The Xianbei soldier was helpless; he could only struggle to his feet, then wrapped himself in just a robe, not even wearing pants... perhaps his pants had been stolen by Frank Moore... Anyway, in a daze, he followed his clansmen outside.

Frank Moore threw on a filthy fur robe, lifted the door curtain of his tent, which was weighed down with a wooden stick to block the wind, and without taking a bow or a spear, simply bent down and walked out... The next second, a wave of heat hit him in the face, mixed with the sight of dozens of armored riders silently galloping in all directions, tossing torches as they went. The Xianbei chieftain was instantly stunned on the spot.

Was this a deliberate arson?

A Han night raid?

Where did these troops come from?

Why were they in the rear camp?!

A series of questions surged in his mind, but before he could think further, Frank Moore's attendant also stumbled out after his chieftain, even yawning, eyes still closed. Just a few dozen paces away, a sturdy rider with a thin mustache and hawk-like eyes turned his head at the commotion, raised his hand, and loosed an arrow. The attendant clutched his throat and collapsed beside him.

That wasn’t all—another armored rider charged over, raising his blade to strike at Frank Moore's head.

“Don’t kill me!” In desperation, Frank Moore grabbed his own guard’s corpse and flung it forward, rolling on the ground, and actually shouted in Han language, “I am a guest of Anlihao, I know the noble Gongsun clan of Lingzhi!”

The sturdy, hawk-eyed rider had already nocked another arrow, but was startled by these words, and his hand jerked, causing the arrow to veer off and graze Frank Moore's face, embedding itself in the wooden frame of the tent behind, leaving a trail of blood.

In that life-or-death instant, Frank Moore felt a sudden warmth in his groin—he had wet himself.

“Frank Moore!” Another rider galloped over, a steel-tipped lance stopping just half a foot from the Xianbei’s face. It was Edward Benson, who recognized him and, with a sudden thought, rushed over. “Do you still recognize me?!”

“Yes, yes, I do! The young master of Anlihao, deputy registrar of the commandery—you forget, last year you personally sold me a buyao crown!” Under the firelight, Frank Moore looked up, immediately trembling all over and bowing low, anxiously replying in Han. “Please, sir, for the sake of our old acquaintance, spare my life! All the loot and captives are with Lord Philip King in the central camp—there’s nothing here in the rear camp.”

“Do you know where Philip King’s tent is?!” Edward Benson demanded harshly.

“Yes, yes!” Frank Moore kowtowed frantically.

On the battlefield, things changed in an instant. By now, the rear camp was in an uproar, with more and more Xianbei waking up and coming out to investigate.

Although most who showed themselves were immediately slaughtered by Thomas Harris and the others, and order in the rear camp had collapsed, the fire had not yet reached the central camp, where people were already reacting and taking action.

“Young lord!” Thomas Harris shot another Xianbei soldier emerging from an unburned tent in the distance, then couldn’t help but turn back and urge, “Don’t waste time—strike for the central camp while the chaos lasts!”

“Did you hear that?!” Edward Benson struck Frank Moore’s shoulder with his lance, gritting his teeth. “Run toward Philip King’s tent, and as you go, tell everyone: the Marquis and Governor of Liaoxi personally leads the troops from Yangle City in this attack! The vanguard is me, Edward Benson!”

Frank Moore was stunned for only a moment, then scrambled out from under the lance and ran straight toward the central command tent.

As he ran, he shouted in Xianbei, “The Governor of Liaoxi leads the Han army! The one on the white horse at the front is the vanguard, Edward Benson!”

Edward Benson had grown up in Liaoxi and knew a bit of Xianbei, Wuhuan, and even Goguryeo, so even on the battlefield he was momentarily dumbfounded—he was clearly riding a black horse for the night raid, when had he ever ridden the white horse from home? But there was no time to ponder such nonsense. A Xianbei man, clad only in a tattered robe, had clearly heard the commotion and now rushed out of a nearby tent in a panic.

Edward Benson raised his hand and struck, the lance tip slicing open half the man’s chest, but he didn’t finish him off. Instead, he flicked his wrist, using the lance tip to drive the wailing, bloodied Xianbei soldier in the direction of Frank Moore.

“Herd the routed soldiers after him—we’ll set fires along the way!” Thomas Harris immediately understood and shouted, changing tactics on the spot. “Don’t shoot their legs with arrows! Don’t kill the unarmed! A few of you, help me drive the horses!”

And so, the thirty-odd riders each took action, and, taking advantage of the blaze, managed to drive over a hundred routed soldiers from the rear camp into the central camp!

At the top of Lulong Tower, seeing the enemy camp ablaze from the rear and chaos spreading all the way to the central camp, the whole place boiling over, James Benson was dumbfounded. Fortunately, Charles Benson was at his side, shouting orders and directing the defense. Moreover, Lulong Fortress was a key border stronghold, and the troops stationed there were elite, so after the initial panic, they quickly mobilized and sprang into action.