Quick of eye and hand, Zhao Qinghe seized the man and yanked him out. "Trying to run?"
Sweat dripped from the man's face. "Officer, I'm in a hurry!"
"You were the one who told your comrades to throw the children off the cliff, weren't you?" Zhao Qinghe's sharp eyes fixed on him.
The man waved his hands frantically. "Not me! It wasn't me!"
He Lingchuan tilted his head, catching sight of the man's face by the firelight.
Seeing that his cover was blown, the man suddenly whipped a short dagger from his waist and thrust it toward Zhao Qinghe's ribs.
The strike came with startling speed. Just as Zhao Qinghe moved to parry, a cold gleam flashed before his eyes, and then—
And then the bandit flew sideways through the air, tumbling over the precipice.
All that remained was a long, fading shriek.
Zhao Qinghe stood dazed for a moment, pressing a hand to his chest before turning to He Lingchuan. "Thank you, Eldest Young Master!"
A small hole had been punched right through the light armor at his side, showing just how much force had been behind the thrust. If He Lingchuan hadn't seized the opening and sent the man flying off the mountain path with a kick, Zhao Qinghe would have ended up badly wounded.
"Save the thanks. Hurry and start hauling!" Having chased the last old man up the mountain, He Lingchuan ordered the men to draw the carriages together, sealing off the original gap, and then pile Madam Ying's heaviest chests on top to weigh them down.
These chests held miscellaneous odds and ends—belongings Madam Ying hadn't been able to part with over her dozen-odd years of marriage. Before slamming one lid shut, He Lingchuan caught sight of a peach wood mirror. The wood had grown aged, and its silver inlay had dulled, but the glass was polished to a brilliant shine.
*Wait, wasn't this part of Madam Ying's dowry from back in the day, the kind meant to stay tucked away at the bottom of a chest?*
He Lingchuan scooped it up and tucked it into his robes.
Maotao and the others caught on to his intent and worked vigorously to assist. Thus, despite facing the oncoming swell of bandits, the barricade went up remarkably fast.
This path was even narrower than the riverbed He Lingchuan had defended in his dream; two carriages laid crosswise were enough to choke it off completely. Having accrued practical experience, the young master found commanding the effort second nature.
The wagons and the chests stacked upon them became literal road blockers, each weighing no less than seven or eight hundred jin. Seeing that this scheme to delay the enemy and save their own skins had real promise, the troops threw themselves into the work with even greater vigor.
He Lingchuan's gaze shifted as an idea struck. "Take off the wheels."
The wheel hubs were secured with linchpins; knocking them out freed the wheels.
The men obeyed, and the carriages slumped flush against the roadbed.
He Lingchuan had several more wagons hoisted on top, using the thick ropes meant for securing the chests to bind the upper and lower carriages into a single mass. This formed a tall, hefty barricade, with the other ends of the ropes lashed to several roadside trees. Any bandit trying to tear it down later would find it all but impossible.
Naturally, the mountain bandits did not sit idly by while this took place, but the terrain favored the defenders heavily. Several frantic charges were turned back by He Lingchuan and his men. Even so, every soldier took cuts and bruises. One unlucky fellow was struck in the side by a spear thrusting through a gap in the carts while he was lashing them down; the blow pierced his kidney on the spot, sending blood gushing forth.
While others worked to stem the bleeding, He Lingchuan hurried over and stuffed a pinch of Shituo powder into his mouth. "Swallow it. For the pain."
The medicine Liu Baobao had gifted him upon parting had finally found its use.
He Lingchuan then found a soldier to help the wounded man onto a horse so he could catch up with the main column.
The column had military physicians who could dress the wound and save his life.
He Lingchuan bellowed, "The rabble on the other side are nothing but an undisciplined mob! Hold your positions, and they'll never get through!"
By then, the rebel forces under Wu Shaoyi had pursued their quarry up to this point and begun congregating here. Lu Yao's bandits clawed frantically at the wagons, unable to cross.
And so, the soldiers behind the wagon wall and the bandits before it engaged in a desperate tug-of-war.
The bandits tried to shove the carriages aside, but He Lingchuan and his men refused to yield an inch.
Across the barrier of wagons, both sides could see the fury burning in each other's eyes.
"Hold the line!" He Lingchuan barked. "Don't stick your necks out! Keep your heads down!"
Zhao Qinghe and the others did not quite understand his turn of phrase, but at a moment like this, none of them had any desire to poke their heads out anyway.
The more agile bandits naturally tried to scale the carriages and vault across, but against a wall of sabers, spears, and axes, the difficulty was multiplied several times over.
Two bandits were impaled by long spears thrusting from behind the wagons, tumbling off the cliff with bloodcurdling screams.
Those who managed to leap over were promptly cut down by He Lingchuan and the others.
A few swift slashes per man, over in a flash.
Anyone with half a brain soon realized this path was blocked and scurried back down to search for another way out.
Having won the first clash, the soldiers' morale surged, and they let out a cheer.
Soon enough, Wu Shaoyi's rebel forces reached West Mountain as well, beginning their mop-up of Lu Yao's men.
Though separated by two rows of carriages, stray arrows loosed from the bandit horde had no eyes. A graze opened a long bloody streak across He Lingchuan's forehead. Had that arrow strayed half an inch farther, it would have struck him square between the brows.
*Damn it, that was close.*
He had no desire to see the Water Spirit's prophecy fulfilled tonight.
He Lingchuan raised a shield before him, and the others followed suit.
Before long, the clash of weapons and the screams from the far side of the barricade began to subside.
Wu Shaoyi's forces were on the verge of victory.
Naturally, they had also noticed the imperial soldiers behind the wagons and had no intention of sparing them.
From the start, Xianling Village had two sets of enemies: Lu Yao and the government troops.
Just because the soldiers had slipped away like greased lightning without helping Lu Yao did not mean Wu Shaoyi's forces would show mercy.
Right then, a shrill whistle echoed from within Xianling Village.
Hearing it, the bandits under Wu Shaoyi abandoned the fight at the barricade without lingering, spinning around and racing back toward the village.
Evidently, something had happened down there that required them to fall back and defend.
The area before the barricade quickly fell quiet, save for a few stray bandits still poking their heads out to look.
Seven or eight bandit corpses lay scattered across the ground. Maotao, Zhao Qinghe, and the others stood panting, giving He Lingchuan a thumbs-up. "Eldest Young Master, turning trash into treasure like this was brilliant!"
The two of them had been left behind to keep control of the situation while watching over He Lingchuan's safety. Zeng Feixiong, who had assigned the task, had never expected He Lingchuan to take the lead in it.
Turning abandoned carriages into a barricade on such a narrow mountain road was perfectly tailored to the terrain—it couldn't have been more fitting.
Zhao Qinghe had thought of it as well, but who besides the eldest young master would have dared order Madam Ying's chests and wagons discarded?
Yet to accomplish such an arduous rear-guard task at the cost of only one seriously wounded and seven lightly injured—Zhao Qinghe wouldn't have dared imagine such an outcome before.
"As if I need your praise?" He Lingchuan gave them a sidelong glance. "Look at you, wheezing like bellows. Your stamina's pathetic!"
Back then, he had fought a bloodbath on the riverbed for two full two-hour watches. The situation had been far more perilous, and the ordeal far longer!
Yet he also kept firmly in mind that this was reality.
In a dream, one could die and come back to life, but in reality, there was only one life to lose.
He would never let the old turtle's prophecy come true!
Maotao stared at him, unable to shake the feeling that in battle, He Lingchuan seemed like a completely different person—ruthless, composed, commanding with effortless poise.
Though the two had braved perils together in the Panlong illusion, back then He Lingchuan had been adept at playing things by ear and avoiding the enemy's spearhead; he had never shown this kind of resolve and courage.
Was this truly the pampered dandy he knew?
Chapter 121