The night was deep, and the northern wind howled across the barren frontier. Moonlight flickered through the clouds, casting a pale silver sheen over the winding mountain path.
Li Song and Bai led a squad of ten elite soldiers, lightly armored and cloaked, making their way silently along the ridge above the enemy encampment. This northern cliff was rugged—strewn with boulders and gnarled trees—perfect terrain for a surprise strike. The soldiers' crossbows were slung across their backs, and short blades hung by their sides, ready for close combat.
"Thirty storage crates—southeast quadrant," Bai whispered, crouched behind a jagged stone. "Light defenses. It's our best target."
"Split into three groups. I'll cover from the ridge with Eagle. The vanguard charges first—disrupt their line. You and the rest flank and support," Li Song replied, his voice low but unwavering.
The "Eagle" was no ordinary bow—it had been reforged by the hands of a master smith, its limbs reinforced, its string taut with wolf tendon. At full draw, it could pierce through plate and bone from two hundred paces. Tonight, its song would be heard again.
Li Song scaled the left ridge alone, nestling the Eagle into a natural notch in the rock. Below, the nine soldiers split into three fireteams, weaving between scrub and shale as they descended toward the enemy's supply wagons.
Down in the enemy camp, torchlight flickered across canvas tents. Watchmen patrolled in twos, unaware of the shadows closing in.
The strike team reached a distance of thirty paces. From above, Li Song gave the signal—an arcing motion of his hand.
Whoosh!
The first arrow from the Eagle ignited midair, its head wrapped in oil-soaked cloth. It struck a wagon dead center—boom—flames erupted, casting orange light across the camp.
Before the enemy could shout, a second arrow flew, spearing a sentry clean through the chest and pinning him against a wooden cart. Below, three soldiers charged forward, slashing at the grain cart ropes—wagons tumbled down the slope, scattering sacks of millet and wheat.
The camp exploded into chaos. From the command tent, a squadron of cavalry thundered forth—twenty riders in heavy armor, their leader bearing a Byzantine lance and tower shield.
"Cover the retreat!" Li Song barked.
He loosed three arrows in rapid sequence. The first hit the commander's shield with such force it snapped his wrist. The second shattered his helmet and split his brow. The third arrow brought his mount crashing down.
Bai and her fireteam struck from the right flank, her crossbow bolts bursting through eye slits and helm gaps. The blinded riders panicked, swerving into each other—two plunged straight into a ravine.
Steel clashed. Li Song drew his Dog blade and charged the melee. He moved low and fast, slashing behind knees and ankles, disabling before killing. Bai followed close behind, blade flashing—cutting reins, slicing tendons, flipping into saddles, and kicking riders off their mounts.
Within minutes, the enemy line crumbled. Survivors scattered like frightened birds.
"Pull back!" Li Song commanded.
The retreat signal echoed once through the night. The squad reassembled and vanished into smoke and brush. Back at camp, only one soldier bore a shallow wound.
By the hour of the Pig, torches burned bright in the central command tent. Li Song and Bai stood before Tu Lu and his deputy, General Khalid.
"We eliminated eighteen enemies and destroyed thirty supply carts," Bai reported with a slight bow.
Tu Lu nodded gravely. "The Eagle performed well. But the enemy's response was immediate—organized. No sign of panic. That tells me their commander isn't just some puppet."
Khalid unfolded a topographic map and pointed to a bluff southwest of the enemy lines. "Raymond's main force hasn't moved. Only his vanguard strikes the border. It's bait—a lure."
Tu Lu looked at the two. "We need eyes beyond the bait. I want the both of you, with five men, to infiltrate the ruins west of their lines. Find out who's really pulling the strings."
Li Song and Bai met each other's gaze and answered as one: "We accept."
Outside, the wind howled louder. The flames of battle may have faded, but the storm in the west was just beginning.