Dantai Yajing thought to himself: this girl’s standard for what made someone a good person was simple — keeping your word. If he kept refusing, it might do damage to something this girl genuinely believed in.
So he looked at Nie Datian and said: “If you want to come with us to Mengguangu, there’s one condition you have to agree to first.”
Nie Datian immediately brightened up: “Say the word. Anything I can do, I’ll agree to.”
Dantai Yajing said: “It’s simple enough. You can come with us. But if there’s danger when we get there, you have to listen to me and go home immediately.”
Nie Datian’s face fell into hesitation. She didn’t want to just turn around and leave. Nie Xiaodi tugged at her sleeve: “Just agree for now, you dummy.”
This was perhaps one of Nie Xiaodi’s rare moments of brilliance.
Nie Datian figured she could agree first and deal with it when the time came.
So she nodded: “Fine. If it’s dangerous when we get there, we’ll go home right away. If it isn’t dangerous, we stay.”
Dantai Yajing said: “Good. It’s settled. No going back on it.”
Nie Datian thumped her chest: “I’m a woman of my word. A true champion — the kind even a galloping horse couldn’t catch.”
The thump was generous — she’d put some real force into it.
Dantai Yajing burst into laughter: “The saying is: *a gentleman’s word, even four horses cannot overtake.*”
Nie Xiaodi said: “She’s not a gentleman. She’s a woman.”
Nie Datian took a deep breath: “Do you know what I mean when I say—”
Nie Xiaodi said: “I know, I know — but we need to get moving, so save flattening me for later. Right now there’s no time for a minor thing like that.”
Nie Datian gave a snort: “I’ll deal with you when we get there.”
Once the group had settled on a plan they set off at once, pushing hard toward Mengguangu.
They didn’t dare delay by a single moment. Heaven knew how many troops the Shanhai Army had now assembled to besiege Mengguangu.
The few villagers who had come seeking help had been riding horses given to them by Qiao Mo — not bad animals, but nowhere near the level of Ning Army warhorses.
At this very moment, in Mengguangu.
Qiao Mo leaned against a wooden wall and sat down, drawing a deep, slow breath. Cold air entered through his mouth, and it was as though a blade of ice swept a full circuit through his gut.
But it helped — the pain from his wounds seemed to ease a little.
The Shanhai Army had been besieging them for many days now. Fortunately luck had been on their side, for whatever reason — the Shanhai Army’s reinforcements hadn’t yet arrived — and without siege equipment, Xu Heihu was having no easy time of it breaking through Mengguangu.
Still, the attackers came every single day, and the casualties on their side were not negligible.
Just last night, Xu Heihu had personally led a group of skilled fighters in a night assault that had nearly reached the top of the wooden wall.
Fortunately Qiao Mo had been on watch himself that night, and he’d caught it just in time. After a fierce fight they’d driven Xu Heihu’s men back — but his shoulder had taken a saber strike from Xu Heihu in the process.
The wound was deep. After rudimentary stitching, bandaging, and stanching of blood, he’d gone right back to fighting. The wound had already been torn open and resealed several times, and it was still slowly seeping blood.
“General, get some rest.”
Little Seven squatted down beside Qiao Mo: “The enemy troops just pulled back — they probably won’t attack again so soon.”
Qiao Mo shook his head: “I can’t sleep… Little Seven, let me discuss something with you.”
Little Seven immediately said: “General, just give the order.”
Qiao Mo let out a slow breath: “I’m the general — all our men are watching me. No matter what, I have to fight to the very end. We’ve killed our way here step by step, and men have died every single day. We can’t let all those brothers have died for nothing…”
Before he even finished, Little Seven already understood. He shook his head: “In terms of both fighting ability and strategy, I’m no match for you at all. Even if it truly comes down to the last moment and someone must protect the mistress and her children and get them out first — that someone ought to be you, General.”
Qiao Mo raised a hand and set it on Little Seven’s shoulder: “If I leave, what will our men think? Listen to me — if it truly comes to the point where we can’t hold on, you have to protect the mistress and her children. That’s an order.”
He glanced at his shoulder. The white bandaging had already soaked through to red.
“Little Seven… do you still remember what I said to you when we first set out?”
He asked, then looked at Little Seven. Little Seven nodded: “I remember. General said… the Commander gave us a proper identity. He made it so ordinary people no longer see us as bandits — but as people.”
Qiao Mo nodded: “I won’t pretend there’s no one in this world who wants to be an outlaw. I’ll only say that people like us — we never wanted to carry that bandit name for the rest of our lives…”
“Little Seven, you’re still young. You still have the chance to become a real soldier someday. After you protect the mistress and the others safely to Jizhou, make your case to the right people, join the Ning Army, and don’t spare yourself. Prove yourself with your own ability.”
He exhaled heavily: “I’ve done many wrong things in my time. The Commander showed me what kind of person I should be. He saved us. We can’t let the General fight rearguard for us…”
Little Seven raised his hand to wipe the tears from his eyes: “But…”
“No buts.”
Qiao Mo exhaled heavily again: “You’ve done nothing wrong. You can live with a clean conscience. I can’t. My death is penance.”
Little Seven made to speak again, and Qiao Mo shook his head: “Let me have this.”
He smiled: “Let’s not talk about this anymore. Right now I need you to help me with one thing.”
Little Seven asked immediately: “What?”
Qiao Mo said: “Go ask Elder An to bring me a jug of wine. I’m genuinely craving a drink.”
Little Seven was on his feet in an instant: “I’ll go right now.”
Qiao Mo watched Little Seven run off and felt as though he were watching a younger version of himself — that same simplicity, that same whole-hearted sense of justice.
He had taken a few wrong turns in his life. When he was first with the White Mountain Army, he had done evil, and he had killed the innocent.
One of the sharpest pains a person could carry through a lifetime was the knowledge of what they could not undo.
A person could turn back. But no one could be young again.
“The enemy’s reinforcements are here!”
At that moment, a shout went up from somewhere nearby — the voice barely holding back a tremor of fear. After this many days of resistance, every person inside was running on empty. No one could honestly say they weren’t afraid.
But the people of Mengguangu had never made a habit of yielding to bandits. Even with fear in their hearts, their courage would always prevail.
“Prepare to receive them!”
Qiao Mo pushed off the wall and stood, looking out over the open ground.
Across the white expanse, the Shanhai Army’s reinforcements appeared in a dark, sweeping mass — like a wave rolling in without end.
That dense, countless formation was enough to make the scalp prickle. There had to be at least several tens of thousands of them.
At the sight of enemy numbers like that, every person on the wooden wall seemed to hold their breath — perhaps they had simply forgotten how to breathe.
In the center of the Shanhai Army’s column, Lu Wuman sat atop a war carriage drawn by nine horses, eyes closed.
He was, in truth, deeply displeased. Xu Heihu had taken several thousand of his elite troops and couldn’t manage to take a single village. That was unacceptable to him — and once word got out, the Shanhai Army would be a laughingstock.
People change. When Lu Wuman had fled Jizhou he’d been in wretched shape. But since declaring himself the Mountain-Calling King of Yanzhou and holding the power of life and death over everything in his domain, the vicious pride buried in his nature had surged back to the surface.
His approach to commanding troops held no great strategic refinement. His control over his subordinates came down to four words: heavy reward, heavy punishment.
Those who won in battle received rewards generous enough to make a man’s eyes light up. Not only would there be gold and silver in abundance — he also declared that anything seized in the aftermath of victory belonged entirely to the victorious unit.
Everything. Gold, grain, and women included.
This transformed the men of the Shanhai Army into something feral and savage. When they marched out and fought, they never left a living person behind.
Regardless of age or sex — after doing with them what they wished, they killed them too.
In a short time, Lu Wuman had cultivated this snarling, wolf-like ferocity among his troops through exactly this system of reward.
But reward alone doesn’t produce genuine allegiance. He also punished harshly.
Those who made mistakes were almost never given a second chance. In the overwhelming majority of cases, his method of dealing with them had only one form: death.
So at first, Xu Heihu had been reluctant to send anyone back for reinforcements.
On the second day of the attack on Mengguangu, he’d sent men back — but he’d chased them down himself and recalled them.
He knew that calling for reinforcements guaranteed victory. But he was more afraid that the Mountain-Calling King would have him killed for incompetence. He had some small confidence that, as one of the earliest men to follow the Mountain-Calling King, he might enjoy a degree of special consideration.
But the Mountain-Calling King’s temper was cold and ruthless. Since losing his eye, his temperament had grown even more frightening.
He was capricious. He killed freely. Yesterday’s prized subordinate might be hanging from a flagpole by tomorrow.
As one of the longest-serving men under the Mountain-Calling King, Xu Heihu naturally understood his lord’s nature better than most.
So he’d continued attacking — five or six more days of it — until he was certain his own forces truly could not breach Mengguangu’s walls. Only then did he send a second party for reinforcements.
Lu Wuman was a man who placed great importance on his own appearance. Back in Jizhou, he had been fastidious about the cut and tailoring of his clothing.
But now he was missing one eye.
So after leaving Jizhou, he had worn an iron mask at all times. Only when alone would he take it off.
The mask was fashioned to look fearsome. Perhaps it was modeled after Li Chi’s, perhaps he simply thought the look carried more authority.
Xu Heihu, seeing the Mountain-Calling King’s great army arrive, felt a tangle of emotions he couldn’t quite name.
He rode to meet them, then dropped to his knees in front of the Mountain-Calling King’s war carriage.
“Paying respects to the Mountain-Calling King.”
He fell forward with a resounding thump, and pressed his forehead low to the ground.
He made no excuses and told no lies. The instinct for survival told him that abject contrition was perhaps his best chance of staying alive.
Lu Wuman opened his eyes. He did not look at Xu Heihu kneeling there. Instead he extended a hand: “Spyglass.”
His guard quickly produced it. Lu Wuman raised it and looked toward Mengguangu.
After a moment, he lowered it and passed it back, then said: “A village with wooden palisade fortifications like that — and you had no siege equipment. This isn’t entirely your fault.”
Xu Heihu immediately began knocking his head to the ground in gratitude.
“This subordinate thanks the Mountain-Calling King for sparing my life. I will never forget the Mountain-Calling King’s mercy…”
Before he finished, Lu Wuman said in an even tone: “But that is my reason for not giving you the death penalty. It is not a reason for you to go unpunished. Anyone else, regardless of the circumstances — if they made a mistake, they die. You are a meritorious veteran of the Shanhai Army. I will be lenient.”
He raised a finger and pointed at Xu Heihu: “Sever one of your own fingers. Then I won’t pursue the matter further.”
“Yes, my king!”
Xu Heihu did not hesitate for an instant. Though fear rose in him — even a man as brutal as he was felt fear in this moment — he knew that a single flicker of hesitation would cause the Mountain-Calling King to change his mind immediately.
With the fastest motion he could manage, he drew his dagger, pressed his left hand to the ground, and with gritted teeth, cut off his little finger.
Lu Wuman gave a satisfied nod: “Go. Tell the people of Mengguangu — they have until noon tomorrow to surrender and present themselves. If I do not see them come out by then, I will raze this place to the ground.”
—