Come forth and accept your fate!

In an instant, two of his personal guards fell dead beneath their horses. Captain Meng felt a chill in his heart. He knew that if they kept fleeing like this, none of them would reach Tiger Gate alive; they would all perish on the way.

Realizing this, he yanked hard on the reins, wheeled his horse around, and with a fierce glare declared, “Brothers! Running is useless. If we wish to live, we must fight to the death. Follow me!”

His followers understood well that flight meant certain doom. Driven by the instinct to survive, their terror at the ambush began to fade, replaced by a burning will to fight. Clamping their legs against their horses’ flanks, they followed Captain Meng, charging straight at Luan Yi and his men.

Dian Wei, seeing this, was not alarmed but elated. He shouted, “Good! Come!” Brandishing his halberds, his warhorse neighed and, spurred on, surged forward like a bolt of lightning, making straight for Captain Meng, guarded by over twenty of his bandits.

Both halberds swept out. “Come meet your death!” he roared.

By the dim light, Captain Meng saw clearly the savage grin on Dian Wei’s brutish face; for a moment, he felt as if the mighty Dian Wei before him was no man, but a vengeful spirit come to claim his life. Terror welled up—he forgot even to thrust his spear.

By the time he recovered, his chance to strike had passed. He hurriedly swung his spear to block. The halberd and spear met with a deep clang, like a bell tolling.

The two riders flashed past each other; Captain Meng was nearly knocked from his horse by the tremendous force, barely saving himself by clutching the horse's neck. “Damn, this brute has monstrous strength!”

On Luan Yi’s side, though his lotus-head hammer was a weapon reserved for feats of strength, it weighed at least sixty pounds. He swung it in a broad arc at a bandit, who tried to parry with his iron spear. There was a sharp crack, like thunder splitting a tree—the iron spear, forged of solid steel, was smashed in two. The hammer’s momentum did not falter; it crashed into the bandit’s chest, ripping through leather armor as if it were paper, leaving flesh and bone a bloody ruin. Blood gushed from the man’s mouth, mixed with fragments of organs. The corpse flew from the saddle like a cannonball, knocking another bandit from his horse, who was then trampled into pulp by the ensuing chaos of horses’ hooves. Dead beyond all doubt!

The two groups of horsemen passed each other. Luan Yi’s party, though outnumbered, suffered no casualties, while five of Captain Meng’s twenty personal guards lay dead.

Captain Meng, furious and alarmed, turned his horse, leveled his spear, and shouted, “Kill!” launching another charge.

After experiencing his first battle, Luan Yi had shed his initial nervousness. From their first clash, he had caught a sense of his opponent’s ability. “Brother! Leave this wretch to me!” he called out, referring to Captain Meng, the bandit chief.

As Luan Yi’s mentor in martial arts, Dian Wei had every confidence in his skills. Yet, for years, Luan Yi had trained in isolation, with Dian Wei as his sole sparring partner—his lack of real combat was a glaring weakness. Now, with the chance to fight a true enemy, the opportunity was as precious for Luan Yi as it was dangerous. “Be careful, brother,” Dian Wei nodded, never taking his eyes from Captain Meng, ready to leap in if needed.

The second round of carnage began. Both sides charged down the forested road, their battle cries echoing through the woods and sending birds wheeling in fright.

Captain Meng’s men, seeing their comrades fall, felt their eyes redden with the urge for vengeance. Hardened by war, accustomed to blood, they now, cornered, unleashed a killing intent fiercer than ever before.

By contrast, the Luan household’s horsemen, though robust, were shedding blood for the first time. To put it bluntly, they were but fledglings untested by war. At the sight of blood-soaked enemies rushing at them, some fear inevitably crept into their hearts.

Yet, they were fortunate to have a ferocious leader.

Dian Wei’s twin halberds whirled like a storm. He charged into the enemy ranks like a madman, left and right, bodies dropping in his wake. After each kill, he would let out a wild laugh, “Hahaha! Splendid! Splendid!” his blood-soaked visage striking such terror into the bandits that their newfound courage faltered and retreated.

As the scales tipped, the Luan family’s men lost their fear. Their halberds moved ever more nimbly and in unison, sweeping the bandits aside like wheat before a scythe.

Luan Yi himself fought with savage vigor, raising his hammer overhead and bringing it down with precision.

At this moment, the importance of battle experience became clear. Captain Meng had seen the power of Luan Yi’s hammer firsthand—one blow had felled two men. He could not help but be wary: this youth, pale as a scholar, hid monstrous strength.

He dared not take the blow head-on. He yanked hard on the reins, his legs squeezing the horse, causing it to rear and slow. At the same time, he thrust his iron spear with all his might.

Thus, Luan Yi’s strike came too soon; the hammer fell on empty air, while Captain Meng’s spear came thrusting at him. In desperation, Luan Yi pulled back, sweeping his hammer to parry the spear aside with a subtle twist, breaking out in a cold sweat from the close call.

The riders passed each other again. The clash seemed even, but Dian Wei, seasoned in war, could tell Luan Yi had suffered a setback. To suddenly halt a full-power swing and change direction was to pit one’s full strength against itself—internal injury was inevitable. “Brother, are you alright? Shall I—”

Before Dian Wei could finish, Luan Yi shook his head. “No harm done, just a muscle strain in my right arm.”

“Muscle strain?” Dian Wei was puzzled, but before he could ask, Luan Yi turned his horse, shouted, and charged again, this time with far more caution, waiting for his enemy to make a move.

Captain Meng, seeing Luan Yi charge with his hammer held defensively but not striking, grew anxious. He knew too well that Luan Yi was strong, and could swing that hammer in an instant; if he let Luan Yi get close, a sudden blow would be fatal.

Left with no choice, Captain Meng spurred his horse to meet him, striking first with his iron spear.

Back in training, Dian Wei had taught Luan Yi to read an opponent’s intent by watching the angle of their arms. Now, this lesson served him well. Seeing Captain Meng lean slightly left, Luan Yi judged he would thrust to the right, and the angle suggested it was a feint.

To know one’s enemy is to win a hundred battles. When Captain Meng was five paces away, Luan Yi made his move—not a swing, but a thrust with his hammer at a bizarre, unorthodox angle, leaving Captain Meng no room to dodge.

Startled, Captain Meng hastily tried to block.

There was a thunderous crash as the horses passed again. Captain Meng barely remained mounted by clinging to his horse’s mane; both his thumbs hung at an unnatural angle, his palms shredded and bleeding, his iron spear sent flying six paces away, embedding deep in the earth.

“Damn it! What does this pale scholar eat—how is he so strong?” Captain Meng was aghast. Looking around, only four close guards remained; the other sixteen lay dead. On Luan Yi’s side, fourteen men stood unscathed, radiating murderous intent.

Terror overwhelmed Captain Meng; he turned his horse to flee. In his panic, he forgot that he’d already failed to escape once—what hope was there now?

Dian Wei and Luan Yi gave chase. When they were within fifty paces, Luan Yi gripped his hammer in one hand, drew an iron discus from his pouch, weighed it in his palm, took aim at Captain Meng, and hurled it.

With a whistling arc, the discus struck Captain Meng squarely at the back of the head. Unfortunately for him, disguised as a bandit, he wore neither armor nor helmet. The discus, its edge razor-sharp, sliced through scalp and skull like a saw. With a sickening crack, Captain Meng tumbled from his horse, his brains spilling onto the ground.

The few remaining guards, seeing their leader dead and nowhere left to run, dropped to their knees and surrendered.

By the time they returned to the village, dawn had broken.

Guo Jia and Shan Fu, seeing dead bodies for the first time, crouched beneath a tree, retching pale-faced.

The villagers and retainers had together killed thirteen bandits and captured twenty-five. In the defense, six retainers and three villagers had fallen.

Learning this, Luan Yi was filled with regret. They had prepared thoroughly before the attack, with Shan Fu and Luan Fu even setting up decoys outside the village, yet so many of their own had died—four of them men with whom he had laughed and talked just that day. Luan Fu wept bitterly for them.

The dead were gone. Luan Yi could not bring them back, so he compensated their families with generous sums. The widows, having never seen so much money, knelt and bowed in gratitude.

Interrogating the prisoners proved difficult. The twenty-five captured bandits were tight-lipped, refusing to say where they were from, clearly afraid of betraying their comrades and superiors.

Just then, Luan Yi returned, tossing Captain Meng’s severed head before them. The prisoners were terrified.

“Speak! Who are you really?” Luan Yi demanded, throwing their captured spears at their feet. “These weapons are standard issue in the Han army. How long do you think you can keep lying? Speak the truth!”

The bandits exchanged miserable looks. “Young master—no, brave sir! We’re soldiers from Tiger Gate. We only came to rob you because we were forced to!” They quickly shifted all blame to Captain Meng, insisting they were merely following orders and had no choice. They even explained that Captain Meng had his reasons—there had been no pay for months at Tiger Gate. The soldiers still had rations, but their families depended on their wages to survive. Desperate, they turned to banditry.

Luan Yi, seeing their sincerity and hardship, ordered they be released.

Cheng Yu could not understand, advising Luan Yi to hand them over to the authorities for punishment.

Luan Yi smiled. “Let’s be merciful when we can. Who hasn’t made a mistake?” Little did he know, this act of kindness would one day be repaid in full.