At dusk, beneath Huanglong Mountain.
Huanglong Mountain stretched across the borders of Luochuan, Yichuan, and Chengcheng counties—rugged ridges, deep ravines, and endless forests. At the foot of the northern slope, a Ming army detachment had just arrived.
This force was led by Wu Zimian, the General Commander of Yansui Garrison, sent under the order of the newly appointed Provincial Inspector Zhang Mengjing, to eliminate a notorious bandit lord known as "King Yichuan Left-Hook," who had entrenched himself in the mountain.
A zongbing (general commander) didn't have a fixed bureaucratic rank, but his authority was immense—roughly equivalent to a modern-day military district commander.
Wu Zimian, in his forties, had a round face, greasy cheeks, and a belly that strained the straps of his armor. His poor warhorse wheezed beneath the weight, sounding like someone who'd just climbed five flights of stairs.
He squinted up at the towering peak and cursed,
"Damn that Zhang Mengjing! New officials always have to 'make three fires,' and I'm the one getting burned. This cursed mountain—so steep and wild! If I go in there, I'll come out ten pounds lighter!"
His close aide leaned over with a grin.
"General, the job might be rough, but the Inspector gave us plenty of military rations. If we just pretend to fight some bandits and pocket the food supply, we could make a tidy fortune."
Wu Zimian's eyes gleamed.
"Now you're talking sense. Why risk your life when you can make money sitting pretty?"
Just then, a baihu (company commander) slipped inside the tent, dropped to his knees, and kowtowed.
"General, I'm Li Baihu of the Yansui troops—nothing special, but you may not recall me."
Wu Zimian waved lazily.
"What's your business?"
Li Baihu whispered,
"I heard… that with enough silver, one could buy a way out from under your command. I've brought my payment."
He offered up a heavy pouch of silver.
"I don't want to go into that godforsaken mountain, General. I'm not made for dying in a ditch. I only ask to buy my life."
Wu Zimian weighed the bag in his hand, smiling in satisfaction.
"Very well. Take my seal and leave through the north gate. Tell them you're on secret military duty. Once you're out, vanish quietly—and for your sake, don't talk about this. If word gets out, military law will deal with you."
Li Baihu bowed gratefully, took the pass, and slipped away.
He was soon followed by Zheng Baihu, Zhang Qianhu, and others—one after another sneaking off with their men. In no time, Wu Zimian's army was half empty.
But he didn't care. Battle strength was worthless compared to silver.
Tilting his head, he mused,
"What else can I make money off of?"
His aide leaned in again.
"The Inspector also provided plenty of warhorses. We could sell those, too. If anyone asks later, we just say the horses were shot dead by bandits and buried."
Wu Zimian clapped his hands.
"Brilliant! Find me a buyer—fast. Before that fool Zhang Mengjing starts asking questions."
Meanwhile, at Gaojia Village.
The air was filled with laughter and the smell of food.
Li Daoxuan sat before a large pot of Iron Mountain-style pepper chicken, sniffling and sweating from the spice, but enjoying every bite.
In the training yard, the "Martial Contest for Marriage" was in full swing again.
By now, no one was counting how many times Gao Chuwu had lost to Xing Honglang. With another booming thud, he hit the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust.
The villagers groaned in unison:
"Oh come on, again?"
"Gao Chuwu, can't you win once?"
"You're embarrassing every man in Gaojia Village!"
Xing Honglang laughed heartily, rubbing her knuckles as she stepped out of the ring. Just then, her subordinate Old Zhu ran up, whispering,
"Boss, there's a hot deal going around the black market."
"Oh? What kind of deal?"
"Warhorses. Five hundred of them. Top-grade. The sellers are looking for someone to take the stock."
Xing Honglang hissed through her teeth.
"Five hundred? That's no small trade! Who has the guts to dump military horses on the black market?"
Old Zhu lowered his voice.
"The supplier won't reveal their identity—just that these are genuine government warhorses. You can inspect them yourself."
She frowned. This was serious business. If those horses were real, she could flip them for thousands of silver taels—but such a deal also screamed trouble.
Up above, Li Daoxuan's voice echoed across the sky, letters forming in radiant light:
"Xing Honglang, take the deal. We'll buy them."
The bandit leader looked up and grinned.
"Old Zhu, where's the handoff?"
"The sellers said anywhere between Shaanxi and Yansui—they'll deliver. They've got the means."
Xing Honglang muttered,
"The government…?"
Li Daoxuan frowned.
The government selling warhorses on the black market? That doesn't add up.
Xing Honglang sneered.
"Has to be corruption. Only someone high-ranking—like a general—could pull this off. And if we're talking generals, who else but Wu Zimian?"
Li Daoxuan sighed inwardly.
Another lesson in Ming dynasty 'realpolitik.' Even generals are pawning off state horses. No wonder the dynasty's falling apart.
Xing Honglang continued,
"Still, we can't let them deliver straight to Gaojia Village. That'd be suicide. We'll arrange a remote meeting point, collect the horses, then smuggle them in later."
Her eyes gleamed with resolve.
From above, Li Daoxuan looked down and murmured to himself,
A batch of warhorses… and maybe the spark of something much bigger.
Ming Context: During the late Ming period, the Yansui Garrison was one of the Nine Frontier Garrisons defending against Mongol incursions. Corruption among officers—especially the selling of government horses—was rampant and became one of the empire's many fatal flaws.
Trivia:Huanglong Mountain still exists today in Shaanxi Province. Local legends say its slopes once hid rebels, bandits, and "dragon spirits" who guarded buried treasure—perhaps a faint echo of this very tale.