Chapter Thirty-Five: The Meteoric Stone

Within the main camp of the Xuan Battalion, there was a conspicuous open space, upon which stood a simply constructed wooden platform. Many soldiers had previously speculated about the purpose of this peculiar platform, suspecting that the newly appointed Mr. Zhao, tasked with turning the tide, intended to summon supernatural forces to repel the barbarian army.

At this moment, a personal guard, holding two small triangular red flags, rushed onto the platform and vigorously waved them, striking poses no one could comprehend.

Signal flags!

This was another weapon Zhao Hengyi had introduced to the Xuan Battalion; though time was short, the flag bearer could only convey the simplest meanings to those observing from afar.

Yet, this was already enough.

The common folk, herded by barbarian soldiers, slowly entered the labyrinth formed by chevaux-de-frise. The despairing faces of the wailing people and the fierce expressions of the barbarians were now clearly visible to the Yan soldiers arrayed before the defensive line.

Among the civilians, the weak and elderly fell to the ground, and the barbarians driving them forward would mercilessly draw their blades to hack them down. The cries shook the heavens, and every villager, under the threat of death, struggled onward.

"Clear all the caltrops from the ground! If you don't, I'll cut off your heads!"

The barbarian officer's order compelled the villagers—who did not realize that obedience would not spare them from slaughter—to clear the scattered caltrops as they advanced.

Behind the villagers, barbarian soldiers held small, round, leather shields above their heads, each leading a warhorse. Once through the labyrinth, they would mount and charge.

Those Yan commoners forced to act as shields would be the first to fall, trampled and cut down by the cavalry.

On the defensive line, Yan soldiers exchanged anxious glances, their heavy breathing filled with conflict and torment.

But military orders were absolute: no one was allowed to attack. Even though more than half the archers from Yonggu City were gathered on the line, they could only watch in silence.

Just as all the villagers entered the labyrinth, the sound of a heavy object falling from above shattered the stifling atmosphere.

Whoosh!

A giant stone, the size of a millstone, plummeted from the sky and struck the entrance of the labyrinth with precision.

The barbarian soldiers following the villagers were instantly crushed to pulp.

The stone seemed merely a signal; immediately, more than a dozen stones of varying sizes rained down, as though the wrath of the gods, crashing heavily into the ranks of the barbarian soldiers.

Catapults—Zhao Hengyi had positioned them on the ridges flanking the valley!

Watching from the front, Zhao Hengyi silently praised those commanding the catapults; the timing was exquisitely precise.

These simple, even crude engines of war had never before been seen in Yan. In Zhao Hengyi’s memory, catapults had been widely used on ancient battlefields, mostly for siege warfare, since they could be constructed with materials at hand.

But, with the high ground secured, careful preparation, and the use of basic geometry to accurately target the stones, catapults could also serve as powerful defensive weapons.

The massive stones crashed into the barbarians, their tremendous inertia causing them to roll further after landing.

Each stone rolled forward, leaving a blood-soaked gap among the barbarian ranks.

"Why are stones falling from the sky?!"

"The gods are angry! Run!"

"This is divine punishment—someone has angered the spirits!"

Barbarian soldiers, unfamiliar with catapults, could not comprehend why millstone-sized rocks were raining from above. In an era where belief in the supernatural was universal, the explanation of divine wrath prevailed.

Not only those suffering under the stones, but even the Yan soldiers on the defensive line believed they were witnessing a miracle.

The deputy general standing beside Zhao Hengyi stared wide-eyed, mouth half open, throat emitting guttural sounds, unable to utter a word. The hand once gripping his sword hilt had long since slackened.

Even Wang Erhu, who had scouted the area and seen catapults in action more than once, had not expected that these clumsy machines, once unleashed, could create such a terrifying spectacle.

Stones thundered from the sky, rolling and crushing flesh, strange sounds filling the air, followed by the agonized screams of wounded soldiers who survived being grazed by the stones.

At the front, Zhang Can appeared with a tin megaphone, shouting to the terrified and confused villagers, "Run this way! If you make it here, you'll be safe!"

Like sheep amidst wolves, the villagers in the labyrinth frantically raced toward the Yan lines.

Barbarian soldiers disguised among the crowd suddenly drew their blades, slashing those around them—these heartless fiends targeted the slowest women, children, and elderly.

Thud!

A sound unlike the dull twang of bowstrings echoed, a flash of cold steel sinking into the neck of a disguised barbarian, spraying a shower of blood.

Thud, thud, thud!

The muffled sounds came in succession; one by one, the barbarians hiding among the villagers were taken down with precise shots.

The labyrinth was less than thirty meters from the Yan defensive line, well within range of the new crossbows.

At Zhao Hengyi’s repeated orders, the Yan soldiers, stifled and desperate, launched their attack.

Chevaux-de-frise were swiftly moved to the valley sides by supply troops; the herded villagers were guided by designated personnel. Archers unleashed volley after volley into the chaotic barbarian masses, followed by squads of ten, trained for just two days, charging into the fray.

The barbarian soldiers in the valley fell into uncontrollable chaos.

The stones from above, believed to be the wrath of gods, struck terror in their hearts.

Twenty squadrons, each with a hundred men and their horses, nearly filled the valley; now, turning to flee was almost impossible.

Following the flag bearer’s commands, the catapults on the ridges focused their fire on the valley’s center. The barbarians at the rear had no idea what was happening—only that stones rained from the sky. Those without orders to retreat stood frozen; many threw themselves to the ground, kneeling to the heavens.

Human screams, the cries of horses, the sound of bones shattering—all combined into a symphony heard only in the depths of hell.

These savage, merciless beasts deserved nothing less than eternal damnation.