Chapter Thirty-Five: Midnight Raid

Within the city’s main administrative office, all the local dignitaries had gathered: from the county magistrate to the heads of the leading families, and even representatives from several prominent merchants.

“Everyone, let us discuss our next move!” The magistrate frowned deeply. He had already sent letters pleading for help, but after three days without a single reply, it was likely the surrounding counties were also under attack by the Yellow Turban rebels.

“Lord Han, we’re willing to fully support the city’s defenders and will sell grain to the government at fair prices, even on credit,” said the merchant representative seated at the back. With that, he sat down again.

“No matter how many supplies we have, they’ll run out eventually,” a middle-aged man seated in the front row said slowly. “I think we should take the initiative and crush their leader!”

“Su Zhongyou, that’s easy for you to say! Do we even have any martial artists at the innate stage in the city? Or even anyone with refined spiritual power? That Yu Du is a genuine master, formidable and truly refined in his inner energy—not some mere showpiece.” The speaker, sitting opposite Su Zhongyou and around the same age, looked at him intently.

“My lord, I did discover some capable individuals among the troops today. One is a martial artist whose inner energy is at its peak, another is a Daoist with comparable spiritual strength, and the two accompanying them are only slightly less skilled—likely former wandering heroes,” said a man dressed as a military officer, standing up to speak.

“Deyong, are you certain of their strength?” The magistrate leapt to his feet, visibly excited. The heads of the other local families also looked over. In truth, their clans did lack innate masters, but was it really true they didn’t have a single expert with refined inner energy? Of course not!

The officer nodded. “My lord, I verified their strength personally. You know the standards.” His tone was firm, his gaze sincere. He was not a petty man, and in a crisis like this, resolving the immediate threat took priority over any personal considerations.

“Excellent! Where are they? Go and summon them!” The magistrate was about to sit down, but then immediately stood up again. “Wait! Take me to see them myself!”

He looked around at the others in the room. “Gentlemen, if these Yellow Turban bandits breach the city, even if we keep our lives, our families and fortunes will be lost. Heaven has not abandoned us—since such masters have appeared, let us all go together to invite them!” As the county magistrate, he was no commoner; though not of the highest nobility, he hailed from a distant, though related, branch of a prominent family. Under ordinary circumstances, he’d simply issue a summons, but in times like these, he knew what truly mattered.

Still, it wouldn’t do for him alone to lose face!

The merchants were the first to stand, unconcerned by rank or pride. The other family heads hesitated, but then rose as well. They were not among the wealthiest, and their preparations had been inadequate—they had no wish to flee the city if it could be avoided.

Their group soon arrived at the temporary military camp, where the newly conscripted local militia were stationed.

Guided by the officer, they quickly found the other four who’d arrived in this world with Sun Meng. At this moment, only these four were inside the tent; Sun Meng was not present. During the day, his skill on the city wall had astonished the nearby archers. After descending, he’d been escorted straight to the camp, with plans for him to meet their commander the following day.

In the camp, Sun Meng had demonstrated a few martial arts forms—fist, sword, and blade—to the applause of the surrounding soldiers. This was precisely what he wanted: to ensure the real decision-makers of the city took notice of him. Remaining an ordinary soldier would yield little benefit! Besides, from talking with these men, he’d realized that the power structure in this world was no less formidable than in his last.

There were stages such as: possessing or lacking inner energy, refining inner energy, achieving inner energy perfection, attaining innate martial form, and finally, the invincible martial god.

For the spiritual path: clarity of mind, refining the spirit, spiritual perfection, innate divine arts, and separation of spirit from the body.

Sun Meng had deduced that the perfection level in either path was equivalent to the early stage of the second rank. However, in this world, the martial and spiritual cultivation methods were separate and could not be practiced simultaneously; only by advancing further could the two be unified.

This separation, however, had given rise to two formidable branches: martial arts, which enabled a single person to face ten thousand, and spiritual secret arts, which allowed one to manipulate the world’s energies.

He wondered how much of a stir the cultivation method summarized by Tripitaka would cause if introduced here. Yet, the fact that the upper limit of this world’s cultivation system almost reached the third rank was truly astonishing!

There were even four methods for further advancement: military formation empowerment, the will of national fate, unity with the divine, and the core of spiritual origin. Each had proven successful in practice, and although none in the last category had yet ascended, their methods were clearly viable, not merely products of luck.

Thus, in this Han dynasty, top experts were those at the level of refined inner energy or spirit. There were a handful at the perfection stage, all either renowned veterans or solitary masters. Officially, only a few aged generals and civil officials had reached such heights. As for the innate martial form and innate divine arts, only one of each was known: Wang Yue, the emperor’s bodyguard, and Zhang Jiao, the Yellow Turban leader.

As for Sun Meng himself, he found his position in this world’s ranking system somewhat awkward: he had surpassed the perfection of inner energy, but not yet fully formed his martial aspect. However, after today’s consecutive archery feats, he felt as though he’d caught a hint of the breakthrough.

“If I break through with this feeling, will I end up forming some kind of divine archer aspect?” Sun Meng mused.

The formation of a martial aspect generally fell into three categories: beast-type, famous weapon-type, and miscellaneous. The last didn’t refer to oddities, but to aspects without special effects. The soldiers themselves didn’t know the details.

As Sun Meng weighed whether to attempt condensing his aspect, a military order rang out, calling everyone to assemble.

Seeing the four others already donned in the armor of officers, Sun Meng was a little surprised. Evidently, they’d made contact with the higher-ups before him. Of the group, two were at the early stage of the second rank, two at the late stage of the first rank—two warriors and two mage-types. In this small city, they were indeed formidable.

“All those who can exert five hundred catties of force, step forward and put on the night raid gear. You have one incense stick’s time—move!” The officer’s voice carried through the camp, not loud, but reaching everyone’s ears.

So, a night raid was planned? Sun Meng glanced at the four, impressed by their courage—clearly, both they and the city’s leadership were ready to risk everything.

That suited him perfectly; in the chaos of battle, he could attempt to kill Yu Du without arousing suspicion.

After selection, a full thousand men—elite troops from the city—were chosen. Sun Meng was among them, and the four clearly hadn’t mentioned his presence to anyone else; after all, team rewards were distributed based on merit.

Before leaving the city, the two mage-type contestants joined forces to cast a fog formation, cloaking their force in a thick mist. Under cover of night, their approach would be even harder to detect.

Soon, the force arrived outside the enemy’s main camp. This was really the Yellow Turban’s outer encampment, mostly occupied by refugees—a buffer to give the real elite time to respond.

The force split in two: one led by the officer and the second-rank martial contestant charged directly into the camp.

At that moment, Sun Meng saw a cloud of energy form above the three hundred, stronger than what he’d seen in the future Black Fox troops, though not fully refined.

“Enemy attack!” came the shouts from within the camp.

If the refugees had seemed fierce charging by day, now they were utterly disorganized. Unable to see their surroundings, their fear magnified—some lost the will to live, others lashed out blindly. Hoping for effective resistance from them? Not when not a single Yellow Turban officer had stepped forward.

Sun Meng’s group, led by the two mage contestants, skirted the camp’s edge, making swiftly for the inner encampment. Their objectives were twofold: to heavily wound or kill the Yellow Turban leaders and high-ranking officers, and to destroy as much of their grain as possible.

In this era of life-and-death warfare, mercy was a luxury only the strong could afford—weakness had no place for it.

In the darkness, Sun Meng spotted the inner camp’s tents and quietly slipped away from the party.