Chapter Sixty-Three: The War Drums of Heaven and Earth

Inside the grand hall of Wolfheart Fortress, the Third Chief paced back and forth, his face riddled with anxiety. Before long, a bandit dressed as a servant entered the hall.

The Third Chief hurriedly asked, “Has the Chief come out from seclusion?”

The servant shook his head. “Reporting, Third Chief, the Chief has not yet emerged.”

“Ah! Why did he choose now to shut himself away?” The Third Chief scratched his head and waved his hand. “Alright, you may leave. There’s nothing more for you here.”

The servant withdrew, leaving the Third Chief lost in thought. Truth be told, the news that Hu San had led the bandits of Fangtooth Fortress to destroy the Mongsi forces had shaken him deeply.

He’d heard rumors of Hu San drilling his troops at Fangtooth Fortress, purchasing weapons through Zhou Xing, and secretly acquiring arms from the caravan of the Great Bend Kingdom. He’d ignored these, thinking Hu San could hardly stir up real trouble.

But now, this dazzling military achievement struck him like a slap in the face.

The Third Chief, seasoned as he was, had spies embedded in Fangtooth Fortress. By piecing together the reports, he could reconstruct the events of that fateful day.

If Hu San's final victory over Mongsi was the result of cunning, the fact that he’d fought them head-on and personally killed a lieutenant at Redstone Cliff was alarming.

That lieutenant was a fourth-tier martial artist, an elite of Wang’s forces, whose skills and combat experience far surpassed those of these self-made bandits.

At best, the Third Chief reckoned he’d need two of himself to match such an opponent. Yet this formidable warrior had been cleaved in half by Hu San in open combat. If he himself had faced Hu San, what chance would he have? He might have been cut in two, or even three.

By rough count, fourteen martial artists died directly in combat with Hu San; the highest-ranked among them was Wang Can, a deputy who’d stepped into the second great realm. The rest were first-tier experts.

This record chilled the Third Chief to the bone.

Most alarming of all, from every angle, it seemed Hu San had not cultivated any inner energy—he hadn’t even become a martial artist.

If he was so formidable before reaching that threshold, what would happen once he did?

Thus, the Third Chief’s heart seethed like stormy seas, his envy and fear overwhelming him. He longed to kill Hu San instantly, to rid himself of this galling threat.

Call it jealousy or a concern for Wolfheart Fortress, either way, he now harbored a murderous intent toward Hu San. The feeling was so intense that, unable to reach the Chief, he went directly to the trial contingent of the Great Bend Kingdom, requesting that they challenge Fangtooth Fortress.

The recently arrived guerrilla general of the Great Bend Kingdom did not refuse. Why had they entered these lands for trials? To temper their troops—and to raise the kingdom’s reputation.

For powerful kingdoms, taking advantage of Hu San might seem beneath them. But for the small Great Bend Kingdom, this was a rare chance to gain renown.

The Great Bend Kingdom, like Mongsi, had sent a guerrilla general and five thousand soldiers for the trial. Their strength was about equal.

But there was a critical difference: one faced Hu San’s elite, the other faced scattered remnants; one knew nothing of the territory, the other had ample guides.

So, the Great Bend forces had nothing to fear. Even if there were traps at Fangtooth Fortress, the Third Chief pointed them out. In everyone’s eyes, Hu San, however capable, was as good as trapped.

Yet, as they marched toward Fangtooth Fortress, Hu San had already received word.

The source was a logistics officer, said to be a friend of Commander Shi. With this information, Hu San exchanged the remaining one thousand two hundred taels of gold in his fortress—a trade well worth it, in his estimation.

“Damn it, they want to kill me? Keep dreaming.”

As the Great Bend contingent advanced on Fangtooth Fortress, Hu San secretly evacuated every person from the stronghold, placing guards to prevent anyone from leaving.

He then personally led a group back into the fortress, entering the heart of the mountain through a shaft at the summit.

There, the mountain’s core had been hollowed out by Hu San, leaving only a few stone pillars supporting the entire mass.

“Fangtooth Mountain was always unstable; this terrain suits collapse perfectly. If I knock out these pillars and shake things up a bit, the whole mountain will come crashing down.”

With this in mind, Hu San raised a giant axe the size of a door and hacked away at the remaining pillars. Before long, only the central pillar was left standing.

“You all go, I’ll handle things here.” He dismissed his followers, then waited quietly by a hidden passage.

Two hours later, a deep rumbling sounded from above. Hu San listened, a sly smile on his lips—he knew the Great Bend forces had reached the summit.

He wasted no time, swung the axe and broke the last pillar, then swiftly escaped through the tunnel to the hidden valley behind the mountain.

“Pass my order—sound the drums!”

Hu San spat fiercely, seized two massive drumsticks, and struck the great drum beneath him.

At his signal, the fifty drums arrayed nearby thundered in unison.

Elsewhere, bandits had long been ready; they joined in, and soon the whole hillside echoed with deafening drumbeats.

At first, Fangtooth Mountain gave no obvious response. The Great Bend soldiers wondered at the empty summit, and when the drums started, thought they’d misheard.

But soon, the mountain began to tremble, as if stirred by the drums. The shaking started gently, then grew stronger; each beat seemed to make the cliffs shudder.

As the Third Chief’s face turned pale and the guerrilla general of Great Bend roared in anger, Fangtooth Mountain seemed bitten through by its namesake, snapping in half and plunging into the deep valley below.

The crash was like the wrath of heaven, as if the earth itself were beating a drum. Amid thunderous rumbling, the bandits found their drums bouncing beneath them, rising several men high.

“Time to clean up the mess.”

With a cruel smile, Hu San tossed aside his drumsticks and ordered the bandits to form ranks, waiting for the dust to clear—then they would strike.

Half an hour later, when the dust settled and Hu San led his men in, he found most enemy soldiers buried beneath tons of rock.

A few lucky survivors were quickly dispatched by the attacking bandits.

After several sweeps, they found the body of the Great Bend guerrilla general. His head had been smashed flat by a boulder, and when dragged out, his brains were nowhere to be found.

As for the remaining five deputies, their bodies were not found—likely buried deep under the massive rocks.

To Hu San’s surprise, not long after, Zhao Feng and Lin Hu arrived with a group of bandits, dragging before him a man who could barely move.

Hu San recognized him instantly: the Third Chief of Wolfheart Fortress.

His luck was remarkable—he’d crawled out of the rubble, only to be caught by patrolling bandits and brought straight to Hu San.

“Well, Third Chief, still in one piece? How did you end up among the Great Bend forces?”

Hu San waved his men away, facing this familiar warrior alone.

“Hu San, spare me your pretenses. I, Mo Ke, have fallen into your hands—call it bad luck. Kill or torture me as you wish, but don’t try to mock me.”

Mo Ke, though unable to move, still maintained his bold spirit.

“Third Chief, there isn’t much enmity between us. I don’t understand how we’ve come to this point. Can you tell me why?”

Hu San was silent for a moment, then asked a question that seemed out of place, causing the Third Chief to pause.

Only then did he realize Hu San was just twelve and a half years old. When he was that age, he was still living off his father’s food!

His expression grew complex, then he laughed. To treat Hu San as a mere child now would be truly foolish.

No matter how innocent someone starts, after killing so many and doing so much, innocence is lost.

“What’s the point of such talk now? You of all people should know the proverb: ‘The tree that stands out will be battered by the wind.’ If you have a question, ask it plainly—don’t waste time. I need to hurry and report to the King of Hell.”

Mo Ke spat to the side.

“Very well, no more jokes. Tell me—what is the Chief’s secret? Why do Wolfheart Fortress’s martial artists advance so quickly? If you reveal this secret, I’ll spare your life. I, Hu San, keep my word.”

Hu San’s face turned serious; all traces of childishness vanished, replaced by a fierce, commanding air.

“Haha, you’re sharp. But do you think I’ll tell you?”

“Hu San, since we’ve known each other, give me a quick death. I’ll tell you this: if the Chief ever learns of what you’ve done, you won’t escape death. His power is beyond your imagination. If he cared about building the fortress’s strength, Wolfheart would be ten times stronger than it is now.”

Mo Ke shook his head, sighing. “It’s a pity—the Chief is obsessed with cultivation, pursuing only his own power, and cares little for collective strength. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so free today.”

Having said this, Mo Ke fell silent, closing his eyes to await death.

Hu San pressed his lips together, reflecting, but his hand moved without hesitation; with a twist of his blade, he slit Mo Ke’s throat, leaving him a whole corpse.

“The Chief…trouble, real trouble. Damn it, I need to figure out how to cultivate inner energy soon.”

Standing in the cold mountain wind, Hu San looked north. It seemed he saw a giant shadow, its face masked in gold, looming over half the sky. An involuntary chill seized his heart.