Chapter 9: Miss Wang’s Ambush

Unfazed by the enemy forces closing in, Zhang Chi was not alone in his composure; at the very least, Huan Heng shared this calm. He sneered and said to Miss Wang, “The enemy army is great in number and strength. I fear they will be difficult to withstand.”

“Then, Master Huan, how do you propose we defend against them?” Miss Wang asked coolly.

“In my view,” Huan Heng replied, his tone detached, “although I do not know exactly whose troops these are, the commotion they have stirred suggests their aim is none other than these several thousand warhorses. If Miss Wang would graciously present all the horses to them, I believe the lives of our party could be spared, and the enemy might be repelled without a fight.”

“Master Huan speaks wisely,” Miss Wang answered, her voice unhurried, as if these thousands of horses had nothing to do with her.

“We mustn’t do that!” Manager Li cried out in alarm, unable to contain his agitation. “Miss, please reconsider. Lord Wang spent a fortune to acquire these horses from the north—how can we simply give them away?”

Manager Li understood very well that this was the largest transaction he had ever overseen. If anything happened to these horses, he would surely lose his position as manager.

“Perhaps we should send a rider swiftly to the neighboring counties for reinforcements?” Manager Li, desperate, grasped at any solution.

“The enemy is numerous, but most are infantry. They likely wish to seize the horses to make their escape on horseback. We are all mounted; escaping ourselves would not be difficult, but returning with reinforcements would be nearly impossible,” Huan Heng said with a smile. “Besides, the closest county seat is several hundred miles away. By the time reinforcements arrive, the horse thieves would have vanished without a trace.”

The enemy was drawing near, their shouts shaking the air. Manager Li, though unwilling in his heart, was even more overwhelmed by fear. Aside from sweating profusely, he could think of no solution.

“After so much effort, transporting these horses from so far away, must we now hand them to the bandits?” Manager Li muttered to himself.

“Not necessarily. The mantis stalks the cicada, but perhaps the oriole waits behind,” Miss Wang murmured, her voice soft.

...

The guards moved swiftly, forming their ranks in no time. They split into two groups, one in front and one to the side, taking up a pincer formation.

Du Ximing, worried for Miss Wang’s safety, rode up to her and said, “Miss, the enemy numbers are likely over a thousand. The situation is dire. Perhaps you and the others should ride to the nearest county for reinforcements. As long as I, Du Ximing, draw breath, I swear these three thousand horses will not be lost.”

Everyone knew the odds were overwhelming. If they did not retreat soon, their lives would be in grave danger. The atmosphere grew unbearably tense.

Young Master Pei was so frightened his tongue trembled, and he wished for nothing more than to flee on horseback. Seeing Miss Wang still silent about retreat, he hurriedly said, “Y-yes, perhaps we should withdraw for now.”

“If Miss Wang will not abandon the horses, then a battle is unavoidable,” Huan Heng remarked, still perfectly at ease, as if watching a play. “But since most of the enemy are on foot, escaping should be possible.”

Miss Wang, of course, knew all this. She smiled faintly, ignoring the two men, and addressed Du Ximing, “Commander Du, lead half the guards to hold the front line. Do not let the enemy break through to the wagons. If you hear the enemy’s drums, take two hundred and fifty guards and charge them at once, without hesitation. I have made arrangements.”

“Yes,” Du Ximing replied at once. He had never doubted Miss Wang’s instructions. With a shout, he wheeled his horse and rode to meet the enemy.

---

Everyone was bewildered. With the enemy so numerous and their own forces so few, ordering just over two hundred guards to charge into thousands seemed like sending sheep to the slaughter.

And Miss Wang had told them to attack when the enemy drums sounded—the moment of the enemy’s greatest momentum. Was she eager for their deaths?

Still, with battle imminent, no one dared question further. The enemy was upon them, their shouts deafening. Fortunately, over three thousand horses and wagons blocked the way; otherwise, with only a few hundred guards, their ranks would have shattered in an instant.

Du Ximing shouted, spear in hand atop his horse. The guards showed no fear; it was hard to believe these were not battle-hardened soldiers but merely guards of the Dachang Trading Company.

Yet Du Ximing felt the pressure mounting. Enemy numbers increased steadily, and soon their formation would be overwhelmed. Once the ranks broke, the few hundred guards would be powerless to turn the tide.

As Du Ximing fought for his life, Manager Li’s sweat soaked his clothes. He said to Miss Wang, “The enemy is too strong. If need be, we must abandon the horses.”

His expression pained him more than a warrior forced to cut off his own hand.

But Miss Wang did not reply.

From the enemy’s rear, more troops poured forward, and the steady beat of war drums began. The drums meant attack, the gong meant retreat—Zhang Chi knew this well. The drums meant the enemy was about to launch a full assault.

Du Ximing felt the enemy’s pressure suddenly intensify; the ranks would soon crumble. At the first sound of the drums, he shouted, “Men, now is the time to prove ourselves on the battlefield! Let none be cowards. Charge with me!”

Over two hundred riders surged forward with the force of a hurricane, plunging into the enemy lines.

After sunset, darkness fell swiftly. Now night was complete, and the three thousand horses ahead formed a wall between the enemy and the caravan. Zhang Chi could not see the melee, only hear the clash. Yet the moment Du Ximing led the charge, Zhang Chi noticed the remaining two hundred riders on the flank finally move.

But instead of joining Du Ximing, they withdrew behind the three thousand horses.

These riders quickly cut the horses’ reins, then, wielding long whips, herded the startled animals forward with loud cries. Some even drove their spears into the horses’ legs.

Frightened, the horses neighed wildly. Driven from behind, the entire herd surged forward like a dragon, crashing into the enemy ranks.

The guards rode behind, and when any horse lagged, it felt the sting of a spear. The herd, panic-stricken, surged toward the enemy like a tidal wave.

Du Ximing and his half company charged ahead, the horse herd following close behind. Though the enemy numbered in the thousands, most were on foot—no match for the stampede. In an instant, their formation was thrown into chaos.

In ancient warfare, formation and morale meant everything. Once those were lost, even a million-strong army would collapse and rout.

As the formation broke, many of the enemy were trampled by the horses or crushed by their own fleeing comrades.

And behind, the rest of the guards charged, cutting down any who survived the stampede. The slaughter reaped the bandits’ lives as easily as harvesting grain.

---

The situation reversed in an instant; the enemy was slaughtered, blood running like rivers.

Though darkness shrouded the field, the caravan could see the enemy scatter under the onslaught, and at last, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“So Miss Wang had planned all along. She made us worry for nothing,” Santong muttered to himself.

“When she said the three thousand horses were an ambush, I didn’t believe it,” Dao Xuan said, still stunned by what he’d witnessed. “But now I see this is how an ambush is sprung. Miss Wang is a genius strategist.”

“It’s just a pity about the horses,” Santong lamented. “Once frightened and scattered, it will be almost impossible to round them up again. But Miss Wang certainly has a bold spirit—to release so many horses without hesitation.”

Santong was grateful he was not the one trying to rob this caravan.

“What else could she do?” Dao Xuan asked.

“If it were me, I’d never let them go, not even if I died,” Santong sighed. “So many horses! Even with money, you might never buy this many again.”

Zhang Chi laughed. “Who would’ve thought you’re a miser who values money above life?”

Santong didn’t understand the word “miser,” but the meaning was clear enough. He didn’t see anything wrong with loving wealth. Still, watching the horses scatter over the hills, he couldn’t help but sigh, “What’s wrong with loving money? Money is a fine thing indeed.”

As they spoke, a group of riders suddenly charged out from behind a nearby slope—only a dozen or so, but all heavily armored, their horses armored as well. They made no sound, showing strict discipline. In the darkness, they rode in silence.

There were only a handful of guards left by the caravan. Seeing this new threat, Manager Li nearly burst into tears: the horses were gone, what more could they want?

The leader was a burly man with a scar across his face. He rode up and, with a single stroke, cut down a guard who went to meet him. Then he sat his horse, drew his blade, and pointed it at Zhang Chi from afar.

“Kill the monk with the hair!” he shouted.

At his command, the armored riders charged, keeping their formation—five or six abreast, side by side. Any seasoned eye could tell these were trained soldiers, not rabble—never charging alone, but always together, as on the battlefield.

Zhang Chi realized at once that the “monk with the hair” was himself. He could not help but feel aggrieved: He had only just arrived in this world, had done nothing to provoke anyone, and yet someone was already calling for his death.