Xing Honglang and Zao Ying pushed their fifty riders hard, heading east.
If you want a job done at the docks, you go back to your home turf. Xing Honglang had spent enough years in her old village that she knew exactly whose door to kick down to get a crew together. She figured a few words from her and she'd have enough muscle to turn that ferry into a proper fortress by sundown.
The village was close, too—barely three miles east of Gudu Ferry. On a decent horse, you're there before you've even finished a conversation.
"Just over the Shushui River is Sunjia Village," Xing Honglang called out. "I grew up there. I don't have any family left in the place, but I still know the neighbors."
Zao Ying glanced over, curious. "No family? How'd that happen?"
Xing Honglang gave a short, dry snort. "My old man was a salt smuggler. One of those guys who couldn't sit still if his life depended on it. He met my mom in the village, but the domestic life wasn't for him, so he kept running his routes. He only bothered to come back for me after she got sick and died. Then he dragged me along to learn the family business—slinging illegal salt."
Zao Ying laughed. "Sounds familiar. I'm a third-generation horse thief myself. Guess we both grew up in the family trade."
They shared a dark laugh, but it died the second Sunjia Village came into view.
Xing Honglang's face went stone-cold. Even from the road, you could see the village had been gutted. Fences were smashed flat, thatched roofs were nothing but smoldering piles of ash, and the walls were covered in deep, ugly hack marks from blades.
She didn't say a word—just slammed her spurs in and flew into the village.
A few bodies were sprawled in the dirt. The blood was still wet. The bastards who did this hadn't been gone long.
Zao Ying saw the look on Xing Honglang's face and kept her voice low. "Boss Xing... I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I've seen enough of this to know how it goes." Xing Honglang sounded steady, but her eyes were lethal. She'd spent too many years in the underworld to have a breakdown over a few dead bodies. She'd seen her own men bleed out in ditches; she wasn't going to lose her cool now.
She did a quick lap around the huts, her mind working fast. "There were over a hundred people living here, but I only see ten bodies. That means most of them ran for it."
Zao Ying signaled her men. "Spread out! Find out which way they went."
You can't hide a trail from a horse thief. A minute later, a scout trotted back. "They headed north, ma'am. The bandits are right on their tails."
Xing Honglang's eyes narrowed. "North? I know exactly where they're heading. Pujiu Temple. It's the only place they can hide."
Zao Ying grabbed one of her riders by the collar. "Ride back to the dock. Tell the main force to stop whatever they're doing and haul ass to Pujiu Temple. Now!"
The rider saluted and tore off. Xing Honglang and Zao Ying didn't wait; they took the other forty-nine men and charged straight for the temple.
***
Pujiu Temple sat on a hill just west of Yongji. It was an old Tang Dynasty build—red walls, black tiles, very serious-looking. Because it was on high ground, it was basically a natural fortress.
Right now, it was a mess. Refugees from every village in the area were crammed inside.
Women and kids were huddled in the corners, terrified, while the men grabbed whatever was heavy or sharp and lined the walls. Even the monks had ditched the chanting for heavy wooden staves, standing side-by-side with the peasants.
Outside, a mob of over a thousand bandits was trying to scramble up the slope. The villagers were taking potshots with hunting bows, but the arrows just went *thud* against the bandits' wooden shields and stolen pot lids.
It wasn't a fair fight.
These bandits weren't just hungry farmers. They were former border guards, soldiers, and couriers—guys who actually knew how to kill people for a living. They didn't even care about the pathetic rain of arrows as they reached the walls.
Bamboo spears jabbed down from above, and the bandits jabbed right back. The villagers were getting carved up. A few took hits and fell back into the courtyard, screaming.
One bandit managed to vault over the red wall, but before he could even get his balance, a monk lunged at him. The bandit swung his knife, but the monk's staff was a blur. *Crack-crack-crack.* He landed three solid hits before the bandit could even blink.
The guy went down hard, and the villagers finished him off with a hoe to the skull.
The monk sighed, looking at the mess. "Amitabha. Man, I use a stick so I don't have to kill anyone, but you guys don't waste a second, do you? Hope the gods don't count that as me breaking my vows."
The monk was good, but he was one guy. The walls were failing. Bandits were starting to pour over the sides like a flood.
The monk looked around and let out a long, tired breath. "Well, this is it. We're done for."
Suddenly, a guy on the roof started screaming his head off. "Cavalry! We've got riders! They're tearing into the bandits from behind! Hang on, everyone! We're not dead yet!"
Everyone looked out.
Sure enough, a small squad had appeared at the bandits' rear. There were only fifty of them, but they were hitting that crowd of a thousand like they were the ones with the advantage. It was pure, unadulterated aggression.
The mood in the temple shifted instantly. "Hold the line! Help's here!"
Xing Honglang and Zao Ying had arrived, and they weren't there to talk.
They didn't just charge blindly. The "elites" were all busy at the walls, which left the bandit leader's command post wide open. It was just the boss and a few bodyguards—a perfect target.
Zao Ying didn't waste breath. "Cavalry! Hit 'em!"
The impact was a total shock.
The bandit boss was a guy who went by "Little Zhang Bao." He was the adopted kid of "Old Zhang Fei," one of the captains under the big warlord *Buzhan Ni*. Ever since Xing Honglang had blasted him and his "dad" at the ferry with cannons, he'd been taking his frustration out on the local villages.
He was standing there, enjoying the view of the temple burning, when fifty riders suddenly bit him in the ass.
Little Zhang Bao panicked. He grabbed his spear and tried to rally his guards, but horses don't care about your feelings.
Zao Ying was on him in a heartbeat. She thrust her spear, putting it right through one guard's chest, then flicked the blood off and aimed the point straight at Little Zhang Bao's face.
The kid almost crapped himself. He dove into the dirt, rolling like a frantic dog, just barely keeping his head attached to his neck.