Volume One: Flames on the Frontier Chapter Forty-Seven: The Bloody Battle of the Chen Family Stronghold

He Yu felt the world spinning, his vision darkening as he trembled and asked, "So you're saying, not a single soul escaped from the stockade? They're all trapped inside?"

The two captains lowered their heads in anguish and replied, "In the darkness, the enemy—those White Horde soldiers—were everywhere. All four gates were blocked. Except for the two of us, no one got out. Even our own families are still inside, trapped."

He Yu steadied himself, his mind racing. "The Yanmen army is only a hundred li from the Chen Stockade. With Li Yu leading the way, a forced march through day and night would be no trouble. The Chen Stockade sits behind the Yanmen army—a deadly threat to Murong Kai. With such a chance, he would surely bring a large force to crush the Chen Stockade in one fell swoop.

"The Xianbei armies have always been notorious for massacring cities. Murong Kai has a decent reputation; with him in command, perhaps the Chen Stockade still has a sliver of hope. But if it were Murong Shao leading, not even a dog or chicken would remain alive.

"But who, then, is Prince Zhao, Murong Lin?" He Yu cursed himself for his carelessness. The Yanmen army was so near, yet he hadn’t even investigated the family background of a potential adversary.

At least Lianyun Stronghold had long been enemies with the Murong clan, and on this matter, they were well informed.

Seeing He Yu inquire, one of the men quickly answered, "Young master, Murong Lin is the second son of the pretender Emperor Murong Chui of Yan. He was granted the title Prince of Zhao. He's a deceitful and treacherous man—once, to save his own skin, he even betrayed his own father and brothers."

He Yu's heart sank. Suddenly, he recalled two events: "Because his mother was of low birth, Murong Lin was unloved by Murong Chui. When Murong Chui was ostracized in Former Yan, he was forced to flee to Former Qin. But Murong Lin turned back halfway and betrayed his father.

"Murong Chui managed to reach Former Qin, where Emperor Fu Jian received him with great respect. Yet Chancellor Wang Meng thought Murong Chui too ambitious to remain a subordinate and advised Fu Jian to have him killed. Fu Jian did not listen.

"Wang Meng then invited Murong Chui to drink, and during the feast, asked for the gold dagger Murong Chui always carried. As a guest depending on others, Murong Chui dared not refuse and gave it to him.

"Wang Meng then bribed one of Murong Chui’s confidants, Jin Xi, who took the dagger to Murong Chui’s eldest son, Murong Ling, urging him to raise troops and attack Longcheng by surprise. Murong Ling, seeing his father’s gold dagger, suspected nothing and prepared to act as planned. But Murong Lin discovered the plot and quickly reported it to Former Qin. Murong Ling was captured and later executed for treason. This was the infamous 'Gold Dagger Plot,' a matter of open conspiracy in history.

"After the battle of Fei River, Former Qin collapsed. Murong Chui seized the moment to rise and founded Later Yan. He intended to kill his rebellious son Murong Lin but could not bear to do it, so he killed Lin’s mother instead and banished Murong Lin. Since then, father and son rarely met.

"Murong Lin is cunning and devious but also highly capable. This time, he was sent with five thousand armored cavalry to reinforce Murong Kai. On the way, he happened upon Li Yu. With a few words, he learned all he needed about the Chen Stockade, then tricked Li Yu into leading him to launch a surprise attack. He promised Li Yu, 'If we take the Chen Stockade, you shall have Chen Qingyun as your wife, and I will make you the lord of the stockade.'

"Li Yu, disgraced and with nowhere to go, hesitated only briefly before agreeing. Murong Lin was overjoyed, sent word to Murong Kai to divide his forces and advance, then pressed on day and night towards the Chen Stockade. Last night, he joined forces with Murong Kai, and together they took the stockade in one bold strike."

The situation was dire. He Yu, frantic with worry, dressed quickly and was about to descend the mountain.

Opening the door, he saw the courtyard ablaze with torchlight, the shouts of men and the neighing of horses filling the air. His master, Ran Yu, already aware of the disaster, had mustered all the troops of Lianyun Stronghold, ready to follow He Yu down the mountain to the rescue.

He Yu dropped to his knees, shouting, "Master, the Xianbei dogs number more than ten thousand. The Chen Stockade has fallen—I cannot bear to see our brothers slaughtered in vain!"

Ran Yu spurred his horse forward, roaring, "What nonsense is this, Yu’er? Since the Chen Stockade and Lianyun Stronghold are now allies, how can we stand by as they perish? The Xianbei hounds have murdered our kin and destroyed our homeland. This blood debt—Lianyun Stronghold has never forgotten it for a single moment!"

Before his words had faded, the officers and men all shouted, "Slaughter the Murongs! Swear to avenge our blood feud!"

Every man among the warriors of Lianyun Stronghold had lost family to the Xianbei Murongs. Their descent into battle was as much for the sake of rescue as for their own vengeance.

He Yu said no more. Mounting his horse, he took up a lance from one of the men. This lance was twice as thick as a normal one, with a much longer blade—the very weapon Ran Yu usually wielded. He Yu, gifted with great strength, found it perfectly suited to him. Ran Yu gifted his white dragon steed to his disciple and mounted a red-maned warhorse himself, equally magnificent.

As if fighting a fire, He Yu led the warriors down the mountain through the night at full gallop. Within an hour, they had reached the walls of the Chen Stockade.

Flames and smoke soared above the stockade; the sounds of slaughter and cries of terror could be heard from outside the walls. It was a vision of hell surpassing even the night raid on Tianxiong Fortress.

At the city’s edge, the drawbridge was raised, and the moat blocked their way. With no other option, He Yu was about to abandon his horse and risk climbing the wall.

Suddenly, with a thunderous crash, the drawbridge dropped. An aged, powerful voice shouted, "Out of the city! Out! Quickly, get out!" It was the old steward, Li Ling.

Overjoyed, He Yu shouted with all his strength, "He Yu is here! Make way, everyone!" Having saved the Chen Stockade from disaster before, he was the people's pillar of hope. At the sound of his arrival, the fleeing townsfolk hurriedly stepped aside, clearing a path.

He Yu raised his lance and roared, "Kill—!" Spurring the white dragon horse, he charged into the city, the warriors of Lianyun Stronghold close behind, shouting their battle cries.

With Li Jun dead, Li Yu a traitor, He Yu absent, and Chen Jing missing, the Chen Stockade was leaderless—each squad fighting independently. Only Li Ling stood firm in the crisis, rallying the troops while fighting his way to the south gate, finally cutting down the drawbridge and carving a bloody escape route.

No sooner had He Yu entered than several Later Yan cavalrymen attacked with spears. The enemy wore heavy armor, both man and horse, their weapons far superior to those at Tianxiong Fortress.

He Yu’s eyes burned red, his king’s lance flashed like lightning—a single thrust killed a captain outright. With one arm, he hurled the corpse from its horse, smashing two more cavalrymen to death.

The Yan cavalry, stunned to see three of their number slain in a single exchange, soon rallied and charged. He Yu pulled the reins; the white dragon reared up, hooves flailing, wild and fierce as a tiger. The enemy horses skidded in terror, refusing to advance.

He Yu struck like lightning, each blow deadly, felling four more cavalrymen in rapid succession. The heroes of Lianyun, led by Ran Yu, hacked and slew with equal fury, clearing the southern pursuit with a single charge.

Li Ling, his long blade dripping with blood, grabbed He Yu's reins and shouted, "Commander He! The south gate opens onto flat ground—any who escape will be run down by cavalry. The north gate backs onto the mountains—go there, break through, and everyone will have a chance!"

He Yu seized Li Ling’s arm, urging, "Get on a horse, old steward, come with us!"

Li Ling shook free, forcing a grim smile. "Go, Commander He, before it's too late. I will go on ahead."

With a sweeping stroke, he cut his own throat, blood gushing; his large body crashed to the ground. Li Yu had betrayed and doomed the Chen Stockade—there was no way Li Ling could allow himself to live.

He Yu froze for a moment, but with no time to grieve, spurred his horse toward the north gate. Swish—swish—two arrows flew at him; he fended them off with his lance.

Ran Yu, roaring like thunder, rushed up and with a powerful sweep of his lance sent one archer flying into the air, dead before he hit the ground.

He Yu nocked an arrow and shot—the other Yan cavalryman screamed and fell from his horse.

"Yu’er, don’t get bogged down—head for the north gate!" Ran Yu called.

He Yu shouted his assent, leading the warriors in a charge.

By now, dawn was breaking in the east—the road was littered with corpses, and Yan soldiers hunted the surviving townsfolk in small bands.

After conquering Tianxiong Fortress, the Chen Stockade’s strength had surged, boasting two thousand infantry and a thousand cavalry. Most had received He Yu’s modern training. Though caught off-guard, they did not scatter but instead formed impromptu fighting groups, battling desperately.

The Later Yan army had fought all night but still could not fully control the stockade—much to Murong Lin’s and Murong Shao’s astonishment. Murong Kai remained at Yanmen, leaving the surprise attack to Murong Lin and Murong Shao.

The Chen Stockade covered a thousand acres, with rivers winding through it. Even after more than ten thousand Xianbei cavalry breached the fortress, the attackers scattered in pursuit, looting and plundering, unable to mass their forces to encircle He Yu and the others.

He Yu, a whirlwind of destruction, cut down countless foes as he fought his way to the north gate.

By now, daylight had fully arrived. Only two or three hundred Yan soldiers guarded the north gate. Seeing He Yu charging with such ferocity, they hurriedly dragged over chevaux-de-frise to block the way.

He Yu and Ran Yu, one on each side, swung their lances with all their might—two massive barricades soared into the air and crashed down on the defenders.

Each barricade was over twenty feet long and ten feet high, made of giant logs studded with spikes. Falling from above, they smashed the soldiers and their horses to pulp. The white dragon horse, wild with fury, trampled the fallen, the air filled with screams.

He Yu and his master slaughtered their way through; the warriors behind surged forward like a tide, hacking and stabbing, their eyes red with bloodlust.

The Yan defenders' morale finally broke—they fled in all directions. One soldier from the stockade rushed up, hacking the gate bar with a great axe. With a crash, the north gate burst open, revealing a mountain road ahead.

A way out.

The surviving townsfolk—hidden in various shelters—poured toward the north gate in a chaotic flood, trampling many in the crush.

Woo—woo—woo—

A horn sounded from within the stockade.

The Later Yan commander, realizing something was amiss, was sounding the call to gather the troops. But the chaos was sudden, and it would take time to rally the forces.

He Yu thought, "The north gate is open, the surviving troops are gathered—more than enough to cover the townsfolk's escape." He shouted, "Master, guard the rear at the north gate. I must go back and find Deng’er and the Lord's family!"

"Go, Yu’er—be careful!" Ran Yu called in reply.

He Yu wheeled his horse, ready to dash back into the inner stockade. At that moment, hoofbeats thundered—an elite Yan squad of a hundred charged toward him. At their head rode a giant in close-sleeved armor, wielding a solid bronze club, mounted not on a horse but a golden-maned camel—none other than General Chiluogan, Murong Shao’s personal guard.

The close-sleeved armor was said to be the invention of Zhuge Liang, capable of withstanding the direct shot of a two-hundred-thousand-jin crossbow. Such super-heavy armor was usually too cumbersome for man or horse and served only ceremonial purposes.

But Chiluogan, a towering man on a mighty war camel, seemed unburdened, charging as swiftly as any horse.

Two defenders, eyes red with battle-fury, charged to block him, lances leveled. From his higher vantage, Chiluogan smashed one lance aside with his club and, reversing his swing, brought it down on the other man's helmet, crushing both helm and skull.