The old house in my hometown, that lazy white cat in the afternoon, tiptoeing along the top of the wall, mother sitting beneath the gable, carefully mending the package to be sent to her son far away, a few more strands of white hair on her head, father still meticulously repairing bicycles at the entrance of the alley—who would have thought that the youngest son of this utterly ordinary repairman would turn out to be the national archery champion.

Andrew Thompson let out a gentle sigh. In this lifetime, in what year would he be able to see, even once more, the parents who gave him life and raised him?

“Captain, are you homesick?”

Behind him came the voice of the veteran Eric Brooks. He walked over and sat down beside Andrew Thompson, gazing at the full moon and said, “Every three years, there are two months of leave. Then, Captain, you can return to Luoyang for a visit.”

Andrew Thompson glanced at him and smiled, “Actually, it’s not really homesickness. My parents have both passed away, and I’ve sold the old house. Even if I return to Luoyang, where could I go?”

He shook his head, then asked Eric Brooks, “Old Han, where is your home? How did you end up serving in Anxi?”

“I’m not a Long March hero; I was exiled to Anxi.”

“Exiled?” Andrew Thompson was slightly taken aback. He knew of many scholars and officials who had offended the emperor and were exiled to the frontier, but this Eric Brooks...

Eric Brooks gave a faint smile and said, “I originally entered officialdom through the Mingjing examination, appointed as the county bailiff of Dantu. In a fit of anger, I killed the county magistrate who insulted my wife. The villagers jointly petitioned for me, so I was spared the death penalty and exiled to Anxi. I’ve been stationed at the fortress for over four years now.”

“And your parents, wife, and child?”

“They’re back home.”

Eric Brooks took out a crumpled drawing from his chest. On it was a boy with a tigerish face. He stroked the portrait fondly and smiled, “This is my son Scott Brooks. I left him when he was three. He should be eight now.”

Andrew Thompson was just about to speak when, at that moment, the distant sound of horse hooves faintly reached them. The hoofbeats were dense, seemingly far away, yet also close, coming from the direction of Mount Ling. The two exchanged a glance, sprang to their feet, and quickly walked to the lookout, gazing north.

In the moonlight, they could vaguely see a dense mass of small black dots galloping toward them, drawing ever closer. The hoofbeats were muffled, as if wrapped in thick burlap. In an instant, a large cavalry force swept past the beacon tower—at least several hundred strong—like a pack of hungry wolves, charging straight toward the fortress.

‘Turgesh cavalry!’

Eric Brooks was trembling all over. He pointed nervously at the cavalry rushing toward the fortress, unable to utter a word, then turned and ran, “I’ll light the beacon fire!”

“Don’t rush!”

Andrew Thompson grabbed him, staring intently at the enemy troops galloping under the moonlight, a trace of excitement and anticipation in his eyes...

Three beacon fires blazed fiercely—an alarm signaling a large enemy force approaching. The flames shot into the sky, exceptionally bright in the night. Several dark figures descended from the cliff, mounted their horses, and sped away from the beacon tower toward the fortress.

...

“Look, the beacon fire—three beacon fires!”

At the Suluo Beacon Fortress, a sentry suddenly spotted the alarm from the Mount Ling beacon tower. The other two sentries immediately panicked—one ran to light the beacon fire, another grabbed an iron rod and began banging the alarm bell, ‘clang! clang! clang!’ The piercing sound instantly roused the entire fortress.

William Sutton, who had been sleeping soundly, was startled awake and jumped up, shouting, “What’s going on?”

“Commander, three beacon fires are burning at the Mount Ling beacon tower.”

“What!” William Sutton was dumbfounded. In a panic, he donned his armor as he ran outside, shouting, “Everyone, get your asses to the fortress! The Turgesh are attacking!”

The fortress was thrown into chaos. The Tang soldiers burst out of their tents, clutching weapons, grabbing armor, not even bothering to put on shoes, sprinting barefoot toward the fortress. They braced the iron gate with huge stones. Three beacon fires blazed into the sky, signaling a warning to the distance. The Tang soldiers drew their bows and nocked their arrows, waiting for the enemy to arrive.

A quarter of an hour later, a ragged line of fire appeared in the distance—it was the Turgesh, carrying torches. In the blink of an eye, several hundred Turgesh cavalry swept past like a gale, shouting and hollering, hurling their torches at the tents. In an instant, flames soared into the sky, illuminating the fortress as if it were daylight.

William Sutton’s initial panic was gone. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the wall, and looked out at the Turgesh, cursing under his breath, “You bastards, go ahead and burn! The cleaner the better, I’ll just requisition new ones.”

“Commander, something’s not right!”

Deputy Grant noticed something unusual and said nervously, “It seems they’re targeting our fortress specifically.”

“Let me see.”

William Sutton poked his head out for a look. He saw that over five hundred Turgesh cavalry had completely surrounded the fortress. Normally, there was nothing of value here, and Turgesh raiders would just gallop past the fortress, never stopping. But today, what’s gotten into them—have they gone mad with desperation?

“Hey!” William Sutton shouted in Turkic, “I’ve got no money here! Go south if you want some!”

The only response was a barrage of curses from the Turgesh and a rain of arrows. The arrows whistled through the air, clattering against the stone walls of the fortress. William Sutton narrowly avoided being hit. Furious, he turned and roared, “Shoot! Shoot these bastards dead for me!”