Chapter Sixty-Two: Boundless

“This is the place.”

A quarter of an hour later, a group of unexpected guests arrived at the spot where Baishan’s troops were stationed. Under the faint glow of light, the leader's face was revealed—it was none other than Zhao Feng.

“Well, what did you find?”

Zhao Feng turned and looked back at a young man whose entire body was covered in grass clippings.

“The main force of the enemy has pursued into the valley, but they left three battalions here to guard. At the moment, they’re resting over there.”

The youth raised his hand and pointed in that direction. Though his face was smeared with dust, his eyes were as clear as water.

“You’ve done well. I’ll make sure to mention your merits to Third Brother.”

Zhao Feng nodded. He knew the youth’s background: a simple villager from Wolfname Village, skilled in hunting and tracking, who had sought out Hu San to join him once Hu San rose to prominence—now one of Hu San’s trusted followers.

“You lead the way. Everyone else follow. This time, we must be thorough; leave no survivors.”

A closer look revealed a dense crowd behind Zhao Feng—no telling how many bandits there were.

These were all the men Hu San had abandoned along the way, numbering over a thousand.

Led by the youth, Zhao Feng and his men successfully encircled their foes—over a thousand attacking three hundred. With archers among them and the element of surprise, even if the enemy possessed martial experts, there was no escape.

In no time, the three hundred were slaughtered to the last.

“Now, I’ll relay Third Brother’s orders: First and Second Battalions, burn the mountain at Old Duck Ridge; Third and Fourth, burn at Azure Dragon Slope; Fifth and Sixth, start burning by Mouse River…”

Soon, all fifteen or sixteen hundred bandits were dispatched, spreading out across the vast grassy expanse.

From above, one would see that this open area was actually the mouth of a valley—wide at the entrance and narrowing as it went deeper, though the mouth was so broad it was imperceptible at first glance.

At the valley's end rose towering peaks, making this place a dead end—a fact Hu San discovered by chance when mapping the area.

Worse, the valley produced a peculiar stone; when exposed to intense heat, it emitted a pungent odor. Those inhaling the fumes would become nauseous at best, dead at worst.

Hu San named this place the Valley of Death—a trump card against the chaos of war, never expecting to use it so soon.

Now, in late autumn, the valley lay flat and thick with dry grass—easily ignited.

With the presence of those flammable stones, once the fire started, it could not be stopped. Like a sea of flames, it surged into the valley.

Yellowish-brown smoke billowed skyward. Zhao Feng and his men dared not linger; seeing the blaze spread, they quickly withdrew to a distant hill to watch.

Because the Valley of Death was so vast, the fire at its edges remained unseen by those inside for some time.

Only after half an hour, when the fire had burned through half the valley, did the trapped troops realize the inferno engulfing them.

Faced with such a disaster, not even the greatest heroes could traverse the flames.

Meanwhile, Hu San and his men had been pursued to the valley’s end. Before Black Halberd and his soldiers could rejoice, Hu San and his company grabbed ropes dangling from the peak and swiftly climbed up.

Though some slipped and fell, by the time their pursuers reached the bottom, most bandits had scaled the cliffs.

Before they could climb, Hu San ordered the ropes cut, leaving only a bare mountainside.

“What a blazing fire—who knows how many will die today.”

Standing atop the cliff, Hu San surveyed the valley below; the raging fire roared like a beast of apocalypse, surging with deadly force toward the valley’s end.

Most lethal was not the fire, but the thick smoke rising with it. Hu San was certain that anyone swallowed by it—no matter how skilled—would not survive.

“Now, the escape routes are sealed. Though this is a dead-end valley, some martial artists might still scale the cliffs—but alas.”

With a sigh, Hu San barked, “Everyone, arrows ready! Any who dare to climb, kill without mercy!”

“Understood!”

Though the bandits were now triumphant, the overwhelming force of nature filled their hearts with dread. Hu San’s shout rallied them, and they all roared to bolster their courage.

“Hu San, this matter has nothing to do with me. If you let me go, I promise Wolf Fang Fortress will become a favored ally of Mons Country—just as Wolf Heart Fortress is to the Great Bend. If you do not believe me, I can swear an oath.”

Suddenly, a loud voice rose from below the peak. Hu San looked down and saw a middle-aged man with white-streaked brows, whose attire marked him as the army’s commander.

“Didn't expect to catch such a big fish. Could it be that the entire Mons force has been lured into the valley?”

Hu San was still unaware of what had happened behind him. Seeing more and more Mons troops gather, he made a rough estimate and realized—all the Mons forces had unknowingly assembled here.

“This is ridiculous,” Hu San chuckled softly, quickly grasping the reasoning: the enemy had wanted to force a decisive battle, to crush him with overwhelming force, but had blundered into a trap.

Just as Hu San was about to taunt the general, the commander’s body suddenly froze—a blade tip burst from his chest.

A burly, dark-skinned man laughed grimly, “Cowardly fool, all that internal energy wasted—just my bad luck to serve under you.”

“This strike is your compensation.”

“Black Halberd, you dare kill me?”

General Kang stared in disbelief at the blade in his chest, hesitating to pull it out, his face contorted in terror.

“We’re all dead men—what’s there not to dare?”

Black Halberd sneered again, ignoring the fallen general, and turned to Hu San, shouting, “Hu San, I, Black Halberd, have fought countless battles, but never suffered such a defeat. Don't get cocky—on the plains, I'd have taken your head long ago.”

“Today, I'll see if I can break out.”

With that, Black Halberd hefted his long blade and began to climb.

The bandits atop the peak fired arrows down, but Black Halberd deflected them one by one.

Inspired, the remaining three lieutenants shouted and chose different spots to scale the cliffs, seeking a slim chance for survival.

“I admit you’re formidable, but I am not a general, nor will I ever seek to be one. My pursuit is the pinnacle of personal strength, not collective power. So, you may die now.”

Hu San drew his Nine Ox Bow, nocked an arrow, and fired in quick succession.

Black Halberd blocked three arrows with all his might, but in midair, he could not resist the fourth. Struck, he fell from the cliff, his head smashing against a sharp stone—his brains splattered three feet high.

A star of Mons was thus extinguished.

With Black Halberd dead, the other three lieutenants panicked, unable to withstand Hu San’s arrows.

Soon, Xu Yu met the same fate—shot from the cliffs, shattered beyond recognition. Baishan was pinned to the rock face by Hu San’s arrow, twisted like a dried fish, then fell still.

Zheng Qiang fared worst—riddled by bandit arrows, his body left nothing but a honeycomb.

Shortly after, the fire swept over, smoke filled the valley, and all three thousand of Mons’ troops—including the elite formation-breakers—perished.

When the cries and pleas within the valley faded, replaced only by the crackling of flames, Hu San sighed, waved his hand, and said, “Let’s go. Let’s see if any enemy units survived.”

A pale-faced bandit squad descended from another side, soon joining Zhao Feng’s men, and marched to Stone House Village, wiping out the remaining small Mons detachments.

“Everyone, return to the fortress. I want to see how many of us are left.”

Standing beside Stone House Village, watching the flames engulf the land, Hu San stood in a daze before instructing Lin Hu.

This was a lucky victory for Hu San. Though he loathed to admit it, bandits were no match for regular armies.

They succeeded this time—but what about the next?

“It seems this is not a place to stay long. I’ll have to venture out sometime.”

With these thoughts, a once-vague idea in Hu San’s mind grew clear—but all would have to wait until matters here were settled.

Though Hu San had annihilated most of Mons’ army, inevitably a few would escape, and he could not silence everyone in Stone House Village. Word soon spread.

Within a dozen days, news of Hu San leading Wolf Fang Fortress to slaughter all five thousand of Mons’ trial army swept across the Qilian Mountains.

The story spread so widely that even the depths of Qilian were abuzz.

Mons forces might mean little to some kingdoms, but they were bona fide regular troops. For Hu San, with only a bandit branch, to wipe out an army led by a guerrilla general was unheard of.

Since the Qilian Mountain trials began, nothing like this had ever happened.

Some royal troops had been wiped out before—but only by other kingdoms.

For local bandits to annihilate such a force—this was a first.

Hu San’s name began to spread through the Qilian Mountains, and even Wolf Heart Fortress gained fame thanks to his deeds.

Yet Hu San himself, the protagonist of it all, was far from satisfied.

After the battle, his five-thousand-strong force had dwindled to less than two thousand, with most elites dead.

Their iron arrows were nearly spent. Spears and blades were plentiful, but there were few left to wield them.

Under such circumstances, Hu San doubted they could defeat even another bandit gang, let alone the next trial army from a neighboring land.