Chapter Forty-Two: Suppression

This time, there was no need for Qi Jun to say anything more. At the urgent sound of the clanging bronze gong, each squad quickly assembled under their captains’ command. Upon learning that a band of bandits was approaching to attack the village, the villagers eagerly readied themselves for battle, their fighting spirits ignited.

Qi Jun watched all this with both relief and a trace of concern—relieved at how swiftly the villagers responded to the threat, but worried whether the newly formed anti-bandit militia could win this fight.

“Although there are fewer bandits this time than before, we must not let our guard down,” Qi Jun addressed the assembled squads with grave seriousness. “I won’t say more. We must win this battle! Now, listen carefully to my orders...”

Not far outside the village, a group of bandits swaggered along the mountain path toward the settlement.

“Third Boss, I don’t know why, but walking this road today makes me uneasy...” a minor leader murmured to the bandit at their head.

That leader was the third-in-command of Panlong Ridge, infamous as “Bone-Grinder.” Rumor had it he delighted in using dull blades to flay the flesh from his victims, deriving perverse pleasure from the sound of a blade scraping bone and the tormented screams of the dying. His underlings catered to his gruesome tastes, often raiding villages to seize unfortunate souls for his cruel amusements.

The mere mention of “Bone-Grinder” sent villagers fleeing in terror; none dared linger when he was near. The third boss himself was well pleased with the terror his name inspired.

“What are you scared of? We’ve walked this road for years. Wolves, tigers, ghosts—I've chopped them all to bits,” the third boss boasted, riding with his blade slung over his shoulder. Surveying the bleak landscape, he felt an unearned sense of dominance over these mountains.

“It’s just... Tiger and his lot, more than a hundred men, but not a single word from them yet...” the minor leader muttered, shrinking his neck in unease.

“That bastard Feng fled in terror already—only a bunch of dirt-grubbing peasants left, not enough for Tiger to slaughter. You worry too much,” the third boss said dismissively, gripping his blade. “I bet the fellow’s off somewhere enjoying a fresh batch of village girls.”

Despite the bravado, the minor leader’s anxiety was not dispelled. He had traversed this path countless times, but a growing sense of foreboding gnawed at him.

The bandits soon reached the village entrance, where a few startled birds flapped away from the treetops. The village itself was eerily silent.

“Cleaned out to the bone. Not even a ghost left behind,” the third boss said, scanning the empty scene with faint disappointment.

“Should we send someone in to have a look?” the minor leader suggested, frowning.

“You and Old Dog go check it out. If it’s all corpses and stink, I’ll stay here. Find Tiger and tell him to get his men and meet us back at the stronghold—the chief is waiting,” the third boss ordered irritably, waving the two forward. The oppressive heat made his skin crawl with impatience.

No one wanted to approach a village reeking with the stench of summer rot, but the two bandits, grimacing, obeyed.

“Boss, Scarface and his guys’ shack is right over there. I’ll have them fetch water for you!” another bandit flattered, eager to please.

“Ha! I hadn’t thought of that. Those scoundrels must have gambled all night, not a peep from them at this hour. Go rouse them—tell them to scrub my back! Damn this cursed heat, it’s killing me...” He glared at the shack, cursing under his breath.

As the minor leader turned to walk toward the shacks, a sudden gust of wind brushed his ear, followed by a sharp pain in his neck. Instinctively reaching up, he found his hand slick with blood. He tried to cry out, but the arrow lodged in his throat choked off any sound; he collapsed immediately.

All this transpired in the span of a few seconds. The bandits, including the third boss, had no time to react. Another volley of arrows whistled through the air from behind. They spun around to see more than a dozen arrows flying from the small grove.

“It’s an ambush!” the third boss cried, yanking a fellow bandit in front of him as a human shield. The next instant, that unfortunate man was struck by several arrows and spat blood as he fell.

The arrows were neither dense nor accurate, and lacked force. Several bandits were hit, but few fatally.

“Get them! Kill them all!” the third boss barked. He quickly discerned from the feeble attack that their assailants were villagers with little combat experience and few arrows. He ordered a charge.

In the grove, Qi Jun had aimed to kill the leader, but the minor leader had unwittingly intercepted the fatal arrow. Now, seeing the bandits regrouping and charging, Qi Jun’s heart clenched. Their reaction and ferocity made it clear these were no ordinary thugs.

“Crossbow team, fall back! Melee team, forward!” Qi Jun shouted, retreating with the archers. The melee team, led by Liu Kui, immediately formed up with sharpened bamboo poles and wooden staves, advancing in unison.

The bandits, reaching the edge of the grove, were driven back by the bristling bamboo, stumbling in confusion. Armed with short blades and cudgels, they could not engage the villagers at close range.

“Afraid of a few bamboo sticks? Get up there! They’re just peasants—we’ve killed plenty before!” the third boss shouted, brandishing his blade and ordering his men forward.

The bandits halted, hacking at the bamboo while spreading to the flanks.

Qi Jun saw the bandits attempting to encircle the melee team. He ordered the archers to fire in support, and instructed the melee team to advance in a crescent formation, compressing the bandits’ ranks.

Another volley of arrows was loosed. With the distance shortened, they were far more effective than before. Many bandits at the front fell wounded or dead; the rear ranks wavered in confusion. The melee team pressed their advantage, lunging with bamboo poles and injuring several more.

The bandits fell back, steadily losing ground. As the villagers’ encirclement tightened, the third boss’s rage boiled over. For years he had lorded over these people, killing and plundering at will. Never had he been so humiliated, so pressed by those he deemed beneath contempt.

“Damn it all! Anyone who retreats, I’ll cut down myself! Charge! A tael of silver for every kill!” he roared, slashing down a retreating bandit and swinging his blade forward.

Spurred by fear and greed, the remaining bandits rallied and attacked with renewed ferocity, increasing the pressure on Liu Kui’s team.

“Sir, the bandits are suddenly charging like madmen—what should we do?” Liu Kui cried out anxiously, having just impaled one bandit, only to have another seize his bamboo pole.

“Signal Liu Fuyuan—we’re pulling back!” Qi Jun ordered Liu Biao.

Liu Biao feinted with his bamboo pole, forcing back a bandit, then tossed it aside and cupped his hands around his mouth, imitating the call of a francolin toward the rear.

At once, the villagers dropped their bamboo poles and fled. The third boss sensed something was wrong, but the bandits, thinking the villagers had broken under their assault, exulted and rushed in pursuit.

None of them realized that, as the francolin’s call echoed, dozens of dark shapes appeared high above their heads.

The third boss looked up just in time to see a cascade of rocks hurtling down onto the tightly clustered bandits.

In an instant, as the stones struck, cries of agony filled the air. Where the bandits had massed, not a single man remained standing.

A few villagers who had hesitated in retreat were also struck, sustaining minor injuries. The rest, witnessing the sudden deluge, were stunned speechless.

“So... this is the secret weapon Master Qi spoke of...” After a long silence, one villager finally murmured in awe, staring at the dead and wounded bandits strewn across the ground.

“Sir, if we had such a powerful weapon, why not use it as soon as the bandits entered the village? They nearly broke through just now,” Liu Kui asked, glancing at the blood-streaked stones at his feet, still shaken.

“First, I wanted everyone to get real combat experience and practice working together. After all, we can’t always rely on the stone thrower in every situation. Second, when the bandits entered, they were spread out. If we’d used the stone thrower then, only a few would have been caught. By forcing them together through coordinated tactics, we ensured the best effect,” Qi Jun explained.

Liu Kui and the others nodded thoughtfully, then bowed in admiration.

“With a weapon like this, why should we fear taking Panlong Ridge?”

“Master Qi is astonishing. How did he think of such a thing...”

“Following him into battle, we can’t go wrong!”

“I can’t wait to storm Panlong Ridge and wipe out the bandits...”

The villagers chattered excitedly as they cleared the battlefield. Any surviving, wounded bandits were dragged from the corpses, bound, and tossed aside like dead pigs.