Before he could even process what was happening, the commander Walter King quickly pointed at Arthur King as well. “You, come over and follow him. Today, the two of you will stay together, so you can look out for each other!”

Chapter One: Sharpening the Sword (VII)

“Understood!” Arthur King replied cheerfully, riding his horse closer to Eric Scott, his face alight with the unique enthusiasm of youth.

Recently, he had spent all his days accompanying his father, rushing about everywhere, and it was rare for him to meet a companion his own age. So, after discovering that the chubby boy’s martial skills were not very refined and his reactions rather slow, he secretly pleaded with his father, hoping the latter would give Eric Scott some special protection during battle. But when Walter King heard this, he gave him a harsh scolding and refused to make any exceptions.

He had already given up hope and was preparing to secretly find ways within his ability to protect the chubby boy. He never expected that his father would soften at the last moment and change his mind after all.

“Damn it, a rabbit raised in a weasel’s den—what kind of sins did I, Mr. King, commit in my past life?!” Looking at his son’s delighted expression, the commander of the Wuying Army, Walter King, couldn’t help but frown slightly.

Of course, he wouldn’t give Eric Scott any special treatment just because of the budding friendship between the two boys. In fact, at this very moment, in his eyes, even if he added up all the six thousand or so outlaws under his command, none of them were as important as the little chubby boy. Even if he were to lose this battle and all his troops, as long as he could bring the chubby boy back to Taiyuan, he would still be considered blameless.

But the frontlines of two armies were certainly not the place to teach his own son. Very soon, Walter King’s attention was drawn to the approaching force on the other side.

He saw that the soldiers and officers of the opposing army were all dressed in black, and under the heavy crimson clouds, they surged forward like a flock of crows fighting over carrion, blotting out the sky. Within their ranks, the banners of various units—battalions, companies, commanders, captains, squads—pressed one upon another, layer after layer, clearly marking the hierarchy. (Note 1)

“The ones coming aren’t easy to deal with!” The commander of the Wagang Camp, Thomas Brooks, turned his head and reminded them with some unease. He was a veteran soldier and could gauge the strength of a force almost at a glance.

“It’s Louis King, an old acquaintance of ours. Ten years ago, outside Luoyang, we fought against him!” Walter King curled his lips and revealed with a smile. “The scouts already told me it was him. I must have burned a mountain of incense before Buddha to finally get the chance to face him again!”

Ten years ago, he and Thomas Brooks had both served as “Ten Commanders” in the imperial guard under the last emperor of Later Tang, Li Congke, while Louis King was a “Captain” under the rebel Zhao Yanshou. The two sides had fought fiercely for days outside Luoyang, their battle robes stained red with the blood of both enemies and comrades. Now, as “old friends” met again, Louis King had become the commander of an entire battalion, while he and Thomas Brooks—one was still lingering at the rank of cavalry officer, and the other had simply become a bandit chief ruling over a mountain stronghold. (Note 1)

As the saying goes, enemies’ eyes blaze when they meet. If Zhao Yanshou hadn’t led the Khitans and joined forces with Shi Jingtang to destroy Later Tang, Thomas Brooks wouldn’t have had to give up a promising career as an imperial guard officer to become the chief of Wagang. As for Walter King himself, if he hadn’t once served in the “Tang Army” and only surrendered to Liu Zhiyuan when he had no other choice, he wouldn’t have been sidelined for so many years. Even after finally landing the post of commander, he was still leading a ragtag group of hastily gathered bandits and outlaws!

With old and new grudges welling up in his eyes, Thomas Brooks shook his horse’s reins, ready to volunteer to charge into battle. But the commander of the Wuying Army, Walter King, gestured for him to stop and quietly said, “No rush. Good steel should be used on the blade’s edge. Cavalry, hold your positions. Let the archers from the Chenzhou Camp test their strength first!”

With that, he grabbed a brownish camp flag and a triangular flag painted with a bow and arrow from his bodyguard, raised them high above his head, and waved them left and right.

“General Han’s orders! All archers from the Chenzhou Camp, advance!”

“General Han’s orders! All archers from the Chenzhou Camp, advance!”

...

Over twenty of Walter King’s trusted followers from Taiyuan shouted at the top of their lungs, repeating the commander’s orders again and again. At the same time, messengers spurred their mounts along the specially cleared path, delivering command arrows to the Chenzhou Camp on the army’s left wing. The drummers and horn blowers raised their instruments, beating and blowing to spread the rousing call to battle throughout the army.

“Ooooo, ooooo, ooooo...”

“Boom boom boom, boom boom boom, boom boom boom...”

“Ooooo, ooooo, ooooo...”

“Boom boom boom, boom boom boom, boom boom boom...”

The horns howled like the northern wind, and the war drums thundered like rolling thunder. Amid the howling wind and thunder, about six companies of archers hurriedly moved from the left wing to the very front of their own formation. Aiming at the approaching enemy, they drew and fired their feathered arrows and heavy crossbows with all their might.

“Swish swish swish swish swish swish...”

“Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh...”