I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 856: Beat These Bastards to Death!
Chapter 856: Beat These Bastards to Death!
“#￥￥SD！”
Although they had hurried, by the time the Blackstone coalition finished eating and tidying up, the sun was already high in the sky.
The Blackstone tribe leader, with a Blackstone weapon slung across his back by rope, adjusted the quiver at his waist, gripped his bow tightly, and with barely suppressed excitement on his face, gave the order to march against the Green Sparrow tribe ahead.
The words had barely left his mouth when the coalition, which had long since been itching for action, erupted into chaotic cheers.
Some swung their clubs wildly, others pounded their chests with booming thuds—each act an expression of excitement, impatience, and absolute confidence in victory.
Amid this feverish noise, the Blackstone coalition advanced toward the Copper Mountain settlement, where people were already gathering.
Just as they had done two days prior in the afternoon when they had dealt the Green Sparrow tribe a heavy blow, the Blackstone forces once again marched in the formation devised by their cunning leader, designed to inflict maximum harm.
Those without bows carried crude wooden boards as shields at the front, while the archers followed close behind.
Though their weapons were rough, their morale blazed high. They were confident of victory.
As they advanced, a harsh gong resounded from Copper Mountain, and figures appeared on the walls.
Soon, along the section above the gates, a row of massive rattan shields coated with tung oil and covered in fur was erected. These were decoys, ordered by Third Senior Brother to draw enemy fire.
Seeing those strange, lined-up contraptions appear again, many in the Blackstone coalition cursed furiously: “#￥MMP！”
Their archers’ fingers and arms still ached faintly—after all, two days ago they had fired endlessly at these very things, finally blasting gaps into them after much effort, only to see them replaced again today.
The thought of repeating that torment made them grimace. But still, confidence remained: no matter how strange those defenses, the Blackstone army had prepared well. This tribe could not hold out forever. It would just take effort.
The Blackstone troops pressed forward in what they believed was an orderly formation until they entered bow range of the defenders.
“Fire!”
On the walls, the battle-hungry Shang shouted the command.
Though he hadn’t slept much in days—having dug pits with his senior brother half the previous night—his spirit was sharp.
At his order, fifteen archers hidden behind the rattan shields fired.
Fifteen arrows whistled down into the advancing army.
Yet the first volley did little; crude boards blocked most, others missed.
The Grass tribe’s chief noticed something important: the defenders were shooting far fewer arrows than last time. Either their supplies were running low, or many of their archers had died two days ago.
Either way, it was good news. Fewer arrows meant fewer deaths on their side.
When she pointed this out, morale surged even higher among the Blackstone coalition.
Cheering wildly, they pressed on, halting at the same position as two days before. There, under their leader’s cry, their archers loosed a storm of arrows.
The volleys clattered against stone walls and rattan shields, a crackling chorus.
Meanwhile, the “hornet nest stirrers” crouched safely, chuckling as they waited for the enemy’s fire to thin. When it did, they rose and returned fire.
After several exchanges, screams rang out as gaps appeared in the shield wall.
The reinforcements from the main Green Sparrow tribe, watching this tactic for the first time, were stunned. The clever use of shields to draw fire had already impressed them, but now, seeing defenders feigning agony only to laugh as they counterattacked—this was shameless!
Shameless… but effective. And somehow, it made them strangely happy.
Now they understood why Shang had told them not to worry, even to rest against the wall if drowsy. Against such tactics, worry was pointless—the enemy would exhaust themselves first.
On the walls, Shang rotated archers after seven or eight shots, conserving stamina. His grin never faded as the enemy’s arrows dwindled.
Every wasted arrow and drop of strength from the attackers meant the Green Sparrow victory drew closer.
This was the influence of their sly divine child—no longer charging headlong, they now fought with cunning.
Time crawled by. The shield wall dwindled, arrows littered the ground, and the Blackstone leader’s arms gave out. He couldn’t even draw his bow anymore.
Still, those damned shields remained standing, frustrating him endlessly.
“#￥￥%！”
He roared, urging his men to give one last push—destroy the final shields, and they could charge unopposed.
But only a handful could still fire. The rest had no strength.
Finally, giving up, the Blackstone leader slung his bow, gripped his blackstone weapon with trembling arms, and bellowed: “#￥5DF！”
The order to charge.
The coalition readied their melee weapons, even discarding their boards to run faster—dreaming of riches once they broke inside.
Excitement boiled as they sprinted. Even the leaders of the Blackstone and Grass tribes couldn’t help but quicken their pace.
Victory felt within reach.
Yet—
“Dong dong dong…”
Suddenly, deep drumbeats thundered from the walls, rolling like distant thunder.
The attackers froze, bewildered at the sound beneath a clear sky.
Then, with a crash, the last rattan shields toppled—just as thirty archers suddenly appeared behind them, unleashing a rain of arrows!
The Blackstone army was dumbstruck. Hadn’t the defenders been crushed already? Hadn’t their screams confirmed it? How could more archers suddenly appear?
But appeared they had—and their arrows struck true. Screams filled the air as men fell, wounded or dead.
Those who had discarded their boards now regretted it bitterly.
In panic, men scrambled to snatch shields from others or even used comrades as human barriers. Chaos erupted.
The Blackstone leader, furious and desperate, tried to rally them, shooting back with trembling arms—but most could no longer draw a bow.
Shu Pi, also stunned, shouted at him to charge the gates. Break them, and the enemy’s arrows would be useless inside.
Hearing this, the leader’s eyes lit up. Yes, just as they had conquered Shu Pi’s former tribe.
Fueled by rage and desperation, he rallied his men, brandishing his blackstone weapon and roaring: “#￥￥5SD！”
The Blackstone warriors echoed him, chanting as they charged. Their own leader slew any who faltered to force the advance.
The Grass tribe’s chief recoiled in terror, wanting to retreat, only to see her people stabbed down when they hesitated. She remembered again the Blackstone tribe’s ruthless nature.
Under threat of death from both sides, the coalition surged forward through the storm of arrows, many falling, but many reaching the walls and battering the gates.
Shang was stunned. He had expected them to retreat under arrow fire. Instead, they had broken through!
Now they swarmed the gates, pressing hard.
Shang’s eyes went blood-red. He refused to let them break through—it would be a disgrace.
“Thirty to the wall! Kill these bastards!”
“The rest, form ranks! Don’t let anyone inside!”
At his order, reinforcements rushed up the stone steps to join the archers, while others below readied for melee.
Even teenagers on the walls, sobbing, hurled stones down on the attackers—crying out, “Why attack us? Why not live peacefully?!”
Amid tears and fury, they pelted the enemy.
Meanwhile, the exhausted archers who had rotated out dropped their bows, picked up stones, and joined the barrage.
Below, the gates groaned under the enemy’s pressure—
“Creak… crack…”
The sound of Copper Mountain’s doors being forced echoed ominously…
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Chapter 856: Beat These Bastards to Death!
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