Humiliation Before the Battle

The morning of the sixth day was quieter than the previous five. The Tiger Tribe camp remained lit. Tong Dachui stood in the open space outside his tent. The sky wasn't fully bright yet; the morning light slanted in from the east, giving the edges of his leather armor a pale golden sheen. He held a bowl of steaming water in his hands, the white steam rising and dissipating in the cool air, like a map slowly unfolding before him. His gaze fell on the boats on the river in the distance, their silhouettes gradually emerging from the shadows on the water as the morning light brightened them. A few steps behind him, Hu Wei Might was squatting on the ground, fastening his boots, bending over, his fingers threading through the leather straps, tying a knot, and then tugging to make sure it wouldn't come loose.

Xueya found Tong Dachui in the last vestiges of darkness before dawn. His boots left dark footprints with each step on the dew-dampened grass. He came alone, without attendants or a horse. He stopped a few steps from Tong Dachui, his collar stained with bits of grass blown in by the night wind, the fine lines around his eyes like wrinkles from a sleepless night. He spoke softly, as if he had rehearsed his words on the way. "Chief Dachui, our Wolf Tribe has suffered considerable losses these past few days. The warriors need rest; some haven't had a proper night's sleep for four or five days. I wish to travel by your Tiger Tribe's boat to the Little Valley Camp Outpost on the east bank of the Fish River to rest for two or three days."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Tong Dachui's profile for a moment, as if waiting for him to finish his sentence, before speaking again, his voice more composed. "If we capture the Valley Tribe's main camp, our Wolf Tribe has no demands for these supplies. We are willing to forgo these rewards. We've already taken what we were entitled to at the Little Valley Camp; we don't need what's here. After we rest for a few days, if you need our assistance, our Wolf Tribe will come to our aid again."

Tong Dachui didn't answer immediately. He brought the bowl to his lips, took a sip of water, and swallowed slowly, as if using that time to listen for the lingering meaning in Xueya's words. His gaze shifted from the river to Xueya's face, lingering for a moment, as if judging whether there was anything else behind those words. He removed the bowl from his lips, twirling the bottom of the bowl halfway through his palm. "Okay. But you have to fight first, then I'll send you across the river to rest."

Without hesitation, Xueya continued almost as soon as Tong Dachui finished speaking, "Okay, I'll go organize men to attack the Valley Tribe's main camp stronghold."

He turned and walked towards his camp, his pace quickening as he had come. The morning light spread behind him, stretching his shadow long across the damp grass, a shadow that trailed diagonally behind him, moving slowly across the grass with each step, extending all the way to the edge of the camp. When he returned to the Wolf Tribe camp, the tents were already being dismantled. Some were folding and rolling up the animal hides from the tent roofs, while others were squatting on the ground, pulling wooden stakes from the ground and placing them on a nearby cart. Yexiao stood at the edge of the camp, holding a roll of bound rope. Seeing Xueya approach, he didn't ask a question, but simply followed half a step behind him, taking a few steps toward the center of the camp.

Tong Dachui stood in the open space in front of the Tiger Tribe's camp, watching Xueya walk away before turning his gaze away. He finished the remaining water in his bowl, paused for a moment at his lips, then placed the bowl on a nearby wooden stake, the bottom of the bowl making a soft thud as it hit the top of the stake. A few steps away, Hu Wei, having just finished fastening his boots, straightened up, dusted off his hands, saw the direction Hammer was looking, and glanced at Xueya's retreating figure. His voice held a tone of confirmation as he spoke, "Chief Dachui, are the Wolf Tribe people leaving?"

Tong Dachui didn't answer immediately. After placing the empty bowl on the wooden stake, he didn't look in that direction again, but turned to look at Hu Wei: "Let them go. They won't contribute much if they stay here, and we'll have to worry about them getting distracted. They've taken the Little Valley Camp and taken what they were supposed to; there's no point in forcing them to stay. Now that all our men are here, we don't need their few men."

He turned back, his gaze passing over Hu Wei's shoulder and landing on the Tiger Tribe's ranks unfolding on the north side of the camp. "Launchute the attack this afternoon. Have the troops prepare; begin after lunch."

After their initial attack, the Wolf Tribe prepared to retreat. Warriors, leading their horses, formed long lines along the dirt road leading to the dock. Before leaving, some bent down to pick up a short piece of rope left behind, rolled it up, and tucked it into their waist pouches. Others paused as they passed the camp wall, glanced in its direction, and continued on. Xueya walked in the middle of the group, his pace neither fast nor slow. Before boarding the boat, he turned back once, his gaze falling across the river onto the wall of the Valley Tribe's main camp. His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. He turned, his boots stepping onto the gangplank, the plank bending slightly beneath his feet, and then he boarded the boat.

Once their camp was cleared, the Tiger Tribe's five thousand soldiers quickly took over. Almost as soon as the last Wolf Tribe horse left, the Tiger Tribe began leveling the ground and re-establishing their camp. Before the Wolf Tribe's troops had even gone far, their men were already driving new stakes into the ground. Their movements were faster and quieter than the Wolf Tribe's —no one spoke loudly, no one looked back, and even the tapping of the stakes was soft and rhythmic. Along the slope outside the north gate, new tents were erected row upon row, arranged more densely and neatly than before, the distance between them as even as if measured in steps.

On the wall of the Valley Tribe's main camp, a soldier on duty leaned against the battlements, wiping the dew from his bow arm with a strip of cloth. He wiped it a couple of times, then stopped, squinting at the rapidly changing camp outside the north gate. The tent roofs were a different color, the flags were a different color, and the spacing between the tents had been rearranged. He watched for a while, then without turning his head, he called to the archer beside him who was tidying up his quiver, "Go tell Chief Fengren that the Wolf Tribe has retreated, and the Tiger Tribe has replaced them. The tents and flags outside the camp gate have all been changed."

The archer put the arrow he had just drawn back into his quiver, turned and ran quickly down the wall. His footsteps faded into the distance on the wooden steps, drowned out by the sound of the wind in the camp and the lapping of oars on the river in the distance.

From the direction of the Bear Tribe, the more than a thousand Tiger Tribe who remained had joined the Bear Tribe's ranks. They lined up in several rows along the flanks of the Bear Tribe's formation, shields against shields, spears pointing diagonally forward. The Bear Tribe's formation, which had appeared somewhat sparse due to losses over the past few days, had become dense again after the Tiger Tribe soldiers filled in. Xiong Lie stood beside a flatbed cart, arms crossed, watching the Tiger Tribe warriors take their positions in the gaps of the Bear Tribe's formation and plant the shields they had brought into the ground. He didn't speak, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze shifting from the backs of the Tiger Tribe warriors to the direction of the Valley Tribe's camp walls.

The afternoon attack began on time, and this attack was more ferocious than any of the previous five days. For the first time, the Tiger Tribe's forces were truly engaged in battle. Their archers formed three ranks and fired in rapid succession, arrows flying towards the camp walls almost without pause. After the first rank finished firing, they retreated, the second rank stepped forward to draw their bows, and the third rank followed, the three ranks alternating in rotation. The arrows struck the wooden planks at the top of the camp walls, producing a dense and even thud, like a heavy rain falling on a taut drumhead, continuous and without gap. The Valley Tribe's warriors hid behind the battlements, only peeking out to return fire when there were gaps in the arrows, but each time they peeked out, it was slower than the last—someone had just drawn his bowstring taut when an arrow grazed the top edge of the battlement and landed on the wall less than a hand's width away from him, the arrowhead embedded in the wood grain, the fletching still trembling slightly. He sheathed his bow, squatted down, and only stood up again after catching his breath.

The camp gate creaked louder than before before the Tiger Tribe's battering ram. The sound of the hammer striking the wooden surface could be heard throughout the entire camp, one after another, even and heavy, like someone repeatedly pounding a cracked wall with their fist. Another crack appeared on the wooden bar on the inside of the gate, extending along the grain to near the hinge. The guards used the wooden bar and sandbags to brace the gate, some bending over and pressing their shoulders against the door. Each impact traveled through the wood to their shoulders, then spread down their spines in a tingling sensation. After each impact, they would quickly glance at the person next to them to make sure they were still there, then turn back, lower their center of gravity, and wait for the next impact.

On the camp wall, an archer had just finished firing a volley of arrows and crouched down to retrieve a new bundle. His knees clicked slightly as he crouched, and his fingers had barely touched the knot when an arrow flew from outside the wall, grazing the top edge of the battlement and embedding itself less than a foot from his left on a wooden plank. The fletching of the arrow trembled slightly in the air before coming to a stop. He stared at the arrow for a moment, then reached for the bundle beside him. He untied the knot, pulled out an arrow, nocked it, stood up, drew the bowstring taut, and released it. The entire movement was fluid and seamless, without a pause because of the previous arrow. His fingers remained focused as he released the bowstring, and the arrow flew steadily along an almost horizontal trajectory toward its target outside the wall.

This attack continued until the sun began to set in the afternoon. More arrows, corpses lying on the ground, and more siege ladders were left outside the camp walls. Several more sections of the Valley Tribe's camp walls were cracked. Most of the spare timber had been used up, and the newly installed planks were much lighter in color than the old ones, standing out conspicuously in the setting sun, like freshly healed scars on the old wall.

As the sun rose on the seventh day, Tong Dachui ordered another attack. The Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe pressed in from both the north and south, their offensive even fiercer than the day before. After being rammed hundreds of times, the camp gate collapsed inward, the hinges came loose, and the door leaned precariously against the frame, as if it had stood for a long time before finally giving way. The Valley Tribe warriors used sandbags and timber to plug the breach, but everyone could see that the gate wouldn't hold for much longer. Casualties within the camp continued to rise, and fewer than three thousand warriors remained who could stand and continue fighting. The wounded lay in makeshift wooden huts and tents; the hemp bandages had run out, and some men tore strips of their clothing to bandage their wounds, the edges of the strips still bearing loose threads. The defensive forces on the camp walls had been compressed to the most critical sections; sections that were once teeming with archers now had only one person standing every few steps.

Just then, Qingsui led her group of female soldiers briskly along the path inside the wall. They wore various clothes; some wore dark brown linen robes, others wore coarse cloth long gowns only for work, and some had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, revealing their strong forearms. They carried spears and short knives. The spears were sharpened wooden shafts, and the short knives were sharpened household Chai Dao and sickles, reinforced with rope tied to the wooden handles, the knots pulled evenly and tightly. They stopped at the base of the wall and took their assigned defensive positions according to their pre-assigned groups. No one spoke, no one looked around, they simply stood there, weapons in hand, gazing towards the outside of the wall. A young woman stood at the front of the group, twirling the spear shaft in her palm before gripping it again. Another, older woman stood beside her, glanced at her slightly, said nothing, then turned back, her gaze returning to the gaps between the wall's battlements.

Daiyue stood on the watchtower all morning without coming down. His right hand gripped the wooden railing, his knuckles white from the force, while his left hand hung at his side, his fingers slightly curled. His gaze moved from the north wall to the south wall, then from the south wall to the river to the east, as if every now and then he would scan those directions again, searching for a figure that had not yet appeared. When his gaze returned from the river, it fell on the female soldiers lined up along the inner wall of the camp. He watched for a while, then his gaze settled on Qingsui Qingsui was standing at the front of the formation, switching the wooden pole in her hand from her right hand to her left and then back again.

Just as Tong Dachui ordered a retreat, Daiyue saw her. Tong Dachui, with a few men, crossed the trampled ground outside the camp wall and stopped about two hundred paces away. He wasn't on horseback, nor did he carry a shield; he simply stood with a few followers on the ground that had been trodden countless times. His followers also stopped after he stopped; some held spears, some were empty-handed, all standing in rows behind him, none stepping forward.

After Tong Dachui stopped, he looked up towards the camp wall. His gaze passed over the battlements and sandbags, landing on the figure behind the battlements, and paused. His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet afternoon battlefield, it was clear enough even at a distance of two hundred paces. "Daiyue, listen up. Your camp is about to fall. Surrender now, open the gates and join the Tiger Tribe, and I might consider sparing your lives."

There was no immediate response from the camp wall. Daiyue stood behind the battlement, one hand resting on the top edge, the other hanging at his side, motionless. Tong Dachui waited a moment, then spoke again, his voice rising slightly, as if adding something he had just remembered, "Your daughter, Qingsui, I find quite lovely. To strengthen the bond between our two families, your daughter will become my concubine."

A moment of silence fell over the camp wall. Then Daiyue's voice came from behind the battlements, rising from a low pitch to a high pitch, from restraint to an explosive outburst, as if squeezed from the depths of his chest. "You shameless bastard! You're almost my age, and you're still eyeing my daughter, wanting her as your concubine? Don't even think about it!"

His voice echoed above the camp wall for a while before falling. Qingsui, standing at the front of the ranks at the foot of the wall, tightened her grip on the wooden pole in her hand slightly when she heard those words, but did not move. She stood in her position, her gaze shifting from the figure of the Tong Dachui to the ground in front of her, then lifting it again.

Tong Dachui stood outside the camp wall, his expression unchanged upon hearing Daiyue's reply. He waited until Daiyue's voice had completely subsided before speaking again, his tone flatter than before, as if he had switched to a different frequency. "You'd better think this through. If you dare to resist again, your fate will be even worse once we breach your camp."

There was a moment of silence behind the camp wall. Then Daiyue's voice rang out again, lower than before, but still clear, each word as if it had been pressed to the side before being released. "If you want to take our camp, then come on."

Tong Dachui remained silent. He stood there for a moment, gazing towards the camp wall. His gaze lingered on Daiyue's position, then swept across Qingsui's direction for a fleeting instant before he turned and walked towards the Tiger Tribe's camp. His pace was neither fast nor slow, as if he had already said everything he needed to say. His boots pounded firmly on the muddy ground, each step steady and measured. His entourage followed behind him, maintaining the same pace.

After he returned to the camp, Hu Wei happened to walk over to greet him from the side of the tent. Seeing his expression, Hu Wei didn't ask about the outcome, but simply stood there waiting for him to speak first. Tong Dachui paused in front of him, his voice low but clear. "Tonight, let the warriors have a good meal and a good rest. Tomorrow, prepare for the final assault. Once we've taken down the Valley Tribe's camp, let's see if Daiyue still dares to talk to me like that!"