Chapter 19: The Annexation of Sushan Stronghold

That day at the banquet, Li Gui shouted the slogan, “Unite all the mountains, dominate the Yi River,” igniting a wildfire of ambition in the hearts of the mountain bandits.

Early the next morning, Li Gui summoned Old Li Qi, instructing him to lead a group down the mountain to scout the surrounding strongholds.

Speed was essential; if news spread that Yushan had defeated the Yishui County authorities, other mountain lairs would grow wary.

Though Old Li Qi secretly harbored some resistance toward Li Gui’s plan for unification, his obedience was unquestionable—whatever Li Gui ordered, he executed without hesitation.

Once given the command, Old Li Qi quietly took a handful of men to reconnoiter near the various mountains, meticulously mapping out the terrain and conditions of the bandit camps.

As one of their own, even if spotted by rival bandits, he would be seen as merely trespassing—at worst beaten and driven away—not as a hostile agent.

Within a few days, he had uncovered the full details of each camp.

Armed with this intelligence, coupled with deliberate strategy, conquering the other mountains was no longer a distant dream.

Among all, Yushan’s own fortress was the most vulnerable, the easiest to seize.

To bolster his ragtag troops’ confidence and sharpen their skills, Li Gui decided to “pick the low-hanging fruit,” choosing Yushan as the initial target.

After pausing training for a day to let the soldiers rest, at dawn the next day, Li Gui sounded the drum to assemble the troops.

Everyone knew today was a march to battle—a deadly struggle—and so they prepared themselves as thoroughly as possible.

Though they lacked armor, the poor had their own methods—they wore thick layers of clothing for protection.

Last time, during a defensive counterattack, they had no time to use such measures. Now, forewarned, they armed themselves to the teeth.

Though it made them hot and uncomfortable, survival mattered more than comfort.

Fortunately, it was still early morning, the air cool; if they moved swiftly, perhaps they could have lunch atop Yushan by noon.

Li Gui led the group in silence, moving swiftly until before midday they reached the foot of Yushan.

Concealed by the woods, a dilapidated mountain camp loomed before them.

Though all were bandit strongholds, Yushan’s was especially shabby.

Perhaps it had never been raided, as the walls were low and fragile—mostly wooden frames woven with bamboo strips, coated only with a thin layer of yellow mud.

Yushan’s fortifications were no better until Li Gui’s arrival, when he ordered his auxiliaries to rebuild them; otherwise, it would have been little stronger than other camps.

Yushan’s walls were notably weak; from a distance, a large breach was visible on one side, yet no one had repaired it.

Such a place was ideal for a night raid, but most farmers of this era suffered from night blindness; not only was night assault difficult, even traveling at night risked getting lost.

In the chaos of nocturnal combat, it would be impossible to tell if a death was caused by friend or foe.

After cautiously approaching, Li Gui’s men found the gate deserted; the half-heartedly trained dozen or so amateur archers assigned to guard were nowhere in sight.

Though the sun was already high, no sentries stood at the camp’s entrance.

This was not a disciplined army; who would bother guarding a gate all day?

Bandits were a disorderly horde, and since many camps colluded with the city’s official Li, fearing no government raids, their vigilance was particularly lax.

Seeing this, Li Gui abandoned his original plan of covert infiltration through the breach and instead signaled his men to storm the main gate directly.

Once inside, they found an open courtyard where a few scattered bandits were idly milling about.

Startled by the sudden charge, they froze in place.

Li Gui led the way, covering a few paces before striking down the nearest man with swift, ruthless precision—like slicing through melons and vegetables.

When the first man’s blood sprayed upward like a fountain, the bandits finally snapped out of their stupor, screaming as they turned to flee without any thought of resistance.

Li Gui did not recklessly pursue but ordered his spearmen to form a line in the courtyard and advance in unison.

As the bandits regrouped, brandishing pitchforks and wooden clubs, they collided head-on with the wall of spears.

Their leader, seeing the formidable formation, dropped his weapon without a word and fled, shouting:

“The government troops are here! Run for your lives!”

He was mistaken but understandably so—few camps even had steel blades, and this dense spear formation was unheard of and likely never seen.

Moreover, a dozen armored men were at the forefront—this was not a bandit’s outfit. Who else could they be?

Ordinarily, Li Gui’s entire arsenal would have cost thousands of coins, but through ruthless underworld deals, he had acquired a large cache of weapons and armor without spending a single coin.

Seeing their leader flee, the remaining bandits abandoned their weapons and scattered like frightened birds.

“Cowardly scum!”

“Running away so fast!”

“With such a mouse’s heart, how can you call yourselves bandits?”

Li Gui cursed quietly, ordering his troops into pairs to pursue and kill, while loudly proclaiming: “Surrender now and kneel to save your lives!”

Those words worked better than anything else; immediately, dozens knelt by the roadside.

In these times, law was lenient to the masses—only the ringleaders were punished, the rest spared.

As long as one was not a camp leader, surrender meant immediate pardon, and everyone scrambled to comply, fearing to be left behind or killed for credit.

This battle had been too easy—no real resistance, less intense than previous skirmishes with the city constables.

Li Gui knew part of the ease was due to the bandits’ mistaken belief that government troops had arrived.

If only they donned a few official uniforms and shouted the slogan of punishing only the ringleaders, other camps might collapse without a fight, even their leaders handed over by their own men.

But such military exercises bred nothing but arrogance in the soldiers—no real value beyond that.

Li Gui gathered all the surrendered bandits, confiscated their weapons, formed a spear formation around them, and stood in the courtyard’s center to oversee the spoils.

Soon, those sent to chase fleeing bandits returned, bringing with them the captured leaders—though a few, including Yushan’s chief, had vanished due to unfamiliar terrain.

The squad leader leading the pursuit nervously reported back, only to be slain on the spot by the capricious chief.

Yet Li Gui cared little whether the chief was captured; what he valued most was already in his hands.

Waving the squad leader away, he called Old Li Qi over and said:

“As usual, have them swear allegiance first.”