Night raid—this was Henry Carter's suggestion. Indeed, if they fought in the open during the day, none of these nine men would be a match for this group of Later Jin soldiers; their only option was to fight at night. In ancient times, night battles were rare—not only because many soldiers suffered from malnutrition and night blindness, but more importantly because organizing a night battle was extremely difficult. Communication methods were primitive, there were no complete maps for reference, and even marching at night made it hard to control the direction of the troops, let alone engage in combat.

However, Henry Carter was facing only a small elite unit, and most of his men were “Night Raiders” accustomed to operating after dark, so a night battle posed no problem.

Henry Carter and Charles Grant walked at the front, heading straight for their target. Henry Carter carried a bow and arrows on his back, a saber at his waist, and gripped his spear tightly in his hand. Though a fierce battle was imminent, he felt an unusual calmness inside. Perhaps he truly was suited to live in chaotic times—this life of licking blood from the blade did not frighten him; on the contrary, it made him inexplicably excited.

On a Ming dynasty lunar August night, the air was already quite chilly, but everyone’s blood was boiling with passion—no one felt cold.

The group crept all the way to the woods at the edge of Zhangzhuang. Faintly, the loud shouts and laughter of several Later Jin soldiers could be heard, mixed with the cries and pleas of women. The group knew the enemy was just ahead, and no one dared to be careless. They moved quietly through the woods. At this moment, the advantage of Charles Grant and the others as Ming scouts became apparent—they moved without making a sound, something even Henry Carter could not achieve.

Cautiously, they reached the edge of the woods. Looking out, they saw several campfires burning in the clearing by the creek. Next to the fires were tents, and some Later Jin soldiers sat around the flames, laughing and talking loudly.

Perhaps because it was nighttime, these soldiers wore no armor, exposing their bluish scalps and the long, thin “queue” braids at the back of their heads. Their weapons were carelessly tossed aside. Each man had a disheveled Ming woman in his arms, laughing and engaging in all sorts of unspeakable acts. The women dared not resist, only sobbing softly, their faces filled with misery and despair.

Beside one of the campfires lay several corpses of Ming women, all naked and twisted in death, clearly having suffered greatly before dying. Next to a tent, a group of ragged women huddled together, heads bowed, trembling in fear, with low sobs occasionally breaking the silence.

Seeing this scene, Henry Carter and the others were filled with rage. These damned Tartars were committing inhuman acts.

Behind Henry Carter, Frank Howard was shaking all over, barely able to control himself. Henry Carter glanced back at him, signaling him to stay calm, but Frank Howard's eyes were bloodshot, clearly reminded of his own wife who had died tragically.

Henry Carter whispered, “It’s not time yet. Wait until the Tartars are resting, then we strike.”

He carefully counted the number of Later Jin soldiers and found there were actually ten—he was shocked, as the enemy’s numbers had increased by half, contrary to their earlier estimate. Charles Grant and the others noticed this as well and were all surprised, but at this point, there was no turning back; even if a sea of blades and fire lay ahead, they had to press on.

Suddenly, a woman’s scream rang out. The group looked over to see a woman resisting the Tartar who was molesting her. The Later Jin soldier, enraged, stood up and struck her head and face hard with the hilt of his knife, cursing her in his native tongue. The woman’s face and hair were covered in blood. She struggled desperately, crying out in pain, while several other soldiers laughed heartily, pointing and jeering.

A surge of blood rushed to Henry Carter's head, but he forced himself to suppress it, telling himself over and over, “Calm down, calm down, it’s not time yet!”

Suddenly, Frank Howard behind him stood up and shouted, “Damn you Tartars!”

Like poking a hornet’s nest, the Later Jin soldiers by the fire all jumped up, pushing the women aside and shouting harshly in their language. The soldier who had been beating the woman also looked over in surprise.

“Whoosh!” The taut sound of a bowstring rang out. A heavy arrow tore through the darkness, powerfully piercing the throat of that Later Jin soldier, sending him flying and pinning him dead to the ground.

“Kill them!”

The ambush had failed; there was nothing left but open battle. Henry Carter shouted hoarsely, brandishing his spear and charging forward at the head of the group.

“Kill—!”

Charles Grant and John Grant also flushed with rage, shouting at the top of their lungs as they swung their weapons and followed Henry Carter into the fray.

The rest of the group charged out as well, and in an instant, they clashed with the Later Jin soldiers.

The first enemy Henry Carter faced was a Later Jin bannerman wielding a crescent-bladed poleaxe. Taken by surprise, the bannerman hadn’t even had time to swing his weapon.

Henry Carter shouted, “Kill!”

His spear thrust straight into the man’s chest. The bannerman let out a thunderous roar, trying to bring his axe down, but Henry Carter stabbed again, then lifted him up and flung him hard into a nearby campfire. The man’s body caught fire, and his screams pierced the night.

Another Later Jin infantryman, wielding a tiger-tooth saber, slashed at Henry Carter from behind.

Henry Carter roared, “Kill!”