He also had thirteen people on his side. Besides James Brooks and ten soldiers, he also brought William Thompson.

William Thompson's foot injury hadn't fully healed yet, but he could move, so he still came along.

At this moment, he was walking beside John Foster with a single saber in hand, watching with great interest how John Foster commanded people to ambush a stronghold.

First, they took out two lookouts among the river bandits, then arranged men to block the escape routes. Three crossbowmen were scattered at the rear to guard against surprises, while the others surrounded the main hall of the stronghold.

It sounded simple, but throughout the process, John Foster managed to direct twelve people to act in perfect sync using only body language—something extremely difficult to achieve.

Ordinary people definitely couldn't do this. Many people can't even keep two or three family members organized on a trip, ending up in chaos—let alone command twelve people.

For example, if someone moved too fast, a single glance from John Foster would make them stop; if there was the slightest noise, he could guess the river bandits' situation and adjust accordingly.

Even someone as thick-headed as James Brooks could keep up with the team's rhythm under John Foster's command.

This kind of command ability wasn't something John Foster learned somewhere, but rather a precious experience formed naturally through life-and-death situations.

William Thompson was learning from this experience.

He carefully memorized every detail, preparing to ponder them over and over...

They had quietly arrived outside the main hall of the river stronghold.

James Brooks held his spear, crouching beside the door.

John Foster picked the best spot to stand, ensuring he could see inside the hall while those inside couldn't see him.

Then he raised his hand, making a series of gestures, and finally pinched his throat and let out a sound.

"Ow..."

William Thompson was startled.

It was an extremely coquettish woman's voice, and he could hardly imagine it came from John Foster's mouth.

"Where did that woman come from?!" someone in the hall shouted excitedly, "I'll go take a look..."

A burly man strode out of the hall.

As soon as he stepped out, James Brooks lunged, thrusting his spear repeatedly, instantly stabbing several bloody holes into the man.

"Go!" John Foster shouted.

"Kill!"

"You bandits are surrounded! Surrender now! Lay down your weapons and you won't be killed!"

The soldiers shouted as they charged into the hall.

Though they said "lay down your weapons and you won't be killed," in reality John Foster had no intention of leaving anyone alive. The river bandits who hadn't reacted yet were still in a daze, and the soldiers rushed up and stabbed them to death in a flash.

"Run!" a river bandit shouted...

After a brief fight, seven river bandits broke out of the hall.

John Foster had anticipated this, and the three crossbowmen outside immediately closed in.

Crossbow bolts shot out—one missed, but the other two struck down two river bandits.

Only five river bandits remained, running toward the back of the stronghold.

"There's a stable in the back—they want to escape on horseback," William Thompson reminded.

John Foster didn't answer, just turned and strode off quickly, barking orders as he went.

"You five with minor injuries, stay and block the stronghold. The rest, come with me!"

William Thompson didn't follow John Foster in pursuit. For one, his foot was injured; for another, he wasn't one of John Foster's soldiers.

Not far away, a soldier finished off a river bandit who'd been shot down by a crossbow, blood splattering everywhere.

William Thompson shifted his gaze, observing the surrounding terrain, and suddenly thought of something... If the river bandits wanted to escape, riding horses wasn't as good as jumping into the river.

After all, they were river bandits, not horse thieves.

So he walked toward the riverbank and found that John Foster had stationed another crossbowman here.

This showed that John Foster had thought of this too, but there were only so many men...

The next moment, an angry roar came from the distance.

"Big brother, second brother, you go! I'll hold off the soldiers!"

Soon, two figures came running wildly in this direction.

Sure enough, these river bandits used their familiarity with the terrain to pull a feint, shaking off John Foster's pursuers and planning to escape toward the river.

A group of bandits with such tactics—this made William Thompson see them in a new light.

But now, these two were already charging straight toward him.

On this narrow path, the distance between them shrank rapidly.

William Thompson gripped the saber in his hand tightly.

Because in fencing matches only thrusts scored points, he really wasn't good at slashing—so he was basically not skilled with a saber...

Chapter 9: Brilliant Scheme

"Charge!"

"Get him!"

This was a small path on the north side of the stronghold, flanked by forest, with a lake and river at the end.

With a shout, Peter King and Frank Miller charged at William Thompson and the crossbowman with ferocious speed.

With their lives on the line, they looked especially fierce and terrifying, like two wild beasts bursting out of the woods.

The crossbowman raised his crossbow.

He seemed fairly calm, but he didn't know which one to shoot first, since he needed William Thompson to help take down the other.

A third shout rang out.

"Your left!"

William Thompson's shout was short and forceful, his tone imitating John Foster's commanding, unquestionable style.

Though he was a condemned prisoner, in that instant the crossbowman felt compelled to obey.

"Whoosh!"

The crossbowman reflexively pulled the trigger, and a sharp bolt shot straight at Peter King.