"White Rainbow Arrow!"

"What’s going on? Who activated the White Rainbow? Are the people on the ship crazy?"

"Rebellion! What are they trying to do?"

The "White Rainbow" was a kind of mechanical giant bow, stretching seven zhang long when fully drawn. Only a colossal thing like the giant kite could be equipped with it. Such a terrifying weapon was, of course, not powered by human strength; beneath the bow was a power box burning with purple-flowing gold. When fully charged, a single arrow from the longbow could pierce through a city gate several zhang wide.

It was said that when the giant kite glided across the sky and the White Rainbow arrows rained down, it was like divine punishment from above—no heavy armor could withstand it.

The upheaval came too suddenly. Old Johnson snatched up a "thousand-mile eye," stretched his neck like an old turtle, and muttered, "Good heavens... this is no joke anymore! Quick! Report to Mr. Harris and Captain Lewis, hurry!"

Before he finished speaking, the fire wings on the giant kite, which had been extinguished, suddenly lit up in unison. The burning purple-flowing gold, lacking preheating, let out a roar tinged with explosive force, and the giant kite seemed to awaken like a monster.

Old Johnson watched through the thousand-mile eye as the deck of the giant kite flipped over, and a row of heavily armored soldiers lined up in chilling formation. Their shimmering armor glinted like ripples on a river, and even from afar, one could feel the silent pressure.

The leader pushed open the visor of his heavy armor, revealing a face covered in scars.

Old Johnson was startled—this was an unfamiliar face. How did he get aboard the giant kite?

The scar-faced man suddenly grinned, threw his head back, and howled at the sky. His howl pierced through the mechanical rumble, sounding like a wolf’s cry. All the heavily armored warriors behind him mimicked his action, and the wolf howls rose and fell, as if a starving pack of wolves in the dead of winter was baring its deadly fangs.

Among the crowd chasing after the giant kite, someone suddenly shouted, "Barbarians!"

That was like poking a hornet’s nest.

People from more than a dozen nearby towns and villages had gathered here—men, women, old, and young—all at once turned into panicked goats, scattering in terror. There was pushing, shoving, trampling everywhere; even the warhorses of the soldiers on duty in the street were driven to constant neighing by the chaos.

Old Johnson leapt onto the city wall’s watchtower, drew the long spear from his waist, and jabbed at the "golden box" atop the tower. He knew that the golden box contained purple-flowing gold for the eternal lamp. If luck was on his side and it ignited properly, the top of the watchtower could be blown sky-high as an alarm signal.

The old soldier, who had bragged all his life, stabbed a corner off the golden box with one thrust. The choking purple-flowing gold poured out. With trembling hands, he pulled a fire striker from his chest. Amid the howling of wolves, he clumsily struck a few sparks and stuffed them into the golden box with his aged hands.

Half the purple-flowing gold in the golden box spilled out; the remaining half caught the flame and instantly burned fiercely. The vent of the lighthouse was blocked, letting out only a few wisps of choking steam. It was about to explode—

The next moment, another White Rainbow arrow shot up like a sun-piercing bolt, striking Old Johnson square in the chest. His flesh and blood were torn apart in an instant, but the force of the White Rainbow did not diminish, carrying the old soldier’s remains to the edge of the watchtower. With a thunderous crash, the high tower collapsed from above, stones rolling everywhere, and everyone on the ground—soldiers and civilians alike—fled in panic.

At the same time, the burning golden box at the tower’s tip finally shrieked as it shot into the sky. An ominous purple light flashed, and it exploded midair into a giant firework, illuminating half of Yanhuicheng.

Only then did the signalman behind the bronze horn react, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Enemy attack—barbarians are coming—"

The giant kite, now controlled by the barbarians, slowly lifted off the ground, and a rain of White Rainbow arrows fell like deadly hail.

The townsfolk scattered like headless flies, fleeing for their lives. Thirty-six light-armored cavalry of the city guard thundered across the not-yet-closed bluestone slabs, and all the cannons on the city wall raised their muzzles together, aiming at the swaying giant kite—

Fireworks filled the city.

The giant kite’s purple-flowing gold cargo hold swung open, and countless Northern barbarian soldiers descended from the sky amid the wolf howls.

The pack of wolves roared, the long street ran with blood—chaos reigned.

The scar-faced man on the giant kite leapt, steam blasting violently from his armored boots, propelling him more than three zhang high. He landed astride a warhorse, but the horse couldn’t bear the weight of the heavy armor. With a long neigh, its front knees snapped in unison. The rider atop had no time to react before the barbarian seized his throat and bit down savagely.

The barbarian jerked his head up, tearing out a chunk of the rider’s throat. Blood sprayed like oil, and the rider died without a sound.

The scar-faced man laughed wildly, like a demon born to feast on carrion. He swallowed the raw flesh in two bites, then suddenly whistled. Four or five heavily armored barbarians responded, closing in tightly around him. They sped through the street, now a living hell, heading straight for John Foster's home.

In the army, armor was divided into "light" and "heavy" categories. Light armor was worn by cavalry, who could only carry a small amount of power with them—most of their strength still came from man and beast, but it was valued for its mobility.