Chapter Fifty-Two

The first step was to add saddles and horseshoes—after all, one couldn’t expect bandits to have any real riding skills. Fortunately, Helan Jia had brought along about ten horses, five of which were fully grown. With horses, bows, and men, the basic version of mounted archers was complete. Given that in this online game, battles and training could improve one’s skills, Cheng Yuan had the five each take a bow and a horse, patrolling the mountains and hunting every afternoon to supplement their livelihood and, at the same time, enhance their combat abilities.

In the mornings, they worked on construction; that’s right, rebuilding Black Tiger Stronghold. As the chieftain, Cheng Yuan believed that the last time their gates were so easily breached was because the main structure was made of wood and mud, not unlike rural adobe houses—far too weak. So, Cheng Yuan switched to stone. Every morning, he wielded a broadsword to chop stones and bricks, using them alongside other masonry materials to rebuild the stronghold.

As they worked, Cheng Yuan discovered several benefits. First, their daily mountain patrols on horseback led to significant improvements in riding skills. At first, they could barely stay mounted even with saddles, but soon, their patrols became swift and effortless. Secondly, their archery skills advanced rapidly. Since they didn’t encounter any other people, the daily hunts turned into moving target practice, and progress was swift. Cheng Yuan used his appraisal skill and found their average archery level had reached four—enough to hit moving targets. Their basic swordsmanship, honed through daily stone-chopping, averaged at level five. In other words, at their current ability, should they face opponents like those who had fought the previous chieftain, they wouldn’t be felled with a single blow.

Most importantly, the game’s “vitality” stat seemed to improve daily thanks to the physical labor and balanced diet. Everyone, including Helan Jia, saw their vitality increase by ten points. Where once they were ordinary men, they now stood robust, their biceps doubled in size since arrival. Vitality is a key game statistic, determining health and stamina bars.

In just one week, their overall combat strength had at least doubled. That day, while Cheng Yuan was working with bricks, the five were out on their usual mountain patrol. Black Tiger Stronghold stood on the border of Youzhou; a bit further north, and you’d see traces of nomads. Helan Jia had been captured in such a manner. The stronghold was built by a group of itinerants—people without even fields to farm—living in this remote borderland.

Truth be told, Black Tiger Stronghold was never very profitable. Banditry depended on local conditions. With Youzhou’s mix of nomadic and agricultural powers, the locals were all rough men quick to fight, and with no official backing. This world was filled with chivalrous folks, everyone practiced martial arts, and taxes were paid to various gangs. Black Tiger Stronghold could only make modest earnings, never really thriving—only able to rob refugees. The truly lucrative targets were out of reach; they couldn’t take on the hundreds of locals, nor contend with the dominant Meteor Gang, the true tax collectors, who could even be wantonly slaughtered by cheat-enabled players like Li Tianxiang.

Their patrols usually yielded only game, but on this day, the five finally spotted real “prey”: a merchant caravan, three wagons loaded with goods, and merely ten people. Su Hu licked his lips. “What a fat target.” Normally, a caravan of three wagons would have over twenty guards, but ten—three drivers, two supervisors—left at most five bodyguards. Never had they seen such a poorly defended convoy.

Liu Xing, ever cautious, worried that the five might be like Li Tianxiang, superhuman players—what if they walked right into a trap? “Let’s bait them out. We’ve got bows and horses; we can easily keep our distance and shoot from afar. Let’s see if we can lure out their bodyguards.”

Even without formal training, they understood Liu Xing’s kiting tactic. So, the five first tailed the caravan, checking for ambushes behind. “Nothing!” Liu Dahuo exclaimed, excited.

Su Hu, licking his lips again, said, “Let’s go—rush ahead and block them.” The five charged openly toward the caravan, dust swirling, murderous intent unconcealed, quickly drawing the merchants’ attention.

A short, stout middle-aged man with a goatee, sitting to the side and chewing a stalk of wild grass under a straw hat with a meteor hammer beside him, turned to a young man and said, “We’ll need your help, Hero Xin.”

Xin Changhe spat out the grass, picked up the meteor hammer, stood, and said, “Leave it to me and my brothers.” He then vaulted onto a horse, cut the reins, and shouted, “Brothers, mountain bandits incoming—battle time!”

Two others mounted up, joining Xin Changhe. The three waited, horses motionless, calmly confident as the five approached. Xin Changhe was considered above average among players, not as overpowering as Li Tianxiang, but already affiliated with a sect and well-established—his strength not to be underestimated. In his eyes, these five bandits were nothing; if they engaged in close combat, he’d take them out in a few swings.

Just then, the five, who had been charging forward, suddenly halted at a distance. As the three waited in puzzlement, five arrows whistled toward them. One player, caught off guard by the ranged attack, was struck through the arm. Xin Changhe and another reacted, blocking the attack with their hammers, then flew into a rage. They had prepared for melee, but these bandits attacked from afar—no honor, just a sneak assault.

Xin Changhe and the other player galloped toward the five, confident that if they closed the distance, they could withstand a few blows. After a short pursuit, the five fired another volley, then turned and fled. Though unharmed, their targets were furious—no close combat, just ranged attacks, and now they were running.

Meanwhile, the five exchanged knowing smiles. “Hooked!” They knew the mountain’s paths like the back of their hand. Deliberately slowing, they gave the pursuing pair a chance to close in, then at a fork in the road, split into a group of three and a group of two. Xin Changhe and his companion hesitated, seeing both groups not far off. But as they paused, both parties were already pulling away. “Go after the larger group,” they decided, not wasting any more time.

Once they’d committed to chasing the trio, the two-person team quickly circled back, cutting off their retreat. The longer Xin Changhe pursued, the more uneasy he felt—over ten minutes, he was struck by two arrows, and he noticed the trio’s speed was increasing. On the same stretch, they always ran faster, always widening the gap to shoot, then sprinting away.

Every time he accelerated, they’d shoot to break his momentum, and they were annoyingly accurate. He had to keep blocking; getting shot off his horse would be disastrous. He timed their movements, and as he finally judged the distance, they stopped. He halted too, preparing to block their next arrows, but then—out of the corner of his eye—he saw an arrow whiz past.

His first reaction: “How did they shoot so fast?”

His second: “Wait, that’s the wrong direction!”