However, as Edward Benson faced the cold wind and looked down from the upper floor, the distant Xianbei camp presented a completely different scene—not only was the loot from their raids overly abundant, but perhaps the Xianbei, emboldened by over a decade of military dominance over the Han Dynasty, had grown so arrogant that these Xianbei dogs were actually reveling all night long. Even at this hour, the camp was still brightly lit, and the wild laughter and the cries of captured Han people could be heard drifting over on the wind.

To be honest, this scene stirred a strange emotion in Edward Benson, who had often done business with Xianbei people alongside his mother in the past!

You see, this time, he had forged military orders to help Thomas Harris plan a raid on the camp. On the surface, it seemed generous and bold, but in truth, it was all cunning calculation and self-interest.

Just think about it—if the raid failed and they had to flee in haste, Thomas Harris would be completely unable to establish himself in Lulong Fortress. Other than following Edward Benson to Luoyang, was there any other path for him?

And if they succeeded and Thomas Harris earned merit, that was fine too. Because with merit, he would have prospects here, effectively tying him to this place. Edward Benson could simply wait two or three years, return from Luoyang, and then recruit and win him over in another capacity.

In any case, once this was done, George Harris would never again run off to the south to seek out that Sun Tiger for no reason. By then, as long as Edward Benson was willing to put in the effort, this man would sooner or later become one of his own. Whether he recommended him to someone else or kept him close as a safeguard, it would always be quite satisfying.

And another reason... though Edward Benson was reluctant to admit it, aside from the presence of Thomas HarrisGeorge Harris, these Xianbei before him were also blocking his path to promotion!

All these days, who else had been cursing and grumbling if not him?

But then again, at this very moment, setting aside all these calculations and ambitions, Edward Benson clearly felt a surge of primal impulse, the kind that belonged to a man of the Han borderlands, stirring restlessly in his heart. He was now itching to mount his horse, charge beyond the frontier, draw his bow and spear, flatten this camp, and crush these barbarian dogs!

Of course, now was not yet the time to fight. As the art of war says, a general must not fight on a whim.

“Brother, your armor, bow, and spear are all ready.” Just then, Charles Benson arrived as instructed, right on time.

“Help me put on my armor.”

“Right here?”

“Right here,” Edward Benson replied coldly. “I need to keep my eyes on the enemy camp, looking for an opportunity.”

“Yes, sir.”

And so, once Edward Benson was fully armed, he did not return to his quarters, but instead braved the cold wind, leaning on his steel-tipped spear, and sat cross-legged atop Lulong Tower. He said nothing, squinting his eyes, quietly watching the Xianbei camp, lost in thought.

Slowly, who knows how much time passed, but the distant enemy camp’s lights finally began to dim, and the voices in the wind gradually faded. Looking down from the tower, he could even see the shadows of people scattering around the main tent, where a fire still burned in the center—the Xianbei had caroused half the night and were finally, exhausted, returning to rest.

“The time has come!” At that moment, Edward Benson, atop the city tower, suddenly opened his eyes, then leaned on his spear and slowly stood up. “A-Yue, go tell the county soldiers to open the gate!”

Charles Benson, standing by his side, immediately bowed to receive the order.

……

A poem says: Rising from the gathering with spear in hand, slaying the enemy without mercy.

Chapter Five: Night Raid

In the Xianbei camp north of Lulong Fortress, Frank Moore, with a hint of satisfaction and pride, had just returned to his own tent in the rear camp from the central command tent of Lord Philip King.

Earlier, by the bonfire outside Lord Philip King’s tent, Frank Moore, who had come from Liucheng today, put on a beautiful Han-style buyao crown and imitated the gait of a Han gentleman, making Lord Philip King burst out laughing and even reward him with two bolts of silk.

The two bolts of silk were not enough to excite Frank Moore this much; what he valued was Lord Philip King’s attitude—after all, the lord had specifically asked for his name at the end.

Ah, it must be mentioned here that Lord Philip King’s surname is not Ke, nor is it Kezui, but who knows, perhaps his descendants will one day bear the surname Ke or Kezui. In fact, at this time, the Xianbei’s cultural development was just beginning, and they had little concept of surnames. The two characters “Ke Zui” actually originated from the title of a minority official in Youzhou during the Former Han period, which the Xianbei later adopted. It can be considered an informal term for “great commander,” a respectful title for a powerful tribal leader. As for Philip King, he was the most powerful Xianbei tribal chief from Youbeiping to Shanggu, and if his tribe went all out, he could muster four to five thousand skilled archers.

Interestingly, the last two characters in Lord Philip King’s title, “Da Ren” (meaning “lord” or “official”), are actually the real Xianbei official title. This was a position of real power in the Xianbei royal court established by Khan Tanshihuai, divided by region, and counted as a true noble among the Xianbei.