Chapter 575: Operation Falcon (End)

The long night wore on, and it was only fifteen minutes away from dawn. Outside the Chongyang Temple, the tea pavilion became busy as usual. These past few days, Old Sun had gained a nephew. Though the nephew’s honest smile scared Old Sun, he had to admit that the nephew had indeed been of great help, taking care of many tasks for him. After working hard for over twenty years, Old Sun felt relaxed for the first time.

Sun Xiaoming also brought in many customers. He was especially good at making a delicious bone broth. Some customers even came from the city just to try his newly introduced Sun-style bone broth. If not for his grandson still in their hands, he would have really liked to learn from this nephew how to make such delicious bone broth so he could expand his business. But the thought of having to flee Youzhou soon made his heart heavy again.

Outside, the moon shone brightly, casting silver light across the ground. The night was quiet, as usual. A dozen or so merchants were sleeping under his tea pavilion. Yet Old Sun knew that these merchants were actually on the same side as his nephew, waiting for the right moment to act.

Inside the small house, the light was dim. The steamed buns were ready, and a large pot of bone broth was simmering on the stove. Today’s bone broth was exceptionally delicious, its aroma filling the room, making Old Sun almost unable to resist. He peeked secretly and saw Sun Xiaoming sweeping the yard. Slowly, he stepped forward, took a bowl, and lifted the lid of the pot. An intense aroma rushed at him. Old Sun felt he had never tasted anything so delicious in his life.

His black dog, eager for some as well, circled his feet, whining insistently. Old Sun scooped up a bowl of bone broth and said to the dog, “Let me taste it first. I’ll give you some later.”

The bone broth was hot, so he blew on it before drinking. Suddenly, a hand reached out and smacked his bowl away with a loud “bang!” The bowl shattered on the ground. Startled, Old Sun turned around and saw Sun Xiaoming holding a broom, staring at him fiercely.

Old Sun’s face turned red with shame, feeling like a thief caught in the act. Unable to bear the humiliation, he stammered, “This is my shop. Can’t I even take a sip of the broth?”

As soon as he finished speaking, a mournful cry was heard. He looked down and was shocked to see his black dog lying on the ground, bleeding from all seven orifices, already dead.

Old Sun glanced at the pot of broth, fear flashing in his eyes, and stepped back two times.

Sun Xiaoming took out a piece of paper from his bosom and handed it to him, saying, “This is my secret recipe for bone soup. Take it! You can make it yourself whenever you want to drink it.”
Old Sun calmed down. He silently took the note, put it away, then picked up the dead black dog and said, “I’ll bury it. I’ll be back soon. They should be arriving any moment.”
Old Sun picked up a hoe, pushed open the back door, and left. Sun Xiaoming sighed, bent down to pick up the bowls on the ground, and went outside to sweep the yard.
After a while, the door of Chongyang Temple finally opened. A dozen monks’ carriages drove out of the temple and headed straight here. The dozen merchants sleeping in the yard sprang up, grabbed their packages, and ran into the darkness. There was no one left in the tea shed.
The carriages stopped on the road. Sun Xiaoming glanced at the sky. It was still early, so he was confident that these monks would definitely come for the soup.
Ever since he started making bone soup, these monks almost always got up early to have a bowl before leaving, and today would be no exception.
“It smells so good!”
The monks got off the carriages and walked over quickly. Master Shi Chongming said with a smile, “Today’s soup seems especially fragrant. I can hardly wait.”
“Master Shi, please sit down. Everyone, please sit. I’ll serve the soup right away.”
Sun Xiaoming hurried inside and gave Old Sun a signal. Old Sun immediately went over to greet the soldiers, “Gentlemen soldiers, why don’t you all have a bowl of soup too? It’ll warm you up.”
The soldiers stared at Old Sun expressionlessly, as cold as stone statues. Frustrated, Old Sun returned and called out, “Xiaoming, just prepare it for the monks. The soldiers won’t eat it.”
“I know!”
A moment later, Sun Xiaoming brought out a large plate with a dozen bowls of steaming bone soup and several plates of vegetarian steamed buns.
Old Sun’s legs started to tremble, and his voice changed slightly. “Let me… help!”
He stepped forward to take the plate, but Sun Xiaoming said, “Uncle, go look for Xiaohei behind. I don’t know where it went. I suspect it stole the bones.”
“Oh!”
Old Sun limped inside. At that moment, he felt nervous, scared, and grateful all at once. He entered the house, opened the back door, and ran into the wilderness, speeding away…

The Taoists were completely unprepared. They gathered around two tables, happily drinking soup and eating steamed buns, occasionally praising the quality of the bone soup. Some impatient ones drank it all in one gulp and demanded another bowl. When Sun Xiaoming saw that everyone had finished their soup, he began to move to the side, gradually reaching a corner where there was a broken bell. Sun Xiaoming picked up the bell hammer and struck it hard. With a loud “clang!”, everyone, including the soldiers on the road, turned to look at him in shock. In that instant, screams filled the air as more than fifty soldiers on the road fell to the ground, struck by arrows. In an instant, not a single person remained on the horses. In the darkness, large groups of Anxi soldiers rushed toward them.

Sun Xiaoming slowly returned to the courtyard. The Taoists were all lying on the ground, almost all dead from exhaustion. Broken bowls and dishes were scattered everywhere. Sun Xiaoming went over to his eldest senior brother, Wangchenzi. Seeing that he still seemed alive, he drew his dagger and stabbed him twice more in the heart. Wangchenzi kicked once and then remained motionless.

Sun Xiaoming glanced around and waved to a corner, saying, “Old Man Sun, come out!”

In the darkness, Old Man Sun stepped out timidly. Seeing the corpses of the Taoists, he fell to his knees in terror, covering his head and crying, “Oh my God!”

At that moment, dozens of soldiers rushed over and began stripping the Taoists of their clothes. The man who had first spoken to Old Man Sun stepped forward quickly, knelt on one knee, and reported to Sun Xiaoming, “Reporting to General Ji: All fifty-four cavalrymen have been killed; none survived.”

Sun Xiaoming’s real name was Ji Sheng. He was actually the leader of the First Falcon Camp. Due to the special status of the camp, most scouts who graduated from it would become officers, so Ji Sheng already held the rank of Lieutenant General. He was twenty-eight years old, but with an honest and simple-looking face that made people think he was only sixteen or seventeen.

Ji Sheng nodded. He went over to the terrified Old Man Sun, squatted down, and had a soldier hand him a bag. He handed it to Old Man Sun and said, “This is three hundred Anxi silver coins. You should hurry to Lü County. There is a Yuelai Inn at the east city gate. Your wife and grandson are living there. Then you must leave Hebei Road quickly and head to the Jianghuai region. Sell bone soup there and hope we can meet again someday.”

Old Man Sun was moved to tears. Ji Sheng helped him up and said, “Go quickly! This place isn’t safe.”

Elder Sun nodded, untied his donkey beside the shop, and set off in a hurry. Ji Sheng watched him go until he was out of sight. Then the man stepped forward and said, “General, I always think it would be cleaner to kill him.”
Ji Sheng replied calmly, “Those who deserve to die—none spared; those who don’t—none killed.”
He waved his hand and said, “Set off!”
The soldiers had quickly cleaned up the corpses. A dozen of them put on Taoist robes to disguise themselves as Taoists, while more than fifty others donned armor resembling An Lushan’s soldiers. The carriage set off again, racing northward.
…
An Lushan’s gunpowder factory was located in Lingyun Valley on the northern outskirts, the same valley where gunpowder had been tested earlier. Two huge warehouses and a dozen white wooden houses had been built there. In addition to the dozen Taoists, there were three hundred gunpowder craftsmen specially brought in to prepare gunpowder and turn it into paper thunder bombs. After nearly twenty days of hard work, twenty thousand paper thunder bombs had already been made.
There were also those continuing to develop new gunpowder—Master Wang Chenzi and his master Shi Chongming. However, both had already been poisoned to death in a teahouse.
The dozen Taoists lived at Chongyang Temple, ten miles away, while the three hundred craftsmen lived in the nearby military camp. Since they couldn’t work overtime at night, there was no need to leave anyone behind at the factory. Everyone had to leave by dark, with soldiers clearing the area—no one was allowed to stay inside.
The gunpowder factory was heavily guarded. Three miles to the left of the valley lay a large military camp with ten thousand troops. If anything went wrong at the factory, the army could arrive in an instant. Yet only five hundred men were stationed there, all of An Lushan’s trusted followers. This was to prevent the secrets of gunpowder from leaking. These five hundred men were mainly tasked with watching over the craftsmen and protecting the warehouses.
It was the fifth watch of the night. The valley entrance, originally twenty zhang wide, was now narrowed to just two zhang wide by stacking huge rocks to control the flow of people. Dozens of torches were lit, casting bright light as if it were day. More than two hundred fully armed soldiers stood at the entrance. Every craftsman had to be thoroughly searched before being allowed in one by one, making progress very slow. But there was no rush—there was no light inside the factory, and it was pitch black once inside. Work could only begin after dawn. Just searching and checking in for the three hundred people each day took an hour.
The fifth watch was the darkest moment before dawn. At that time, the sound of horse hooves and wheels came from afar. No one was curious—everyone knew it was those Taoist scoundrels. It was precisely the fifth watch; they arrived on time every day, never early.

The carriage and its escort of cavalry rushed toward the gate at incredible speed, which was rather strange—such haste likely meant they wouldn’t be able to stop in time and might crash into people. The officer standing at the gate frowned upon seeing the carriage’s speed and spurred his horse forward, shouting, “Slow down!” The carriage came to a halt, and more than a dozen Taoists jumped out and mixed into the crowd. Just as the officer was about to turn around, he suddenly heard shouts in the distance: “Stop them! Stop them now!” A path leading to the gunpowder factory branched off from the main road, which was five miles away; there was also a checkpoint there to prevent passersby from accidentally entering the factory area. Thirty soldiers were stationed there, but all of them lay dead. Not long after the carriage passed, two patrol officers arrived. Finding the soldiers’ bodies in a nearby ditch, they realized something serious had happened and immediately chased after them. At the moment the officer heard the shouts, he too noticed something odd—the passengers in the carriage were indeed Taoists, but their escort seemed larger than usual; usually there were around fifty, yet today there seemed to be more. While he was distracted, a poisonous arrow shot toward him at lightning speed. Before he could react, the arrow struck his throat. The officer let out a muffled groan, grabbed his neck, and fell off his horse. About twenty steps away, Ji Sheng calmly retracted his bow and gave an order with a wave of his hand. Arrows rained down—over eighty arrows flew at the soldiers guarding the gate. The sudden attack caught them off guard, and they fell to the ground, struck by arrows. The soldiers of the Falcon Camp were highly skilled archers and used poisonous arrows. In just a moment, after two rounds of shooting, more than 120 out of 200 soldiers were killed. The Anxi Army charged on horseback, firing arrows like rain to kill the soldiers fleeing in all directions. Chaos reigned at the factory gate, but the massacre had only just begun. More than a dozen Taoists, armed with sharp weapons, began a frenzied slaughter among the 300 craftsmen. They were the elite soldiers of the Anxi Army—each highly skilled in combat and ruthless. Working in perfect coordination, they blocked all escape routes, like a dozen ferocious tigers. With their blades flashing, they cut throats and pierced hearts, killing everyone on sight. Wherever they went, corpses lay everywhere, creating a scene of utter chaos, with screams echoing throughout the area. Amidst the bloody carnage at the gate, Ji Sheng led more than twenty cavalrymen into the factory. They brought fire oil and poured it on the wooden buildings, setting them on fire. Soon, flames shot into the sky.

The watchtower on the hill was alerted, and three signals of fire blazed in the night sky to warn Youzhou. The main camp three miles away was also stirred awake, with the shrill sound of alarm bells ringing through the night. Thousands of Yan troops under An Lushan rushed out of the camp and headed straight for the powder factory…

This army of ten thousand men tasked with guarding the powder factory was also An Lushan’s elite force. By “elite,” it meant not only their combat skills on the battlefield but also their training quality and reaction speed in battle. In today’s terms, from the moment the alarm sounded until the first group of soldiers rushed out of the camp, it took no more than three minutes. This reflected An Lushan’s emphasis on the powder factory—there was not only a large army stationed there but also beacon towers that could send requests for help to Youzhou’s main camp.

Li Qing’an knew that An Lushan would strictly control the production of gunpowder, so he dispatched the most elite First Falcon Battalion from Anxi. Although they numbered only five hundred, they were capable of facing off against an army of five thousand.

Half a mile away from the powder factory, Qin Haiyang led four hundred soldiers from the Falcon Battalion, ready for battle. They were all equipped with the Falcon Battalion’s bright-light armor, swords, and shields. Each soldier carried a special arrow quiver crossbow. Such crossbows had existed since ancient times, allowing ten arrows to be loaded at once for continuous firing, even shooting multiple arrows in a single shot. Designed by Anxi craftsmen for special forces, these crossbows didn’t differ much in principle—what mattered most was their excellent craftsmanship. With twenty arrows in the quiver, they could fire two arrows at a time. “The firing mechanism is like lightning, shooting two arrows in one shot,” ensuring all twenty arrows were fired smoothly. Their effective range was 150 steps, enough to penetrate the Tang army’s bright-light armor.

Their swords, shields, and armor were all made of Damascus steel, at a great cost. Even their warhorses were the finest Arab warhorses. With such superior equipment and fierce, strong soldiers, this army of five hundred could be considered the best in the world.

The night was deep, and the pale moonlight shone on the land. The four hundred soldiers deep in Youzhou’s territory stared calmly at the army surging toward them like a wave, each with a cruel, beast-like gaze in their eyes.

Death was not terrifying to them—it was part of their lives. But glory was everything to them. They were willing to shed their blood to defend the honor of Anxi’s top scouts.

“Prepare!”

Four hundred arrow quiver crossbows were raised simultaneously. The eight-inch-long poisonous arrows glowed with a faint green light under the cold moonlight. The enemy army was charging wildly, already within 150 steps of the killing range.

“Fire!”

At Qin Haiyang’s command, eight hundred arrows shot forth like a swarm of bees returning to their hive. The icy arrows streaked across the night sky, flying in parabolas toward the advancing Yan army. Instantly, large groups of soldiers collapsed and fell, many dying or wounded. The hundreds of cavalry at the forefront were also thrown off their horses, with cries of pain filling the air. “Shoot again!” Another wave of arrows soared into the sky, aimed at the enemy…

Qin Haiyang’s orders were brief. The four hundred soldiers moved in perfect unison—loading arrows, aiming, pulling the triggers—fluidly and without hesitation. Wave after wave of arrows was fired as they retreated, keeping their formation intact and maintaining a distance of a hundred steps from the Yan army. In just a short time, they had fired nine rounds, totaling seven thousand two hundred poisoned arrows. Within a range of two hundred steps, the Yan army’s corpses piled up, with over thirty-five hundred dead. The deadly poison ensured instant death upon contact with blood.

The heavy casualties and intense fear caused the Yan army to halt their charge. Six thousand Yan soldiers stood two hundred steps away, forming a formation to confront the four hundred Anxi cavalry. One thousand five hundred archers stood at the front, kneeling on the ground, waiting for the order to fire. At this distance of two hundred steps, the Yan army’s arrows posed no threat to the four hundred Anxi soldiers.

But no one dared advance anymore. Even their commander, Li Kezhong, had been killed. Everyone understood that charging meant death. The battlefield was eerily quiet, filled with a pungent smell of blood. Fear shone in the eyes of every Yan soldier—they had never seen such a powerful army. Those four hundred men were like an army of four thousand, wielding their bows with devastating effectiveness.

Just then, a thunderous explosion erupted from the powder factory, where flames shot skyward thirty feet high, forming a massive mushroom cloud that reached the heavens. The violent shockwave leveled everything in the valley, even destroying the watchtowers on the mountain peaks with their burning beacons. All the trees were uprooted.

The Yan soldiers were stunned. Most of them fell to their knees in terror, covering their ears and screaming in agony, trying to relieve the unbearable fear and pressure in their hearts. It seemed their hearts would burst…

But the four hundred Anxi cavalry remained motionless, like stone statues. Holding their bows, now loaded with new arrows, they coldly aimed at the Yan army two hundred steps away. The massive explosion couldn’t shake their unyielding will.

Qin Haiyang turned around, his eyes filled with concern. In the darkness, he saw a hundred cavalry charging toward them. Ji Sheng reported loudly, “General Qin, all tasks have been successfully completed, and not a single soldier of our army has been hurt.” Before the impact of the explosion on the Yan army had faded, Qin Haiyang ordered a retreat. Five hundred cavalry rushed westward at full speed; they vanished like ghosts flying in the moonlight, disappearing instantly in the west. On the battlefield, only corpses and over six thousand disheartened soldiers remained. About ten miles away on the official road, Old Sun was scared off his donkey by the explosion. He stared in terror at the huge mushroom-shaped black smoke and the strange dark red clouds in the sky, wondering if the gates to the underworld had been opened by those people.