Cheng Xu didn't say anything heroic.
He didn't need to.
Before leaving Gao Family Village, he made sure every loose end was tied so tightly it couldn't wriggle.
Two thousand militia stayed behind, spread across the village and the valley like nails hammered into the ground. Then he sent for the oldest batch of labor reform prisoners—the ones who had been here long enough to understand exactly how fragile mercy was.
Chen Baihu arrived with his men.
Six hundred former Guyuan rebels. Once loud, once reckless, once convinced the world could be taken by force.
Now they stood quietly, backs straight, eyes lowered.
Cheng Xu looked at Chen Baihu for a long moment.
"You want out," Cheng Xu said.
Chen Baihu didn't deny it. He swallowed and nodded.
"I think about it every day."
"Then listen carefully." Cheng Xu's voice was calm. "You perform well on this assignment. You keep order. You don't start trouble. When we come back—I'll sign your early release."
For half a breath, Chen Baihu forgot how to breathe.
Then his knees hit the ground.
"I swear on my life," he said, voice shaking, "we will not shame you."
Weapons were issued—not firearms. Blades. Spears. Old shields patched a dozen times over. Enough to hold a line. Enough to prove trust.
Chen Baihu accepted every piece with both hands.
Only then did Cheng Xu mount up.
North.
The Dragon Gate Yellow River Bridge was already screaming.
Shi Jian's voice had gone hoarse hours ago.
"Hurry! Keep moving! Don't stop—don't stop!"
People poured onto the bridge like floodwater breaking a dam. Children clung to sleeves. Old women stumbled and were hauled upright by strangers. Someone dropped a basket—grain scattered and was trampled flat without a glance.
Behind them lay Hejin County.
A city without walls.
Without hope.
Shi Jian didn't regret abandoning the stockade.
The wooden barricades there were thin as lies. Two hundred musketeers. Two hundred garrison troops. Against bandits who moved like a tide?
He'd rather die on the bridge than bury civilians in a pen.
Sandbags were stacked at the midpoint. Stones dragged into place by soldiers already shaking with exhaustion. Musketeers knelt behind the crude barricade, ramming powder with hands blackened by soot.
A scout came running, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"Commander—cavalry!"
Shi Jian's stomach sank.
"…Cavalry?"
"Hui cavalry," the scout gasped. "Heavy armor. Border army type."
Shi Jian cursed under his breath.
Infantry he could stall.
Cavalry didn't stall.
"Faster!" he roared at the bridge. "Everyone faster! If you can walk, walk! If you can run, run!"
Panic rippled through the crowd like a struck drum. People pressed closer, bottlenecking the bridge instead of clearing it.
Shi Jian slapped his helmet off his head.
"Don't panic!" he screamed. "You panic, you die right here!"
Hooves thundered.
They appeared from the northeast—iron cavalry, ranks tight, horses breathing hard. Bows slung across their backs, sabers resting easy at their sides. Beards thick, armor uniform.
Real soldiers.
Shi Jian's hands trembled as he lifted his flintlock.
"Musketeers," he barked. "Hold steady. Do not let them reach the crowd. If they charge—we die first."
Even as he spoke, his eyes slid instinctively toward the bridgehead.
Dao Xuan Tianzun should have been there.
If there was ever a moment—
But Dao Xuan Tianzun wasn't watching him.
Dao Xuan Tianzun was elsewhere.
Shi Jian swallowed.
Then—
The cavalry slowed.
At their front, a man with a scarred face pulled his reins.
Lao Huihui.
He looked at the bridge. At the civilians crushed together like ants under rain.
His lips curled—not in a smile.
"They're civilians," he said.
He turned his horse around.
"Not worth it."
The command rippled backward.
Hundreds of horses wheeled at once.
And just like that, the iron cavalry left.
Shi Jian stood frozen.
"…They're leaving?"
A soldier beside him whispered, almost afraid to believe it, "They really left."
Another man swallowed. "The rumors were right."
"What rumors?" Shi Jian asked dully.
"That Lao Huihui's men aren't like the others," the soldier said. "Border troops. Abandoned by the court. They don't butcher civilians. They take strongholds."
Shi Jian let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"So even bandits," he muttered, "have rules."
The relief lasted less than a minute.
A scream from the watchtower.
"They're coming again!"
Shi Jian's heart slammed into his ribs.
This time, the ground shook differently.
Not disciplined hooves.
Chaos.
A sea of men surged forward—shouting, laughing, waving rusted blades and farm tools. A massive banner flapped above them.
Eight Great Kings.
Shi Jian squinted.
"…Western Camp."
Zhang Xianzhong.
These weren't soldiers.
They were animals let loose.
Someone in the mob laughed wildly.
"There's a bridge full of people!"
"Kill first! Take later!"
They charged.
Straight at the civilians.
Shi Jian raised his rifle.
And knew—
This time—
There would be no mercy.