The Gaojia Village Militia answered in unison, voices clean and loud:
"Understood!"
The moment Cheng Xu heard that this wasn't a death order, he finally let out the breath he'd been holding.
Oh, thank heaven.
So if things go bad, I'm allowed to retreat. I don't actually have to lock horns with Wang Zuogua until one of us stops breathing.
Excellent. Survival odds just rose sharply.
Nearby, Great-Grandmother suddenly flickered—and in the blink of an eye looked ten years younger, transforming into a ten-year-old girl. She stopped playing with her colored ribbons, hopped down to the ground, and began running around giggling, eventually darting over to the field ridges to catch loaches with her bare hands.
Adorable. Completely adorable.
"All right," Gao Yiye called out clearly. "Dao Xuan Tianzun's decree is finished. What follows is from me. I wish you all victory at first strike."
Cheng Xu straightened, spirit instantly lifted.
"Move out!"
One thousand militia members set off.
They first headed for the railway station, boarded a train bound for Bai Fortress, and from there entered Huanglong Mountain.
Once they went in, this wouldn't be a trip of days.
Mountains rose steep and tangled, forests dense, ravines everywhere. Finding Wang Zuogua alone would be hard enough. Wiping him out would be worse. No one could say when they'd return.
On a distant slope, Xing Honglang stood watching the column disappear into the mountains. At the very front of the grenadier unit marched a massive iron-canister figure—Gao Chu Wu.
She watched his back grow smaller and smaller.
A rough, cheerful female voice suddenly sounded beside her.
"Boss Xing, if you're that worried, why not go along? Forest fighting's your specialty."
Xing Honglang turned, saw Zao Ying, and immediately wiped the softness off her face. She snorted.
"Worried? About what? Who am I worried about? I'm not worried about anyone."
Zao Ying laughed.
"That Gao Chu Wu—he's a real dummy. If nobody watches him, who knows what he'll run into."
Xing Honglang's expression tightened for half a second before she forcibly regained control.
"He's not Flat-Rabbit. He may be dumb, but he follows orders. He won't run around."
Zao Ying burst out laughing.
"You're flustered! You're totally flustered! I told you—just go with them."
Xing Honglang shook her head.
"I can't. Suppressing bandits—one more person doesn't matter, one less doesn't matter either. I've got something more important to handle. The women in the county have finished a batch of embroidery. I need to transport it to Xi'an and sell it to the nobles. Dao Xuan Tianzun said it's very important—something about liberating women's productive capacity. I didn't really understand it…"
Zao Ying tilted her head.
"No matter how important, is it more important than your own man?"
Xing Honglang rolled her eyes hard.
"He's not my man! He's not!"
Zao Ying laughed even harder.
"This is great. Teasing Boss Xing is always fun."
Unable to take it anymore, Xing Honglang hurriedly changed the subject.
"Aren't you in charge of the cavalry battalion? Why are you loitering here chatting with me? You're not joining this fight?"
"Of course not," Zao Ying replied cheerfully. "I'm cavalry. Mountain warfare isn't our thing. Anyway—let's get back to Gao Chu Wu—"
Xing Honglang broke into a sprint.
Zao Ying chased after her, laughing.
"Boss Xing, don't run! Did Gao Chu Wu make any promises before leaving? Like coming back to marry you after the battle?"
Xing Honglang's face turned crimson.
"No! Absolutely not! Who would make promises like that? People die making those! Stop following me—I don't want to talk to you."
"Oh, come on, chat with me—"
"No chatting! I'm a proper Jianghu hero. I don't talk about romance!"
"So am I," Zao Ying replied brightly. "And I specialize in talking about romance."
Two women built like mother gorillas, trading the softest nonsense imaginable, one fleeing and one chasing, disappeared into the distance at full speed.
Huanglong Mountain, Northeast Ridge.
Hidden in a secluded valley was a bandit force numbering over twelve thousand.
Wang Zuogua of Yichuan.
Of those twelve thousand, more than six thousand were old, weak, sick, or wounded. The truly combat-capable numbered barely five thousand.
Every day, the six thousand scraped out survival—digging up roots, stripping bark, picking wild fruit, catching rabbits, pangolins, rats—anything that moved or could be chewed.
The remaining five thousand fighters periodically swept down into Yichuan County, burning, killing, looting—much like the bandits of Water Margin, hitting one village today and another tomorrow, roaming endlessly for grain.
Yichuan County was tormented beyond endurance. Multiple suppression campaigns had been launched. Wang Zuogua had fought officials at Yaozhou, Yizhou, Sanshui, Hancheng—every time running into Hong Chengchou. Every time he was beaten senseless. And every time, just before total collapse, he slipped away.
He lost and lost and lost—yet stubbornly refused to die.
Even Hong Chengchou found him a headache.[1]
At this moment, Wang Zuogua lounged inside his tent, left arm wrapped around a kidnapped gentry's daughter, right hand waving lazily as he chatted with Miao Mei, Fei shan hu, Lang si and others about where to loot next.
A bandit rushed in.
"Boss! Bai Fortress of Chengcheng County has suddenly dispatched a force several thousand strong into Huanglong Mountain. Looks like they might be coming for us."
Since the failed assassination attempt on Bai Yuan, Wang Zuogua had kept eyes on Bai Fortress, waiting for another chance.
So the militia's entry was reported immediately.
Wang Zuogua sneered.
"So Bai Fortress wants revenge for the assassination attempt? Hah! They stole our warhorses—sending assassins back is perfectly fair. What are they unhappy about?"
Second-in-command Miao Mei sneered as well.
"That Bai fellow's getting arrogant. Huanglong Mountain is our territory. Even the government troops don't stroll in casually. He sends a militia? Just a thousand men? What's there to fear?"
Flying Mountain Tiger frowned slightly.
"But their firearms are nasty. Last time, those strange bombs went off and our people dropped in heaps."
Big Red Wolf scoffed.
"Those weapons eat gunpowder like crazy. Even the court can't equip them in large numbers. You think a place like Bai Fortress has many? Last time we were just startled. This time—what the hell do I have to fear?"
Wang Zuogua nodded.
"Exactly. Weapons like that can't be plentiful. They've got maybe a dozen guns and a few odd bombs. Fighting on our ground, there's no need to fear them at all. Pick good terrain, set an ambush, wipe Bai Fortress out in one sweep—then we counterattack and strip Bai Fortress clean."
"Good!" everyone shouted.
Just then, a strange voice spoke from nearby.
"Esteemed chiefs… I have something to say."
They turned.
The speaker was a newly joined man from Mizhi County, known by the nickname—
"Chuangjiang."[2]
Trivia & Context Notes
[1] Hong Chengchou
A top-tier Ming dynasty general known for relentless campaigns against rebel forces. His repeated failure to kill Wang Zuogua wasn't incompetence—it reflected a broader late-Ming problem: armies could win battles but not finish wars. Mobility and local terrain often mattered more than victory on paper.
[2] "Chuangjiang" (The Breakthrough General)
A title implying aggressive, forward-charging leadership. In late-Ming slang, such nicknames often doubled as personal brands—useful for recruitment, intimidation, and reputation-building in an era where fame traveled faster than logistics.
Bandit Economics
Raiding cycles like Wang Zuogua's were not random brutality. They followed seasonal hunger patterns. When stored grain ran low, villages were hit; when pressure rose, bandits retreated into mountains. Hunger, not ideology, dictated strategy.[3]
[3] Confucian Irony
Classical morality emphasized order and virtue, yet late-Ming reality proved a blunt truth: ethics function far better after meals. Hunger routinely overruled ritual, law, and loyalty—an unspoken contradiction scholars preferred not to dwell on.
Firearms & Fear
Early gunpowder weapons caused disproportionate psychological damage. Even when numbers were small, unfamiliar explosions shattered morale—often more decisively than casualties themselves. Once the shock wore off, confidence tended to return, sometimes dangerously so.
Huanglong Mountain
A classic refuge zone: steep ridges, broken valleys, limited supply routes. Such terrain historically favored rebels not because it was comfortable—but because it punished pursuers more than defenders.