the middle to both ends, as if it would break in two at any moment.
Over the course of two days, both the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe suffered losses of approximately five hundred men each day. Adding the casualties from the previous day's probing attack, the total casualties had approached two thousand. Scattered across the ground outside the camp walls were more remnants of siege ladders and broken arrows. A shallow pool of blood had accumulated at the base of the walls, gleaming a dark reddish sheen in the afternoon sun. Two sections of the wooden planks in the walls had been pierced by arrows, splinters still protruding from the cracks. The Valley Tribe warriors had patched them up with spare planks during lulls in the fighting, hammering in nails one by one, the sound particularly clear in the quiet of the lulls in the battle.
Both tribal chiefs were furious. Xiong Lie paced back and forth in the makeshift command tent, his boots stomping heavily on the muddy ground with each step, as if trying to stomp the earth firmly beneath his feet to suppress his anger. His voice, filled with barely suppressed rage, came from inside the tent. "So many people have been fighting for two days, and they can't even get over a single wall? The Valley Tribe only has so few people left, how much longer can they hold out?"
His voice was carried a long way by the wind, and messengers came and went, almost no one stopping. Xueya sat in his tent, a wooden tablet on the low table in front of him, bearing the battle damage statistics that had just been recorded. He didn't look at the tablet; his gaze was fixed on the gap in the tent flap, as if waiting for the first ray of light to enter when the flap was lifted, hoping it would bring some better news. He waited a while, the flap was stirred by the wind, letting in a sliver of the orange-red evening light, before closing again.
The attack continued on the third day.
This offensive was even fiercer than the previous two days. The Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe seemed to have unleashed all their stored siege equipment. There were more siege ladders, lined up outside the camp walls like a row of upright ribs. The battering ram had been replaced with a thicker one, and the ground trembled more violently when the hammer hit the ground than yesterday; even those standing on the inside of the wall could feel the tremors beneath their feet. The battle cries outside the camp were louder than the previous two days, and the frequency of arrows was also higher. The arrows in the sky resembled a constantly moving gray cloud, appearing and disappearing in the afternoon sun. Several sections of the Valley Tribe's battlements were pierced by arrows, and wood chips flew everywhere. The soldiers guarding the wall bent down to avoid them, then straightened up to continue patching the gaps.
But the Valley Tribe still did not retreat.
The warriors on the wall rotated in waves; some retreated with wounds, while others bandaged their wounds and returned to the wall. They used fewer arrows than the previous two days, but their accuracy remained unchanged. When a group of the Wolf Tribe warriors were knocked down by spears at the top of the ladder, a short shout came from inside the camp wall, quickly drowned out by the shouts of battle outside. The group landed at the base of the wall, their bodies sinking into the dust, stirring up a small cloud of grayish-brown mist.
When the battle casualty count came out, the total number of casualties for the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe had exceeded two thousand, with even more wounded. The makeshift medical shed in the camp was already crowded with people. Used and unused burlap bandages were piled up in the corners of the sheds, and the ground was stained with dark red water stains, with blurry footprints left behind after being stepped on. Several wounded lay on the open ground outside the shed, their wounds hastily bandaged with strips of cloth. Some were groaning softly, while others rested with their eyes closed against wooden stakes, their breathing steady but their brows still furrowed.
The offensive of the two tribes slowed down, and no large-scale attack was launched that afternoon. Only a few volleys of arrows were fired towards the camp wall, as if to confirm whether anyone from the Valley Tribe was still guarding it. The arrows landed sparsely and did not cause any new injuries. The Valley Tribe itself also suffered heavy losses, reaching over a thousand people, with even more wounded. Spare weapons from the warehouse were taken out and distributed, and spare timber that had been stored in the corner of the wall was moved to the top of the wall to repair the cracked wall panels and the gaps pierced by arrows.
But the Valley Tribe still did not retreat. Those standing on the camp wall included veterans who had been rotating since the first night, and young men from the Bean Tribe who had come to help. The younger ones still bore the tension of when they first climbed the wall; the veins on the backs of their hands gripping their swords bulged, and their knuckles were unnaturally white, as if they had forgotten how to relax after exerting themselves for so long. The older ones leaned against the battlements, adjusting their breathing, their eyes fixed on the enemy figures outside the wall who were regrouping. Their gazes moved back and forth between the cavalry and infantry formations in the distance, occasionally glancing at the sky, as if using their experience to estimate the time of the next attack, and also to estimate how long they could hold out. Their breathing was more steady than that of the younger ones, and they did not change the bandages on their hands, which were soaked through. They simply leaned against the wall, slowly adjusting the depth of their breathing, as if they were using their bodies to fill the gaps in the wall inch by inch, keeping those outside the wall outside, and allowing those inside to catch their breath.
As evening fell, Fengren crossed the camp and walked to Daiyue's side. A new linen bandage was wrapped around his left arm, the edges tightly bound, and no blood seeped through, indicating the wound wasn't deep. He stopped in front of Daiyue, his voice hoarse from days of shouting, "Chief, we've just harvested our first batch of grain, and the rice seedlings haven't been planted yet. Judging from their posture, they definitely intend to continue fighting. Even if we drive them away, the grain yield will be greatly affected, and the autumn harvest will likely be significantly reduced. With the work in the fields halted, some seedlings may already be too late to plant."
Daiyue stood atop the watchtower, his gaze still fixed on the enemy camp beyond the wall. Dusk was creeping in from the east, slowly merging the outlines of the tents and flags into the increasingly dim light, like a painting being washed away. He listened to Fengren's words, remained silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice low but steady, as if each word had been lingering in his throat for some time before finally being uttered. "We can't worry about that now. Seedlings can be planted later, the land can be tilled later, but once people are gone, everything is lost. We can only hold out until the Fire Tribe's reinforcements arrive. Judging from the situation, the Fire Tribe should already be on their way."
He paused, as if to reassure himself before continuing, "If we can drive them away, we can still manage to plant some seedlings. Although the yield will be affected, we can still have some harvest. We also have reserve food; if we eat sparingly, it will be barely enough. The current situation is that if we can't hold out until the Fire Tribe's reinforcements arrive, our entire Valley Tribe will be wiped out."
He turned to look at Fengren, his voice lower than before, but every word seemed perfectly placed. "Focus on resistance first. Go and reassure everyone, let them know we're not just waiting to die. Those people outside the walls can't break us. If we hold out for a few more days, reinforcements will arrive."
Fengren nodded, said nothing more, and turned to walk down the steps of the watchtower.