Volume One: The Emperor's Command Chapter Thirty-Eight: Together, They Braved the Camp of Flames

On the eastern side, an arena had been cordoned off for duels, while on the west, the sounds of quarreling grew ever more intense. Feng Nanque’s initial worry was giving way to anger.

“This is utter chaos!” Feng Nanque was just about to leap down and intervene when he saw Duan Hongling, forced back three steps by a great-ring saber, pull the reins, vault onto her horse, raise her sword high, and lead her troops off the field.

“Whoever takes the fortress first, we’ll follow their lead!”

“Haha! Miss Duan is straightforward! We’ll do as you say!” Zhao Ge spurred his own force close behind. With one following another, the remaining leaders cupped their fists toward the heights, and without so much as a signal, launched an attack on their own initiative.

Cui Ying brought up the rear with three thousand soldiers. In less than half an hour, the coalition of eighteen forces had devolved into a farce.

A grand uprising had transformed into an even grander chaos of battle. Liu Xiaoyi, leading his three hundred men, lounged along, following the narrow path along the field’s edge toward the fortress.

Before the riverbed stood one such stronghold, surrounded mostly by horse pastures. The pampered steeds, unaccustomed to such turmoil, whinnied in panic, their cries echoing across the hills.

It was, without doubt, the best alarm signal. At the gate of the mountain fortress, which stood about fifty feet high, a row of crossbowmen lined up, aiming at the approaching dust-cloaked troops, waiting for them to enter range.

The fortress was guarded by Meng Tan, the adopted son of the county magistrate of Chen Zhou. He was the head of an escort agency, not only with skilled bodyguards but also aided by over two thousand soldiers.

Grey bottles, firecrackers, rolling logs, and boulders—every kind of defensive device was at the ready, awaiting the onslaught from outlanders.

News spread like wildfire; nearly every town was occupied by the capable. Peace had lasted too long—once trouble broke out, it was hard to contain.

Meng Tan first spotted a female general and was momentarily stunned. As she drew closer, he recognized her as Duan Hongling from neighboring Salt City.

The two magistrates had long had dealings; Meng Tan not only recognized Duan Hongling, he was also one of her most ardent suitors.

“Don’t loose your arrows yet—hold your fire!” Meng Tan called out, approaching the battlement with a beaming smile, his expression clear enough for Duan Hongling to see from afar.

More troops could be seen advancing in the distance. Not striking while their numbers were still small was already a tactical blunder.

“Is that Miss Duan below? Are you here for the horses or for a meeting?”

Duan Hongling pointed her sword at Meng Tan. “I’m here to vent my anger! If you open the gates and come out obediently, for the sake of past acquaintance, I might spare your life!”

“Why not come up for a talk, Miss Duan? If I open the gate, do you dare step inside?” Meng Tan grinned, signaling the soldiers to push open the gates.

Duan Hongling was at a loss for words. She had always looked down on her pursuers, finding Meng Tan particularly calculating and insincere, which had long since put her off. Only Zhao Ge, upright and sincere, had ever been given a chance to prove himself.

As she hesitated, Zhao Ge galloped up. He too recognized Meng Tan—rivals in love, their meeting was charged with animosity. His infantry lined up behind, bows drawn and ready to shoot.

Meng Tan ducked behind the battlement, shouting, “Zhao Ge, you attack on sight! Where are your manners?”

As he spoke, he signaled his defenders to retaliate; after all, who would take a beating without returning the favor?

The fortress stood on an open plain, vulnerable—easy to attack, hard to defend. Once the front-line infantry raised their shields, the defenders’ arrows could do only limited harm.

Zhao Ge charged alone through the gates, cutting down the guards one by one, hoping to let his army in.

But then boiling oil poured down from above, set aflame, and the entire wooden wall erupted in fire, sealing off entry and exit.

Meng Tan leapt down from the wall, saber in hand, and without another word, engaged Zhao Ge in combat.

Through the flames, Duan Hongling watched anxiously, desperate to go in, but the fire blocked her way.

Other forces arrived one after another, but most diverted to another fortress—beyond that one lay Chen Zhou City itself.

Time could not be wasted here. Cui Ying and Feng Nanque charged straight into the fortress ahead, determined to end the battle quickly.

Liu Xiaoyi, meanwhile, went nowhere. With Tang Qiu and their men, he climbed the high slope beside them, quietly observing the situation.

“Brother Liu, why don’t we go help? Making a name for ourselves would help us recruit,” Tang Qiu fretted, pacing atop the slope like an ant on a hot griddle.

Still, he trusted Liu Xiaoyi’s judgment and followed him up here. As the young master of the Tang family manor, he’d met countless people and could tell Liu Xiaoyi was different from the usual brutes.

Especially Zhao Ge—storming a fortress was no child’s play, yet he insisted on upholding chivalric codes. Now, trapped inside with no way out, he was in dire straits.

Liu Xiaoyi thought to himself that leading his men into the assault would be little different from sending them to their deaths. With so many troops present, it was only a matter of time before the fortress fell anyway.

“Brother Tang, look: there are four thousand men attacking the fortress here besides us, all being battered outside the wall of fire. Why not wait for the flames to die down before charging in?”

The blaze outside the fortress was not about to die out anytime soon. Duan Hongling led several charges to no avail, only to lose more men in vain.

Arrows rained down like a storm, turning infantry shields into bristling hedgehogs—one careless step meant death.

Four wealthy merchants from Salt City stayed at the rear, ordering five catapults forward, loading them with boulders to hurl at the fortress.

The outer walls were made of hard wood; Meng Tan never intended to hold out, only to buy time for Chen Zhou City.

The boulders smashed into the fortress, bursting open holes in several places, and the scattered flames blazed even higher.

“Miss Duan, retreat! The fire won’t die down anytime soon!” Cao Wenzhao called out, worried. The Duan family had long-standing ties with the salt merchants, or the four of them would never have stayed here.

Salt merchants roamed with their caravans, seldom settling anywhere, since their trade was part official, part private, and they had to disappear whenever the authorities cracked down.

Duan Hongling’s father, the magistrate of Salt City, had once been a merchant himself and understood their plight. He had made things easier for many salt merchants, shielding them in this region.

Cao Wenzhao gripped his bronze club, ready to ride to the front. The other three hurried to restrain him.

“Wenzhao, don’t go forward—the arrow volleys are deadly,” Wang Wenzuo grabbed his arm. “Send a runner to bring Miss Duan back.”

The four great salt merchants, all around forty, had a fondness for martial arts, which was why they’d raised troops at all. At their level, wealth was just a worldly possession. They were well-known in the central plains, living in true luxury.

But the runner hadn’t even reached Duan Hongling’s side when they saw her, clad in red, spur her horse and leap straight into the ring of fire!