“Three people it is!” Edward Benson was already in a killing frenzy at this point and answered boldly, “With your courage and mine, why should we fear him?”

With that, the two spurred their horses forward, heading straight for a camp not far away where a great banner stood. The Han cavalryman who had fallen from his horse also climbed back on, gritting his teeth to follow. However, just as he mounted, an arrow came from who knows where, striking him squarely in the face, and he fell headlong into the fire.

On the battlefield, Thomas Harris and Edward Benson had no time to care about his fate, each fighting their way forward, charging straight for the central command.

“Lord Philip King, you must leave at once!” In front of the command tent, Frank Moore, his face smeared with blood, barefoot and hair disheveled, was clutching Philip King’s leg, pleading desperately, his expression changed yet again. “I heard from the routed soldiers that the one coming this time is Prefect Hou from Yangle City, leading a great army. On my way here to protect you, I even ran into his vanguard, Edward Benson, so the news must be true! Now the elite cavalry from Lulong Fortress are out as well, we’re being attacked from both front and rear—the situation is dire! My lord, your life is precious, and your own troops aren’t even here. You must leave at once!”

Bare-chested, Philip King was both furious and anxious. He raised his horsewhip and lashed Frank Moore across the face, making his already battered face a bloody mess.

But after a few lashes, Philip King helplessly threw the whip to the ground. “Frank Moore, is it? I know you’re loyal. I want to leave too, but Khan Tanshihuai is strict in military discipline. If I abandon the camp and flee, he’ll never forgive me!”

Frank Moore was agitated and about to speak again when a shout came from behind. He turned and was utterly terrified—Edward Benson and that eagle-eyed armored warrior with superb archery had actually charged right up to the central camp!

Moreover, Edward Benson was in front, clad in iron armor and helmet, unafraid of arrows, wielding a steel-tipped spear, slashing and thrusting bravely forward. The eagle-eyed warrior behind him darted left and right, drawing his bow and shouting loudly; with every shout, a Xianbei warrior fell to his arrows! Though there were only two of them, they were unstoppable, cutting straight into the camp!

“Finish off those two at once!” Philip King was both shocked and enraged, shouting for his warriors to advance. “Whoever kills either of them will be rewarded with a hundred households! I’ll give up my share of the spoils this time—everything will go to you!”

For the Xianbei, households were everything—a hundred households made a small tribe. Such a reward from Philip King incited many to a killing frenzy.

But as more and more people charged in heedless of their lives, the two—Edward Benson and Thomas Harris—began to struggle under the pressure.

After killing several more together, Edward Benson, who was at the front, suddenly found his spear stuck in an enemy’s bone and couldn’t pull it free. He quickly let go and drew his waist-knife, but it was too short to be effective in the melee. After a few exchanges, he was forced to dismount and fight on foot. Having lost the advantage of reach and height, he became increasingly hard-pressed.

Fortunately, Thomas Harris was still supporting him from behind, every arrow finding its mark. Despite their disadvantage, the two managed to keep advancing, appearing even more heroic.

Frank Moore watched, his heart pounding. Glancing back, he saw Philip King’s face full of hesitation as he hurriedly began to put on his armor. For some reason, despite the burning pain on his face, this small tribal leader felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

By now, the Han cavalry from Lulong Fortress had broken through the enemy camp, but because of the night battle against the wind, they soon lost formation and fought on their own. In such a situation, it was all about sheer willpower.

For the Xianbei, caught off guard by a night raid—should they flee or fight?

For the Han raiders, locked in bitter combat—would the reinforcements arrive first, or would the cavalry trapped in the enemy camp collapse first?

No one knew the answer.

After desperately cutting down two more, Edward Benson was only twenty paces from the now fully armored Philip King. If not for the close guards surrounding him, Thomas Harris would have finished him with an arrow long ago. But now, Edward Benson felt his strength failing, and in the distance, Thomas Harris loosed an arrow that brought down a guard pushed forward by Philip King. Reaching for another, he was horrified to find he was out of arrows.

“He’s out of arrows, and the other one has no long weapon!” Philip King saw his chance and shouted, “All of you, get in there and spear them! Fools, don’t use bows—the bows are too weak, and they’re both wearing double-layered iron armor, it’s useless!”

“Forget him, mount up, let’s fall back for now!” Thomas Harris’s eyes were bloodshot. If Edward Benson were to die here, he could never atone for it! “Spare his life, it’s not worth it!”

As soon as he finished speaking, Philip King saw a flash before his eyes—an arrow flew straight at him. He frantically turned his face to dodge, but the arrow pierced both his cheeks, blood gushing out.

“Did the Xianbei dogs think I, Edward Benson, am not good at archery?” Edward Benson threw aside his knife and took up a bow, his voice booming, so much so that several Xianbei soldiers with spears in front of him dared not advance.