Seeing that Sheriff was about to leave the county office to gather the reckless men willing to risk their lives against the bandits, Judge Chase hurriedly called out to him, still harboring a sliver of hope.

“Before Heifengkou was breached, we had already sent for reinforcements from Suiye City and the nearby Zhechong Garrison.” Sheriff Lewis had received the only piece of good news from an old soldier who brought the report. He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “The reinforcements might already be on their way.”

“Buddha bless us, Wuliang Tianzun bless us, the reinforcements must arrive soon.”

Judge pressed his palms together, praying devoutly.

Before the reinforcements arrived, only the gods and buddhas could save Xiyan Town—and this lord’s own head.

At that moment, shouts and screams erupted outside the county office, the ground trembling slightly, as if thousands of horses were galloping by.

“The mounted bandits are here! The mounted bandits are... ah...”

A man screamed at the top of his lungs, followed by a miserable shriek—his voice cut off abruptly.

Judge Chase and Sheriff Lewis, these two close friends, looked at each other in shock. They hadn’t expected Old Carter and his gang of ruthless bandits to arrive so quickly, not even giving Xiyan Town a moment to react—over a thousand bandits had already stormed into the town.

In an instant, wails and screams echoed one after another, thick smoke billowed upward, and the small town seemed to have turned into a living hell.

“Kill! Kill! Grab the money, grab the grain, grab the women! Anything we can’t take, kill it all, burn it all! Hahaha!”

Old Carter, with a terrifying scar running from his left eye to the right corner of his mouth, was clad in bloodstained, gleaming silver armor. Wielding a long saber, he charged through the streets on horseback, laughing wildly as he casually hacked down panicked civilians running like headless flies.

“Grab the money! Grab the grain! Grab the women! Kill and burn everything else!”

The bandits roared recklessly in unison, their blades stained with blood—countless innocents fell beneath their weapons.

Along with the vicious mounted bandits charging into Xiyan Town, there was also a disheveled man with empty hands, carrying no weapons or armor. Yet within a ten-foot radius around him, not a single bandit approached.

It was as if all the bandits were deliberately keeping their distance from him.

The man pulled a sheet of yellow talisman paper from his robe and quickly folded it into a paper bird, muttering incantations under his breath.

Finally, he took out a cinnabar brush and dotted the bird’s eye. Instantly, the paper bird ignited without fire. The man, seemingly unafraid of the flames, pinched the burning paper bird between two fingers, pointed it at the sky, and shouted loudly.

“Zhuo!~”

A surge of orange-red firelight erupted, and the paper bird transformed into a giant firebird, flapping its wings as it soared into the sky. It circled rapidly above Xiyan Town, raining down countless fire droplets. Instantly, flames sprang up all over the ground, accompanied by even more cries and wails.

Among these mounted bandits, there was actually a sorcerer hiding.

The man produced a small black flag, cupped it in both hands, and raised it toward the sky. His eyes gleamed with a sinister light as countless vengeful spirits and ghostly winds swept in from every corner of the town, all rushing toward the eerie little flag.

It seemed that the more slaughter the bandits committed, the more ghostly winds and vengeful spirits were absorbed into the black flag.

The people of Xiyan Town were plunged into utter despair.

From time to time, groups of three or five bandits would break into homes together. Whether rich or poor, the courtyards would soon be filled with the bandits’ crazed, savage laughter and the owners’ screams and cries.

Moments later, the villains would leave with valuables or carrying off abducted women, their bloodstained weapons in hand, searching for their next target.

Even when a few desperate civilians tried to resist with whatever sticks or weapons they could find, how could they possibly be a match for these seasoned bandits? In the blink of an eye, they were hacked to death, dying tragically.

Outside the gate of The Thompson Mansion, dozens of ox carts loaded with valuables naturally became the prime target for the bandits.

The entire street was packed with vicious-looking mounted bandits—at least two or three hundred of them—eyeing the ox carts greedily, each one eager to be first.

Some bandits even fought among themselves to get a better position.

……

“Master! There are too many of them—we have to break out now, or it’ll be too late!”

Somehow having found a red-tasseled spear, the chief steward George Thompson thrust left and right, doing his best to fend off the wolf-like bandits. Seizing an opportunity, he knocked a fierce bandit off his horse, and in the next instant, the cold spearhead pierced the man’s throat. With a stab and a pull, he resumed swinging the spear, not letting a drop of water through.

“George, have your second son take people and escort my three young ones out first. And the Wu family’s young lady—she’s meant to be my son’s bride. You must keep her safe for me!”

Everyone knew that at this moment, the valuables no longer mattered—saving lives was most important.

David Thompson moved as if strolling in a garden, lightly shifting his feet to dodge a saber aimed at his neck. Then, with a swift sidestep, he closed in on a passing warhorse, grabbed the bandit whose strike had missed, and yanked him off the horse as if he were a chick, slamming him hard to the ground. Unhurriedly, he stepped forward—there was a crisp crack as the bandit’s neck was broken on the spot, not even given a chance to fight back, dying instantly.