Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Alliance (XII)

Amid Bu Li’s desperate, piercing cry, the air behind her suddenly thrummed with the rapid twang of bowstrings.

Chasing her on horseback were more than a dozen riders—not only knights of the Lianghait Special Unit, but also over a thousand warriors from the Qianyu Yue Division. The knights of the Lianghait Special Unit, bows in hand, all paused, holding their arrows in check. Only the thousand Qianyu Yue riders showed no hesitation: seven or eight bows were drawn taut, then a volley of feathered arrows shot forth, all aimed at Bu Li’s fleeing back!

These riders, always close to the Blackfruit warlord, were the elite of their tribe. Seven or eight arrows flew in formation, covering a wide swath to Bu Li’s left and right. No matter which way she dodged, she could not escape their deadly arc. The archers worked in perfect unison, their arrows forming a deadly net.

Mounted archery was the signature skill of the steppe tribes—Han armies had long learned to fear it. Yet it was not without its counters: the bows used on horseback were weak, unable to pierce armor at range. With strong armor and powerful bows, one could easily gain the upper hand.

But Bu Li, slight and unarmored, wore not a scrap of protection. A single arrow would mean grievous injury, perhaps death.

The Qianyu Yue warriors showed no mercy, even to a young girl. In the contested lands of Yunzhong, having just conquered the other nine clans, there could be no mistakes. If she escaped, no one could predict what troubles might arise.

As the arrows flew, Xu Le shouted, his voice thundering: “Down!”

With his cry, Han Yue, always at Xu Le’s side, suddenly hurled the iron shield strapped to his right arm. The shield spun ahead of Bu Li, lifting her long hair as it passed.

The iron shield struck several arrows in midair, sparks flying from the impacts; the arrows vanished, knocked aside who knew where. At the same instant, Bu Li dove forward as the shield swept past, rolling to the ground. Arrows whistled overhead, or thudded harmlessly into the earth nearby—she had narrowly escaped unharmed!

Lie Lie, riding among the pursuers, had held his bow but not fired. When he saw the Qianyu Yue arrows fail, he wasted no time: drawing his bow to the full, he loosed a barbed, armor-piercing bolt seized from the Great Sui army—a three-edged wolf-tooth arrow, flashing like lightning.

He’d hoped not to disgrace himself before his men—after all, Bu Li was Luo Dun’s adopted granddaughter, and there was a bond of kinship. Since the Qianyu Yue had already fired, he need not dirty his own hands.

But he hadn’t expected Xu Le to charge in at the critical moment, deflecting the rain of arrows and leaving them all spent.

Now, Lie Lie could not hesitate further. He had to kill the girl at once, and then capture Xu Le and the others in one sweep.

Lie Lie was never one to dither. Having chosen to side with the Turks, he would not waver—he would do whatever was necessary to win their trust and favor. Only by acting decisively would he gain the respect and use of the Turks.

The three-edged wolf-tooth arrow was infamous for its wounds: the triangular head tore a ragged hole, impossible to suture, and would bleed its victim to death.

This arrow was aimed straight at the prone Bu Li, whose roll had already spent its momentum. This time, there was no escape.

But just then, Xu Le raced up, swinging down from his stirrup to snatch the arrow from the air as he rose.

“Take one alive first!” he called coldly.

With Xu Le’s command, Song Bao roared, spurring his horse forward past the others. In actual combat, Song Bao dared not wield the ostentatious, long-handled halberd he sometimes carried; he used only a spear.

Standing almost upright in his stirrups, his body nearly airborne, he drove his horse like a whirlwind into the ranks of the Qianyu Yue warriors. With a fierce yell, he thrust his spear, unhorsing a rider in a single blow.

Now that Song Bao had resolved to follow Xu Le and fight for his life, his true abilities were revealed—he lived up to his reputation as the Iron Swallow.

With Song Bao charging, how could Han Yue ignore Xu Le’s orders? The massive shield he carried on his back was now in his hand, protecting him as he barreled into the fray. Several Qianyu Yue riders barely had time to draw their weapons before Han Yue swept them aside; lances flew high, and then Han Yue’s iron shield crashed into a rider’s face, flattening it with such force that the man fell from his horse, unable even to scream.

With both Song Bao and Han Yue in the fray, Xu Le tossed the barbed arrow aside. Bu Li, still lying on the ground, rolled over to see Xu Le leaning down, extending a hand to her.

“Up,” he said.

In a daze, Bu Li reached out her small hand. As soon as Xu Le grasped her, she felt herself lifted as if on clouds, soaring through the air to land behind him on his horse.

Xu Le glanced back at her with a smile. “Which one do you want to capture?”

Bu Li was too stunned for words.

Xu Le’s lips curled in a faint smile. With a squeeze of his legs, the big red horse neighed and charged toward the remaining pursuers.

The horse leapt forward, and Bu Li instinctively wrapped her arms around Xu Le’s waist. In that moment, she felt an unprecedented sense of safety.

The crimson steed thundered into the pursuers like a scarlet bolt. Xu Le’s wrist twisted, his supple lance flickering in a dazzling blur of motion.

He might hesitate to charge alone into a well-armored formation, but these dozen unarmored steppe riders, scattered and disordered, were nothing to him.

As his lance swept out, three or four riders screamed in agony, falling from their saddles almost simultaneously.

Once Xu Le joined the fray, Song Bao fought with renewed ferocity, toppling another rider with a roar.

The three of them rampaged through the pursuers like tigers among sheep. Xu Le’s prowess surpassed all expectations—none could stand against him in mounted combat.

Wounded men writhed and screamed on the ground; the survivors turned their horses to the flanks, too terrified to face them directly. Xu Le spurred his horse toward Lie Lie, determined to take him alive and learn the truth of the situation.

Lie Lie, seeing Xu Le charging him, reacted instantly. With a savage whip, he struck the haunch of a nearby guard’s horse. “Hold him off!” he barked.

The guard’s mount reared, but the man himself could barely hold his weapon, flailing helplessly in the saddle.

Xu Le didn’t even bother to draw his blade—he reached out as their horses passed, seized the man’s belt, and yanked him to the ground with a crash. “Han Yue, catch him!” he called.

Lie Lie was already wheeling his horse to flee. As he turned, he drove his dagger into his own horse’s flank, sending the beast into a mad gallop straight for the Qianyu Yue main camp.

Xu Le was more formidable than the rumors claimed. Lie Lie still had a bright future ahead—he hoped one day to become a great khan among the Turks. He would not risk his life against this killer here.

Xu Le pressed on relentlessly, Bu Li clinging behind him, determined not to let Lie Lie escape.

As soon as Xu Le spotted Lie Lie among the pursuers, he understood. This traitor had betrayed Luo Dun; capturing him would be the proper account to give to Old Luo.

Hoofbeats thundered behind. Lie Lie’s face was deathly pale. Just as despair seized him, a great cloud of dust rose before his eyes. Tears nearly sprang to his eyes.

A large force of Qianyu Yue cavalry was riding up, shrouding the earth in dust. Blackfruit had finally suppressed the chaos in the camp and was coming to his aid.

Lie Lie howled, his voice cracking with desperation. “Stop him! That’s Luo Dun’s adopted grandson—the one who caused all the trouble in Yunzhong City yesterday!”