Xing Honglang's army and Ma Xianglin's army continued pushing westward through the rain.
Ahead lay Daning County.
Ma Xianglin stared at the distant county town with his single eye for a long while before finally letting out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for years.
"Daning County…" he muttered. "A truly miserable place."
He gestured faintly toward the blurred outline ahead.
"In the third year of Chongzhen, when the Shaanxi bandits crossed the Yellow River into Shanxi, this place was already trampled once. Half the people were forced to follow the bandits. The city walls were torn down like rotten fences."
His tone grew heavier.
"I wanted to come help back then. But my troops were too few. I could barely hold Puxian. And then Zijing Liang sent three hundred elite bandits and took Daning in a single night."
Xing Honglang followed his gaze, her expression tightening.
"Then the people inside…" she began.
Ma Xianglin nodded once.
No elaboration was needed.
Rain poured down relentlessly, washing over the ruined county town like Heaven itself was trying—and failing—to scrub away the past.
With no city walls, the bandits had improvised. Stones. Logs. Broken carts. A chaotic pile of whatever could be dragged into place, forming a defensive ring that looked less like fortifications and more like the aftermath of a very angry market brawl.
Bandit soldiers squatted beneath the rain, cloaks pulled tight, weapons propped nearby. On the highest rooftops inside the town, several massive banners had been planted.
Even soaked and battered by wind, they fluttered stubbornly.
"So many flags," Ma Xianglin said grimly. "Looks like more than one chieftain crammed inside."
He squinted with his single eye, leaning forward unconsciously, as if sheer willpower could sharpen his vision.
It did not.
At that moment, Xing Honglang reached into her robes and pulled out a long, cylindrical object. She handed it over calmly.
"General Ma. Use this."
Ma Xianglin blinked. "Hm? What's this? Looks like one of those Western curiosities."
Xing Honglang smiled faintly. "Not Western. Made by our own glass artisans. It's called a telescope."
The name clicked immediately.
Ma Xianglin took it without needing instruction. He raised it to his eye—and frowned.
"…Why did they get farther away?"
"Backwards," Xing Honglang said. "You're holding it backwards."
"Oh."
He flipped it.
And froze.
"…They're right in front of me."
He inhaled sharply.
"I can see the characters clearly!" he exclaimed. "That banner—'Wang'! That's Zijing Liang, Wang Ziyong himself. Over there—'Chuǎng Wang'… 'Fan Shan Yao'… 'West Camp Eight Great Kings'… 'South Camp Eight Great Kings'…"
He lowered the telescope slowly, eyes burning with excitement.
"This thing…" he said reverently. "This thing is a battlefield treasure."
Rain splashed onto the metal tube.
Only now did Ma Xianglin notice.
Alarmed, he wiped it hurriedly against his clothes, then held it out with both hands.
"General Xing, this precious item mustn't be ruined by rain. Please, put it away safely."
Xing Honglang reached for it—
Before Gao Chuwu's voice cut in, cheerful and entirely too casual.
"Let's just give it to General Ma."
Ma Xianglin nearly dropped it.
"What?! For me?" he exclaimed. "Such a divine instrument—I wouldn't dare accept it!"
Gao Chuwu scratched his head, grinning.
"General Ma is a pillar of the nation. Someday you may fight in Liaodong against the Manchu. With this, spotting enemies will be much easier. You must accept it."
For once, Gao Chuwu sounded unusually articulate.
Xing Honglang, Lao Nanfeng, and the others all understood instantly.
The Puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun sat quietly on Gao Chuwu's shoulder, whispering each word into his ear like a very patient exam proctor.
Ma Xianglin hesitated.
If it were silver or silk, he would refuse even unto death.
But this…
This was something a general could not ignore.
He accepted it slowly, tucking it away with the care one reserved for ancestral tablets.
Then he clasped his fists deeply.
"Today, I, One-Eyed Ma, have received a gift I cannot repay. I will remember this kindness."
Gao Chuwu waved it off. "Small matter. Let's take back Daning."
Ma Xianglin's expression turned serious.
"General Xing," he said earnestly. "Attacking a city is not defending one. Difficulty multiplies. The enemy numbers over a hundred thousand. What is the strategy?"
Xing Honglang replied without hesitation.
"Strategy? None."
Ma Xianglin blinked. "None?"
"We charge straight in."
Ma Xianglin: "..."
Very well.
If it was frontal assault, then frontal assault it was.
After all, he was known as Zhao Zilong, Little Ma Chao, One-Eyed Ma.
When had he ever feared charging first?
He gripped his white pole spear tightly.
"Sichuan White Pole Soldiers!" he roared. "We go in hard—lead the charge!"
"Yes, sir!" the soldiers roared back.
Before he could take a step—
Lao Nanfeng popped his head out from behind a gun carriage.
"General Ma, please don't."
Ma Xianglin froze. "…What?"
"If you charge forward, our firearms will have to stop firing to avoid hitting you," Lao Nanfeng explained politely. "Your bravery would only help the enemy."
Ma Xianglin: "..."
Zhang Fengyi burst into laughter beside him.
Lao Nanfeng continued mercilessly, "And Sichuan White Pole Soldiers—don't charge either. Just protect our firearm troops and prevent enemy breakthroughs."
The White Pole Soldiers stood stiffly, dignity quietly cracking.
Ma Xianglin felt a surge of displeasure.
The White Pole Soldiers were famed for charging first and dying first. Since when did they become guards?
He wanted to argue.
He really did.
But then he remembered the telescope in his robes.
"…Fine," he sighed. "For the sake of that treasure, I'll listen."
He folded his arms.
"Very well. Let me see how General Xing fights this battle."
Xing Honglang waved her hand.
The Gao Family Village militia began to move.
Inside Daning County.
Wang Ziyong stood atop a tall rooftop, rain soaking his cloak. He had long since abandoned his alias.
With over two hundred thousand men, why hide behind false names?
If the court killed his nine clans?
So what.
He'd take another wife and make new ones.
Right now, however, his mood was foul.
Watching the approaching army, he felt pressure creeping up his spine.
"That army…" Wang Ziyong muttered. "Their firearms shoot far, hit hard, and work even in rain. What kind of monster unit is this?"
From behind him, Chuǎng Wang, Gao Yingxiang, stepped forward and whispered:
"It might be the Divine Mechanism Battalion from the capital."
The South Camp Eight Great Kings poked his head out.
"I heard that unit declined years ago. How could they still be this terrifying?"
Wang Ziyong stared into the rain.
"…If that really is the Divine Mechanism Battalion," he said slowly, "then Daning County… may not be ours for much longer."
Rain fell harder.
Somewhere between thunder and gunfire, the era quietly shifted its weight.