Beacon Fire from the South

On the afternoon of the same day that the Wolf Tribe and Bear Tribe crossed the river and surrounded the Valley Tribe's main camp, Yan of the Fire Tribe was making a routine docking at the Green Leaf River Mouth Outpost with his fleet. Just then, a wisp of smoke that looked different appeared on the distant horizon.

The smoke started as a thin wisp, barely noticeable in the afternoon's greyish-white sky, like someone had lit a small pile of damp firewood on the horizon, only to have it suppressed by the wind before it could even ignite. But it quickly thickened, transforming from a thin line into a column of greyish-black smoke, rising steadily into the sky without being dispersed by the wind. People on the dock stopped what they were doing and looked up in that direction. A soldier put down the rope he was holding, straightened up, and squinted at the distant wisp of smoke. His chin was slightly raised, his lips parted, as if confirming that the direction matched the markings on the map. A companion beside him also stopped what he was doing, followed his gaze, and turned his head to ask something in a low voice. The soldier shook his head, offering no reply, his gaze remaining fixed on the horizon.

Another leader, who was walking towards the warehouse, also stopped and glanced in that direction. He placed the ceramic bowl he was carrying on a nearby wooden stake, the rim of the bowl tapping softly against the top of the stake. Then he looked down at the ground beneath his feet, as if confirming that it was indeed the direction of the Valley Tribe —the location of the smoke column coincided with the location of the beacon tower in his memory, without any deviation.

Yan also saw the wisp of smoke. The wooden tablet in his hand stopped in mid-air, his gaze following the direction of the smoke column, from its base to its top, then checking the angle of its tilt in the wind. He didn't speak, just stood there watching. After about five or six breaths, he handed the bundle of hemp rope to the person next to him, turned and walked towards the council hall of the Green Leaf River Mouth Outpost. His pace was quicker than usual, the wooden tablet tucked under his arm, its edge against his ribs, moving slightly up and down with each step. The docks behind him resumed their bustling activity after he left, but the movements lacked some of the relaxedness, and instead carried a sense of restraint.

Dazhuang had already come from the other side of the dock. He wasn't walking fast, but his strides were large, each step half a foot longer than usual. There was no sign of panic on his face, but his gaze was more intense than usual, his lips were pursed into a line, and his chin was taut and never relaxed. The two of them pushed open the door to the council chamber at almost the same time and went in. The edge of the wooden door made a short, sharp scraping sound as it brushed against the doorframe, and then closed behind them.

The council chamber was unlit; afternoon light streamed in through the windows, casting a warm yellow glow on the table and illuminating the wooden tablets and ceramic bowls that had not yet been put away. Neither of them sat down; Yan stood on one side of the table, Dazhuang on the other, separated by the long table covered with scattered items.

Yan skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. His voice was a bit faster than usual, but his enunciation remained clear, as if each word had been paused before uttering to ensure it wouldn't become blurred due to the speed. "Uncle Dazhuang, you should have seen the beacon fire warning from the Valley Tribe. From that direction and at that distance, it could only have started burning from the Valley Tribe's side. I suspect it's highly likely that the Wolf Tribe and Bear Tribe are attacking the Valley Tribe's Little Valley Camp. The Tiger Tribe might even join in later."

He paused, as if mentally rehearsing what he was about to say, "We need to gather our forces and go to their aid immediately. The Valley Tribe is our ally; we can't just sit idly by. The fighting has reached this point; they must be unable to hold on any longer."

Dazhuang didn't sit down. He rested his hands on the edge of the table, leaning slightly forward, his gaze fixed on Yan's face. His brows were furrowed, as if he were calculating something while listening. When he spoke, his voice was low, but carried a Chenwen weighed down by reality. "Yes. But how many men should we send this time? How do we calculate the provisions? Should the fleet's organization be rearranged?"

He straightened up, tapped his finger on the table, and his knuckles made a soft thud on the wooden board. "Although my Green Leaf River Mouth Outpost, Little Horse River Mouth Outpost, and Clothing River Mouth Outpost have developed well recently, and the population has increased significantly compared to last year, the total number of warriors is only around ten thousand. Even if we send people to the Little Fish River Mouth Outpost in the Fire Tribe's management center to transfer manpower back to assist in the defense of these strongholds, I can only spare a maximum of about seven thousand men to participate in the battle. Any more than that, and the defenses of these strongholds will be left empty."

After listening, Yan didn't hesitate for long. His gaze swept over the wooden tablets spread out on the table, as if confirming some numbers, before he looked up and said, "I currently have five thousand naval troops with me, and three thousand cavalry can be drawn from the stronghold at the Big Horse River Mouth Outpost. That makes a total of eight thousand, which is enough. As long as we don't suffer too much delay on the road and arrive in time, this number should be sufficient to maintain the situation."

Dazhuang thought for a moment, his brow furrowing, but quickly relaxed. He ran his fingers back and forth on the edge of the table, as if mentally recalculating the number. "Alright. We can also spare three thousand cavalry from the Clothing River Mouth Outpost. The riders are all skilled riders, and the horses know the routes well. Adding the four thousand warriors from the Green Leaf River Mouth Outpost and Little Horse River Mouth Outpost, that makes a total of seven thousand. Add the three thousand cavalry from the Big Horse River Mouth Outpost and your five thousand naval troops, and we can immediately mobilize about fifteen thousand men. As long as the Tiger Tribe doesn't come with their full force, we can defend ourselves without any problem. If they bring fewer men, we can even deliver a heavy blow."

After saying that, he withdrew his hand from the edge of the table and stood up straight.

Yan nodded, placed the wooden tablet tucked under his arm on the table, and pressed his palm against its surface. "Yes. The Valley Tribe can still muster about ten thousand troops. As long as we arrive in time, holding the camp shouldn't be a problem. The Valley Tribe's signal will soon reach our Fire Tribe's management center, and Father will definitely make the necessary preparations. The second batch of reinforcements shouldn't be too late."

Dazhuang turned and took two steps toward the door, then stopped, turned to look at Yan: "Alright, then get ready and set off with your men as soon as possible. The strongholds at the Big Horse River Mouth Outpost Clothing River Mouth Outpost are all manned by cavalry. I'll send a fast boat to deliver the message first, so they can quickly prepare to head towards the Valley Tribe. You might be able to arrive there at the same time. The cavalry will travel by land, and you will travel by water; the two routes will run parallel, so they won't delay each other."

Yan also turned and walked towards the door, pausing at the entrance before turning his head to say, "Okay. Uncle Dazhuang, have someone report the details of the situation here to my father, let him know we've already made a move. He'll decide on the second batch of reinforcements."

Dazhuang replied, "Don't worry, leave these things to me. My four thousand men have already assembled since they saw the beacon fire, and everyone is in a state of combat readiness. You can just pick them up and put them on the ship; there's no need to reorganize them."

Yan nodded, said nothing more, pushed open the door and walked out. As the door closed behind him, the light in the room dimmed for a moment before returning to normal.

Movement was already underway on the dock. Soldiers were converging on the dock from all directions. Some carried bows, the bows rubbing softly against their shoulders; others carried spears, one end resting on their shoulders, the other swaying slightly with each step; some were reloading supplies that had just been unloaded from the ships, bending down to push sacks into the hold. Some ran quickly across the pier, their boots thumping rapidly on the wooden planks, their pace so fast it seemed they were chasing something. The ships moored on the dock were adjusting their positions, their sails being raised one by one. The white sails unfurled in the afternoon sun, their edges fluttering slightly in the wind, as if testing the wind direction. With each sail unfurled, the ship trembled slightly, then steadily caught the wind, like a large bird spreading its wings.

Yan stood at the dock, watching the soldiers boarding the ships. He didn't urge them or make a sound; he simply stood there, his gaze sweeping from Chuantou to stern and Chuantou again, as if silently counting the passengers. A man ran past him, creating a gust of wind that ruffled his clothes, but he didn't move. A soldier next to him squatted down by the gangplank, tightening a loose knot in a burlap sack. He threaded his fingers through the rope, tugged twice, tied a knot, and then pulled it again to make sure it wouldn't come loose before standing up and continuing onto the gangplank.

By afternoon, the fleet had already sailed down the Fish River towards the direction of the Valley Tribe.

The sails billowed in the south wind, the hull carving thin, white Shuihen across the water. The oars were barely audible as they entered the water, only the splashing sound of their blades cutting through the surface echoing continuously. Yan stood at the Chuantou, his hands gripping the gunwale, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the water met the sky. The Valley Tribe was still out of sight, but the wind blowing from that direction carried the coolness of the river. It ruffled his clothes as it passed over his shoulders, then settled on the mast behind him, gently pushing the sails forward, as if the entire river itself was adjusting its course to welcome the approaching fleet. The fleet continued its steady progress, moving forward without stopping.

Outside the Valley Tribe's main camp, as the sun rose on the eighth day of the Bear Tribe's attack, Tong Dachui stood on the high ground by the dock, gazing towards the camp walls. The morning light streamed behind him, stretching his shadow long across the grass, its edges blurred by dew-kissed Shuihen. His gaze lingered for a moment on the cracked walls and crooked doorframes, then he turned to Hu Wei, who stood slightly behind him, and said in a low voice, as if speaking to Hu Wei Might, yet also to himself. "Press all the way up. Take it today."

Hu Wei nodded, asked no further questions, and turned to run towards the ranks. His boots pounded the dew-dampened ground, splashing up small patches of mud with each step. As he ran between rows of tents, the soldiers along the way straightened up. Some put their rations back into their bags, some tightened and loosened their bowstrings to test their elasticity, and some stood up and stretched their shoulders, rotating their shoulder bones back and forth.

The final assault began, with both the north and south gates being attacked simultaneously. Warriors from the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe pressed towards the camp walls from two directions, the number of siege ladders doubling compared to the previous days, lined up in a row along the wall. The ladders made a dull, heavy thud as they hit the battlements, the rungs wedging into the gaps in the wall. The battering rams outside the camp gates had been firing non-stop since morning, the sound of the hammers striking the wooden surfaces audible throughout the entire camp, the intervals growing shorter and shorter, like someone repeatedly pounding on a wall that was about to collapse. The sandbags on the inside of the gate were pushed inward a short distance, revealing a section of the hinge.

On the eastern dock, two thousand Tiger Tribe warriors stood in three rows, shields held aloft at their chests, the edges of the shields touching. Spears pointed diagonally forward, their tips gleaming with tiny white light in the morning glow. They stood on the riverbank, poised to advance at any moment.

On the walls of the Valley Tribe's main camp, the number of defenders was much smaller than a few days ago. The surviving warriors and female soldiers mingled together; some were drawing bows behind the battlements, while others bent over to pass spears through the gaps in the battlements. A young female soldier stood beside Qingsui, gripping a sharpened wooden pole. One end of the pole was sharpened to a fine point, its light-colored grain gleaming in the morning light. Her face was pale, her lips tightly pressed together, but her hand holding the pole did not tremble; her knuckles were slightly white from the force, as if she were pouring all her strength into the pole. Beside her, an arrow was stuck in a crack in the wall, its shaft still swaying slightly. She did not pull it out, but simply stared at the approaching siege ladders outside the wall, her gaze fixed on the one at the very front.

The morning's attack was successfully repelled, but at a great cost. Another breach appeared in the camp wall, and the north gate's door panel was dented inwards, revealing broken wood grain and clumps of broken wood fibers curling outwards like unhealed wounds. The south gate's hinges had come loose, and the door panel was barely held in place by sandbags, but with each impact, sand grains leaked from the bag openings, piling up in a small arc on the ground inside the gate, like a sand painting being blown away by the wind.

Only about two thousand soldiers remained who could stand and barely continue fighting. The wounded were housed in dimly lit wooden huts at the back of the camp, the floors covered with dry grass and shredded burlap. Some leaned against the wall with their eyes closed, breathing shallowly, as if afraid that even a single breath would draw in the sounds from outside. Qingsui and her female soldiers filled in for more of the defensive positions. She still held the long pole in her hand, its rough edges worn smooth, leaving a glossy, old mark where her palm touched it. She walked quickly along the base of the wall, one step after another. At each defensive position, she would stop and turn to check if the enemy's weapon was firmly held and if their gaze was focused in the correct direction outside the wall. After confirming, she continued forward without a word or looking back, her footsteps rising again as she touched the ground.

Daiyue stood atop the watchtower, his right hand gripping the wooden railing. His gaze shifted from the north wall to the south wall, then from the south wall to the river to the east. He was searching for the Fire Tribe's boats. His eyes moved back and forth between the outlines of the Tiger Tribe's boats on the river, from one boat to another, then to the distant water, but no other sails appeared on the horizon. He tightened his grip on the railing, paused, then loosened it again, leaving a small gap between his five fingers, as if waiting for something to arrive before opening his palm.

The afternoon attack began again. The sun was already setting, and the light shone from the side, casting long, slanted shadows on the camp walls. Warriors from the Tiger Tribe and Bear Tribe pressed on the camp walls again from the north and south, arrows piercing through the battlements and embedding themselves in the wooden pillars on the inner side of the walls, leaving more and more dense white marks in the twilight.

Tong Dachui stood on the large ship, looking towards the camp wall. The ship beneath him was slowly adjusting its course on the water, its hull tilting slightly with the current. He gripped the gunwale, subtly shifting his weight to maintain his balance. Just as he was about to order the reserves to advance, a young soldier ran up behind him, stopping two steps behind Tong Dachui. He leaned on his knees, catching his breath before straightening up. His voice was low, as if afraid the wind would carry the message away. "Dachui, a large number of ships are rapidly approaching from upstream on the Fish River. The sentry boats have spotted sails. There are sixty or seventy ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin each."

Tong Dachui's hand, which was gripping the gunwale, stopped. He didn't turn around immediately; his gaze remained fixed on the direction of the camp wall. But his previously relaxed fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the gunwale, then loosened again. He turned around, his gaze falling on the young soldier's face, and paused. "Did you see clearly?" His voice wasn't loud, but each word seemed to have been suppressed in his throat before being uttered, like a bowstring that had been pressed taut and then released, exhaling its breath.

The soldier nodded, then, as if afraid his nod wasn't enough, added, speaking a little faster than before, "I saw it clearly. Sixty or seventy ships, each with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin (50,000 kg), followed by even more smaller boats, lined up all over the river. They're not a grain transport fleet, they're warships, much faster than the grain ships. When the sentry spotted them, they were already at the bend in the river, coming down with the south wind, much faster than expected. The ships in front have already reached the section of the river near the mouth of the Big Horse River Mouth."

Tong Dachui's gaze shifted from the soldier's face to the distant river, lingering for a moment. He stood by the ship's railing, his hand still on it, as if mentally re-weighing his earlier statement, "There are sixty or seventy ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin each." He raised his right hand from the railing, paused at his side, then lowered it again. He took two steps to the other side of the deck, his steps slow and deliberate, each step firm, the sound of his boots on the deck heavier than usual. He stopped, and spoke to Hu Wei, who stood at the edge of the deck, his voice low but with a steady, restrained quality. "Pass down the order—cease the attack. Everyone retreat to camp and prepare for battle. The fleet repositions and prepares to engage."

Hu Wei didn't ask any more questions and turned to run to the other side of the deck. His voice quickly spread across the dock, going down the line of soldiers like a Shitou thrown into water, ripples spreading outwards. The attacking troops outside the camp walls began to close their formation, ladders were removed from the walls, and wooden poles were dragged away from the battlements with a screeching sound. The battering rams stopped pounding, and the soldiers who were climbing the ladders retreated, jumping down to the ground at the base of the wall. Some bent their knees briefly upon landing before straightening them again.