Chapter 21: Trial of the Legendary Weapon

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There was no family heritage or anything like that—just a contemporary inspection system. Su Yao leaned against the wall, staring intently at the internal affairs interface of his system.

[Wangjiawu Fortress
City Defense Level: 2 (Simple rammed earth outer wall, damaged, estimated repair time 10 days)
Prosperity Level: 2 (Small village)
Stability: 70% (Villagers’ emotions stable)
Garrisoned Soldiers: 10 (Cheng Lian), 5 (Lü Bu)
Militia: 31
Infrastructure:
…]

Opening the detailed list of the level 2 rammed earth wall, he found a brief explanation accompanied by a friendly built-in encyclopedia link from the True Three Worlds system. After reading it, he naturally understood the general situation.

Of course, this level of knowledge was only theoretical; if he were tasked with building a city wall himself, it would be another matter—unless he had enough experience points or an overflow of knowledge to invest in the construction skill.

Putting aside idle talk, after gaining a clear understanding of the village’s current defenses, Su Yao found himself troubled.

This garrison of fewer than fifty troops could face around six or seven hundred enemies, and it was a small village with a damaged wall. The difficulty of this operation was not insignificant.

It wasn’t that he doubted his ability to win, but rather how to win while minimizing their own casualties.

He was playing an ironman mode that confronted reality directly—no save-scumming for epic victories. If his battle record looked bad, it would be a huge loss.

Moreover, he had already invested a considerable amount in this initial village.

“Here, let’s build a row of wooden palisades,” he decided after some thought.

He resolved to postpone repairing the walls and instead planned a recessed wooden palisade at the collapsed section, forming a rudimentary barbican to strike invading enemies from multiple angles.

“Here, here, and here—build a line of watchtowers.”

“Sir, to build so many wooden structures, where will we get the timber?” the foreman scratched his head.

The land around the village was fully cultivated, and the rammed earth walls could be sourced nearby, but materials for wooden walls and towers were scarce. They would have to cut trees from distant mountains, which would take half a day just to go and return—completely impractical.

“Demolish! Tear down the houses outside the walls. Mobilize everyone to work—bring the materials and manpower inside!”

“Ah?”

Though the village head, Lao Lizheng, did not oppose Su Yao’s order, implementation was far from smooth.

This fortress was not a city after all. Suddenly bringing in several hundred more people meant that finding a house to sleep in was a luxury; most could only lie on the ground in the square, using the sky as a blanket and the earth as a bed.

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With such conditions, and asking them to demolish their own homes by hand, it was naturally a thousand difficulties.

“Fortify and clear the fields. Captain Su’s order is sound!” Lü Bu faced the village head who was pleading for leniency, his attitude resolute.

Even if Su Yao hadn’t spoken, Lü Bu would have done it anyway. In fact, Zhang Yang had already begun advancing this matter yesterday.

However, they were constrained by a lack of labor in the village; women and children were only enough to carry supplies and maintain basic living, consuming much time and manpower.

Now, with two waves of newcomers and about a hundred captured laborers, the fortification and scorched earth work could finally be pushed forward.

“The nomads have come without siege equipment. To attack the fortress, they must improvise on site. Anyone resisting demolition is a traitor aiding the enemy and shall be executed without mercy!”

In these chaotic times, life was cheap. Whoever had guns ruled. Su Yao and Lü Bu were proper Han military officers; the villagers could only tear down their homes through tearful obedience.

As the work proceeded orderly, Su Yao quickly realized there was nothing left for him to do.

So he climbed to the top of the fortress tower, staring blankly at the rising sun of the Far East. Before long, dusk settled over the horizon.

Just then, several figures of nomadic horsemen appeared at the edge of the horizon, and the crowd suddenly panicked.

“Benefactor, where are you?!
It’s bad—the nomads have arrived!”

Bored atop the tower, Su Yao snapped back to attention at the shouts from below. He shouted loudly, “Well then!”

Then, to the astonishment of everyone below, he leapt into the air, landing steadily in a pile of grass.

...

“Report: Commander of the Thousand Riders, the Han are fortifying and clearing the fields.”

“Just as expected, they’re here,” Tatalo snorted coldly.

The vast land of Bingzhou was sparsely populated. The Jinzhong Basin was one of the few areas with a relatively dense Han population.

Even so, at its peak, the entire Taiyuan prefecture had fewer than 40,000 households. After years of plague and continuous warfare, the population dwindled below 30,000.

The population of Qixian, under Taiyuan’s jurisdiction, was even smaller. Spread over villages, each numbered only about a hundred souls.

Thus, Tatalo boldly divided his forces, confident that as long as he did not assault the fortified manor of a great family, their swift cavalry would have no trouble.

But precisely this is where things went wrong.

As the trusted nephew of King Xiu Tu, Tatalo reacted swiftly. He immediately gathered his entire army, both avoiding the Han raids and investigating the possible sites of attack.

Among them, Wangjia Village—the only village in the area with a fortified manor—was the prime suspect.

“Looks like the Han have already prepared siege materials for us. Is there anyone willing to fetch them for me?”

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“Your Excellency, I volunteer,” said Xin Mo Luo, the scar-faced captain of the Hundred Riders. He stood up, left hand holding a spear, right fist pounding his chest in salute.

Xin Mo Luo was Tatalo’s most trusted subordinate. Unlike the other tribesmen skilled in mounted archery and guerrilla tactics, he specialized in charging and close combat—leading the vanguard, bold and reckless.

“Good!”

Tatalo smiled coldly.

“Take two prisoners alive for interrogation; slaughter all the other Han outside the walls... Wait, kill every last Han—let them feel fear and pay the price for offending us!”

Yes, he suddenly brimmed with confidence and even doubted his previous caution last night.

Back then, he had sent for reinforcements from the nearest Thousand Riders unit, but now he felt that he might handle this place by himself.

Where did this sudden confidence come from?

He saw that these foolish Han had not closed their gates, still waiting for their burdensome families to squeeze in.

“Everyone, prepare! Once Xin Mo Luo seizes the gate, launch a full assault!”

“Close the gates! Close the gates, everyone!”

The village head was nearly frantic. The open plains were in plain sight; the nomadic cavalry was approaching, yet the two officers were still chatting.

“Are you sure you want to attack? With so few men?” Lü Bu asked.

“Just a hundred riders. Take care of your wounds, Lü Da Ren. I’ll be back soon,” Su Yao replied.

Lü Bu felt a sharp pain in his neck—who gave him this injury?

If not for that, he would have charged out to kill the nomads himself, not letting this junior outshine him.

Still, he felt comforted. Although this kid was sometimes rude, he respected him on serious matters like marching and combat strategy. He didn’t feel they were equals but rather like mentoring a junior.

With a light sigh, he reached out and grabbed the Fangtian Ji—a halberd—from his bodyguard.

“Take this. Use it to shatter their morale!”

Su Yao’s eyes lit up. Taking the weapon, he thought, “This NPC quest reward is really something—he’s even handing me a legendary weapon!”

“You have three turns. Win or lose, you must return.

If the nomads regroup and overwhelm us, I’ll have no choice but to lock you outside the gates.”

“I guarantee mission completion!”

Su Yao hoisted the divine Fangtian Ji and leapt down the stairs in one bound.