Chapter 340 Retreat

Chapter 340: Retreat

Everyone's hearts clenched at that, and their movements quickened once more, the air growing thick with silent tension.

Cheng Ge said no more. He bent down, hoisted a sack of grain onto his shoulder, strode quickly to the cliff edge, and struggled to hook it onto the rope.

Sweat ran down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. He raised a hand and wiped it roughly across his face.

"Quick!" he urged, hauling on the rope with the others, feeling it shudder under the load.

The rope creaked and groaned, fighting its way up the cliff.

After roughly the span of an incense stick's burn, the pile of grain below had visibly shrunk by more than half.

Cheng Ge straightened his back, swept his gaze over the remaining grain, then shot a wary glance at the entrance.

"Zhao Cheng!" Cheng Ge's voice was low but brooked no argument. Zhao Cheng stepped forward immediately, his face equally slick with sweat.

"There's no time to move it all. Take a squad of our brothers now, stash these carts of grain in the cave near the underground river, then pull out through the underground river!" Cheng Ge spoke rapidly.

Zhao Cheng knew there was no time to waste. He turned at once, rounded up the soldiers who'd been picked for this, and moved swiftly along the hidden side path toward the underground river.

Cheng Ge glanced in their direction, a bit of relief settling in his chest.

He then turned his attention back to the remaining men and grain below. "The rest of you, listen up! Put everything into moving this last batch!

You, you, and the rest of you—get ready. Once the grain's up, climb the cliff and get out of here!

The rest of you, with me—hold the rear, then fall back through the underground river path!"

He rattled off orders, his voice echoing through the empty valley.

The soldiers said nothing, just moved faster.

The last batch of grain was quickly bound and hooked onto the rope. Men above and below hauled together, the sacks swaying as they started to rise.

Then—"Da-da-da... da-da-da-da..."

The faint drum of hoofbeats finally cut through the valley's silence, growing from a distant rumble to a clear, approaching thunder.

Every face went pale. Cheng Ge's expression darkened, knowing the worst had happened.

He tilted his head back and bellowed up at the cliff top: "Cut the ropes! Now!"

Almost before the words left his mouth—"Whiz—thunk!"—a wolf-fang arrow screamed in from the valley mouth.

It slammed into the dirt at the feet of a soldier hauling the rope, the shaft still vibrating hard!

The men on the cliff heard the order and, without a second thought, hacked at the taut ropes.

The soldiers below let go at once and, following Cheng Ge's lead, fell back toward the hidden path to the underground river.

"Protect the captain!" A few loyal guards immediately closed in around Cheng Ge, using their bodies as shields as they fell back fast.

"Go!" Cheng Ge, hemmed in by them, kept moving, but his eyes stayed fixed on the valley mouth, where the blurry shapes of Di cavalry and the glint of their sabers were now coming into view.

But the pursuers were quicker than he'd counted on, and more arrows came whistling in.

Most were deflected by the thick trees and rocks, but one soldier in the rear screamed and went down, hit.

Cheng Ge's chest was heaving. Sticking together like this made them too big a target—on this rough, treacherous trail, nobody was getting out.

Just as they were about to dive into the brush at the mouth of the underground river path, Cheng Ge stopped short and barked: "Split up! Draw them off! Go!"

Before the soldiers could react, he spun around, ditched the planned route, and plunged alone into the woods on the flank.

Wuliji's eyes swept over the cut ropes, the scattered grain sacks, and the bodies of a few Zhou soldiers.

Finally, he locked onto the fleeting, half-hidden figure darting through the side woods.

Wuliji's face gave nothing away. He raised his heavy bow, an eagle-feather arrow already nocked.

The bow bent like a full moon, the arrowhead glinting coldly, tracking Cheng Ge's zigzagging path through the trees.

But the figure used the thick trunks as cover.

Ducking under low bushes, disappearing behind slopes only to pop up from unexpected angles—his movements were erratic and hard to pin down.

Wuliji's eyes narrowed. He loosed, and the arrow grazed Cheng Ge's clothes, thudding into a tree trunk behind him.

Meanwhile, the other Zhou soldiers scattered in panic, each running a different way.

Wuliji's eyes went cold. He swung off his horse and barked in the Di language: "You—go after those stragglers!"

The Northern Di soldiers obeyed, tearing off after the scattered men, and sporadic sounds of fighting broke out across the valley.

Wuliji stared at the direction Cheng Ge had fled, then took off after him at a fast clip.

Cheng Ge sprinted through the woods, wind roaring past his ears and his own ragged breath pounding in his chest.

The graze on his left arm burned like fire; every swing of his arm yanked at the nerves, but he didn't dare slow down.

The scrape of leather armor behind him clung to his back like a shadow he couldn't shake.

The ground underfoot grew damp, and the air turned thick with moisture and the smell of moss.

Cheng Ge could even make out the sound of running water. Peering through a gap, he saw—

At the shallow bank of the underground river, seven or eight soldiers were still wading through.

Cheng Ge's feet froze. If he charged over now, he'd lead the pursuers straight to them, no question.

Either those men or the grain would almost certainly be found out.

The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water, freezing his blood in an instant.

He snapped his head around, eyeing the dark-armored figure closing in behind him like a relentless shadow.

Cheng Ge gritted his teeth, veered hard, and plunged deeper into the dense woods where the ground got steeper and rougher.

He deliberately kicked a loose rock, sending it clattering down.

Sure enough, Wuliji's pursuit stuttered for a beat, then he quickly corrected course and gave chase.

Cheng Ge wove desperately through the forest. The new helmet Cui Ji had specially made for him now scraped his scalp, soaked with sweat and jolted with every violent move.

The footsteps behind him were heavy as a moving mountain, each one carrying a suffocating weight, drawing nearer and nearer.

A dull ache spread across his chest. He gulped air greedily, but it felt like knives scraping his throat.

He fought through the discomfort, his eyes sweeping the area and locking onto a massive weathered rock ahead.

He surged forward, and the moment he neared the rock, his body slid sideways like a cat, swiftly slipping into the shadow of the narrow corner formed by the rock.

He pressed his back flat against the cold, rough rock, Cheng Ge doing his best to stifle his heavy breathing.

His chest heaved violently, but he kept his ears pricked, straining to catch any sound behind him.

The footsteps came on without a pause, heading straight toward his hiding spot, growing clearer with each step.

"Tap... tap... tap..." The footsteps came at an unhurried pace, with the calm of a hunter closing in on his prey.

Cheng Ge swallowed hard, the saliva—gritty with dust and blood—scraping down his dry throat.

Sweat trickled down his temples, winding its way into his collar, bringing a chilling touch.