The moment Li Zicheng spoke, Bu Zhan Ni slammed a meaty hand on the table.
"What's stopping us? Speak."
Li Zicheng's tone was calm but urgent.
"Xing Honglang's situation isn't normal. She's supposed to be a salt smuggler, but she somehow has ships, cannons, and firearms. That's not something you pick up from smuggling brine and fish guts. Someone's backing her. I suspect she's not a smuggler at all—she's a plant, an imperial agent in disguise, laying a trap for us."
Bu Zhan Ni gave a derisive laugh.
"And what if she is an agent of the court? What then? Are we really afraid of them?"
Li Zicheng sighed. "We're not afraid of the court. But we should be afraid of the soldiers."
Bu Zhan Ni snorted. "Pah! Imperial soldiers? A bunch of soft-bellied bureaucrats with spears. Since we crossed from Shaanxi into Shanxi, what government soldier has ever stood in our way? Shanxi's Regional Commander Wang Guoliang—useless as a pig on parade. The moment he hears our name, he packs up and runs."
Even as he bragged, a scout stumbled in, gasping for breath.
"Report! Great Chief—Sha'anxi Regional Commander Wang Cheng'en's army has crossed the Dragon Gate Ferry and is heading our way!"
Bu Zhan Ni froze for half a second, then barked out a laugh.
"Wang Cheng'en? That dog still alive? I remember him—he gave us some trouble in Shaanxi. Didn't expect him to chase us across provinces. Persistent, that one."
Li Zicheng's eyes darkened.
Bu Zhan Ni continued, roaring with laughter, "Once, I might've feared him. But now? He's gone to the capital, kissed imperial boots, and came back empty-handed. No rations, no pay. His men must be starving. Meanwhile, I've got fifty thousand fighters here—each one fed and armed. Tell me, who's got the advantage?"
Li Zicheng's gut twisted.
Not again, he thought. Every leader I serve gets drunk on arrogance. Wang Zuogua was like this before he died. Now Bu Zhan Ni too…
He looked at his so-called chief and thought grimly, This man's already dead. He just doesn't know it yet.
Outside the tent, Li Zicheng found his nephew Li Guo waiting.
"Uncle," Li Guo asked, "why the grim face?"
Li Zicheng grabbed his arm. "We're leaving."
"Leaving? Why?"
Li Zicheng's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because Bu Zhan Ni won't live through this battle. Wang Cheng'en has crossed the Yellow River—don't you understand what that means?"
Li Guo blinked. "Is Wang Cheng'en really that dangerous? You sound like you're afraid of him."
Li Zicheng shook his head. "I don't know if he's dangerous, but I know this: no imperial general can leave his jurisdiction without authorization. If the Shaanxi Regional Commander crossed into Shanxi, it means one thing—the Ministry of War sent him. Which means this isn't some border skirmish."
He leaned close, voice low and sharp.
"The imperial court has finally decided to move. Wang Jiayin's declaration of kingship angered the Emperor himself. Now, they'll sweep through Shanxi like a storm. Anyone near Wang Jiayin will be wiped out."
Li Guo swallowed hard. "So… we're running?"
Li Zicheng nodded. "Running means living. Staying means dying."
Within the hour, the Old Eighth Squad—the same battle-worn brothers who'd followed him since Mizhi—quietly packed their gear and slipped out of camp under the cover of dusk.
Behind them, Bu Zhan Ni's campfires still burned bright and defiant.
When Dao Xuan Tianzun reconnected to the Puppet Heavenly Lord—the little embroidered doll hanging from Shi Jian's shoulder—it was already evening.
The pontoon bridge was complete, and the army of Wang Cheng'en had finished crossing the Yellow River.
The Daoist deity-turned-doll squatted on Shi Jian's shoulder, looking back over the Dragon Gate Ferry, grumbling to himself:
"Tourist trap. Overpriced, underwhelming, and no dragons."
A scout galloped up and shouted, "Report! The main force of the bandit Bu Zhan Ni has been found! Over forty thousand strong, entrenched in Hejin County!"
A dark light flashed across Wang Cheng'en's eyes.
"Hejin County… has it fallen?"
"Completely, my lord," the scout said. "The magistrate is dead, the citizens butchered. The streets run red. They've even torn down the city walls."
Every soldier's expression turned grim.
Even Dao Xuan Tianzun, watching through the doll's stitched eyes, felt his cloth hands tighten.
(Well, he tried to tighten them, but cotton doesn't clench well.)
Wang Cheng'en's voice rang out, cold and clear.
"If they still had walls, it might be difficult. But without walls? All the better. Prepare to march. Hejin County will burn clean by morning."
The army surged forward.
Out of five thousand troops, roughly three and a half thousand were ragtag conscripts—farmers, porters, the kind of men who tremble at their own armor. The remaining fifteen hundred, however, were elite, handpicked by Wang Cheng'en himself.
They advanced in disciplined silence.
From the horizon, Hejin County appeared—naked and broken. No walls, no gates, just a smoking carcass of a city crawling with bandits.
Wang Cheng'en raised his riding crop.
"Rout them."
The command snapped through the ranks.
Shields locked, spears leveled, and the imperial phalanx moved like a steel tide. Arrows hissed through the air. The bandits' return fire clattered uselessly off the shields, while the imperials' volleys cut swathes through their ranks.
Then came the thunder—the Three-Eyed Arquebuses roared from the center line, belching smoke and flame.
Dao Xuan Tianzun nearly fell off Shi Jian's shoulder from the recoil echo.
"Holy Heaven! You call those muskets? They sound like mini thunder cannons!"
The gunfire shattered the bandit formation.
From both flanks, two small cavalry detachments—barely a hundred riders each—burst forth, sweeping in from left and right like scissors cutting through paper. The rebels broke.
That was when Wang Cheng'en finally moved.
He reined his horse, raised his spear, and bellowed, "Main formation—charge!"
Shi Jian and Bai Mao shared a fierce grin, drew their weapons, and spurred their horses forward with the commander.
Dao Xuan Tianzun, ever the enthusiastic spectator, raised his stubby cloth arm dramatically.
"Forward, soldiers of the righteous path! Charge!"
Then promptly slipped and almost tumbled off Shi Jian's shoulder.
The deity of Dao laughed, even as war horns blared and the clash of steel filled the air.
"Mortals," he muttered. "So fragile… and yet, so magnificent."
⚙️ Trivia Corner:
Muskets, Mayhem, and Ming Tactics
The "Three-Eyed Arquebus" (三眼铳) was a real Ming-era firearm—a handheld gun with three rotating barrels. Soldiers could fire three consecutive shots before reloading, giving it the terrifying name "Thunder of the Infantry."
Effective range: about 50–70 meters
Reload time: long enough to get stabbed if you weren't quick
Psychological effect: priceless—nothing scared peasants like thunder and smoke
Tactical note: Ming armies often paired gunmen with sword-and-shield infantry for protection. Once the muskets fired, the spearmen rushed in to finish the job—a hybrid formation that foreshadowed early modern warfare.