Practicing is easy when one has infinite skill points.

"Forgive us, Great Leader," Zhu Jie said, cupping his hands. "These days, with natural disasters and chaos from war, life is tough for everyone. Otherwise, we wouldn't have left our homes and fled so far. Please, Great Leader, grant us some leniency."

Zhen Shan Hu, the Mountain-Taming Tiger, narrowed his eyes and raised his voice. "Leave half of what you're carrying, and I'll let you pass right now."

Zhu Jie, of course, wasn't willing. The faces of those around him darkened as well.

Fleeing their homes meant bringing all their possessions. Leaving half behind—wasn't that as good as taking their lives?

Zhu Jie forced a smile. "This is a big matter. Give us a moment to discuss."

"Hmph! Hurry up. I don't have much patience," Zhen Shan Hu snorted.

Zhu Jie stepped back slowly, and the group huddled together again.

"This Zhen Shan Hu is insatiable—too much!" Chief Zhang fumed.

"Leave half our stuff? Ha, he's got some nerve. Isn't he afraid of choking on it?" someone sneered coldly.

The village chief of Xianlu Village—the elderly man from before—sighed deeply. "Looks like this won't end peacefully. We've got no choice but to force our way through."

"Then we stick to the plan," Zhu Jie said gravely. "I'll keep Zhen Shan Hu occupied. You rally the refugees. We charge their blockade together. Once we break a gap, we push through."

The others exchanged glances and nodded.

This was their agreed strategy: diplomacy first, force if it failed. Since diplomacy was off the table, it was time for action.

Refugees might lack fighting skill, but their numbers were their strength.

The group dispersed, each returning to gather and persuade the refugees to storm the pass together.

"If we don't break through, we'll all starve here!"

"Don't be afraid—charge with us!"

"There's strength in numbers. With so many of us, even the bandits will think twice!"

"Stay here and die, or charge and live. It's up to you!"

The refugees, eyes red with hunger, had no other choice. With someone to lead, they were willing to follow.

Finally, with a rallying cry, the refugees at the mountain's base launched their charge.

"Rush!"

Thousands of them, though weak and trembling from hunger, gained momentum with their shouts.

Zhong Lin, carrying Little Shi on his back, blended into the crowd—neither fast nor slow—keeping his eyes and ears sharp, ready to break away at any moment.

The refugees, young and old, moved at different speeds, stretching into a long, uneven line as they charged.

The bandits atop the mountain panicked at the sight, thrown into disarray.

In the past, they'd robbed lone waves of refugees who rarely resisted their intimidation. Even when some fought back, their numbers were small and easily crushed.

But this time, with so many surging like a flood breaking a dam, the scene struck fear into their hearts.

"B-Boss… w-what do we do now?" one bandit stammered in panic.

*Slap!*

Zhen Shan Hu smacked the bandit's head, roaring, "Useless fool! It's just a bunch of refugees—scared of that?"

He scanned the approaching crowd, a cold smirk spreading across his face.

"Heh, these guys have some brains, rallying refugees to charge us. Think I'm helpless? Listen up—ignore the refugees. Target the ones with carts!"

If you can't solve the problem, solve the ones causing it.

Besides, refugees had nothing worth taking. Zhen Shan Hu's real goal was the wealthier families.

"Yes, sir!"

"Follow the boss!"

"The boss is brilliant!"

Zhen Shan Hu spat on the ground, grabbed a large machete, and shouted, "Brothers, with me!"

With a yell, he charged forward, machete raised. His bandits followed, howling and keeping pace.

"The bandits are coming!"

"Run!"

The refugees screamed in terror as the bandits descended, fleeing wildly, desperate to dodge past and escape.

"Don't run! Charge through!"

"Don't flee—we've got the numbers, they won't dare—"

Zhu Jie and the others had overestimated the refugees' discipline. They'd hoped to use them to break the blockade, but a single bandit charge shattered their formation into chaos.

"Quick, group up!"

The Xianlu Village chief shouted urgently. Under his direction, Zhu Jie, Chief Zhang, and the others hurriedly gathered their ox carts into a defensive circle.

"Grab your weapons—ready!"

Blood was thicker than water. Unlike the refugees, their own kin obeyed. At the command, they drew spears, machetes, and bows.

"Shoot!"

With one order, dozens of arrows whistled through the air toward the oncoming bandits.

Villagers beneath Heishan farmed in busy times and hunted in idle ones. Many were skilled archers. This volley dropped seven or eight bandits, throwing the rest into confusion.

"Damn it all!"

Zhen Shan Hu raged, watching his men fall.

Zhu Jie's face lit up with glee. "Aim for Zhen Shan Hu—shoot again!"

*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!*

More arrows flew, their sound like the Reaper's call. The bandits stopped their charge, scrambling for cover.

Even so, some were hit—ankles, shoulders—screaming in pain.

Zhen Shan Hu drew the brunt of it, with seven or eight out of ten arrows aimed at him.

From a distance, Zhong Lin observed, quietly relieved. With his max-level archery insight, he could tell Zhen Shan Hu was doomed under such a barrage.

He'd thought the refugees' chaos would doom Zhu Jie's plan, but these bandits were amateurs—charging out to become sitting ducks.

Amateurs fighting amateurs—neither could claim superiority.

*Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!*

Arrows struck Zhen Shan Hu—his thighs, shoulders, one even piercing his chest.

But the sound was odd. Instead of the crisp thud of flesh, it was a muffled thump, like drumming on cowhide.

The arrows tore through his clothing, but on his skin, they left only red marks before bouncing off—as if striking tough leather.

The sight halted Zhong Lin mid-stride, his eyes widening in shock.

With his max-level archery expertise, he knew arrows with such force couldn't be stopped by mere flesh—unless the man wore armor. Yet Zhen Shan Hu's skin remained unbroken. How was this possible…?