After several waves of attacks were repelled,

Zhang Dachui stomped in frustration, grabbing his triangular-eyed strategist by the collar and roaring, “What now? You’re the scholar—give me a plan!”

Triangular Eyes, shaken dizzy, caught a glimpse of the towering figure on the slope. His eyes darted, and he said, “Got it! As the saying goes, capture the leader first. Boss, take down that guy, and the pullers will crumble. One more charge, and we’ll win!”

“Brilliant! A scholar’s mind is sharp!” Zhang Dachui beamed, shouting, “Fetch my bow! Watch me shoot that kid down!”

A bare-armed man stepped forward, respectfully presenting a massive longbow as tall as a man.

Zhang Dachui ran his hand over the bow, his wrist flicking. Before anyone could see his move, the bowstring was drawn taut.

A long arrow was already nocked.

The dark, lustrous giant bow was impressive, but the arrow itself was extraordinary.

Its 1.8-foot shaft, crafted from the cold-leaf pines of Great Green Ridge, soaked in oil for three years, flew with unmatched stability.

The arrowhead, forged by master craftsmen, was heavy and narrow like a spike, capable of piercing two layers of chainmail.

But the true key was the archer.

From his youth, Zhang Dachui had fought under Marshal Cao, rising from a lowly cavalryman to a ninth-rank minor completion martial artist and cavalry captain. His archery was honed through countless battles.

The bandits, faces flushed with excitement, shouted wildly.

A ninth-rank minor completion martial artist could wound someone a hundred paces away with a tossed stone, let alone a powerful bow and arrow.

Thwack!

The arrow, carrying a ferocious aura, tore through the air.

So fast, the air seemed to burn.

A glint of cold light shot forth, followed by the explosive twang of the bowstring.

Could a mortal withstand an arrow shot by a ninth-rank minor completion martial artist?

“Xiangzi, watch out!” Among the crowd, Uncle Jie first spotted the glint, roaring as he lunged toward Xiangzi.

But, to everyone’s shock—

A flash of cold light rose from the big man’s hand on the slope, meeting the arrow head-on.

Then, a thud.

The arrow buried itself into the slope, nearly disappearing, its white fletching buzzing.

The bandits’ shouts cut off, their faces frozen in disbelief—their leader missed?

Even Zhang Dachui, lowering his bow, gaped in shock!

He saw it clearly—the big guy had struck the arrow’s tail with his short spear.

Such precise finesse, from a mere puller?

This blood energy, this eyesight—it rivaled a ninth-rank martial artist!

Damn it all, wasn’t Liu Tang supposed to be away?

When did this yard produce such a master?

On the slope, amid the silence,

a shrill cheer pierced the dust: “Xiangzi’s mighty!”

Wen San waved his arms, face red with excitement, heart boiling—My god, Xiangzi blocked a bandit’s arrow?

If this spreads, won’t I, Third Brother, gain some serious face?

The other pullers, less frenzied than Wen San, were still thrilled—Maybe we can hold off these bandits!

Amid the cheers, Xiangzi stood steady, raising his spear and shouting down the slope, “I thought greenwood bandits were heroes, not cowards who strike from the shadows.”

“Come up if you dare! In half an hour, the police bureau will be here.”

“Then we’ll see how you escape!”

The sun blazed overhead, lighting Xiangzi’s weathered face. With his spear raised and eyes blazing, he exuded a commanding aura.

The bandits froze!

The slope erupted in deafening cheers.

For a moment, the bandits at the base lost their momentum.

Some, in frustration, began shooting arrows up the slope.

Soon, arrows rained down, peppering the small hill.

Xiangzi ducked into the shade of a tree, his mouth twitching.

Pain.

Burning pain.

Uncle Jie, noticing his expression, checked his arm and gasped: Xiangzi’s left shoulder had a chunk of flesh torn off by the arrow’s barb.

Xiangzi’s shoulder trembled, a chill of fear in his heart—Lucky that bearded guy shot uphill, or I couldn’t have dodged.

Too reckless!

He’d broken the Blood Energy Barrier, and his foundation in stance training was rock-solid. In terms of blood energy, he wasn’t far behind a typical ninth-rank.

But he hadn’t expected that burly, foolish-looking bandit to be a ninth-rank minor completion martial artist.

Uncle Jie pulled a bandage from his pocket and wrapped Xiangzi’s wound.

Once bandaged, Xiangzi slipped on his blue shirt to hide the blood.

“Uncle Jie, can we hold off these bandits?” Xiangzi’s voice held a rare edge of anxiety.

Only with Uncle Jie, his most trusted ally, did he dare speak his heart.

Uncle Jie sighed, shaking his head. “Tough. We’ve got the terrain and the plates to block arrows, but they’re all martial artists. If they charge desperately, none of us will escape.”

“And those two leaders are definitely ninth-rank!”

Xiangzi’s heart sank.

Yeah, two legs can’t outrun four.

On this vast plain, once their formation broke, the cavalry would mop them up.

That was the cavalry’s strength.

Forty-Nine City had seen countless banners change, yet these bandits were never eradicated—most had two horses per man. Even if you could fight them, you couldn’t catch them.

Seeing the bandits below gathering for a charge, Xiangzi’s heart grew heavier: Do we really have to hold out until city reinforcements arrive?

Even if we hold, how many lives will we lose?

But what choice did they have?

Strengthen the defense, use the terrain, and fight for their lives—make those savage bandits think twice!

Stall, and maybe there’s a chance!

“Third Brother, didn’t you mention finding a small path?” Xiangzi suddenly grabbed Wen San, asking.

Wen San blinked, anxious. “Yeah… we gotta block that path quick, or the bandits will sneak up!”

Xiangzi didn’t respond, instead asking, “Third Brother, you always said you were a hunter’s son, digging traps and hunting with your elders since childhood?”

To shield against stray arrows, Wen San had found a small iron pot to wear as a helmet. He bristled, “That’s no lie! Would Third Brother fool you, Xiangzi?”

Xiangzi grinned, pulling Wen San close and whispering a few words.

Wen San listened, stunned, muttering, “Xiangzi, will this work?”

Xiangzi smirked coldly, his gaze flicking to Jin Fugui and Skinny Monkey.

“Whether it works… depends on who takes the bait.”

“It’s all about stalling.”

Wen San gritted his teeth. “Alright, Xiangzi, you know best. Third Brother’s with you!”

Following Xiangzi’s orders, Wen San grabbed a few trusted pullers and headed to the back of the slope.