CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER 94: FOLLOW ME, CHARGE!

The Lin Family’s surprise attack on Takeshige Manor was going exceedingly well. They’d almost encountered no stubborn resistance. This small squad that made it all the way to the South Gate was practically boiling with morale—so much so that you could even call them arrogant. As they saw the enemy, who’d been escaping, suddenly turn to face them in battle, instead of getting cautious, they howled and sped up as if intent on breaking the enemy in one swift charge.

This was Harano’s first time running into fierce opposition—or rather, his first time ever as part of a battlefield, his first true life-or-death combat. He could hear his own Lang Faction shouting themselves hoarse under the threat of the enemy. For a moment, his heart pounded like a drum, so hard it felt as if it’d burst through his chest. His mouth was dry, his hands shook softly. He even felt like time slowed down. The already-dim light seemed darker, the whole world growing surreal and dreamlike.

Only after a moment did he hear, as if from some distant place, Ah Man’s shout: "We can’t go this slow! We’ve got to charge too!"

Harano’s mind crashed down from its remote drift and, in a strange way, he instantly got Ah Man’s meaning: his men were all new Lang Faction recruits—right now, filled only with a fleeting, brash courage. If they let the enemy strike first, their nerve would probably collapse.

That’s right—he needed to be more aggressive, let their desperate courage show itself!

In this world, the brave always win when paths cross!

Once he snapped out of it, he didn’t hesitate. Adrenaline made his eyes bloodshot as he shoved forward, and—using a voice that hardly even sounded like his—he shouted, "Follow me—charge! If you’re wounded, I’ll look after you; if you die, your family gets thirty coins in compensation—not a penny less!"

Bringing up compensation mid-battle was a little much, but seeing their supposed leader charge ahead so boldly, his thirty-six or thirty-seven armored Lang Faction howled louder still. Faced with life and death, their eyes reddened; they surged forward, breaking into a run, charging headlong toward the enemy.

The two squads collided head-on on the straight street near the South Gate of Takeshige Manor.

Their distance shrank rapidly. With a yell from Ah Man, ten-some archers in the rear let loose a volley of arrows at the Lin Family’s troops. But the Lin side had even more unarmored archers, who shot their bamboo bows nearly simultaneously.

In that moment, the street filled with popping sounds like cotton being fluffed—"boing, boing"—birch arrow shafts, empowered by bamboo’s forceful flex, darting through the air like swimming fish. The fletching cut the air with a humming buzz, arcs of arrows traced through the dim, firelit night sky, seeking whoever was unlucky enough to stand beneath them.

Almost simultaneously, both sides had men screaming with bestial agony, dropping dead to the street. The rest seemed deaf, beyond pity or concern for the fallen, simply pushing past and trampling over them in their rush ahead.

No one had time to fire a second arrow—they crashed into each other, filling the street with a wave of visceral, wailing screams.

By now, no one could think at all—not even Harano. His mind was blank, his eyes fixed on a short, vague-faced Samurai just ahead. Without thinking, he shoved aside a Lang Faction man who’d just been stabbed, raised his eight-sided black iron rod, and brought it crashing down on the Samurai’s head.

The low-ranking Samurai had just pulled back his long spear, but he reacted quickly—no sooner had he readied himself than he jabbed the spear at Harano.

Both men moved on instinct. The Samurai dodged his head, but his shoulder took the blow instead. From Harano’s higher position, the iron rod blasted through, sending bits of armor flying. The Samurai let out a scream from the depths of his lungs, collapsing sideways and coughing blood. At the same time, sparks flew across Harano’s chest as the spearhead scraped his iron armor with a grating screech.

Harano staggered, knocked off balance, just as another enemy rushed him—but before that man could get close, Ah Man, chasing behind, stabbed him. The man lost his weapon, gripped the spear in agony, his face twisted in despair.

Harano regained his footing, and, acting on sheer instinct, smashed the enemy’s skull with his rod. The man’s head cracked like a smashed watermelon, his array hat bent out of shape—he slumped to the ground without a sound.

Ah Man yanked back her spear and flung it forward, not even caring if it hit someone. She drew her long saber, shouting curses as she hacked at another enemy’s back like a madwoman, shoving Harano back a whole step in the chaos.

Harano steadied himself, gasping for breath to settle the blood roaring in his veins. Finally, looking clearly around, he saw the whole street dissolved into a wild free-for-all. Every man fought like a beast, attacking whatever enemy he could reach—screams of the wounded rising and falling, with arrows occasionally whizzing past to strike home.

Ah Qing was at the very front. She darted left and right, alarmingly nimble; her attacks, swift and merciless, her long glaive flicking and slashing at throats or faces—always the vital points. As Harano watched, just an instant, two enemies had already crumpled around her—both with slit throats, not even managing a scream, torrents of black blood spreading out on the cobblestones beneath them.

One look was all he dared; seeing Ah Man beset by two foes, he flung himself into the fight, again attacking everything in sight, shoving enemies back with all his might, not daring to retreat even an inch.

Time seemed to vanish again—how long this lasted, he couldn’t say. Only that, after clubbing down yet another foe, he realized the man wore no armor. Looking up, panting raggedly, he saw the enemies had lost their earlier frenzy—their courage gone; most were already turning and running.

Harano froze for a moment, soul returning to his body, halting in place, feeling his iron rod slick and slippery in his grip.

"You really didn’t grow up all big and tall for nothing!" Ah Man, still gripping her sword, stood by his side, a bit dazed herself. It was her first experience of such a large, savage clash too, but she was tough and adaptable. She yanked a stray arrow from Harano’s waist and flung it away, finding time to praise him before waving her saber, shouting to halt any pursuit and rally their own men.

Harano hadn’t even noticed being struck by the arrow, nor how much time had passed. It might have been three or four minutes—or maybe thirty. Glancing back, he saw the ground strewn with corpses. The stench of blood in the air was almost overpowering.

"We lost about half our people; several more are badly hurt." Ah Man did a quick round, ordered the wounded gathered up, then gave the enemy wounded a finishing blow before returning to report.

Harano nodded slightly, not dwelling on the casualty figures—the Lin Family had lost more. Most of their front ranks lay dead here.

All in all, he hadn’t made a loss.

He scanned the battlefield, letting out a long, heavy breath. His gaze shadowed. "Bring the wounded. We go to the South Gate!"

......

When Harano arrived at the South Gate, he found not just the "old, weak, sick, and crippled" employees from his soy sauce workshop but also more than a dozen Oda Family Lang Faction men. These were part of the South Gate garrison; some others had gone with a Samurai to help Okurakiyebi and were now nowhere to be seen. The remaining Lang Faction men stood lost—until Harano, masquerading as a Samurai, showed up.

Without ceremony, Harano folded this handful into his own ranks to make up for recent losses, then turned to look toward the heart of Takeshige Manor—Okurakiyebi’s residence. There, flames were now rising, and the sounds of battle drifted faintly through the night—it looked like a real fight was raging.

Even with a major Lin Family force broken by him, there were still straggling Lin Lang Faction and Ashigaru lurking in the South Gate’s shadows. Yet, seeing so many foes gathered, they dared not attack, for the moment holding quiet.

The situation was still dire. Harano did not hesitate: he ordered Maeshima Shichiro and Yayoi to take the family and the wounded, including the idiot son, and evacuate this place of disaster, while he, Ah Qing, Ah Man, and the Takei brothers—all armored Lang Faction—began building makeshift defenses at the South Gate, preparing to hold out a bit longer.

Not that he intended to wait for Okurakiyebi—he’d already risked a dozen lives and scattered a Lin contingent; as a mere tenant, he’d done more than his share. But the "old, weak, sick, and crippled" couldn’t run fast, and weighed down with the idiot son, the severely wounded, and their gold and silver, they’d be even slower. Someone had to hold the line, buying time for their escape.

As for whether more enemies waited outside... probably not. Otherwise, the South Gate would’ve already fallen from within and without.

"Harano-dono, where should we go?" Maeshima Shichiro paused with Yayoi to ask.

"Try to reach Hibi Village first—find Yayoi’s father, see if you can hide there until this blows over. Stick to the back roads—be sharp, and if you can’t get through, hide out somewhere for now." Harano had already planned this. He chose the place he knew best; chaos ruled the night—it was only safe to run where you knew the paths. And from what he knew of Tian Lichun, even if he had rebelled, he was unlikely to go so far as to kill the idiot son or Yayoi and the rest.

"Understood. Take care of yourself, Saburo-sama!" Seeing now was no time for words, Yayoi and Maeshima Shichiro hurriedly led their group away.

Harano no longer cared much. Having survived killing and bloodshed, death itself didn’t scare him as much. All that mattered was hustling the Lang Faction to finish the defenses quickly, giving them a better chance for survival—or maybe just to last a little longer.

And sure enough, minutes later, more Lin Family troops appeared and moved up slowly, preparing to attack. If he hadn’t held out here, the enemy would have followed hot on their heels—no doubt catching and killing the evacuees before they got far, turning his own household into a graveyard.

Drive off another wave, hold for another ten or so minutes, and then retreat!