Two more massive stones soared into the sky, drawing long arcs that looked almost graceful if one ignored the fact that they were about to ruin someone's entire day.
More people tilted their heads up this time, because once you had seen a rock fly like that, it became strangely addictive.
"Boom."
"Boom."
The stones crashed straight into the bandit formation again, instantly turning confidence into chaos.
Men screamed, formation broke, and what had been an aggressive charge began to resemble a group of people reconsidering their life decisions in real time.
The momentum of the bandits slowed.
Quite a few of them started thinking about retreat, which in battlefield terms meant their courage had quietly submitted a resignation letter.
On the wall, the villagers saw this and something magical happened.
Fear, which had been clinging to them like wet clothes, suddenly dried up.
Hands stopped shaking.
Hearts stopped racing.
Voices, however, started rising.
"Hahaha, that felt good."
"Hit them again."
"Smash these idiots into paste."
The transformation was so fast it would have impressed any general, if any general had been present, which unfortunately was not the case for either side.
"Li Da, Gao Yiyi, again."
They did not need encouragement.
The two blacksmiths were already sprinting toward the next pair of catapults like men who had just discovered a new hobby that involved legally throwing rocks at enemies.
On the wall, even the Bai family guards could not resist turning their heads to watch.
Mister Bai exploded.
"Where are you looking. Eyes outside. Archers, prepare to fire."
His voice dragged everyone's attention back just in time.
A group of the fiercest bandits had already rushed to within ten steps of the wall.
"Loose arrows."
The Bai family guards reacted first.
Bows were drawn, arrows released.
Several arrows struck their targets with satisfying precision.
Li Dao Xuan clapped lightly.
"Nice shooting."
Then he immediately realized something.
The bandits who had been hit did not fall.
They did not even slow down much.
They simply kept running, now with a small extra hole in their bodies, as if arrows were more of a suggestion than a conclusion.
Reality, once again, refused to cooperate with dramatic expectations.
An arrow was not a magical delete button.
In practical terms, three arrows were often less effective than one solid slash, and three slashes were still less decisive than a good thrust.
The villagers' light bows were essentially adding minor decoration to the bandits' injuries.
The bandits fired back.
A messy volley of weak arrows rose into the air, lacking both strength and ambition.
Li Dao Xuan had originally decided to just watch.
Then he saw the arrows heading toward his villagers.
That decision lasted approximately one second.
Protectiveness kicked in.
He extended his hand and placed it in front of the wall.
The arrows struck his palm and dropped harmlessly, unable to penetrate skin that had effectively been upgraded into something closer to a defensive structure than human tissue.
Only Gao Yiye could see this.
To everyone else, it looked like the arrows had simply failed.
The bandits assumed their shots had been blocked by the wall, completely unaware that the villagers had just activated what could only be described as an extremely unfair advantage.
Above them, more stones flew.
Behind them, more bandits got crushed.
In front of them, the bravest attackers finally reached the base of the wall.
Several of them worked together to raise a long ladder and slammed it against the wall.
Mister Bai did not hesitate.
"Throw stones. Pour the oil."
The guards grabbed prepared rocks and hurled them downward.
Unlike arrows, rocks were very convincing.
A single hit to the head immediately resolved the target's participation in the battle.
Behind them, the village women moved with determination.
They carried pots of boiling oil, climbing up and passing them forward, then retreating quickly to refill from the large pots still bubbling behind the wall.
It was high quality rapeseed oil.
Every pot poured felt like a small personal tragedy.
Their hearts hurt, but their hands did not hesitate.
Because between oil and survival, the choice was surprisingly straightforward.
After several exchanges, something changed.
The villagers, who had started this battle as a collection of nervous individuals, began to find their rhythm.
The shouting around them, the flying stones, the shared danger, all of it fused into something that felt almost like courage.
Gao Chuwu suddenly rushed forward, grabbed a large rock, and hurled it down.
"I am joining."
Zheng Daniu followed immediately.
"Me too."
Dozens of villagers surged forward.
"We are all joining."
At first, a dozen guards had been fighting in a rather uncoordinated manner, achieving results that could generously be described as limited.
Now, with the villagers joining in, the situation changed instantly.
Big rocks, small rocks, large pots, small pots, everything that could be thrown was thrown.
The first wave of bandits at the wall collapsed under the pressure.
The group carrying the battering log abandoned it entirely, choosing survival over commitment.
They ran.
However, the ladder team was still operational.
They had set up slightly farther away, beyond the immediate reach of falling rocks and boiling oil.
With surprising efficiency, they raised the ladder and leaned it forward.
It slammed against the wall.
Several villagers rushed to push it away.
Mister Bai shouted again.
"Do not push it. You cannot move it. Spearmen, get ready and stab anyone who climbs up."
He had explained all of this before the battle.
He had explained it multiple times.
He had explained it clearly.
Unfortunately, explanations had a tendency to disappear the moment chaos began.
He jumped and shouted, correcting people constantly, his role as battlefield commander rapidly evolving into something closer to an exhausted teacher supervising an energetic but confused class.
Fortunately, the bandits were not much better.
They had no discipline, no coordination, and no plan beyond enthusiasm.
Which meant both sides were essentially improvising their way through violence.
A bandit climbed up the ladder.
He reached the top, one hand gripping the rung, the other swinging a short blade wildly.
The blade was too short.
The villagers' long bamboo spears had no such limitation.
A spear thrust forward.
The bandit screamed and fell backward from two zhang high, landing with a heavy thud that ended his contribution to the battle.
Then another climbed up.
This one was different.
He was large, solid, and wrapped in thick cowhide.
A villager thrust a spear at him.
He did not dodge.
The sharpened bamboo struck his chest and stopped, completely unable to pierce the hide.
The villager did not have enough strength to push him off.
The bandit raised his blade and chopped.
The spear snapped.
The villager retreated in shock.
The man climbed up onto the wall in a single motion, landing heavily and laughing loudly.
"My name is Yi Dao. Remember it well. Today, I will kill every last one of you."
Several villagers rushed him.
He did not flinch.
With the thick cowhide wrapped around his body, ordinary weapons could barely scratch him, and he carried himself with the confidence of someone who had already cut down real opponents, not just frightened villagers.
When Bai Family Fort fell, he had personally killed five guards, and that memory sat in his bones like a badge of honor.
He swung his blade at the first villager.
The strike landed cleanly on the chest.
A sharp metallic sound rang out.
Yi Dao froze.
"Iron armor."