After the Immortal Disappeared

Fortunately, Hee Lingchuan’s resilience paid off this time. He played it safe and steady, finally seizing an opening in his opponent’s defense to claim victory with a single blow.

Just as Hee Lingchuan lifted the tent flap, he saw a curtain of rain so thick he couldn’t make out men or horses more than thirty feet away.

The visibility was almost as bad as a thick fog.

A few seconds with his hand outstretched was enough to collect a palmful of rainwater to wash his face.

He splashed some cool water on his face, pondering what Magic he should save up his military merits for next. Every real battle was a valuable learning experience, and he now felt he lacked a high-burst Martial Art.

’Maybe I’ll finally get the Mirror Image Technique next time.’

The Yuan Army Camp had retreated another few hundred yards, setting up directly on hard, rocky ground. This eliminated the risk of a collapse, and the new position was over twenty feet higher than the river’s surface.

But the price was an increase in snakes, rats, and other small animals, and reports of bites became common.

Neither Zhao Pan nor Hee Chunhua let their guard down. They were especially wary of retaliation from Hong Chenglu, and their standards for camp defense grew stricter by the day.

The Yuan Soldiers didn’t understand why and began to complain amongst themselves.

Step outside the tent for a few moments, and you’d be soaked to the bone. The ground was covered in muddy yellow water that splattered either your boots or your trousers. This was a time when the whole camp should be resting, so why was General Zhao ordering everyone to be on high alert?

The enemy was on the other side of the river. Were they really going to cross and launch a sneak attack in this god-awful weather?

The incessant downpour also trapped Hee Chunhua’s retinue in the camp, preventing their return south. He had already stayed at the front lines longer than expected.

This was one of the sources of his unease.

’Delays invite disaster.’

With the sky shrouded in dark clouds, night fell quickly, long before sunset.

The last vestiges of light vanished from the world, and the entire Yuan Army Camp was caught in a great net woven from darkness and torrential rain.

Even in such terrible weather, the Guards had to continue their patrols.

The torches they carried had been soaked in a special oil, allowing them to burn and provide light even in the rain.

Despite their rain cloaks, their clothes, armor, and boots were soaked through. Everything felt sticky and damp, and their waterlogged boots made a squelching sound with every step.

"This damn weather!" a sentry from the new shift cursed under his breath as he patrolled the riverbank, wiping the rain from his eyes.

Their original campsite was now underwater. The riverbank had collapsed several times, and the current shoreline had receded nearly a thousand feet south, but they still trod with extreme caution.

The day before yesterday, the ground had given way under an unlucky comrade, who fell into the river and was swept away in an instant.

Because of this, the sentry only made a perfunctory circuit along the bank, staying a good thirty feet away from the water.

In this weather, it was impossible for any enemies to be hiding on the bank. If not for General Zhao’s insistence, no one would have been willing to go near the river at all.

Seeing nothing unusual, he started walking back.

It had been like this every night for days.

One double-hour later, the sentry patrolled the area again.

This was his second round. He just had to complete three tonight, and someone would relieve him.

He was still looking around lackadaisically, but before turning back, he felt that something wasn’t right.

He couldn’t be bothered to move at first, but after a brief internal struggle, he reluctantly walked back to the bank and raised his torch.

The downpour was relentless, and the Hanhe River had grown violent. Every time he came here, he could hear the pounding of waves against the shore, a sound almost as loud as thunder.

But why wasn’t it there tonight?

He could only hear the RUSHING of the rain.

The sentry cautiously edged toward the bank and shone his torch down—

’Strange... where’s the water?’

Ten feet below the bank, there was no water. He saw wet mud and sand at the bottom.

He extended the torch further, but within the circle of its light, he still couldn’t see the river.

What was going on? When he had patrolled here the first time, the waves were still lapping against the bank.

’Did the river flow backward?’

Then again, did something just move in the darkness at the edge of the torchlight?

As he was peering around, four or five arrows suddenly shot up from below with a SWISH. Most of them missed, but one found its way into his eye.

The sentry fell backward.

The archers below had no Primordial Power and couldn’t aim with precision, so they fired multiple shots at once to increase their odds.

This sentry possessed Primordial Power and normally wouldn’t have been seriously injured by an arrow, but he was unlucky. A shot to the eye was a fatal blow.

As he fell, his torch dropped with him. The flickering light alerted two of his nearby comrades. They rushed over, and the moment they saw the gleaming arrow shaft protruding from his body, they blew a series of sharp blasts on their whistles.

Enemy attack!

Almost simultaneously, a heaven-shaking roar erupted from below the riverbank, momentarily drowning out the sound of the storm:

"Charge—!"

"Victory to General Nian!"

Something seemed to be stirring in the darkness, surging toward the high ground.

A moment later, countless small, flickering flames appeared below the bank, transforming into streaks of fire that tore through the sky—

—and rained down on the tents, wagons, and fences of the Yuanbei Camp!

Although days of heavy rain had soaked the weapons and canvas, the arrowheads were coated in a special oil that allowed them to burn even in the downpour. Fanned by the north wind, fires began to spring up all over the Yuan camp.

Zhao Pan and Hee Chunhua were jolted from their sleep. They rushed out of their tents to see fiery arrows raining down from above, striking indiscriminately everywhere.

"My lords, be careful!"

The Personal Guards rushed to form a protective circle.

Zhao Pan grabbed his greatbow, casually yanked a flaming arrow from a tent pole, and ignored the protests of his Personal Guards. He charged forward a hundred paces before drawing his bow and firing a high, arcing shot toward the river below.

With his arm strength, augmented by Primordial Power, he could shoot over three hundred paces even against the north wind.

The Yuan People watched the arrow soar high into the sky, its flame illuminating the riverbank as it fell...

And a densely packed army!

Their armor glinted as they swarmed the riverbed, their battle cries shaking the heavens as they charged toward the camp.

The Xunzhou Soldiers!

A chill went down Zhao Pan’s spine, but cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

’How did Nian Zanli’s troops cross the river undetected and launch an attack from the south bank?’

"Activate the array! Beat the drums and raise the banners!" Whatever his private thoughts, years of battlefield experience made him issue orders fluidly. "Provosts, advance!"

Large armies always laid down defensive Battle Arrays when making camp, but activating an Array consumed a vast amount of Profound Crystals, so they were usually left dormant. Zhao Pan had Mages specifically in charge of this, and at his command, they rushed to activate the Array.

As for the drums, their call to advance was deeply ingrained in every soldier’s mind. The sound of the drums meant their commanders were prepared and a counterattack was forming. This helped quell the soldiers’ panic, allowing them to muster their courage and fight back.

After all, the Xunzhou people had caught them completely off guard. Once a formation broke, no amount of individual strength could prevent a rout that would be as unstoppable as a landslide.

The provosts rode back and forth, cutting down a dozen or so deserters who were trying to flee, barely managing to halt the trend of a full-scale rout.

At that moment, however, a succession of cannon reports echoed from below the riverbank. Seven or eight Fire Bombs came whistling in, exploding throughout the camp.

The Xunzhou Army had actually managed to transport cannons across the river under oilcloths—a full twelve of them!

The things were notoriously finicky; they were prone to misfiring if they got wet, which could injure their own crew. But Nian Zanli, in a painstaking effort, had slapped an expensive Water-Repelling Talisman on every single cannon.

Furthermore, he had ordered them to fire canister shots. After the cannonballs landed, they would explode again, spraying out dozens of small lead balls.

Propelled by the explosion, these became lethal projectiles.

With every explosion, dozens of men and horses fell. The panicked horses broke out of their stables and bolted wildly through the camp.

The Yuan Army now realized that the Xunzhou people hadn’t all made it ashore yet. At least several thousand were still disembarking from their boats, while the main vanguard was already pushing forward.

Strangely, the river had actually receded. The water level was significantly lower, the bank was now over four hundred feet away from the current Yuan Camp, and the river’s surface was remarkably calm.

It couldn’t be compared to the tranquility of autumn, but anyone who could swim would have no problem crossing it now.

The great river had suddenly lost its surging torrents.

What in the world had happened?

The newly exposed riverbed had become the Xun People’s landing point.

Hee Lingchuan hadn’t been idle either, immediately finding his mount. The Cyan Horse had Demon blood in its veins and wasn’t as easily spooked as a common horse. It even trotted over to him.

The Medicinal Ape scrambled into Hee Lingchuan’s arms, while the Rock Wolf got up, shook out its fur, and stayed by his side.

Shan Youjun and seven or eight others ran over. "Master! What do we do now?"

Hee Lingchuan faced two choices: either rush to Hee Chunhua’s side under the noble pretext of protecting his old man, or stay here and give the enemy a beating.

He considered for only a second before saying to Shan Youjun, "Archers, into the trees. And have someone find me a retreat path."

"Yes, sir!" Shan Youjun understood. His group was to stay and fight the enemy; otherwise, they could just fall back toward the main camp right now without needing to find a separate retreat path. Still, he felt compelled to remind him, "Master, the prophecy from your ’worst-of-the-worst’ fortune slip..."

He had once heard Fuzzy Peach talk about the "worst-of-the-worst" fortune slip his Master had drawn back in Xianling Village.

Hee Lingchuan felt a jolt.

The enemy had crossed the river in secret, fully prepared, while the Yuan People were caught sleeping. As things stood, the enemy was strong, and they were weak.

In the face of such overwhelming odds, his small team of less than ten men had limited power. He himself had to be extremely cautious.

’The Old Turtle Demon’s prophecy has never come to pass. Could this be it?’

Hee Lingchuan immediately recalled Wen Daolun’s interpretation of the character for "courage" in the Panlong Dream Realm, and the line he himself had jokingly added:

’Flee when you see water.’

Straight ahead, the water of the Hanhe River flowed ceaselessly.

Perhaps this was a blatant hint. After all, in his previous crises, there had been no "water," and he had indeed come through them safely.

Should he retreat now?

Hee Lingchuan looked back at the chaotic camp, then at the enemy figures below the bank, who were drawing ever closer. Their side was facing a catastrophe. Was he really going to shy away from battle and retreat?

He spoke decisively. "Pay it no mind. We’ll fall back to the halfway point of the slope and set up tripwires."

The group immediately retreated, heading toward the side of the high ground.

The enemy below was surging upward like a tide. If his small group dared to stand rigidly in their path, they would end up just as rigidly on the ground.

Small-squad combat was all about tactics.

What was worse, the south bank of the Hanhe River had originally been raised and steepened by the Yuan Kingdom’s army, creating a so-called "shore wall" with only a few narrow passages for access. This fortification was designed to defend against enemies from the opposite bank.

But the river, swollen by days of rain, had long since washed away the shore wall, even forcing the Yuan Army to retreat. Now, they were merely camped on ordinary high ground. What defensive advantage was left to hold?