Chapter 116: Winds Rising (XIII)

Du Chong stood atop a peak on the Ceasefire Mountain, his heart pounding with fear as he gazed at the numerous campfires scattered around the mountain. Each fire represented a unit of the Ma Yi Yue Cavalry. At this moment, the true meaning of these campfires was revealed. They were no longer just the smallest units of a marching campfire lit for cooking, warmth, and light. Each flicker now symbolized ten armored warriors wielding deadly blades and swift horses.

Du Chong’s stomach growled hungrily, waves of sourness rising in his gut. Though he had some rations on him, he had no desire to eat. Below him, in the mountain hollow, the scattered peasants of the Xu family village rested, all sharing his dread and apprehension as they awaited an unknown fate.

Du Chong was tall, sturdy, and strong, second only to Han Yue in the Xu family village. The peasants here were well-nourished, robust, and physically fit. Xu Gan had always treated them generously. The village’s fields and taxes were all under Xu Gan’s name. Officially, the peasants were his tenants, but unlike other landlords who claimed half the harvest on top of the taxes, Xu Gan paid most of the taxes himself and only took a fifth of the remaining crop.

Du Chong was unaware that this was already a privileged arrangement compared to what most military retainers of noble families received for their lands. Because of this, he was well fed, warmly clothed, and strengthened over the years under Xu Gan’s guidance, practicing martial skills diligently. Now, broad-shouldered and powerful, Du Chong was a promising heavy infantryman capable of wearing heavy armor and standing at the forefront of battle formations.

His skills were solid—he could hold a heavy shield steady, wield long blades and straight swords, and was an excellent archer, able to shoot over one hundred pounds of draw weight with over six hits out of ten at fifty paces. He could also ride a horse, though his joints were somewhat stiff, limiting his close combat prowess. Even among the elite soldiers of the former Sui dynasty, Du Chong could have been selected as a vanguard.

Yet, despite his skills, he was still an honest, simple peasant who had never fought before and had no courage to speak of. In the entire Xu family village, although Xu Gan had trained all the peasants in martial arts, he never intended to lead them into battle. Just as he had kept the prodigy Xu Le confined within Shenwu County, unwilling to let him venture beyond, most peasants were just simple folk like Du Chong. Those with more reckless temperaments had already followed Xu Le northward to trade.

Now, on Ceasefire Mountain, a group of peasants with some martial ability, without a commander or courage, were little more than lambs awaiting slaughter. Though armed with straight swords and wooden shields, Du Chong trembled uncontrollably with a deep, inner fear.

For this honest peasant, the only comfort was that his younger brother had gone north with Master Le, escaping this death trap. The Du family line could still continue. Though inexplicably caught in this Ma Yi Yue Cavalry pursuit and terrified beyond measure, Du Chong had no thought of abandoning Xu Gan and fleeing.

When they had fled the war at Yanmen and nearly starved by the Sanggan River, it was Grandfather Xu Gan who had taken them in and raised this seven-foot-tall man. Now, every peasant here on Ceasefire Mountain owed their lives to Grandfather Xu Gan. Today, if their lives were to be repaid, so be it.

In the darkness, the wind howled like fury, the pine trees roaring, but Du Chong stood his ground on the mountain peak, trembling but unmoving, refusing to seek safety elsewhere.

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The howling mountain wind muffled the faint sound of footsteps through the forest.

Over twenty Ma Yi Yue cavalrymen, led by Shi Chaozhi, stealthily approached the mountain hollow. The glow from the campfires behind them faintly illuminated their path, guiding their silent advance.

These twenty riders were either scouts, sentinels, or core members such as squad leaders and fire chiefs—battle-hardened warriors skilled in combat and fearless in spirit. Clad in partial armor with shields strapped to their backs and wielding twin blades, they were lightly equipped for swift nighttime assaults.

Under the strict and stubborn lord Wang Rengong, Shi Chaozhi was constantly anxious. This was no forgiving master—any mistake meant disgrace and ruin without hope of redemption.

But Shi Chaozhi’s family had served the Wang household as retainers for four or five generations, and he had no intention of betraying his lord. His only option was to strive for advancement under this master.

Leading two hundred Yue cavalrymen to cleanse a small village should not drag on. If they had to besiege it for a week or more until the villagers starved, their reputation as elite cavalry would suffer. There were many vying for his position.

Shi Chaozhi was confident—these were mere villagers, insignificant as ants. He had carefully selected these men for this nighttime raid, already showing mercy by choosing so few.

Amid the wild wind, Shi Chaozhi emerged first from the forest. Twenty ghostly figures silently followed. Above the forest's edge stood the peak where Du Chong was positioned. From this vantage, they could look down on the hollow and strike swiftly, wiping out the villagers in one fell swoop.

Shi Chaozhi signaled the others, stepped forward, and pressed close to the rising slope, cautiously moving upward. All of them, including Shi Chaozhi, wore iron horseshoes strapped to their feet. Though the peak was steep, they climbed with ease. The howling wind drowned out all sounds.

Soon, Shi Chaozhi reached the summit and carefully peered ahead.

Beneath the faint starlight stood a large figure, shield on back, sword in hand, bow slung over his shoulder, vigilantly on guard.

It was a peasant of the Xu family village.

Just by his silhouette, Shi Chaozhi could not help but admire him—a prime candidate for conscription. If encountered on the march, he might have forced this man to join his ranks.

But though fully armed, the giant was trembling violently—clearly overcome with terror.

A cruel smile twisted Shi Chaozhi’s lips as he slowly drew his blade and stepped out to silently finish him off.

Under the stars, the man seemed to hear the faint rustling beneath his feet and turned, his eyes locking on the half-visible figure of Shi Chaozhi.

His honest face froze in terror. His hand gripped the sword hilt, his expression contorted. He seemed to want to shout, but fear choked his voice. He tried to draw his blade in resistance, but trembled so much he couldn’t even unsheathe it.

Shi Chaozhi lunged forward, raising his straight sword with the blade up and the back down, pressing his left hand against his right wrist. With one thrust, he drove the blade into the man’s chest and abdomen.

Blood splattered as the sword pierced unimpeded. Shi Chaozhi felt the blade tear through flesh and snap ribs.

That was all there was to it—a peasant was just a peasant. Their lord had tasked the Ma Yi Yue cavalry with wiping them out, a true honor for such simple folk.

The bloodlust filled the air but was quickly dispersed by the roaring mountain wind.

Far below, leaning against a rock like a statue with closed eyes, Xu Gan suddenly opened them wide.