Chapter Nine: The Little Gate Guardian

With two thunderous roars from Xu Le and Han Yue, joined by the fiery rain that filled the sky, the eight or nine Eagle Battalion soldiers who had crept up in the darkness were left dazzled and disoriented. Instinctively, they loosened their grips and released their arrows; aside from those aimed at Han Yue, the shafts lacked any precision. The rest, let fly in confusion, were unlikely to hit their intended targets.

Three or four arrows whistled sharply, skimming over the heads and sides of the merchant guards and young heroes. All except Xu Le and Song Bao, whose scar at the corner of his mouth twisted grimly, shrank their necks in terror. The whistling force of those arrows spoke of bows with at least a stone’s draw; even bone-tipped arrows would punch clear holes through flesh if they struck.

More than twenty pack horses were startled, whinnying and stamping. Had they not been tied securely, they might have bolted and gone over the mountaintop, sending a few tumbling down for certain.

The chill mountain wind, the desolate wilderness, the sudden appearance of enemies in the forest, the fire raining from the sky, arrows whistling past, and the horses screaming—these combined to terrify the guards and young heroes out of their wits. They released their arrows in panic, which flew aimlessly into the woods, who knew what they might hit.

Song Bao tightened his face and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Don’t shoot! Don’t harm Han Yue!”

Only with Song Bao’s thunderous bellow did the merchant guards and young heroes snap out of their panic, lowering their bows and drawing their straight swords, trembling as they watched Han Yue’s figure rushing into the woods.

Song Bao glanced at Han Yue’s back, then quickly turned to look at Xu Le. Though Han Yue carried the title of Little Guardian and had participated in several skirmishes among the young heroes of Shenwu County, Song Bao regarded him as nothing special; he himself had real lives claimed. As for the young gentleman Xu, relying on his grandfather’s reputation, Song Bao considered him a joke. Just because his own guards and paid friends praised Xu’s skills, he wasn’t about to take it seriously.

Yet in this sudden nocturnal ambush, Xu Le’s keen instincts and the decisive act of flinging fire into the enemy’s eyes made Song Bao reconsider. Still, it was not enough to make him resolve to fight to the death for the caravan. He had recognized the attackers’ attire: Sui dynasty military leather armor, military bows and arrows, stealthy movements—the unmistakable marks of Eagle Battalion soldiers, and not just any, but those from Heng’an Prefecture in Mayi County, famed for their frequent battles.

Song Bao’s mind raced: Should he lead his brothers and turn tail now? The warning not to shoot was less about protecting Han Yue and more about not harming these Eagle Battalion soldiers; if they were wounded, they’d pursue them relentlessly when they tried to escape.

“Damn it, should we run now? Can we get everyone out? In this wild mountain, if we lose our horses, can we even find our way out?”

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The renowned frontier hero, Song Bao, known as Iron Flying Swallow of Shenwu, gripped his single axe halberd so tightly his palms sweated, torn by fierce inner conflict and cursing his decision to accept Han Yue’s request to take this ill-fated merchant journey.

Xu Le, beside Song Bao, paid no heed to Song Bao’s turmoil. He simply stared at Han Yue’s charging figure.

Ah Yue, now is the time to show your skill. This is my first step out of my family home; there are countless feats yet to achieve, and you are my trusted ally!

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A series of metallic clangs rang out as several arrows struck the iron shield, sparks flying. The arrows, knocked aside by the shield, veered off wildly.

Han Yue’s heavy form was undeterred, moving like a mountain, covering ten paces in an instant and crashing headlong into the Eagle Battalion’s ranks!

Several Eagle Battalion soldiers dropped bows and drew swords, roaring as they slashed at him. Han Yue’s broad physique seemed fused to the iron shield, moving with it, dodging and deflecting every straight blade. The forest was filled with the sharp, grating sounds of metal clashing. Amidst the shower of sparks, Han Yue pushed aside each blade and pressed forward without pause.

Always hidden behind the shield, he advanced by squeezing, pushing, and ramming with it. The thirteen or fourteen-pound iron shield slammed into each blocking soldier, sending them flying or crashing to the ground. If struck, they spat blood and fell, unable to rise for a long while.

Han Yue, trained by Old Master Xu, wielded his shield with flawless military technique. Generals in armor, charging into battle, always had such bodyguards to protect them—whether with shields or their own flesh—ensuring the commander could break enemy lines and seize the banner.

On the shield, the visage of Shentu seemed to come alive. Behind it stood Han Yue, known as the Little Guardian among Shenwu County’s young heroes.

If Xu Le had never truly shown his skills, Han Yue, in his previous exploits, had revealed less than half of his true ability.

In an instant, shield in hand, Han Yue broke through the formation, charging straight at the squad leader. The squad leader cursed, drew his straight blade, and lunged low to strike.

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Han Yue pressed the heavy shield downward, and with a crack, the squad leader’s forged straight blade snapped in two under its weight.

Only then did the squad leader notice the lower edge of Han Yue’s shield was honed sharp and adorned with three fierce wolf’s teeth—designed to drive the shield into the ground and form a solid defensive line in battle.

Combined with the shield’s hefty weight, Han Yue broke blades as easily as rotting wood.

Then Han Yue advanced, pressing close to the shield and ramming forward. The squad leader desperately leaped aside, his heart filled with terror.

These were supposed to be merchants—how had they encountered such a formidable opponent?

Han Yue had already struck four or five Eagle Battalion soldiers, leaving them sprawled on the ground, unable to rise. The remaining few, loyal brothers, drew their swords and charged from behind, eyes red with fury.

But Han Yue saw only the squad leader. As the leader retreated, Han Yue finally left the shield’s cover, extending his long arm and flipping the shield forward.

The squad leader leaped again, but the shield grazed him. Even a glancing blow felt like being struck by a mountain; his ribs burned with pain, leaving him gasping, clutching his chest and dropping to one knee.

Han Yue flipped his wrist, raising the shield high. The three wolf’s teeth gleamed coldly as he prepared to smash them down. If he struck true, the squad leader would be left with three bowl-sized holes in his body—no physician on earth could save him.

At this moment, the squad leader was so stricken he could not move, only able to look up as the shield descended.

At the brink of death, the squad leader reacted swiftly, screaming with all his might, “I am an Eagle Battalion soldier from Heng’an!”

Han Yue hesitated, and the shield fell askew, skimming past the squad leader with a muffled thud, smashing heavily into the ground and scattering stones. The image of Shentu on the shield seemed to glare fiercely at the squad leader who had escaped death, as if roaring at him with wild fury.