The reinforcements counterattack

On the wall surrounding the Valley Tribe's main camp, the first person to spot the Fire Tribe's fleet was a young archer at the corner of the wall. His eyes widened, as if pried open by some unexpected sight, and his fingers lightly traced the edge of his bow, as if confirming whether he was still standing on real ground. He turned his head and shouted towards the inside of the wall, his voice carrying an excitement that he himself wasn't entirely sure of. "There are boats on the river! Lots of boats!"

Inside the wall, some of the soldiers bandaging their wounds stopped and looked up towards the river. One soldier, who had been sitting on a wooden stake having his comrade wrap his bandage around his arm, stood up after hearing the shout. The untied end of the bandage dangled from his arm and swayed gently in the wind. He leaned on the wall and looked out, his gaze passing over the shadows of the trees and the Qiantan on the riverbank, landing on the sails of the approaching boats.

A moment later, he turned around and shouted behind him, his voice even louder than before, as if to transmit the weight of his words to every corner of the camp. "The Fire Tribe's ship! It's the Fire Tribe's ship!"

Daiyue stood atop the watchtower, his right hand still gripping the wooden railing. From the long, tight grip, his knuckles had turned slightly white, and the skin on his fingertips clung to the rough wood grain, revealing the tiny cracks left by the day's expansion and contraction. His gaze was initially fixed on the enemy's position outside the south wall—the outline of that position was slowly receding, the edges of the array of shields and spears loosening as if being pulled backward by an invisible force—but his attention wasn't entirely on those retreating outlines. His ears were constantly discerning the subtle sounds in the wind, trying to peel away some rhythm masked by the wind.

Then he heard a shout. He turned around, faster than usual, his boots scraping against the wooden steps as if to shift his weight more quickly. His gaze passed over the rooftops and battlements of the camp, landing on the river to the east, as if an invisible line was extending from his line of sight, falling on the slowly growing shadows of the boats.

His hand gripping the wooden railing clenched tightly for a moment, his knuckles tightening to their utmost, then releasing as if the force had surged to his fingertips and then been released. His lips were pursed, then moved slightly, as if he wanted to squeeze out words but hadn't found the right opening. He moved again, and this time he spoke, his voice rising rapidly from a low, hoarse tone to a volume loud enough for everyone around to hear, as if he had finally released a string that had been stretched taut for so long. "Reinforcements have arrived! The Fire Tribe's reinforcements have arrived!"

A moment of silence fell within the camp walls. That brief silence was like a long sigh contained between the twilight and the river breeze, then, as if ignited by something simultaneously, everyone began to speak. Some stood up, some raised their weapons above their heads, some leaned against the edge of the battlements and waved towards the river, while others did nothing but stand still, their eyes following the approaching boats, as if trying to imprint that image deep enough in their minds that nothing could erase it no matter what happened afterward.

The fleet of boats continued to appear on the river. Giant ships with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin (50,000 kg) were lined up in several rows, the Langhua from their Chuantou creating two parallel white lines on either side of their hulls. More smaller boats followed behind, evenly spaced and Chuantou pointing in the same direction, as if propelled forward by the same current. Each time they passed through a shallower section of the river, the hulls scraped against the sand and gravel of the riverbed, making a continuous rustling sound. One after another, they filled the entire stretch of the river, pressing in on this side.

On the southern land, a low, rumbling sound of hooves was approaching from afar. Initially, the sound was distant, like a continuous rumble of thunder slowly approaching, making it impossible to discern its direction—but it quickly became clearer, each step becoming distinct, merging into a continuous, dense sound, like a rainstorm. The dust rising in the twilight formed a gradually rising, brown curtain, like a semi-transparent veil being unfurled, slowly stretching along the land, its edges fluttering slightly in the wind, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing.

Daiyue stood atop the watchtower, his gaze shifting from the river to the dust rising to the south, then back to the soldiers gathering below the camp wall. His eyes swept over them, paused, and then he turned and descended the watchtower. His footsteps pounded firmly on the wooden steps, each one firm and decisive. As he reached the ground, Fengren strode quickly towards him from the other side of the camp, his boots still smothered with the compacted dirt from the base of the wall. He switched the spear he was holding in one hand to the other, gesturing in the air with his free hand to indicate that he had heard the message.

When Daiyue spoke, his voice carried a renewed strength. "Leave a few hundred men to assist the female soldiers in guarding the camp. The remaining thousand-plus cavalry will all move out from the south gate of the camp when the opportunity arises. This time, we absolutely cannot let those bastards from the Bear Tribe escape." He paused, his gaze shifting towards the south wall, his voice lowering slightly as he turned. "Later, coordinate with the Fire Tribe cavalry to deliver a crushing blow to them."

Fengren didn't ask any further questions. He nodded, turned, and ran towards the direction where the cavalry were gathering. His running figure passed between several rows of wooden houses in the twilight. As he ran, he raised his hand and made short hand gestures in several directions—palms outstretched, fingertips pointing to the left, then pulled back and changed direction—as if he wanted to transmit the instruction he had just received to the farthest location along the shortest path.

On the river, Yan stood at the Chuantou of the largest boat. His left hand gripped the gunwale, his right hand hanging at his side. He could feel the continuous vibrations as the boat broke through the water, as if something deep beneath the hull was steadily and rhythmically pushing the entire vessel forward. As the fleet continued to advance, the silhouettes of the Tiger Tribe's boats gradually became clearer—they seemed to be rearranging their defenses, or perhaps making room for a retreat. Beside him, Quyong was also looking in the same direction, his fingers resting on the gunwale, not pressing hard, just resting there, as if using that touch to sense changes in the water speed and adjustments to the boat's direction.

Yan turned to the side, his voice low but clear enough for Quyong, who stood beside him, to hear every word. "Chief Quyong, I'll send some ships to assist you in attacking the naval forces of the Wolf Tribe and the Bear Tribe. The Tiger Tribe's navy can be handled by our Fire Tribe. Also, I've sent two thousand cavalry to the Valley Tribe Little Valley Camp, led by Shibang; we're sure to recapture that Little Valley Camp Outpost. I've also sent four thousand cavalry to the Valley Tribe's main camp, led by Yingmu; as long as the warriors at the Valley Tribe's main camp cooperate with us, we'll surely inflict heavy losses on them."

Quyong turned to the side, his gaze shifting from the river to Yan's face. His lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to carefully craft a word of thanks before letting it out, but then felt it wasn't enough, and finally just nodded, exhaling through his nose. "Young Chief Yan, if you hadn't arrived in time, our Valley Tribe would definitely be finished this time."

Yan turned back, his gaze falling once more on the Tiger Tribe fleet ahead, as if confirming the extent of the sails being furled and the angles of the ships' turns. "Our two tribes are allies, so they certainly won't ignore this news. You take your ships and follow behind us. Once our Fire Tribe's navy and the Tiger Tribe start fighting, you focus your attacks on the Bear Tribe and Wolf Tribe's navies."

He gestured to the side—raising his right hand and pushing his palm outward from his chest—the signal flag swayed twice in the twilight. Then he stood still, his gaze fixed on the darkening river ahead, watching the Tiger Tribe boats adjusting their course.

The Fire Tribe's entire navy was deployed.

The colossal ships, each with a carrying capacity of 100,000 jin (approximately 50,000 kg), were lined up at the very front. Their massive silhouettes in the twilight resembled moving high walls, and the wooden planks on the hulls gleamed with a dark sheen in the afterglow. Each wave that lapped against the planks stirred up a ring of fine white foam. The bronze battering rams at the Chuantou gleamed darkly in the light, their thick, sharp edges resembling the silhouette of a crouching beast's back as it advanced, slowly but irresistibly pushing towards the assembling Tiger Tribe fleet.

The Tiger Tribe's fleet had adjusted its formation as much as possible, with the Chuantou facing the Fire Tribe and gaps left between the ships large enough for smaller boats to pass through—but their formation was not fully closed: several 50,000-jin (25,000 kg) boats were still turning around, their sterns sweeping across the water and creating white waves. The boats tilted noticeably as they turned, and their original positions were now empty, as if the battle line had not yet been fully closed before being forced to face the first wave of attack.

When the Fire Tribe's giant ship collided with the Tiger Tribe's fleet, it produced a deep, drawn-out sound of wood being crushed. The sound began as a short impact, followed by a cracking sound like a whole piece of wood being crushed from the inside. When the bronze battering ram at the bow of the Fire Tribe Chuantou embedded itself into the side of one of the Tiger Tribe's 100,000-jin (50,000 kg) ships, the surrounding planks first caved inward, forming an arc-shaped pit, and then a crack appeared along the grain of the wood, with fine wood fibers curling up at both ends of the crack. Water seeped in from the crack, initially as a thin line, seeping into the cabin along the edge of the crack, but quickly turned into a continuous stream, spreading along the bottom of the cabin and soaking the hay and ropes on the deck into a dark color.

Then came the second, the third. The Fire Tribe's ships pressed in from different directions, forming several rows without leaving any gaps. The Tiger Tribe's fleet was compressed between the continuously cracked hulls, the distance between the ships getting smaller and smaller, the planks scraping against each other with a continuous scraping sound. Some ships tried to turn around and break through, but they were only halfway turned when another Fire Tribe giant ship grazed past them from the side, squeezing new cracks in their planks. White Shuihua surged at the impact points, like flowers blooming and disappearing continuously in the twilight, each bloom carrying fragments of broken wood and broken ropes. The sound of the impacts continued to echo on the water, like someone repeatedly pounding the same thick plank on the river, the intervals getting shorter and shorter, but the loudness getting higher and higher.

Bailin and Feiyu, leading the subsequent fleet, pressed forward. Ships weighing 50,000 jin and 20,000 jin spun through the gaps between the giant ships, like a pack of nimble Liequan passing between the legs of a giant beast, chasing and biting the small Tiger Tribe ships trying to escape the encirclement. The warriors on the ships stood at the gunwales, their spears protruding, their tips gleaming in the twilight, blocking the enemy ships that tried to approach. Some used shields to deflect incoming arrows, several arrows still embedded in the shields, their shafts trembling slightly after impact. Others adjusted their positions in the gaps between the ships to maintain the stability of the line, their oars retracted into the gunwales, the sideways paddling turning the ships sideways, precisely blocking the Tiger Tribe ships that were trying to turn.

Hu Wei's voice came from behind Tong Dachui, half-dubbed by the sound of oars in the river wind, but the short sentences could still be heard. He spoke a little louder than usual, as if to make sure the other person could hear him in the chaos. "Chief Dachui, let's retreat! The Fire Tribe's navy is too strong! If we don't retreat now, we'll all be left here!"

Tong Dachui stood at the Chuantou, his hands gripping the gunwale, his fingers curled and gripping the edge of the plank, his knuckles white from the clenching. His gaze was fixed on the approaching silhouettes of the Fire Tribe's ships, the black water between their Chuantou gradually filling with each impact, as if someone were using the hulls of their vessels to narrow the river. His breathing was faster than usual, but he maintained his stance, neither bending nor retreating, only slightly adjusting his center of gravity, placing more weight on his back feet, as if resisting the swaying of the ship. Hearing Hu Wei's words, he paused for a moment, as if reassessing the situation in a few breaths, estimating the number of ships he could still use, the manpower he could still control, and how many gaps could be filled. He turned his head, the muscles on his cheek tensing and then relaxing, as if pressing a sentence to his lips before releasing it. "I didn't expect the Fire Tribe's naval strength to be so formidable. Even if all the ships of our Tiger Tribe came, we wouldn't be a match for the Fire Tribe."

He paused, as if to give himself enough room to finish his next sentence. "Everyone, listen to my command! Follow the Fish River downstream and break through to the north!"

The Tiger Tribe's fleet began to turn around. Those boats that could still move simultaneously dipped their oars into the water, rowing backward, their hulls slowly turning in the water, leaving wide, arcing Shuihen on the surface. Damaged boats were left behind; some had sunk to their sterns, their Chuantou raised high, as if being lifted from the water's surface. Other boats were still taking on water, and the warriors on board were hastily jumping onto the still-movable boats beside them. During the handover, someone accidentally dropped a bundle of arrows into the water; the shafts floated on the surface, swept downstream by the current. On the boat with the Tong Dachui, the sails were raised again, the canvas billowing in the night wind with a series of clattering sounds. The boat suddenly tilted forward, rushing downstream, its Chuantou jutting out to squeeze against the crest of the waves, the entire boat leaving an increasingly sharp white trail as it broke through the water and broke away downstream.

A dozen or so boats, each weighing 100,000 jin (50,000 kg) and a dozen or so boats weighing 50,000 jin (25,000 kg), broke through the encirclement and headed downstream along the river. The Shuihen left by the boats stretched into thin, white lines in the twilight, gradually thinning as the boats sped up, like brushstrokes being licked clean by the water, and soon disappeared into the water further downstream.

Yan stood at the Chuantou, watching the fleeing boats gradually shrink, their sails shrinking into thin white lines in the distance before being swallowed by the bend in the river. He didn't order a pursuit, his gaze lingering on the departing boats until they were completely enveloped by twilight before slowly turning away. He turned to the side, his gaze falling on the Tiger Tribe boats that had been intercepted—several boats were still spinning in place, their hulls tilting due to taking on water, the side of the hull above the water resembling a sinking silhouette in the twilight, the exposed portion showing dark, damp marks in the afterglow. Several broken ropes floated on the water beside them, swaying gently with the ripples created by the boats.

"Stop chasing." Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the helmsman standing beside him to hear clearly. "Let's take control of all the intercepted ships first."

At the Little Valley Camp Outpost, Wolf Tribe's Xueya made his decision the moment Tiger Tribe's navy began to retreat. He saw the scattered boats on the downstream river, and the approaching silhouette of the Fire Tribe's giant ships encroaching on the waters previously occupied by the Tiger Tribe fleet. Without a second glance, he turned and strode quickly across the camp, his boots crunching on the compacted mud, each step carrying a hurried, compressed rhythm. He headed towards the temporary warehouse, passing several piles of supplies that hadn't yet been moved—a few bundles of hemp rope and a few pottery jars—he glanced at them but didn't stop, continuing onward. Those items lingered in his peripheral vision for a moment before disappearing from sight.

Yexiao stood at the warehouse entrance, holding a wooden tablet with several lines of newly carved counting marks still visible on it. Seeing Xueya approach, he tucked the tablet into his robes and turned to wait for him. Xueya stopped in front of him, his voice faster than usual, as if the words had been planned out in a specific order, "Throw away all the bulky supplies, only take the valuables. Take all of Daiyan's collection—bronze weapons, leather armor, horses—take everything you can. Untie the ropes, and hurry."

Yexiao pressed further, "Some of Daiyan's collections are still with the hundreds of wounded soldiers from the Bear Tribe, and many of the cattle and horses also belong to the Bear Tribe. What about Daiyan himself?"

Xueya had already taken a few steps when he heard the question, stopping and glancing at Yexiao. His gaze lingered on Yexiao's face for a moment, as if he were using that brief instant to reassess how much time was left. Then, his voice became even shorter and more abrupt, as if he had to finish each sentence before leaving. "Why worry about these things now? Whoever is stronger gets all of this. Who told the Bear Tribe to be so stupid as to take all their healthy warriors to the west bank of the Fish River to attack the Valley Tribe's main camp? Now all of this is ours. Daiyan is useless now, so take him out while you're at it. Hurry up!"

Yexiao nodded, asked no further questions, and turned to run in another direction from the camp.

When Shibang led two thousand cavalrymen into the Little Valley Camp Outpost, the main force of the Wolf Tribe was already gone. He rode his horse, its hooves kicking up a small cloud of dust as they trod the ground at the camp entrance. He reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping over the remaining scene in the camp—a few tents still stood, but the curtains were open, and the insides were empty. Only a few hundred wounded Bear Tribe soldiers remained, some lying in tents, some sitting on the ground, and a few standing at the warehouse entrance, their hands gripping their weapons loosely, the spear shafts leaning against their shoulders, as if they had lost the strength to hold them steady. One wounded Bear Tribe soldier sat on a stake not far from the warehouse, his left leg wrapped in bandages, the lower end of which was stained dark brown with dried blood. He looked up and saw the charging cavalry; his spear slipped from his hand, bouncing once on the mud before coming to a stop.

Shibang didn't dismount. He glanced around the camp layout again from his horse, then turned to the men behind him and shouted, "Take control of this place. Suppress all resistance, confiscate their weapons, and put them in centralized custody. Search each room one by one to see if anyone is hiding."

The cavalry circled around from both sides, spreading out along the passageway between the warehouses and tents. Some dismounted, their boots making a firm impact on the ground, while others remained on horseback to maintain visibility. They blocked the exits of the camp one by one, forming an incomplete encirclement, compressing the remaining wounded soldiers of the Bear Tribe into the open space in the center of the camp. Seeing the large number of cavalry rushing in, some of the wounded soldiers of the Bear Tribe lowered their weapons, their blades held horizontally in front of them before falling to the ground; others hesitated, but those next to them had already placed their spears on the ground, the shafts striking the ground with a soft thud. The weapons were gathered and piled up in the open space in the center of the camp, the spear shafts and scabbards clanging against each other, forming an irregular heap of metal that gradually rose in the twilight.

The rescued members of the Valley Tribe emerged from their tents and huts and stood in the open space watching the wounded soldiers of the Bear Tribe being escorted away.