Chapter 88: The Procession of Refugees

So, whenever she received fresh and juicy gossip, how could she bear not to share it with her other old sisters? He Lingchuan shook his head. His father had sent many people to the capital, so by then, it wouldn't just be Old Lady He spreading the news. His second brother’s deduction was correct; his father was doing his best to push the rumors among the common folk, leaving the Royal Court no opportunity to deny the He family's contributions.

On his way to get a meal, two bolts of lightning suddenly rolled across the sky.

It had only been clear for two days, and the muffled thunder returned along with the heavy rain.

……

The pouring rain was so heavy it was hard to keep one's eyes open; He Lingchuan wiped the water from his face. In just those dozen or so breaths of time, his underpants and socks were soaked through, sticking to his body in a most uncomfortable way.

He had only gone to the latrine after his meal, so how had the scene changed completely the moment he stepped out?

Everything was pitch black all around; the He family’s wind-proof lanterns were nowhere to be seen, and he could only rely on the light from the lightning that occasionally streaked across the sky.

Although it was too dark to see clearly, He Lingchuan was absolutely certain this was not the He manor, because the dense weeds before him were already as tall as a person. If the gardeners of the He manor dared to be this lazy and slack off, they would have been driven out by Lady Ying long ago.

There was mud, sand, water, and grass roots on the ground; he walked unsteadily, and with no path ahead, he could only push through the grass to move forward.

He Lingchuan glanced back and discovered a giant rock behind him; not even a few stalks of sweet flag grew on the steep, solid basalt.

There was no path behind, so he could only go forward.

The youth groped his way forward, walking about a dozen zhang, when suddenly his feet found no purchase! He had been concentrating fully, only shifting his weight once he had stepped firmly, so when his left foot suddenly stepped into empty air, he did not panic; he leaned backward and retreated.

Pushing aside the grass, He Lingchuan realized this was a dead end.

Beneath his feet was a cliff, with a drop of seven or eight zhang (over twenty meters) to the ground.

If he had stepped into the void and tumbled down, he might not have lost his life, but he would at least have been half-killed.

He Lingchuan let out a long sigh, wiping the grass seeds and rainwater from his face. How did he end up in this desolate wilderness? Having had the experience from last time, he was not overly surprised.

Whenever there was this kind of inexplicable scene transition combined with a lapse in memory, it was mostly the broken blade playing tricks again.

However, while this fellow was dragging him into a dream, couldn't it have conveniently handed him a blade? Even if it were only good for cutting grass to clear a path, that would be something.

Now, where was he supposed to go? Two consecutive blue-white bolts of lightning illuminated the universe, and also instantly lit up He Lingchuan’s field of vision.

Only then did he discover that below the cliff was a vast plain with only a few small hills here and there; from where he stood, he could already look down upon all the smaller mountains.

Most importantly, there were people on the plain!

This was a long procession, walking almost right against the base of the low cliff where He Lingchuan was, less than fifteen zhang away from him. From his angle, he could not see the end of the procession in his field of view.

It was not an army.

There were men and women in the procession, and judging by their clothing, most were commoners. The wealthy could ride in carriages or on horses, while ordinary people could only brave the wind and rain, supporting one another as they walked forward.

Most people carried things on their shoulders or in their hands, and the oxen and donkeys were also loaded with household goods; dogs darted about under everyone’s feet. He Lingchuan even saw an eleven or twelve-year-old girl, tightly gripping her mother’s hand while clutching a small kitten to her chest.

Washed by the rain, her small face was deathly pale, making her eyes appear even larger and rounder, filled with confusion and helplessness.

Was this a procession of refugees? Cavalrymen frequently patrolled back and forth, just like soldier ants busily moving around a marching colony.

He Lingchuan was very familiar with the light armor of these cavalrymen; one look told him they were the Great Wind Army.

The Great Wind Army had appeared very early this time.

He Lingchuan considered for a dozen breaths before deciding to blend into this procession. Otherwise, in this desolate wilderness, where else was there for him to go? Following the Great Wind Army, the procession at least had a goal, right?

Most importantly, he had already seen a cavalryman hand his horse over to a companion, run to the edge of the cliff, and begin climbing up using both hands and feet.

With the sky so dark and the grass so tall, He Lingchuan felt it unlikely he would be discovered, so there was only one reason for this cavalryman to climb the mountain in the rain: he was a scout, and climbing to the highest point to keep watch for the procession was his duty.

This also indirectly indicated that there were pursuers behind the procession.

He Lingchuan did not think further and quietly descended the mountain from the other side, clinging to the solid rock.

The torrential rain could cover most movements, and everyone had to keep their heads down to watch their footing in the pitch-black night. Besides, many people in the procession would quietly step out behind small hills to relieve themselves and then return, so he easily blended into the group without encountering any trouble.

In a procession of refugees, who knew whom?

Even the Great Wind Army cavalrymen who swept past from time to time ignored him completely.

Last time, he was discovered the moment he entered the scene, only because he was a stranger in a strange land, and the locals could see through him at a glance; now, he hid in the vast ocean of people, keeping his head low and eyes submissive like the commoners, so how would the cavalrymen have the time to spare him a second glance? Just like that, He Lingchuan followed the procession quietly for over an hour, even helping people carry things along the way and receiving a few words of thanks, using the opportunity to fish for information.

The rain on the plain never ceased; if one opened their mouth at this time, the cold rainwater would flow right in. But in return for his help, this family explained that they lived near the winery in Wei Town, Weicheng.

The master of the house was surnamed Liu, and his daily work was brewing wine in the workshop; because he was third in his generation within the clan, others simply called him Liu Sanjiu. He was fleeing with his wife and two children only because the offensive by the Baling Army this time was particularly fierce, and Weicheng could not be held, so everyone had to pack up and flee for their lives overnight, with many valuables left behind.

Fortunately, they had only been walking for a few hours when the Great Wind Army arrived to provide support, putting everyone’s minds at ease.

So, where were they going? Liu Sanjiu said that if they could walk east to Shadan Pass, they would be safe, as that was the territory of Panlong City.

How much further was it?

On this plain without any coordinate markers, no one knew.

Having followed the procession for so long, He Lingchuan felt a little heavy-hearted, because he knew this scene had very likely happened in reality in history.

Although the Panlong Wasteland was named a wasteland, it was far more fertile than the deserts that came later and could support many cities. He remembered that Weicheng seemed to be several hundred miles west of Panlong City, with elite troops and ample provisions, and it had held out for nearly twenty years under enemy offensives.

What he saw today was likely the scene before Weicheng was breached; he could be considered a witness to history.

The most pitiful thing was that some commoners were not leaving their homes for the first time.

(End of chapter)