Chapter 17: The Hour of the Hunt
In the darkness of night, Lin Chuan’s figure almost merged with the shadows.
Like a lynx, he silently approached the tent.
From nearby came the laughter of the Tatars, the thud of passing wine skins, and the crackling of the campfire.
Only thirty steps from the camp.
Sweat trickled down his temple, lingering at his chin for a moment before silently dripping off.
Twenty steps... fifteen steps... ten steps...
He stopped in the darkness behind the tent.
Ten steps away, the campfire illuminated the Tatars’ disgraceful behavior in sharp detail.
The squad leader, his face swollen and brutal, was clutching a young woman, his rough hand wandering shamelessly beneath her clothes.
Several drunken Tatars nearby hooted and jeered.
Someone even drew a dagger, unfastening another woman’s belt.
The fire crackled, sparks flying.
The squad leader yanked the woman’s hair, dragging her toward the tent.
The others exchanged glances and burst into loud laughter.
The tent’s felt flap was roughly thrown open.
Through the gap, Lin Chuan saw a pair of leather boots dragging a frail silhouette.
The woman’s body left messy scratches on the ground; she seemed to have given up struggling.
Lin Chuan’s fingertips touched the tent’s edge, gently lifting a corner.
A strong smell of mutton mixed with alcohol hit his nose.
There was no oil lamp inside; the Tatar, back to the entrance, was undoing his belt with one hand.
The woman was pushed down onto the felt, her disheveled hair covering half her pale face.
The Tatar tossed aside his leather armor, revealing a scarred back.
He bent down to grab the woman’s ankle, mumbling lewd words in his crude tongue.
Suddenly, the woman struggled violently but was slapped back down, limp.
Now!
Like a fish slipping through water, Lin Chuan darted into the tent.
The squad leader felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Just as he turned, a powerful grip instantly clamped down on his throat.
Lin Chuan’s left hand, iron-like, covered the man’s mouth and nose; his right hand flashed with the cold gleam of a long blade.
“Shhh—”
Warm blood sprayed like a fan, soaking the woman.
“Mmm...!”
The squad leader’s eyes bulged, veins bursting on his temple.
His bulky body convulsed violently as if electrocuted, but no sound came out.
The blade had effortlessly sliced through his throat.
Lin Chuan felt the muscles beneath his palm tense like iron, then go limp like a deflated sack.
The woman watched in terror.
Lin Chuan loosened his grip, letting the body silently slump to the ground.
Her cracked lips parted, about to scream.
Suddenly, Lin Chuan’s bloodstained hand clamped over her mouth.
The stench of blood flooded her nostrils, her pupils contracting sharply.
“I’m here to save you... keep crying...” he whispered close to her ear, his voice colder than the blade, “The louder the better.”
The woman trembled but nodded.
A faint glimmer appeared in her terrified eyes.
Heart-wrenching cries erupted inside the tent, mixed with the rustling of fabric.
Outside, the Tatars let out lecherous laughter.
***
A drunken voice called out, “Batur, easy! Don’t kill the virgin!”
Lin Chuan slipped on the squad leader’s leather armor, gripping the long blade.
The blade reflected his eyes, cold to the extreme.
He whispered a few words to the woman.
She bit her lip and nodded, then let out even more wailing cries.
“You wild donkey, Batur!”
The most drunken scar-faced Tatar staggered up, kicking over a wine skin.
“Such a savage virgin, let me have a taste!”
He lurched toward the tent, his curved blade tapping against his thigh with each step.
The sound of his leather boots crunching over gravel grew louder.
The tent flap was flung open roughly, a strong blast of alcohol scent rushing in.
The scar-faced Tatar squinted through the haze of drunkenness, seeing the squad leader’s bulky body motionless atop the Han woman.
He grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth, reaching out to grab the squad leader’s shoulder.
“Old man, already done so fast?”
His voice abruptly cut off.
A shadow burst from the corner of the tent!
Like a leopard, Lin Chuan sprang forward, his long blade striking down sharply.
The scar-faced Tatar, bleary-eyed, only saw a pair of bloodshot eyes.
Eyes fiercer than any steppe wolf.
“Crack—”
A crisp sound rang out.
Before he could react, the world seemed to spin wildly.
Darkness rushed upon him...
Lin Chuan’s blade severed the scar-faced Tatar’s head.
The tent fell into terrifying silence, broken only by the drunken laughter outside.
The woman curled up in a corner, already unable to hold back her vomit.
Lin Chuan placed the wolf-head hat of the squad leader on his head, lifted the flap, and stepped out.
He deliberately pulled the hat low, hiding half his face.
Holding the bloodied blade, he staggered toward the campfire.
“Batur!”
A Tatar with a full beard laughed, raising a wine skin, “Already done so fast?”
His laughter suddenly choked in his throat.
In the flickering firelight, he saw the bloodstains on Lin Chuan’s armor and curved blade.
“What... happened to you...?”
The bearded man’s drunken eyes widened, the wine skin slipping from his hand with a “pop.”
“Whoosh—”
A sharp whistle tore through the night air.
Lin Chuan held a bone whistle in his mouth, spun, and leapt.
His entire body vanished into the tent’s shadows.
“What’s going on?”
Several Tatars, caught off guard, stood up.
“Fwoosh—”
As the whistle sounded, Er Gou’s trident arrow was already flying.
“Pfft!”
The arrow struck precisely in the bearded man’s throat, piercing through with great force.
His eyes bulged, hands futilely clutching the shaft as he collapsed like rotten wood.
“Thwack thwack—”
Other arrows followed swiftly.
***
One Tatar tried to shout but an arrow whistled into his shoulder.
“Thud thud!”
Two more arrows struck the same man—one in the thigh, one in the back.
From the woods to the east came a sudden barrage of shouting, mixed with chaotic footsteps.
Wang Tiezhu’s rough roar shook the treetops: “Kill the Tatars!”
“Kill—”
From the south surged a chorus of battle cries.
In the darkness, it was impossible to tell how many soldiers were charging.
The camp descended into chaos.
The remaining three Tatars drew their curved blades.
The uninjured one dashed toward the nearby warhorses.
“Trying to run?”
Lin Chuan suddenly leapt from the tent’s shadow, his blade slicing a cold arc.
The Tatar hurriedly blocked, sparks flying.
Lin Chuan missed the strike, spinning away.
In the moment the Tatar hesitated, another arrow “whizzed” through the air.
“Pfft!” It pierced right through the leather armor on his chest.
The Tatar grunted, then fell back.
Lin Chuan burst from the shadows, bringing his blade down.
The last two wounded Tatars staggered, trying to flee.
But Hu Dayong and One-Eyed Dragon blocked their paths from left and right.
“You mutts still trying to run?”
Hu Dayong stepped forward with a fierce strike of his waist blade, wind howling.
The Tatar tried to block but, weakened by his leg wound, was knocked to the ground.
One-Eyed Dragon was even fiercer, delivering a flying kick that sent the other Tatar into the fire.
Amid flying sparks, his spear precisely pierced the man’s throat.
“Commander! Any stragglers?”
Hu Dayong wiped blood from his face, standing back-to-back with One-Eyed Dragon, eyes sharp.
“None left.”
Lin Chuan stepped slowly from the tent’s shadow, blood dripping from his blade onto the grass.
“Six. Not one less.”
He panted heavily, wiping the blood on the tent.
The women huddled together, eyes wide with terror at the three bloodied soldiers.
In the distance, the sounds of battle still raged.
Wang Tiezhu, like a wild bull, shook a tree trunk thick as a bowl, yelling loudly:
“Kill! Charge!”
Er Gou and another soldier ran over, bow in hand.
Everyone’s faces were filled with excitement.
Hu Dayong dropped to one knee with a thud, cupped his fists, and shouted:
“Commander, your brilliant strategy! We are truly convinced!”
The kneel seemed to signal others; One-Eyed Dragon, Er Gou, and the rest all kneeled in unison.
“Everyone, stand up!” Lin Chuan frowned.
But Hu Dayong stayed kneeling, eyes shining with excitement:
“Commander! We’ve been in the army for over ten years, never seen such a glorious battle! Six elite scouts of the Azure Wolf Tribe, wiped out with zero casualties!”
His voice trembled with emotion.
“From now on, where you point east, I, Hu Dayong, will never go west!”