The Battle Within the Jar

The greatest advantage of the horse bandits lay in the speed of their mounts, their wide range of movement, and the long-range assault of their bows and arrows. Given the current strength of the players, they were not even qualified to polish the horse bandits’ sandals. To defeat these marauders, they would have to rely on the narrow terrain of the battlefield, force close combat, and overwhelm them with sheer numbers.

The horse bandits began their assault on the village.

Qiu Shui dared not show the slightest negligence. According to the plan already devised, she carried out the first step of "luring the enemy into the trap": let the horse bandits into the village.

Her orders flowed down through the ranks of the player leaders like a river. The players lying in ambush near the section of fence being attacked by the bandits withdrew silently at once. Some, tense from the situation, made a little noise, but seeing their companions silent, quickly fell quiet themselves.

Five horse bandits wielding sabers smashed a ten-meter length of fence into splinters in a few swift strokes and rode into the village. But they did not encounter the expected counterattack—before them stretched a vacuum of over thirty meters, and after a brief moment of confusion, they spotted their target: the grain, lying over three hundred meters away in the fields. Spurring their horses, they charged forward.

The first wave of the horse bandits’ assault arrived.

Qiu Shui remained perfectly composed and immediately issued her command: “Deploy the chevaux de frise! Intercept them head-on in a fan formation!”

The player leaders responded at once. Nearly a hundred chevaux de frise, prepared in advance, were moved into position by the players, forming three defensive lines that completely blocked the bandits’ path.

The five horse bandits swung their sabers furiously at the obstacles.

On both flanks, the players surged forward, shouting wildly, “Kill them! Cut those bastards down!” “Kill—!”

Though the chevaux de frise were not particularly durable, each would take at least three or four strokes to break. For five bandits to breach three overlapping lines of these barriers would take no less than three or four minutes—more than enough time for several hundred players nearby to surround them and wear them down like a swarm of ants devouring their prey.

Outside the village, the horse bandit leader frowned. Powerful as he was, he did not wish to see his men picked apart by a horde of ants. He immediately whistled the retreat and barked, “Saber squad, fall back! Archers, advance!”

The five saber-wielding bandits caught in the village wheeled their horses and hacked desperately at the players pressing in, finally breaking free and escaping back outside the village.

Watching the five bandits escape, Qiu Shui felt a pang of regret. She quickly ordered a withdrawal, and the more than three hundred players retreated like the tide, returning to their original positions. Aside from the loss of a dozen chevaux de frise and thirteen casualties, their losses were light.

This probing first attack by the horse bandits made Qiu Shui feel some pressure. If the bandits relied on brute force alone, defeating them would not be difficult. But these bandits, who retreated the moment things turned unfavorable, posed a more troublesome challenge.

She had no time to ponder this further before the second wave of bandits arrived.

Five horse archers, covering five saber-wielding comrades, charged through the shattered fence into the village once more.

Qiu Shui let out a cold chuckle.

“Abandon the chevaux de frise! Everyone fall back twenty meters!”

The player formation immediately dropped their obstacles and retreated.

The bandits had grown wiser this time, wasting no effort on the chevaux de frise. They vaulted their horses over the barriers and charged toward the fields—only for three of the leading bandits and their mounts to topple headlong into hidden traps behind the chevaux de frise with a crash.

The bandits following behind reined in their horses in panic, uneasy and uncertain.

Seeing the “clever” bandits finally fall into the trap, the players grew wildly excited. Without waiting for orders, they shouted and sprinted toward the bandits, running faster than hares, each fearful of missing the chance to strike.

Of the seven remaining bandits, five were archers. Lacking the protection of their swordsmen, they had no desire for close combat and quickly withdrew. The two remaining saber-bearers, seeing the odds, also retreated at once.

The three unfortunates who fell into the trap had barely struggled to their feet before a dark mass of players swarmed over them. “He’s mine!” “Damn it, I’m the hero who’ll slay the bandit! My blade’s at his neck!” “Get lost! If I hadn’t grabbed his arm, you’d never have struck him!” “Ah~ ah~ ah~...” (the cries of death)

The trap was filled with players’ bodies, and as for the bandits, not even a scrap was left.

Outside the village, the remaining bandits shivered with dread.

Their leader was now truly enraged. How could these ants be so cunning and venomous, tricking his men into such a trap? It seemed that brute force was now the only way forward. He had hoped to preserve his strength and avoid being swallowed by rival bandit groups, but now there was no choice but to throw everything into the attack. Without grain, life in this desolate wasteland of Xiliang would be unbearable.

With grim resolve, the bandit leader brandished his saber and roared, “Brats, charge!” He spurred his horse to the lead, no longer caring for formation.

With their chief at the fore, the bandits’ morale soared.

Vaulting fences, skirting the chevaux de frise, avoiding traps, they charged at the players—the bandit leader smirked to himself; you may be clever, but I am no fool. Where the ground is empty, there may be traps, but where you stand, surely there are none. Wherever you go, I’ll attack.

This assault stunned the players with its ferocity.

The bandit chief’s great saber seemed to cut down a player with every swing. Seventeen warhorses moved as one, seven sabers flashing, ten arrows whistling overhead—they smashed through the players’ lines and surged toward the fields, unstoppable. Not even for a single step could the players hold them back. Such was the force of their charge that, even if all three thousand players of Little White Village surrounded them, the bandits would carve a path through them, unstoppable as a blade through paper. The tactic of overwhelming numbers was rendered useless.

With the bandits committing their full force, Qiu Shui’s heart pounded—this was the decisive moment; everything depended on this round.

She ordered the players to make their greatest retreat yet, falling back to the fields.

Every minute, reports from the battle arrived at the administrative courtyard.

Hearing news of the bandits’ full assault, Zhan Xiaobai, Sword Overlord, and others could no longer sit still. They personally led all eight hundred reserve player-warriors to the fields.

Qiu Shui’s fifteen hundred, joined with the six hundred under Spring and Autumn Hero, formed a massive encirclement, hemming in the seventeen bandits.

Little White Village had one last defensive measure yet unused—the stake array.

Solid wooden stakes were driven closely into the ground, a foot protruding above the surface. This formation had little effect against ordinary troops, who passed over it with ease. But for cavalry, it was a deadly obstacle—horses would inevitably stumble, and the stakes were too low to be destroyed. If the riders dismounted, they would lose their advantage entirely.

To defend this final line, Zhan Xiaobai did not hesitate to use nearly a hundred units of timber, forming a two-zhang wide barrier that encircled fifty acres of grain fields.

This massive expenditure yielded rich rewards.

The bandit chief, leading his followers with unstoppable momentum, broke through the mass of players and reached the fields, excitement overwhelming caution. They urged their horses forward—only for the animals to scream in agony as, one after another, the bandits were thrown to the ground by the stakes.

The players surged after them, copper blades in hand, shouting as they fell upon the bandits.

From elation to despair, the bandit chief was now gripped by terror. Leaping to his feet, he struck down any player who approached, seized a horse from one of his men, and, ignoring the players hacking at him from behind, hacked a bloody path through and broke free.

In utter disarray, the bandit chief spurred his horse desperately, refusing even to look back at the thunderous cheers behind him. Bitterness filled his heart. “The tide cannot be turned; I must flee for my life! Little White Village, just you wait—I, Cheng Jian, will return!”