Dong Rui muttered under his breath as he steered the snail-toad, "I really have to find a way to increase its carrying capacity."
If it could hold more guards, his own safety would be that much more secure.
Elsewhere, the landed troops led by Qiu Hu maintained their course, pressing forward to link up with the Bailong people.
General Wulu's swift grasp of the situation and lightning-fast reaction had caught He Lingchuan off guard—the man had already covered more than half the retreat route. Even if the Yangshan forces sprinted with everything they had, catching up to intercept him in time seemed doubtful.
The bastard had likely bolted the very moment the Yangshan fleet beached its vessels. Now, he was creating serious trouble for He Lingchuan.
Breaking down the numbers on both sides, the Yangshan Archipelago had deployed three thousand guards, while Lu Qingbang and the Bailong tribe, worn down by two full days of bitter fighting, had only two thousand exhausted soldiers left.
The enemy, meanwhile, had brought over six thousand men. Even after subtracting the thirteen hundred or so flailing in the water, Wulu still commanded well over four thousand troops.
These were veteran elites Wulu had drilled for years, every one of them fortified with origin power.
Whether measured by troop count, individual caliber, or fighting morale, He Lingchuan and Lu Qingbang held no advantage whatsoever. On top of that, they were at a severe disadvantage due to their lack of origin power.
Wulu was in full flight right now solely because He Lingchuan's surprise descent had thrown his battle plan into disarray, and the dense throng of ships out at sea made it impossible to discern their true numbers on short notice. Given his cautious nature, Wulu had chosen to avoid the initial brunt of the blow.
Yet the moment he figured out the real size of these reinforcements, he would weigh the stakes and switch his tactics immediately.
When that happened, He Lingchuan and the Yangshan Guard would be in for a grueling, uphill battle.
Thus, He Lingchuan had to cut Wulu off without delay.
His surprise strike against Wulu's army now was just like Wulu's earlier ambush of the Bailong: everything hung on exploiting the timing gap.
Barely the time it took to drink a cup of tea after He Lingchuan and his companions vanished into the earth, a second signal suddenly burst into the sky above the jungle. This time, it was a pair of red smoke command arrows, carrying far greater significance than the first.
Already locked in combat with the Ya troops, Qiu Hu and his men looked up and grinned with fierce delight.
Island Master He had run down his target!
***
All this while, Lu Qingbang had been hanging on by a thread.
Moqi Tong's grave injuries had sent the Bailong people's morale plummeting to rock bottom. Fortunately, before slipping into unconsciousness, Moqi Tong had passed overall command to Lu Qingbang.
The chieftain knew perfectly well that Lu Qingbang might not possess the ability to lead the Bailong to safety, but should anything happen to Moqi Tong himself, the tribe would instantly need a new leader to keep them from collapsing on the spot.
Lu Qingbang had exhausted every trick up his sleeve to keep the Bailong fighting. When he finally received Lu Feiyan's signal to launch the assault, he was overwhelmed with joy.
At long last, the reinforcements had arrived!
However, once they initiated a full counterattack, they would have to bear the concentrated fury of the Ya army for a short time.
Lu Feiyan had already briefed him on this in her secret letter, so he had mentally prepared himself.
Even so, the coalition's casualties climbed at an alarming rate.
Though both sides were fighting far from their home soil, the Ya soldiers possessed origin power, giving them an unmistakable edge over the Bailong. When Wulu threw all his available forces into Luting Beach, the coalition was instantly pushed past its breaking point.
If the battle dragged on like this for another two hours, every last Bailie elite and Bailong warrior would likely be wiped out!
Lu Qingbang had never experienced combat of such brutal intensity on the eastern front of Bailie.
This was what it truly meant to fight with one's back to the wall—a desperate struggle to the death!
Mercifully, just when Lu Qingbang himself was on the verge of collapsing, several unfamiliar large ships emerged from the thick fog, signaling them with fluttering flags.
*Hold your fire, don't shoot—we're on your side.*
Moments later, these massive vessels berthed at Luting Beach.
Besides their vessel names, each prow bore a colossal character painted in bold strokes: *Shan*. Illuminated by the roaring torches, it was clear to every Bailong fighter.
Exhausted as they were, the Bailong had to pull themselves together, ready either to fight or to welcome allies.
Earlier, despite having several large ships at his disposal, Wulu had chosen not to attack Luting Beach from the sea simply because Ya soldiers were inept at amphibious landings; a forced assault would have incurred catastrophic casualties. When his forces could easily grind the Bailong down through attrition, why take such a risk?
Moreover, attacking from the enemy's rear sounded brilliant in theory, but in practice, it was exceedingly difficult. The moment ships drew near, the enemy was bound to notice.
Now, this newly arrived fleet dared not disembark recklessly either, wary of prompting a panicked attack from the Bailong. A man appeared at the bow, raising empty hands as he shouted Lu Qingbang's name toward the beach.
Lu Qingbang recognized him at a glance.
Wasn't that Huang Zhao, one of Island Master He's lieutenants? He had seen him at Suoding Island on the night of the Spring Festival—supposedly a former pirate chieftain.
"Young Master Lu!" Huang Zhao waved with a grin. Only when Lu Qingbang sprinted over did he leap down from the vessel.
The two bumped fists hard, clapping each other on the shoulder and back.
Even though they had barely crossed paths before, in this moment, they felt like blood brothers.
"Everyone off the ships!" Huang Zhao barked, waving a hand toward the deck. "Switch out!"
Dense ranks of fully armed soldiers leaped onto the sand, every one of them sharp and high-spirited—a stark, brilliant contrast to the battered, bone-weary Bailong.
The Bailong warriors swallowed hard at the sight.
Lu Qingbang hadn't lied to them. Fresh reinforcements truly had arrived!
"Island Master He sent us to fight shoulder to shoulder with Young Master Lu!" Huang Zhao said solemnly. "Now that the large ships are empty, hurry and load the women and children to get them off the island! Carry as many as you can!"
Lu Qingbang could do nothing but nod vigorously, repeating "Good, good!" over and over, unable to find any other words.
Just then, the fireworks of hope finally flared in the direction of Storm Bay.
There, the main body of reinforcements had successfully made landfall!
Twin flares of red and yellow illuminated the night sky, bringing Lu Qingbang to the verge of tears.
"Reinforcements are here! The reinforcements have landed at Storm Bay!" he roared at the top of his lungs. Long hours of battle and shouting commands had frayed his voice to a hoarse crack, yet he felt no pain at all. "Charge! Push them all the way back to Storm Bay!"
The fireworks bursting across the sky and their commander's thunderous roar reignited the light in eyes that had grown numb from slaughter.
*Rescuers?*
Many were slow to process it, but after a stunned heartbeat, a shudder ran through them:
*Rescuers are here!*
*They finally made it!*
*We don't have to die.*
*Our families don't have to die.*
They had waited with bated breath for so long, yet when salvation truly arrived, they could hardly believe it.
Only when the comrades beside them charged forward with bloodcurdling battle cries did the Bailong warriors snap out of their daze, falling into formation and surging ahead.
*Counterattack! Counterattack!*
After swallowing endless humiliation and despair, the dying embers of their will flared into a roaring blaze, fueled by a miracle from the jaws of death.
Immediately after, they noticed the enemy before them had weakened.
Wulu had hastily redirected more than two thousand men back toward Storm Bay, drastically easing the pressure on the Bailong tribe. Seizing the opening, they broke out toward the southeast with everything they had.
The Yangshan Guard pressed northeast from Storm Bay, while Lu Qingbang and the Bailong smashed southeast from Luting Beach, charging toward one another.
Caught squarely in the middle, the Ya forces found themselves pincered from front and rear, thoroughly battered and overwhelmed.
Meanwhile, Moqi Feng led a contingent of his clansmen cutting diagonally toward the northwest. Every man had a gale talisman slapped onto his chest, sending them bounding over the rugged terrain with blinding speed.
These were leftovers from their earlier assault on the Qinglong tribe, and now they proved invaluable.
He Lingchuan and Zhu Daniang had already set off to intercept Wulu; Moqi Feng intended to beat the Ya army to the punch and sever their route to reinforce their general.
To think Wulu was separated from his main force—this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! As long as they severed the snake's head, the battle of Storm Bay would be as good as over.
***
The mountain path wound unpredictably, but upon finally reaching a relatively smooth, open stretch, Wulu and his two hundred personal guards seized the chance to urge their mounts into a full gallop.
He had chosen his earlier camp on the high ground not only because its central position allowed him to keep an eye on both Storm Bay and Luting Beach, but also because the trail leading up and down was naturally gentle enough to let horses run flat out.
Right now, whether it was the Bailong advancing from Luting Beach or the fresh enemy troops racing up from Storm Bay, the jagged mountain paths could not support horses; they had no choice but to travel on foot.
No matter how fast foot soldiers ran, could they outpace galloping warhorses?
Even if the enemy intended to cut him off, they could never move faster than he could—unless they resorted to divine arts.
In moments of mortal peril, Wulu's meticulous forethought shone through.
At most seven li remained before he rejoined his main force. For swift steeds, that distance would take half the time needed to drink a cup of tea—barely five minutes.
Seeing the mountain path ahead clear and empty, Wulu urged his horse to go even faster.
He rode tightly surrounded by his guards, shielded on all sides by their galloping cordon.
Right at that moment, an unthinkable horror befell the three vanguard cavalrymen without the slightest warning—
Still seated upright in their saddles, their horses charging ahead at full tilt, their heads suddenly tumbled off their shoulders!
No one saw what had decapitated them. Their mounts carried them forward for a dozen-odd zhang before the severed heads finally bounced against the dirt. Arterial blood erupted in violent gouts, splattering the roadside foliage in crimson.
The riders directly behind failed to notice in time and kept hurtling forward, only for an invisible blade to slice open their throats as well, sending them to their deaths in utter bewilderment!
"Halt! Halt!" Wulu bellowed the instant he saw it.
He hardly needed to give the order. The sight sent shivers straight through the scalps of the Ya cavalrymen, who yanked back on their reins in unison. Several warhorses neighed in terror, rearing up on their hind legs.
It was terrifying beyond words. A heartbeat ago, their comrades had been riding alongside them in fine form, only to be sheared apart at the neck out of nowhere.
What kind of invisible lethal weapon could silently harvest ten lives in the blink of an eye?
Before the reared horses' hooves could even touch the ground, dozens of arrows whistled out from the tall grass beside the path.
Facing an ambush, the guards' instinctive reaction was to wheel around and shield their supreme commander. The projectiles aimed at Wulu were either parried away or struck heavy shields, none reaching their mark.
Yet seven or eight of the missiles sank deep into the other guards and their mounts.
Looking down, they found these were no ordinary arrows, but palm-length black spikes!
Though easier to pull out than barbed arrowheads, a searing, fiery agony tore through the wounds instantly, as if their flesh were being melted by strong acid.
Poisoned spikes!
The guards trembled violently in pain, hastily fumbling out detoxification pills and swallowing them whole.
If the toxin could still inflict such torment after being dampened by origin power, just how lethal had it been originally?
The horses soon provided the answer.
Two well-trained battle steeds went completely mad on the spot. Tossing their riders, they bolted blindly toward the edge of the path, whinnying and flailing their heads before tumbling down the steep slope. A succession of heavy thuds followed as they crashed onto the rocks below.
Following the two volleys of spikes, the grass rustled violently, and two massive logs went sailing through the air, hurling straight toward Wulu.
Each log exceeded six chi in diameter, their sheared ends fresh and raw, green foliage still clinging to the bark.
The attacker possessed monstrous strength, hurling entire tree trunks like concealed throwing daggers. With the guards packed closely together, a direct hit would bowl down an entire swathe of them.
Wulu had no choice but to roar, "Scatter!"
Chapter 1069