Chapter 119: Mad Demon He Yue said, “Eating human flesh isn’t rare in itself, but to flaunt it like him, and to even take pride in it? That’s something only he can do. Much of the infamy surrounding the rebels stems from his crimes alone.”
Zhao Qinghe picked up where He Yue left off, “After Hong Xiangqian’s defeat and death, Lu Yao gathered the remnants and fled south. Their arrival at Immortal Spirit Village is definitely not them merely passing through, as they have claimed. Their true goal is almost surely to rendezvous at the lake with two other rebel generals.”
“Those two are Right Banner General Wu Shaoyi and General Pei Xinyong of Hunshui.”
He Yue exclaimed, “When is this meeting, and how many troops are there altogether?”
“It should be by tomorrow afternoon, at Twin Moon Bay. Once the three forces are fully assembled together, they’ll probably number at least four to five thousand.”
He Lingchuan could not help thinking that he and his father were truly cursed. They had consulted the almanac before setting out, so was the almanac a forgery, printed by some crooked workshop?
Defeated armies were the worst of all. They were armed yet undisciplined, and they looted, burned, and killed worse than any bandit rabble. Within days, Immortal Spirit Village would be crawling with rebels.
Earlier, when they had heard the villagers here were just brigands in disguise, the He Family had looked down on them. Since time immemorial, outlaws never dared pit themselves against state troops. And the He Family’s forces were numerous, their soldiers hardened and well-armed.
As for He Lingchuan himself, after surviving several brushes with death, he had grown bold and self-assured. What was one more little nuisance compared to the storms he had already weathered?
Only now did he realize that their opponent was no common outlaw, but the notorious man-eating general, with a thousand and four hundred men under his command, and there were another two armies of similar scale on their way.
It was like a fisherman grabbing what he thought was an eel, even stabbing it a few times with his harpoon, only to discover he had caught the tail-tip of a giant anaconda.
Is it still possible to retreat in time?
He Lingchuan glanced at his father’s aides. Their faces were ashen and drained of all color.
If they tried to flee under the cover of night, what were the odds of success?
He Lingchuan was certain that even his father’s burning fighting spirit had guttered out by now. The time had come to think of escape.
One of the aides spoke up, “If we descend the mountain immediately, we might outpace the rebel reinforcements marching from Desheng Town.”
Hearing this, Zhao Qinghe shook his head and said, “That fatty confessed that Desheng’s troops have already arrived, at least about seven hundred of them. They’re camped at Whistle Rock, just over two kilometers from here.”
Gasps of dismay rippled through the group.
The rebels now numbered nine hundred strong, compared to barely four hundred in the He Family’s escort. And of those, only just over three hundred were battle-ready soldiers. The rest were women, children, and supply hands with little combat strength. In a true fight, their soldiers would be forced to split their attention to shield the noncombatants. The disadvantage was glaring.
Madame Ying and Zhu Xiu’er had turned pale as death. If the troops fell, what would become of the rest? Better a clean death by their own hand than whatever fate awaited them.
Yet at the mention of numbers, He Chunhua actually grew calm. “If Lu Yao holds the advantage, why hasn’t he attacked already? At the lake, he was ambushed by Deputy General Zeng and didn’t immediately launch a counterattack but instead sought peace with me.”
That struck home at once with He Yue. “He wants to preserve his strength!”
“Since their forces are to unite tomorrow, those rebel leaders won’t be able to simply sit down and sip tea like old friends. Rank will be decided by strength. If Lu Yao crosses blades with us tonight, he’s bound to suffer losses, which might jeopardize his standing in tomorrow’s council. That’s why he swallowed his pride and has chosen to endure us for now.”
In other words, both He Chunhua’s troops and Lu Yao’s rebels were caught in a delicate balance.
Neither side truly wanted to bleed.
He Lingchuan cast a glance at his younger brother. For all his youth, Little Two is really quick-witted. “So there’s still room to maneuver,” said the Mohe Jingxuan. “This isn’t a hopeless dead end. However, this so-called truce with Lu Yao will last only a few hours at best.”
“To negotiate with him is like bargaining with a tiger,” He Chunhua mused. “He holds off tonight only to keep his own power intact. But once the three armies are assembled tomorrow, they’ll surely unite to hunt us down.”
And what could rally a rebel army better than the slaughter of state troops? To them, a decisive victory was the very foundation their alliance required. Without blood to sanctify it, the coalition would never truly cohere.
He Lingchuan’s chest felt heavy, as though he had been cast back into that nightmare battlefield. It felt as if he were surrounded on all sides, and his future seemed utterly dark. Was that despair now to repeat itself in waking life?
Here they were, three hundred soldiers trapped in a mountain hollow, facing four to five thousand foes. Even novels would not dare write such odds. In truth, when the time came, his father’s men would be nothing but sacrifices on the rebels’ altar.
Madame Ying could no longer hold her tongue. “If we can’t leave now, and we can’t leave tomorrow either, then what are we to do? Are we to just sit here and wait to die?”
The dining hall fell silent.
If they stayed, they would perish. Yet if they fled, they would perish still. Somehow, without realizing it, their little band of three to four hundred had stumbled into a dead end.
But if heaven never utterly abandons mankind, then where was that one thread of life?
He Lingchuan remembered the battlefield in the dream. When the line of carts, wagons, and carriages was on the verge of collapse, what he felt was not despair, but a kind of honor in dying on his feet. They had held out until the long, bracing horn call that turned the tide.
It was the same now. Surrendering too soon was foolish; there were still hours until dawn. Time was money, and they still had chips left to play.
Seeing everyone frozen in their seats, he cleared his throat and said to He Chunhua, “The disparity of strength is too great. There’s no advantage to squeeze from ourselves. Father, have you considered borrowing outside power?”
“The closest town to here is Desheng Town, but the rebels already hold it. If we are to seek reinforcements, it must be from farther out, which means Qianteng Town. I recall there’s a local militia garrison[1] of Hebei over there. Yet after the battle at Woling Pass, who knows how many soldiers remain?” He Chunhua drew a long breath. “I’ll draft a plea for aid and send a rider down the mountain. If we can endure until tomorrow afternoon, perhaps... perhaps there’s still hope.”
“No, Father, that’s not what I meant. The rebels themselves are not a monolith. Are those Generals Wu and Pei truly willing to bow their heads to Lu Yao? Rather than stake our hopes on some battered garrison far away, why not try to turn their own strength against them?” He Lingchuan then caught the stares of everyone present and gave an awkward chuckle. “That’s as far as my thoughts go for now. It’ll need refining.”
“Chuan’er, what you’ve said...” A spark lit in He Chunhua’s mind, and the more he turned it over, the brighter his eyes grew. “Yes. Yes, that makes sense!”
For a moment, he had let himself be cowed by sheer numbers. But in truth, two-thirds of those rebels were not Lu Yao’s men. Rebel or not, the distinction was enormous.
He Lingchuan had merely pointed out the obvious, like breaking through paper on a window. It was worthless once said, yet invaluable before.
Mozhe Jingxuan followed the thread and also grasped the crux of the matter. “Lu Yao has gathered a thousand and four hundred troops, yet he only brought two hundred here to Immortal Spirit Village, leaving the rest in town. Why would he do that? There’s only one reason! It’s because this village can’t possibly sustain that many mouths!”
1. I know it’s a bit redundant, but this is just for clarity of terminology. I’ve added a note to further explain what this is ☜