# **Chapter 8: Fire in the Dark**
Night raids became Wei's answer to impossible odds.
He stood on the north wall at midnight, watching the Oirat camp. Forty thousand cavalry spread across two square *li*. Campfires dotted the darkness like scattered stars.
Zhang joined him, voice low. "Scouts report their command section is northeast quadrant. Heavy security—maybe two hundred guards."
"And their ammunition storage?"
"Southwest. Lighter security. Maybe fifty guards."
Wei studied the layout. The Oirats were confident, comfortable. They'd been besieging the garrison for thirty-eight days. They thought victory was inevitable.
That confidence was exploitable.
"We hit both targets. Simultaneously. Maximum disruption." Wei traced patterns on the wall's stone. "Six hundred men. Forty teams of fifteen. Mandarin Duck formations."
"That's a third of our effective force."
"That's the commitment required to make this work." Wei turned to Zhang. "Standard raid doctrine won't scratch them. We need concentrated violence—fast, brutal, then extraction before they can respond."
"Casualties?"
"Twenty to thirty percent. Maybe higher if extraction goes wrong."
Zhang whistled softly. "You're gambling two hundred lives on one night."
"I'm gambling two hundred lives to save three thousand. The Oirats are preparing final assault in five days. If that happens, everyone dies. This raid disrupts their timeline, buys us the week we need for relief to arrive."
"And if it fails?"
"Then we lose two hundred men now instead of three thousand later. Better odds." Wei's jaw tightened. "Assemble the assault teams. Volunteers only. Brief them on objectives. We move in two hours."
---
The briefing was held in the main barracks, doors guarded.
Six hundred soldiers packed the space—Tumu survivors mixed with garrison troops. Wei had pulled the best from each battalion.
He stood on a crate so all could see him.
"Tonight, we raid the Oirat camp. Objectives: destroy their command structure and ammunition storage. Six hundred of us against forty thousand of them."
Nervous laughter rippled through the room.
"I'm not joking. We're outnumbered sixty-to-one. Which means we can't fight them conventionally. So we fight them asymmetrically—hit hard, hit fast, create chaos, then extract before they can organize response."
He gestured to the map spread on a table. "Forty teams, fifteen men each. Each team operates in Mandarin Duck formation: shield bearer up front, spears on flanks, gunners in rear, swords for close combat. You move as one unit, you fight as one unit, you extract as one unit."
A Tumu survivor raised his hand. "What's Mandarin Duck formation?"
Captain Dong stepped forward. "I'll show you." He arranged ten soldiers into formation—tight cluster, shield bearer leading, weapons interlocking. "This formation maximizes close combat effectiveness while maintaining mutual support. The shield absorbs impact, spears thrust from flanks, guns fire from rear, swords fill gaps. It's designed to punch through superior numbers through concentration of force."
Wei continued. "Each team has specific target. Teams one through twenty hit command section. Teams twenty-one through forty hit ammunition storage. Rally points are marked here, here, and here." He pointed to the map. "You hit your target, set fires, grab intelligence if possible, then extract to Rally Point Alpha. From there, we consolidate and move to Rally Beta, then back to garrison walls."
Another soldier spoke up. "Sir, what's the expected casualty rate?"
Wei didn't sugarcoat it. "Twenty to thirty percent. Maybe higher. This is a high-risk operation. That's why it's volunteers only. Anyone who wants out, leave now. No shame, no consequences."
No one moved.
"Good. Team leaders, take your squads and drill Mandarin Duck formation until you can execute it blind. We move at 0200 hours. Dismissed."
The teams dispersed. Wei watched them go—six hundred soldiers about to risk everything on one night raid.
Zhang appeared at his shoulder. "Think they're ready?"
"No. But they're committed. That's more important." Wei looked at the map. "Ready means perfect execution. Committed means they'll adapt when things go wrong. I'll take committed over ready any day."
---
0200 hours.
Six hundred men assembled in the north courtyard, faces blackened with soot, weapons wrapped to prevent noise. Mandarin Duck formations tight, disciplined.
Wei addressed them one last time. "Rules are simple. Stay in formation. Hit your target. Extract on signal. Anyone who falls behind—your team decides whether to support them or leave them. No heroics. No one stops for anything. Clear?"
"CLEAR!" Whispered in unison.
"Move out."
The teams filed through a sally port on the north wall—small door, easy to secure, opening into dead ground below Oirat sight lines.
They moved through darkness in loose column. Six hundred shadows flowing across two *li* of open ground.
Wei led the command section teams—twenty formations, three hundred men, heading for the Oirat command tents.
The camp perimeter appeared ahead. Six sentries, spaced twenty *zhang* apart. Not particularly alert.
Wei signaled his lead scout forward. The scout crept within striking distance—
One of the Oirat sentries coughed.
The scout froze.
The sentry turned, scanning darkness. His eyes swept right past the scout's position.
Then he turned back to his conversation with another guard.
The scout moved. Fast. Silent. Knife finding throat. Wet gurgle, no sound else.
Wei's assault team erupted from cover.
Ten men in Mandarin Duck formation. Shield bearer hit the nearest sentry. Spearmen thrust from flanks. Gunners fired point-blank into remaining guards.
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Fifteen seconds. Six bodies. Zero alarm raised.
"CLEAR! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"
Wei's forty teams poured through the gap into the Oirat camp.
---
Inside, Wei split his force.
"Teams one through ten—command tents, northeast! Teams eleven through twenty—officer quarters, central! I'm taking thirty-one through forty to hit the khan's position!"
Teams dispersed like shadows.
Wei's ten teams moved toward the largest tent cluster—Oirat command center.
Twenty guards. Elite troops. Wide awake.
Not taking these quietly.
Wei signaled: Mandarin Duck assault.
His teams shifted into tight clusters. Shields front. Spears flanking. Guns ready.
"On my mark—CHARGE!"
A hundred men in ten tight formations rushed the command area.
The Oirat guards barely reacted before impact.
Wei's shield bearer smashed into the first guard, knocking him sprawling. Spearmen thrust past, engaging two more. Gunners fired into the cluster—smoke and thunder splitting night.
Other formations hit simultaneously. Ten coordinated strikes overwhelming the guard force through speed and violence.
Thirty seconds of brutal melee.
Then the guards were down.
"INTO THE TENTS! ANYONE IN OFFICER GARB—KILL THEM! BURN EVERYTHING!"
Wei's teams tore into command tents.
Inside: chaos. Officers scrambling for weapons. Maps and documents scattered everywhere. Supply manifests. Battle plans.
Wei grabbed what he could, stuffed papers inside his tunic. Intelligence for later.
Then his team set fires.
Oil-soaked rags. Torches. Tents went up like kindling.
"OUT! WITHDRAW TO RALLY ALPHA!"
Wei's teams extracted from burning command section and ran toward first rally point.
Behind them, the Oirat camp woke. Horns blowing. Soldiers shouting. Officers trying to organize response.
Too late.
All across the camp, forty teams hit targets simultaneously.
---
Team Seventeen hit ammunition storage with precision.
Their leader—a Tumu survivor named Chen—led his formation straight to powder reserves.
Eight sentries guarded it.
"SHIELDS UP! ADVANCE!"
The formation moved like one organism. Shield bearer absorbed first spear thrust. Spearmen flanked and killed the attacker. Gunners fired into remaining guards.
Six down in ten seconds. Last two ran.
"DON'T CHASE! SET THE CHARGES!"
Demolition specialist placed wrapped powder bundles against ammunition barrels, lit slow-burning fuses.
"NINETY SECONDS! MOVE!"
The team ran.
Fuses burned down.
They'd made it fifty *zhang* when ammunition storage detonated.
Explosion lit night like dawn. Mushroom of fire and smoke. Debris raining across two hundred *zhang*.
Chen's team hit the ground as shockwave passed over.
"UP! KEEP MOVING! RALLY ALPHA!"
---
Team Twenty-four wasn't as lucky.
They hit an officer's tent, killed three sleeping commanders, set fires.
But on extraction, they ran into an Oirat quick-reaction force—thirty cavalry mobilized faster than expected.
The team leader made the call instantly.
"MANDARIN DUCK DEFENSE! FORM ON ME!"
Ten soldiers snapped into formation. Shield bearer front, spears out, guns ready.
Cavalry charged.
"GUNS—FIRE!"
Four hand cannons roared. Two riders went down. Others kept coming.
"BRACE! SPEARS FORWARD!"
Cavalry hit the formation.
Shield bearer went down immediately—lance through chest. But spearmen held, thrusting up at riders. One horse impaled itself, throwing its rider.
The formation held twenty seconds.
Then cavalry numbers overwhelmed them.
The team leader saw his men dying. "BREAK! RUN FOR RALLY ALPHA! SCATTER!"
Formation dissolved. Soldiers running different directions, pursued by cavalry.
Three made it out.
Seven died buying them time.
---
Wei's teams reached Rally Point Alpha forty minutes after assault began.
He counted heads.
"Team One—present!"
"Team Three—minus two!"
"Team Seven—all here!"
"Team Nine—four survivors! Lost six in contact!"
Reports came in. Of forty teams that had hit command section, thirty-two made Rally Alpha.
Eight teams missing. Eighty men.
High casualties. But mission parameters had predicted it.
"We hold for one stick of incense," Wei said. "Then we move to Rally Beta."
While they waited, Wei could see the Oirat camp burning. Multiple fires. Explosions still going off. Complete chaos.
The raid was working.
But extraction was just beginning.
Two more teams stumbled in—exhausted, carrying wounded.
Thirty-four teams. Six still missing.
The incense burned down.
"MOVE OUT! Rally Beta! Stay in formation!"
---
Rally Point Beta was one *li* south—dry streambed offering cover.
Wei's force arrived to find twenty teams from other assault groups already there. Ammunition storage teams. Successful extractions.
Fifty-four teams total. Five hundred forty men accounted for.
Sixty missing.
Higher than first raid. But they'd hit harder targets with heavier resistance.
Wei did quick math. *Acceptable losses for mission success.*
"Final rally at north gate," Wei told assembled teams. "Maintain formation. Watch for pursuit. Anyone who falls behind—your team supports you or leaves you. No stopping for anyone. Clear?"
"CLEAR!"
The force moved south in loose column. Five hundred exhausted soldiers making for garrison walls.
Behind them, the Oirat camp still burned. But horns were organizing. Cavalry mobilizing.
Pursuit would come soon.
---
It came two *li* from the garrison.
Wei heard it before he saw it—thunder of hooves in darkness.
"CAVALRY PURSUIT! REAR GUARD—FORM UP!"
Rear twenty teams wheeled into defensive position. Mandarin Duck formations creating wall of shields and spears.
Oirat cavalry hit them at full charge.
Brutal.
Formations held maybe thirty seconds before cavalry numbers overwhelmed rear guard.
But thirty seconds was enough.
Main force gained distance. Reached north gate. Started filing through.
Wei stood at gate, counting teams.
Forty teams. Four hundred men.
Sixty teams had gone out. Two hundred men missing or dead.
One-third casualties.
But they'd done it. Crippled Oirat command structure. Destroyed critical supplies. Created chaos that would take days to recover from.
Last team came through gate—rear guard survivors, running flat out, cavalry right behind.
"CLOSE THE GATE! WALL DEFENSE—PREPARE TO REPEL!"
Gates slammed shut. Crossbowmen on walls opened fire on pursuing cavalry.
Oirats pulled back after losing a dozen riders to wall fire.
The raid was over.
---
Wei stood in command post, covered in soot and blood, while Commander Feng read casualty reports.
"Two hundred seven casualties. One hundred eighty-three confirmed dead or missing. Twenty-four wounded who made it back."
Over thirty percent losses. Worse than first raid.
But the results...
Feng showed Wei intelligence documents his team had grabbed from command tents.
"This is their siege timeline. They were planning final major assault in five days—everything they had, simultaneous attack on all walls. If that succeeded, they'd have breached before relief arrived."
"And now?"
"Now their command structure is decimated. Senior officers dead. Battle plans compromised. Supply situation critical again." Feng looked at Wei. "You just bought us the seven days we needed."
Wei nodded slowly. Two hundred men for seven days.
Brutal calculus. But it had worked.
"What's relief status?"
"Last pigeon came in three hours ago. Relief army is six days out. Double-time march since they heard about siege intensity."
Six days. The garrison had to hold six more days.
With fewer than three thousand troops. Dwindling supplies. Mounting casualties.
But now the Oirats were disrupted. Disorganized. Forced to rebuild before they could press.
It might be enough.
---
Inspector Liu found Wei in medical ward, checking wounded raiders.
"Commander Wei. Another unauthorized offensive operation. Another massive casualty list."
Wei was too exhausted for politics. "It worked. We bought the time we needed."
"At cost of two hundred men."
"At cost of two hundred volunteers who knew the risks and chose to take them anyway." Wei faced Liu. "Write whatever report you want. The Ministry can judge me after we survive."
"You assume you'll survive to be judged."
"I assume I'll either survive as hero or die as martyr. Either way, your reports won't matter much."
Liu's expression was cold. "You're very confident for someone who's gambled away half his effective force on risky night raids."
"I'm not confident. I'm committed." Wei gestured to wounded raiders. "These men trusted me with their lives. I honored that trust by using their sacrifice to save the garrison. That's command. That's leadership. That's what the Ministry doesn't understand—sometimes you have to risk everything to save anything."
"The Ministry understands that independent commanders who ignore oversight become threats."
"Then I'll be a useful threat until this siege ends. After that, the Ministry can do whatever they want with me."
Liu studied him for a long moment. "You really don't care what happens to your career, do you?"
"I care about the three thousand soldiers still alive in this garrison. My career is secondary."
"That's remarkably selfless. Or remarkably stupid."
Wei smiled grimly. "Probably both."
---
That night, Wei stood on north wall one last time.
The Oirat camp still burned in places. Chaos from raid visible even from this distance.
Zhang joined him, voice rough with exhaustion. "Six days until relief. Can we hold?"
Wei looked at his garrison. Battered. Exhausted. Depleted.
But still standing.
"We've held thirty-eight days already. What's six more?"
"Six more days of them trying to kill us before we can be rescued."
"So we make those six days as expensive as possible." Wei turned from wall. "Pass word to all battalions—defensive posture only. No more raids. No more risks. We hold walls and we wait."
"That's it? Just... hold?"
"Just hold. For six more days. Then relief arrives and this nightmare ends."
Zhang nodded slowly. "And after? When Ministry comes for you?"
Wei had thought about that. About Inspector Liu's reports. About political consequences of his unauthorized actions.
"After, I deal with whatever comes. But first, we survive."
"Think they'll execute you for insubordination?"
"Maybe. Or they'll promote me for success. Hard to tell with Ministry." Wei smiled. "But I'll worry about that when I'm not actively being besieged."
They stood in silence, watching distant fires.
Six more days.
Just six more days.
Then they'd know if the gamble had paid off.
---
**End of Chapter 8**
