My wife, Wei Gui, was 1.9 meters tall and fought against the Tang dynasty for the throne.

Yuchi Gong took the lead and walked out of the camp gate.

Behind him were more than thirty blacksmiths, some wielding sledgehammers, some carrying axes, and some clutching chisels. Their weapons were a motley crew, like a group of savages who had just rushed out of a workshop.

They wore no armor, only coarse cloth shorts, revealing their strong arms, the muscles of their chests undulating like hills in the twilight.

The bandit army had already formed ranks a hundred paces away.

More than five hundred people, with swords and spears like a forest, and banners askew, but the sheer number of them made them a dark, imposing mass.

The bandit leader, mounted on his horse, was taken aback when the camp gate suddenly opened. But when he saw that it was a group of blacksmiths rushing out, he burst into laughter.

"Is your riverbank camp deserted? Sending a bunch of hammer-wielding idiots to their deaths!"

The bandits joined in the laughter, some brandishing their knives and swearing, "I heard your knives aren't even as sharp as my family's woodcutting knives, and you dare to show them off?"

The laughter grew louder and louder, and even the bandit army's warhorses seemed to be infected, snorting a few times.

Yuchi Gong did not laugh.

He slowly put on the iron helmet—which he had made himself, cast from black iron, with a visor covering half his face, revealing only a pair of leopard eyes.

He took off his long spear and held it in his hand, while the iron whip hung heavily at his waist.

He turned around, looked at the group of blacksmiths behind him, and spoke in a booming voice:

"Use all your strength to swing that hammer! These bastards dare to laugh at us blacksmiths, today we'll break their legs and smash their heads!"

The blacksmiths roared in unison, their voices echoing across the surrounding area.

Some carried sledgehammers on their shoulders, while others twirled axes in their hands, their eyes gleaming as if they could see the red-hot iron on the anvil.

The bandit leader's laughter stopped abruptly.

He looked at the towering, black man and suddenly felt something was wrong—this man didn't have the blacksmith's earthy charm, but rather a murderous aura.

The murderous aura that rolled across the blade.

"Charge! Let's break through the camp in one fell swoop!" The bandit leader drew his sword and pointed it at the camp gate.

Five hundred bandits charged forward, shouting.

Yuchi Gong mounted his warhorse, brandished his spear, and charged forward. His long spear, like a black dragon emerging from the water, pierced the chest of the bandit soldier charging at the front, lifted him up, and flung him away.

The second spear swept across, and three men fell to the ground. The third spear thrust straight at them, and another man fell from his horse.

He fought more than ten men in succession, none of whom could withstand him. One bandit soldier desperately raised his shield to block, but a long spear pierced through the shield, pinning him to the ground along with his shield, dying with his eyes wide open.

The blacksmiths followed him as they charged into the enemy lines.

They didn't understand military formations or follow any rules, but each of them possessed immense strength. When they swung their iron hammers down, the bandits' swords and spears were either bent or knocked away.

A blacksmith smashed a hammer into a bandit's shield, shattering it and breaking the bandit's arm bones and tendons. The bandit screamed and fell to the ground.

Another blacksmith swung his axe, splitting the bandit's spear in two, and then slashed at the bandit's shoulder, causing blood to splatter everywhere.

The iron hammers in their hands were heavy weapons used for forging armor and blacksmithing, weighing at least twenty or thirty pounds. Ordinary bandits' swords and spears were no match for them.

Coupled with the brute strength honed through years of hammer-wielding, a single blow could break a bandit's arm, making it far more lethal than a regular soldier's chop.

The bandit army was stunned by this sudden and fierce attack.

They had expected the riverbank camp to keep its gates tightly shut and hold out, but to their surprise, the enemy not only did not avoid them, but took the initiative to attack, and the ones leading the charge were a group of blacksmiths.

To their surprise, the blacksmiths were so fierce, using hammers, axes, and chisels at the same time, causing them to fall to the ground.

At the camp gate, the garrison commander stared in disbelief.

The new recruits from the riverbank battalion beside him, whose hands were trembling as they held their guns, were all filled with fervor when they saw the blacksmiths of the Forging Army fighting so bravely.

Someone shouted "Charge!" and the new recruits gripped their guns tightly, their eyes red as they yelled and rushed out of the camp gate. Some drew their bows with trembling hands, while others imitated the forging soldiers, wielding their swords and slashing. Although they were still clumsy, they were all fearless and undaunted.

The captain gritted his teeth, drew his sword, and followed.

The sounds of battle cries echoed through the camp, both inside and out.

The bandit leader watched the battle from the rear, growing increasingly alarmed.

The dark-faced man moved through the formation as if it were empty, and no one dared to stop him wherever his long spear went.

He hurriedly waved his hand and said to one of his generals, "Go! Take that black bastard down!"

The bandit general, wielding a large sword, spurred his horse and charged into the enemy ranks, heading straight for Yuchi Gong.

Yuchi Gong was just finishing off a bandit when he heard the sound of horses' hooves. He looked up and saw a general charging towards him with a sword drawn. He shouted, "Well done!"

As the two horses clashed, Yuchi Gong thrust out with his spear. The bandit general dodged to the side and swung his knife at Yuchi Gong's neck.

Yuchi Gong parried with his spear, and sparks flew as the blade and spear clashed.

The bandit general felt his arm go numb, his tiger's mouth crack, and his broadsword almost slip from his hand.

He was shocked – this Hass was incredibly strong!

After just one encounter, he realized he was no match for his opponent and turned his horse to flee.

Yuchi Gong was not about to let him go. He spurred his horse and caught up, holding a spear in his left hand and drawing an iron whip in his right, and smashed it down on the back of Yuchi Gong's head.

Hearing the sound of the wind, the bandit general parried with his sword—the whip struck, the sword shattered, and he and his sword were smashed off his horse. He coughed up blood, twitched a few times, and then lay still.

"The traitorous general is dead!" Yuchi Gong shouted, raising his whip.

The bandit army was terrified.

If the commander is killed in a single encounter, how can the battle be fought?

Some began to retreat, some threw down their weapons and fled, and morale collapsed instantly.

The bandit leader turned pale and fled on horseback.

He led the remaining bandits out of the camp, fleeing in panic, wanting only to get as far away from that dark-faced man as possible.

Several stubborn bandits turned around and shot arrows, which went straight for Yuchi Gong's back.

Hearing the wind behind him, Yuchi Gong didn't turn around. Instead, he whipped the arrow shaft in two, breaking it in two and sending it crashing to the ground.

He took down his bow, nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring taut, and roared like thunder: "Leader, don't run!"

As the bowstring twanged, the arrow shot out like a meteor, striking the bandit leader squarely in the back of the heart.

The bandit leader screamed and fell off his horse, dying instantly.

With their leader dead, the bandits lost all will to fight and surrendered en masse, kneeling on the ground.

Even those who ran fast were caught up by the new recruits of the riverbank camp and pinned to the ground.

As dusk fell, a hundred or so corpses lay scattered in front of the camp gate, their blood staining the ground red.

Yuchi Gong reined in his horse and stood at the camp gate, his long spear on the ground, his iron whip hanging at his waist, his face beneath his black iron helmet revealing no expression.

The blacksmiths, some sitting and some standing, were panting heavily, their bodies splattered with blood, some from their enemies and some from themselves.

Some people grinned, some rubbed their aching arms, and others squatted on the ground, hitting the heads of the bandits on the ground with hammers to confirm whether they were really dead.

The garrison captain ran over, his face covered in sweat, his eyes filled with shock and admiration: "Master Yuchi, you...you really are blacksmiths?"

Yuchi Gong removed his helmet, revealing a dark face, and said in a deep voice, "What, a blacksmith can't fight?"

The captain choked for a moment, then quickly shook his head: "Yes! Absolutely!"

The news reached the Water Conservancy Bureau the next morning.

Li Ju was looking at a map in his duty room when Zhou Xiaoli pushed the door open and came in, whispering, "Your Excellency, the river embankment camp reports that more than 500 bandits attacked the camp yesterday but were defeated."

Li Ju looked up: "What about the casualties?"

"Casualties in the camp were not high. A dozen veterans were wounded, and more than twenty new recruits were wounded. No one was killed in action. Nearly a hundred bandits died, more than two hundred were captured, and the rest fled." Zhou Xiaoli paused. "The commander was Yuchi Gong."

Li Ju put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and smiled slightly.

He is a true general; he will shine wherever he goes.

"Send the order to the garrison commander," he said. "The prisoners should not be wasted, nor should they be left to cause trouble. Slay all the stubborn core members and ringleaders, and the rest should be weeded out—those who can fight should be incorporated into the river embankment camp, led by veterans, and mixed with the original soldiers to prevent them from forming cliques. Those who are strong should be sent to the armory as apprentices to work as blacksmiths under Yuchi Gong."

Zhou Xiaoli wrote them down one by one.

"The old, weak, sick, and disabled should be dismissed or assigned to menial tasks." Li Ju paused, then added, "Tell Yuchi Gong that the forging army fought well in this battle. Each person in the armory will be rewarded with a bolt of silk and five hundred coins."

Zhou, the minor official, accepted the order and withdrew.

Several days later, at the river embankment camp.

News of the Forging Army's instant fame spread like wildfire throughout the camp.

Those soldiers who used to look down on the blacksmiths in the armory now treat them with respect, even with a hint of awe.

The name "Forging Army" is no longer a disgrace, but a source of pride for the Riverbank Battalion.

Many hot-blooded men in the camp asked to join the armory, even if they didn't work as blacksmiths, they would be happy to swing a hammer and carry an axe in the forging squad.

Yuchi Gong accepted all comers, selecting several dozen burly men to be incorporated into the blacksmithing army, where they learned blacksmithing and combat skills simultaneously.

He made the blacksmiths forge iron during the day, practice in the evening, and drink and boast at night.

Someone asked him, "Master Yuchi, are we blacksmiths or soldiers?"

Yuchi Gong glared at him: "You're both a blacksmith and a soldier. You can forge iron and you can fight. Anyone who says a blacksmith can't fight, let him come find me!"