The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The crackling fire illuminated the resolute profiles of the two men. Outside, the snow intensified, but it couldn't extinguish the intense heat within the workshop. A bloody battle was inevitable. But this time, Hulu Bay had "Snowy Chant," a pillar of strength.

On the first day of the twelfth lunar month, the snow fell silently, leaving only a desolate white expanse between heaven and earth.

In the Huluwan Ancestral Hall, a dozen oil lamps struggled to cast distorted shadows onto the earthen walls. Wang Zhonghua unfolded a hand-drawn map, his fingertips heavily tracing four glaring red circles.

"Lu Laojiu has 472 men under his command, divided into four groups." His voice was as cold and hard as iron. "The main force of 150 men, led by his confidant 'Mad Tiger' Hu Dongkui, is heading straight for my Hulu Bay; Zhu Bala is leading 120 men to attack the blacksmith's workshop in Lüjiachang; Luo Tie is leading 100 men, targeting the Wangjiagang granary; and Shi Wancheng is leading 100 men to attack Laomentan."

"Damn it! They're trying to wipe us out completely!" Du Ziteng slammed his fist on the table. "Our Dark Arrows force only has fifty-two men at most, and even with the Brotherhood's core members, it's no more than two hundred!"

"That's precisely why we need to divide our forces." Wang Zhonghua's eyes were sharp. "Lüjiachang has a blacksmith's workshop and graphite ore. Duan Gong, you take eight brothers there to assist Huang Daniu. The furnace and the ore must not be lost!"

"Wangjiagang is not only a granary, but also the home of our families. Lü Maoyi, you take six men and rush to our aid. You are in charge of everything and take good care of my parents."

"Sun Kui of Laomentan can't hold the fort alone; I must go myself."

"And what about me?" Qin Tiehua drew her sword "Snow Chant" half an inch from its sheath, the cold light reflecting on her resolute face.

"You, guard Hulu Bay!" Wang Zhonghua looked directly into her eyes. "This is the main battlefield. The old physician Liu and Xinyi will assist you."

Qin Tiehua wanted to argue, but Liu Jueming slowly said, "Tiehua, you are the one who tempered the steel, and you are the one who honed its edge."

After the meeting ended, Qin Tiehua came in carrying a bowl of ginger soup and saw Wang Zhonghua carefully wiping the Zhuge Repeating Crossbow under a solitary lamp.

"You always have these weird and wonderful ideas," she said softly.

"It's a pity that time was too tight, and there's only one left." Wang Zhonghua didn't look up. "Tiehua, if you encounter someone wielding double swords tomorrow, remember, don't fight head-on. Use hit-and-run tactics to entangle them."

How did you know...?

"Information," Wang Zhonghua mumbled. He took the ginger soup and drank it all in one gulp. He didn't tell Qin Tiehua and the others that he had secretly strengthened his intelligence network since the attack on Hulu Bay. There were spies in the Lu family caravan, the brotherhoods at various docks, passing merchants, and even the Wang family's spicy soup shop.

Qin Tiehua remained silent for a moment, then unsheathed the "Snow Chant" sword from his back and laid it flat on the table: "Sharpen the blade for me... one more time."

Wang Zhonghua solemnly accepted the whetstone and took it out. "Shh...shh..." The blade rubbed against the whetstone, producing a clear and even hum, like snow falling on bamboo tips, or like a dragon sleeping in the shallows.

Meanwhile, 130 miles away, at Qinxiang Lake Black Wind Village.

The bonfire roared, illuminating hundreds of ferocious faces. A burly man with burn scars on his face (Crazy Tiger Hu Dongkui) stood on a high point, his voice like a broken gong: "Brothers! Those peasants from Laomentan Huluwan killed Qiu Laohu and cut off our source of income! Today, we'll teach them who's the boss! We'll rob them of money! Rob them of grain! Rob them of women!"

"Awooo—!" The bandits roared, brandishing their knives.

Zhu Bala licked the blade and chuckled sinisterly, "That Qin woman from Lüjia Village, once we capture her and the brothers have their fun, I'll chop off her hands!"

Wangjiagang.

Madam Yao had already gone to bed. Wang Zhuacai sat alone under the oil lamp, the dim light outlining his hunched figure. His gaze towards Madam Yao held love and respect, but no lust. After an unknown amount of time, he took a breath and slowly, methodically, began to unwrap the yellowed cloth wrapping around a long spear. When the last strip of cloth fell away, the spear was revealed, its body entirely black and dull, except for two ancient seal characters for "Gentian" three inches below the spearhead, which gleamed with a cold, eerie light.

His rough fingers traced the gun barrel, a flicker of reminiscence and pain in his eyes.

"Heh heh, it's been over a decade. I, Wang, may not be good at grabbing money, but I'm good at grabbing lives..." he muttered to himself. "Old buddy, I never thought I'd still need you to cleanse this filth."

Laomentan, the grain drying ground.

Amidst the swirling snowflakes, "Mad Dog" Sun Kui, shirtless and radiating heat, led over thirty local militiamen armed with crude spears in repeated bayonet drills. "Listen up, all of you!" he roared hoarsely. "I used to be a bandit too, but bandits die if you stab them! Anyone who dares to back down, I'll kill them first!"

Lüjiachang, Blacksmith's Workshop.

Old Qin, Huang Daniu, and the blacksmiths buried the last few bundles of "Snowy Melody" grade knife blanks under the coal pile in the backyard.

The old blacksmith's hands trembled uncontrollably: "Tiehua Nizi... can we really make it through?"

Qin Tiehua was distributing crossbows when she heard this. She looked up, the afterglow of the furnace fire dancing in her eyes: "Uncle Da Niu, we forged these knives. If we don't even believe it ourselves, who else will?"

Midnight has passed, and the snowfall has intensified.

Mad Tiger's vanguard scouts, like hungry wolves in the snow, silently crept towards the entrance of Hulu Bay village. However, just as the lead bandit stepped onto the edge of the icy trench—

"Snap!" "Ah!"

The carefully concealed ice surface shattered, and sharpened bamboo skewers pierced through the soles of feet, instantly shattering the silence with screams!

"There's an ambush! Watch out for traps!" The bandits stirred in alarm.

"Kill—!" Du Ziteng, who was lying in ambush, roared and led his team out to attack.

The bloody battle thus began in a brutal prelude.

Duan Gong lay prone on the roof, draped in a white cloth, seemingly blending into the snow. He breathed very softly, the icy air bringing a sharp, clearing sensation to his lungs. Below, Zhu Bala's hideous scarred face, illuminated by the torchlight, resembled a demon. He led his 120 bandits, like a burst dam, howling as they charged towards the flimsy gate of Lüjia Village.

Duan Gong's fingertips gripped the crossbow's trigger firmly, the cold touch focusing his mind. The sights locked onto the most arrogant figure in the crowd—Zhu Scarface.

It's now!

"Whoosh!"

The crossbow bolt flew from the bowstring, tearing through the wind and snow! Zhu Balai, as expected of a seasoned bandit, instinctively turned his head sharply at the critical moment of life and death. The arrow, with a sharp whistle, grazed his scalp, tearing off a streak of blood, and plunged into the throat of a bandit behind him! The bandit made a strange "gurgling" sound from his throat and fell backward.

Duan Gong, one arrow to take a soul!

"Damn it! There's an ambush on the roof! Shoot him down!" Zhu Scarface, rubbing his burning scalp and seeing his hands covered in blood, instantly flew into a rage. "Everyone else, break down that lousy door! There's plenty of gold, silver, and women inside!"

A few bandits fired arrows haphazardly at the rooftops, the arrows striking the tiles with a clatter. The rest roared and lifted up thick tree trunks they had found on the spot, like wild bulls, repeatedly and frantically ramming them against the seemingly crumbling gate.

"Ready!" Huang Daniu roared hoarsely from inside the gate. He was shirtless, his bronze skin covered in sweat and oil, his bulging muscles trembling with tension. Behind him stood five old buddies who had worked as blacksmiths and fought alongside Lao Qin. Each held a "Snowy Serenade" longsword that had been urgently quenched and sharpened the night before. Their eyes showed no fear, only a resolute determination to live and die with the land beneath their feet.

"Boom—!" The battering rammed against the door panel with a dull, cracking sound, and the door latch groaned.

"cut!"

Just as the bandits rammed the door again, and the very tip of the battering ram got stuck in the door crack, Huang Daniu gave a thunderous command!

The five gleaming blades were not aimed at the human body, but rather, like five bolts of lightning, they struck the piece of battering ram that had entered the workshop with perfect precision!

"Snap! Snap snap—!"

A heart-stopping snapping sound rang out! The thick log that required two people to hug was cleanly sliced ​​off like a fragile sugarcane under the blade of "Snowy Chant"! The front end landed with a "clang," and the bandits outside the door who were exerting their strength were caught off guard and rolled to the ground.

"What a fine blade!!" Duan Gong on the rooftop watched with fervent excitement, unable to resist letting out a low shout. He stood up, ignoring the scattered arrows shooting from below, and raised his arms horizontally. The mechanism of the specially made repeating crossbow in his sleeve emitted a deathly low hum. "Whoosh whoosh whoosh—" Three short crossbows, like poisonous bees, accurately pierced the eye sockets or throats of three bandits trying to climb the wall, who fell with screams.

"Damn it! I'll kill you all!" After suffering repeated setbacks, Zhu Ba La was so angry he was about to explode, his scars turning purplish-red. He snatched a ghost-head knife from one of his men and charged forward himself. His movements were surprisingly agile; with a few leaps, he used his companion's shoulders to jump onto the not-so-high wall!

With a flash of light, a young blacksmith with less experience, who was guarding the wall, was struck in the thigh by the ghost-headed sword before he could react. His leg was almost severed, and he let out a shrill scream before collapsing unconscious.

"Pillar!!" Huang Daniu's eyes widened in fury; that was his own nephew! Like a mad tiger, he swung his "Snow Chant" longsword, recklessly slashing at Zhu Bala's waist! The wind howled as the blade whistled, and there was even a faint sound of thunder and lightning!

Feeling the sharpness of the blade, Zhu Balai dared not meet it head-on. He sneered, twisted his body to parry, and with a flick of his wrist, the ghost-head knife, using a clever technique, lashed out like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, slashing upwards at an extremely tricky angle, aiming straight for Huang Daniu's neck! This strike was fast! Ruthless! Precise!

"Pfft—!"

Blood splattered!

But it wasn't Huang Daniu who fell! In the nick of time, Huang Daniu didn't dodge or evade, but instead used his thick left shoulder blade to thrust forward, firmly blocking the incoming blade! The friction between bone and steel produced a chilling "crunching" sound! Blood instantly stained half of his body!

"Ugh—!" Huang Daniu roared like a wild beast, veins bulging on his forehead. He abandoned his longsword in his right hand, his large, iron-like hand gripping Zhu Balai's wrist, preventing him from drawing his sword. At the same time, he roared at the roof with a heart-wrenching cry: "Duan Gong! Shoot him!! Quickly!!!"

At that moment, Duan Gong leaped down from the rooftop, less than five steps away! He could even see Zhu Balai's wide-open eyes in shock, and smell the heavy stench of blood and sweat on his body! The crossbow bolts were already reloaded, the cold arrowheads pointing directly at Zhu Balai's unprotected face!

A life-or-death moment!

Zhu Balai felt the chilling breath of death, and his survival instinct overwhelmed everything! Without hesitation, he loosened his grip on the hilt of the ghost-head knife, his body arching backward with an almost impossible flexibility, while simultaneously kicking Huang Daniu's abdomen with both feet, using the momentum to roll backward in a disheveled manner!

"call out--!"

Duan Gong's crossbow bolt grazed his face, the sharp arrowhead not only taking away a large chunk of flesh from his cheek but also scraping across his nose, leaving a deep, bone-revealing bloodstain!

"Ah—! My face! My face!!" Zhu Ba La rolled on the ground, clutching his face, blood gushing from between his fingers, letting out a pig-like scream. The excruciating pain and the terror of disfigurement drove him completely mad. He hysterically roared at his men, "Set it on fire! Set it on fire!! Burn it all down! Burn them all!! Leave no one alive!!"

More torches were lit, like fiery whips wielded by demons, hurled at the thatched roof, at the timber and tarpaulins piled against the walls... The flames spread rapidly, billowing black smoke, swallowing the cold wind, and crackling loudly.

Duan Gong's heart sank to the bottom, and a chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head—in the workshop, there were still small amounts of gunpowder and high-proof alcohol used in the previous experiment on the purification method of "Drunken Eight Immortals" and prepared for "Hidden Arrow"!

Once the fire spreads... the consequences will be unimaginable!

Lujiachang was instantly plunged into a desperate situation of blood and fire!

The wind and snow were furious!

The earthen walls of Wangjiagang, soaked by days of heavy snow, had long since frozen solid. Behind the sparse crenellations on the top of the wall, several local militiamen hunched their shoulders, clutching their spears, their breath instantly turning into frost. Although they had been trained by Lü Sanjun and Wang Zhonghua, they couldn't help but feel somewhat lax in the face of this freezing night.

No one noticed that seven or eight dark figures swept across the snowy field like ghosts, and under the cover of the wind, quietly crept to the base of the wall.

The leader was none other than Luo Tietou, the "Flying Monkey," a fearsome figure among the bandits of Lushan. He was as thin as a monkey, his sallow face scorched by the wind and snow, leaving only two piercing eyes. Twelve paper-thin willow-leaf throwing knives were wrapped around his waist, and two serpentine curved blades slung on his back, gleaming with a ghostly blue light in the moonlight—these were tempered with the deadly "Seven-Step Fall."

"Boss, Wangjiagang is the Achilles' heel of the Lü and Wang families. If we take it, the loot will be enough for the brothers to live happily for half a year!" A bandit lowered his voice, his eyes filled with greedy bloodshot veins.

Luo Tietou grinned maliciously, revealing a set of yellowed fangs: "More than just oil! The magistrate said that Lu Maoyi, a close relative of the Lu family, has a very close relationship with that brat Wang Zhonghua. If we arrest him, we're not afraid that Wang won't hand over the 'brewing' recipe! Also, remember this well: don't leave a single one alive. Let the other villages see what happens when they ally with the government!"

Before he finished speaking, his hands flicked, and two steel grappling hooks "whooshed" onto the top of the wall. More than ten thugs, like a leech, swiftly climbed up the ropes, their movements light and silent, revealing them to be well-trained killing machines.