Chapter 345: Divine Protection, Wild Horde Rendezvous

Then Wei Wenkui pointed out several more troublesome stockades, and Ma Xianglin's response was uniformly: if it was easy to take, blast it flat with cannons; if not, surround it and leave it. This time, when Daxia entered Yunnan, it had brought a huge number of troops and supplies—this was precisely how they were meant to be used.

After all, before entering Yunnan, both the King and Governor Zhu had guaranteed the army an unbroken supply of grain and pay, so as a frontline general, he only needed to win battles and keep casualties low—how much grain and gunpowder was wasted was none of his concern.

Ma Xianglin said: "We march southwest, aiming to open the road to Manhao—just speak of the forts and stockades that block the way." Manhao was a small village settlement on the upper reaches of the Yuan River; according to the pre-war plan, once the army reached Manhao it would obtain supplies that Zheng Zhilong had shipped in via Annam, further easing the logistical burden.

Wei Wenkui thought for a moment and said: "There are countless passes and forts along the way, but the vast majority are small forts relying on dangerous terrain, easily broken—only Kumu Fort is truly troublesome.

This fort sits on the shared border zone between the Jiaohua Sanbu Chiefdom and the Bazhai Chiefdom, ten li from the Manhao docks. It is built on level ground, surrounded entirely by gentle slopes, with open sightlines. The fortifications within are complete, and it also has a deep well. Once attacked, both chiefdoms will send troops to its relief."

Ma Xianglin laughed: "In that case, let the soldiers rest and regroup quickly—we march as soon as possible!"

Wei Wenkui acknowledged the order and left the tent to make arrangements.

"General, lunch is ready!" A personal guard carried a bowl of rice into the tent—a bowl of steamed rice topped with cured meat, pickled bamboo shoots, a few pieces of chicken, and a piece of fermented bean curd, with a bowl of pickled mustard soup beside it.

Because the army had just breached the seat of the Wangnongshan Chiefdom and the whole force had camped to rest, lunch could be made hot; ordinarily on the march they ate only dry rations.

Ma Xianglin picked up his bowl and chopsticks, just about to dig in, when he suddenly heard a woman's voice order: "Wash your hands!"

It was an extremely familiar woman's voice—it startled Ma Xianglin so badly he nearly dropped his rice. He followed the sound and saw Zhang Fengyi walking into the tent, her slender brows knit in fury.

Ma Xianglin was taken aback: "Wife? How did you get here? Guards! Guards, what the hell are you doing?"

Zhang Fengyi snorted coldly: "No need to take it out on the guards—I told them not to announce me."

Ma Xianglin's face changed in an instant, and he hurriedly rose to his feet: "Heh heh! Take it out on them? How could I! I was calling the guards to fetch you a meal, wife! Here, you eat this one first."

Zhang Fengyi sat down but did not eat, merely saying with irritation: "I hear that since you took command, you've charged into enemy lines on horseback many times, racking up countless kills—quite the talent you've grown!"

"Heh heh." Ma Xianglin scratched his head with an ingratiating smile.

"The Luoluo army retreated west, and you dared to chase them dozens of li with just a few hundred cavalry—when Mother found out, she nearly got angry enough to fall ill! If I hadn't come, I fear next time you'd charge straight into their lines to cut off the enemy general's head!"

"Heh heh heh…" Ma Xianglin laughed awkwardly without stop. Just then the guard brought his meal, and Ma Xianglin, as if seeing a savior, quickly said: "Wife, hurry and eat—it won't be good once it's cold."

Zhang Fengyi stood up and shot him a glare: "Wash your hands first!"

With that she pulled Ma Xianglin outside, and when they reached a small stream, she pressed his hands into the water, then took out tea-oil soap and lathered them both—in a moment they were rubbing up dense, fine foam.

Ma Xianglin exclaimed in amazement: "Incredible—this works even better than scented soap!"

He leaned in and sniffed: "And it has a tea-oil fragrance too."

Daxia's tea-oil soap contained no added foaming agents or fragrances; these bubbles and scents were simply normal phenomena of soap made by the ancient method.

But compared to the incompletely saponified scented soaps, the performance of tea-oil soap was still astonishing enough.

Zhang Fengyi said: "The King said that illness enters through the mouth—most of the miasmic diseases in the southwest come from touching unclean things with your hands and then eating with them, making you sick. So before meals and after using the latrine, you must wash your hands thoroughly—especially when eating dry rations on the march, you must be especially careful."

While the two washed their hands, quite a few soldiers were also washing at the stream's edge—since everyone had been issued new soap, they washed with particular care. Upstream, every hundred paces, a Wolf Cavalry soldier stood guard on patrol; these were the army's water-finders, specially tasked with locating clean water sources. The stream had been checked for over ten li upstream before soldiers were permitted to wash in it.

"Look at you—a general, and still less fond of cleanliness than the common soldiers," Zhang Fengyi complained upon seeing this.

Ma Xianglin said with a roguish grin: "Strange, isn't it—both are just common soldiers, yet Daxia's troops are far cleaner than Ming troops."

Compared to inventing soap, changing people's hygiene habits was far more difficult; hoping to invent soap and then use military orders to forcibly change customs, making a habitually slovenly army suddenly care about hygiene—that was impossible.

Back when Lin Qian was selecting his personal guards on Nan'ao Island, he had already set down iron rules: guards of his household must wash their hands before meals and after using the latrine, brush their teeth and wash their faces morning and evening, soak their feet in hot water every night, bathe once every seven days, and drink only boiled water.

Though back then they still used soap pods, it still changed the hygiene habits of the personal guards.

Later, as his power gradually expanded, guards like Wang Ruzhong and Sun Yu were promoted to senior army ranks, and their hygiene habits subtly influenced the ordinary soldiers.

Still later, military academies were established, and after graduating, cadet soldiers became junior officers who applied the knowledge they had learned at the academy to strictly enforce unit hygiene. It took nearly ten years in total to create this spectacle of soldiers vying to wash their hands before meals.

Ma Xianglin had joined Daxia less than three years ago, so his hygiene habits were naturally far behind those of the ordinary soldiers.

Zhang Fengyi said: "The King and Governor Zhu place such importance on tea-oil soap—there must be deep meaning in it. As commander of the army, you must lead by example—you are not allowed to bring your old bad habits over!"

Ma Xianglin laughed: "Whatever you say, whatever you say—I'll definitely wash my hands before meals from now on. Now let's hurry and eat—I'm starving… After we finish, this afternoon I'll find a fort and set off some fireworks for you to watch."

Inside the Tusi mansion of A'Mi Prefecture.

For days on end, soldiers had continuously come to report the latest movements of the Daxia army.

Since breaching Weimo Prefecture, the Pu army had spread large amounts of epidemic miasma and pestilent poison along the route from Weimo to A'Mi.

Unexpectedly, Ma Xianglin seemed to sense something and marched directly southwest—his original intent was to open the water-supply route at Manhao, but by a stroke of fortune he dodged the Pu army's biological attack entirely.

Combined with the earlier poisoning of the tusi, Bai Cha increasingly believed that Daxia had planted spies within the Pu army. He spent all day suspicious and investigating endlessly, which only made the various tribes increasingly anxious.

Wan Cailian, seizing the moment when the tribes were all wary of one another and none dared act rashly, formally brought in Sha Dingzhou as a powerful ally, thoroughly securing her position as the Pu clan's matriarch.

Sha Dingzhou's power was formidable—no single tribe could contend with him alone—and those Pu clansmen who had coveted the widow and orphan finally gave up all hope. But though internally stable, external pressure remained.

Ma Xianglin then breached more than twenty forts in one stretch, completely smashing the Wangnongshan Chiefdom, and the native official Long clan was slaughtered to the last. Even Sha Dingzhou could no longer sit still and personally rushed to A'Mi Prefecture.

In the tusi mansion, Wan Cailian and her son Pu Zuoyong sat in the seats of honor, Sha Dingzhou and Bai Cha sat at the upper left and right, Sha Dingzhou's generals surrounded them on all sides, and the Pu clan's various headmen and sentinels could only sit further back.

The faces of those present showed varied expressions, but most bore worry.

Bai Cha clasped his hands and said: "Matriarch, this old man suspects that Ma Xianglin's march southwest this time is because he received advance intelligence that we had laid miasmic poison along the road. This is bad news—but it is also good news."

"Ha, being seen through is good news?" a Pu clan headman mocked.

Sha Dingzhou said: "May I ask how Elder Pu means that?"

Bai Cha said: "At the very least, it shows that the Daxia army has no divine protection—they too fear miasmic poison and must march avoiding it.

And cultivating miasmic poison is no difficult matter—this old man has already ordered more to be laid along their marching route."

"What? All three chiefdoms are populated by our own clansmen!" The headmen immediately turned pale with shock.

Most of Pu Mingsheng's clansmen and Sha Dingzhou's clansmen came from these three chiefdoms.

Bai Cha said coldly: "This is war! If land and water are polluted, move the people out—that's all. If the war is lost, we will all be destroyed beyond redemption." The moment these words were spoken, the others all fell silent.

Sha Dingzhou said: "My five thousand troops have already reached Lin'an Prefecture, just waiting for the Xia army to be stricken by miasmic poison before delivering the fatal blow."

Bai Cha hesitated: "Five thousand troops seems…"

Sha Dingzhou laughed: "Troops are valued for quality, not quantity. When I took Kunming and slaughtered the Mu household to the last, I used no more than three thousand men. Map!" At his command, a soldier behind him took down a bamboo tube from his back and drew out a roll of oxhide paper.

What was drawn upon it was precisely the mountains and rivers of Yunnan, rendered with exceptional beauty and accuracy.

Sha Dingzhou pointed at the map and discussed the deployment of each tribe's defenses with Bai Cha. What Yunnan least lacked was treacherous terrain—so long as it was used well, a small force could pin down the enemy's main strength.

After a long while, a soldier entered through the mansion gate.

"Chief Steward Bai, the Douzui Three Passes have been breached."

"What? Which pass was breached?" Bai Cha said in disbelief.

The soldier repeated: "All three passes... have been breached..."

"Three passes broken in a single day, this..." Bai Cha's expression shifted slightly, sweat beading on his forehead, while the other native chieftains stared in utter disbelief. Wan Cailian rose from her seat and walked to the map. Sha Dingzhou knew what she wanted, and pointed to a mountain valley, saying: "The Douzui Three Passes are right here, sixty li from the Wangnong Mountain headquarters. The three passes form a chain, guarding the gorge—on both sides are sheer cliffs, and in the middle there is only one ancient road, at its narrowest less than one zhang wide. Easy to defend, hard to attack. For Ma Xianglin to break all three passes in a single day, he truly has some skill."

Wan Cailian's delicate brows knitted slightly: "Does the General's Estate have a plan to resist?"

Sha Dingzhou smiled faintly: "Mistress need not panic. Ma Xianglin has only recently entered Yunnan, his edge still sharp. The breaking of the three passes was already within my expectations. We only need to follow Bai Apu's strategy of exhausting the enemy, and we shall wait at ease while they tire themselves out."

Wan Cailian said in a low voice: "That method... will it truly work?"

"Naturally. Yunnan has been absorbed into the Central Plains several times over the past thousand years, yet has never truly been ruled by the Han—all thanks to these mountain forests and miasmic vapors. It will certainly work." As Sha Dingzhou spoke, he imperceptibly brushed his fingers across Wan Cailian's fair wrist.

Wan Cailian started in surprise, her heart pounding wildly, her face flushing crimson with shame. Even with her background as a former brothel girl, she dared not do such a thing in public.

She quickly withdrew her arm and secretly glanced around. Seeing that no one had noticed, she relaxed, then cast a reproachful glare at Sha Dingzhou.

That evening, as Wan Cailian sat before her mirror combing her hair, a figure suddenly appeared in the room. Wan Cailian was startled and covered her mouth with her hand, exclaiming in shock: "Are you mad?"

The corner of Sha Dingzhou's mouth curled up as he looked around the room with abandon.

Wan Cailian rose, saying anxiously: "Get out quickly—if someone sees you, we're done for."

Sha Dingzhou smiled: "Done for? My troops are right beside Ami Prefecture—who would dare make trouble?"

"Our alliance against the enemy is already strained enough as it is. If our tribes start slaughtering each other, there will be absolutely no way out. Get out now!" Wan Cailian said, pushing at Sha Dingzhou.

Sha Dingzhou sidestepped with her momentum, and Wan Cailian lost her balance, only to be pulled into his embrace. Shy and alarmed, she twisted her willowy waist in struggle. Sha Dingzhou's breathing grew heavier. He leaned close to her face and whispered: "Bai Cha is old but hard-hearted—he's already sent men to poison the water sources of the three chiefdoms. No matter how capable Ma Xianglin and Qin Liangyu are, they won't be able to fight their way through. This Yunnan is already mine for the taking—and so are you." "Who's yours for the taking... mm—" Wan Cailian began, but Sha Dingzhou had already pressed his lips to her slender neck.

"You smell wonderful." Sha Dingzhou's voice was low.

Wan Cailian, stirred as if drunk on fine wine, leaned against Sha Dingzhou's chest, barely able to stand, and whispered: "Don't... don't go out—" Sha Dingzhou laughed: "Then you'll have to hold it in."

"Ah~" Wan Cailian let out a soft cry, then quickly covered her mouth, her other hand pounding continuously against Sha Dingzhou's chest. "Gently..."

The next day, Wan Cailian rose an hour later than usual. Perhaps having slept enough, she appeared full of vigor and vitality.

A day later, fresh bad news arrived.

"Mistress, Chief Steward Bai—the Great Xia army has breached Qing Pass!"

Wan Cailian understood nothing of military affairs and could only look to her subordinates. Bai Cha jumped up, shouting: "Impossible!"

The messenger said: "It's true. Long Nanqing, who guarded the pass, was beheaded by the Guangxi soldiers, his head hung from a horse's neck—all the brothers saw it." Bai Cha muttered: "Marching nearly ninety li in two days, and still fighting to break through a pass—how is that possible? What of the plague? Is there plague in the Xia army?" The messenger said: "No, but quite a number of the people from the Jiaohua Three Departments have fallen ill recently."

Bai Cha flew into a rage: "I told Li Yaxuan to poison the route for the Xia army! Not our own tribesmen! What is he doing? Has he defected to that dog Lin?"

"Commander Li did as the Chief Steward instructed. In the streams and mountain brooks, he cast wolfsbane, yellow azalea, and the carcasses of men and beasts.

Along the route, in empty stockades and abandoned farmhouses, he left rice, flatbreads, and wild fruit soaked in poison, and mixed poisonous mushrooms in with the edible ones.

But the Great Xia army wouldn't touch those scattered provisions at all, and when drawing water they went more than ten li upstream—whenever they saw a corpse in the water, they would rather die of thirst than drink.

And the toxicity of wolfsbane and yellow azalea doesn't last very long anyway."

Bai Cha's expression was utterly bizarre. He opened his mouth and said: "Fine—even if the Great Xia army were all saints, unmoved by free food and drink...

What about the marching? I told him to smear poisonous sap on the grass, trees, and brambles. Did he do it or not?"

The messenger nodded: "He did. It was useless. The Xia army has men with machetes clearing the path ahead, and even if someone gets scratched, they're treated immediately. The poison smoke failed too—lit too early and it wouldn't reach the enemy; lit too late and the riders under Wei Wenkui would catch them.

Those Xia soldiers seem to have gods protecting them—they fear nothing..."

In truth, this assessment was somewhat unfair. This biological warfare had inflicted no small casualties on Ma Xianglin's forces—nearly a hundred men had fallen ill in total.

It was only that those mildly afflicted were cured, and the severely ill were sent to the rear, so the march was not affected.

By past experience, when imperial troops entered Yunnan, four to five out of ten should die from miasma.

Ma Xianglin's troops had suffered less than one in ten casualties—even fewer than the innocent local Luo Luo tribesmen who had been caught in the crossfire—which was what shocked the Pu army to its core. After hearing all this, Bai Cha couldn't help but laugh out loud: "The Xia army doesn't pick up captured supplies because they have plenty of food; they don't fear miasma because they have plenty of medicine; they can take cities and forts and drive deep in because they have plenty of gunpowder! How is that possible?

Do the Xia army's supplies fly over mountains and streams? If they truly had such ability, why don't they fly straight to Ami Prefecture?"

The messenger dared not reply.

Sha Dingzhou remained fairly composed and counseled: "A few passes are nothing to worry about. Let Ma Xianglin attack. The longer his supply line stretches, the more his provisions fail to keep up—and the faster he'll be defeated!"

That night, Sha Dingzhou slipped into Wan Cailian's room again. Familiar with the place, he blew out the candle and walked toward her.

Wan Cailian, worried about the fighting at the front, scolded: "The enemy is already at our doorstep, and you're still thinking about this?"

Sha Dingzhou laughed and drew close like a little puppy, sniffing the fragrance on her body, teasing: "What's there to fear?"

Wan Cailian frowned: "What fortifications still stand between us and the Xia army?"

Sha Dingzhou pressed closer and closer, murmuring: "Only Kumu Fort remains—and beyond Kumu Fort lies Manhao."

"Manhao—what kind of place is that?" Wan Cailian murmured to herself.

Sha Dingzhou said: "It's a small river port on the middle reaches of the Yuan River. Yunnan's land routes are hard to traverse—the Xia army wants to take Manhao and then use the waterway to transport supplies. But that calculation is far too foolish. Upstream of Manhao the rocks are many and the current swift—even drifting downstream is perilous. Trying to move an army's supplies upstream is nothing but a fool's dream!"

"Then can't the Xia army ship grain up the Red River from downstream to Manhao? Ah—" Wan Cailian let out a low cry and slapped away a dog's paw that was roaming over her body. "How would they? The Annamese capital sits right on the Red River. As the saying goes, how can another sleep soundly beside one's own bed? How could the King of Annam possibly allow that dog king Lin to ship grain across his borders?"

Even as Sha Dingzhou spoke of serious matters, his hands were already gently undoing Wan Cailian's clothes.

"The Xia army is ferocious now, but the moment their supply line is cut, their true nature will show. Even if Kumu Fort falls, even if Manhao falls, it doesn't matter—even if Ami Prefecture falls, it doesn't matter.

The longer the Xia army's grain route stretches, the more fragile it becomes. When the time comes, one strike will be enough to punch straight through them!"

As he spoke, he lifted up Wan Cailian, whose clothes were already half removed, and set her down before the window.

Wan Cailian had already been somewhat swept away by passion, but now she suddenly cried out in alarm: "What are you doing?"

Sha Dingzhou slowly opened the window. A sliver of moonlight streamed in, falling upon Wan Cailian's skin, making her shrink back as if burned—but her waist was pinned by Sha Dingzhou's hand, and she could not move.

Her face flushed crimson as if about to drip. She turned back to look at Sha Dingzhou with pleading eyes, shaking her head desperately.

Sha Dingzhou gently licked her earlobe and whispered: "You wouldn't want anyone to hear, would you? Hold it in now."

On the other side, Kumu Fort was already engulfed in thunderous cannon fire.

Fifteen mortars, ten twelve-pounder cannons, and fifteen three-pounder cannons poured fire upon Kumu Fort like water being flung.

From the very first shots, the two corner towers in the northeast and southeast received special attention. Solid shot slammed into the rammed-earth towers, producing a great, muffled thunder—as if drums were being beaten between heaven and earth.

The corner towers were instantly shrouded in a layer of dust. The hard, sun-baked earth around the impact points suddenly caved inward, and the solid shot was deflected and fell to the outside.

But as the bombardment continued round after round, the destructive power of the shells became ever more apparent—the two corner towers, like flaky mooncakes, kept shedding bits and pieces, and at the base of the walls, rubble piled up half a man's height, while spiderweb-like cracks spread across the towers in every direction.

With the cannon fire, the cracks grew deeper, the falling chunks of earth grew larger, and the corner towers gradually split apart, then were pierced through by shells, punched full of countless holes, and moments later collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Each of the two corner towers had been fitted with five Folangji cannons, but unfortunately their range was insufficient—even occupying the high ground, they never so much as grazed the Great Xia artillerymen before being buried along with the collapsing towers.

Once the towers fell, the mortars pushed forward in close pursuit, their plunging fire covering the entire city directly. The bursting shells made a terrifying din, actually kicking up clouds of dust in the humid climes of Yunnan.

In the dust, lead shot flew in every direction from the explosions, coming from all sides. Even for those hiding indoors, the bursting shells could smash through rooftops—the defenders had no way to avoid them and could only wait where they stood to die.

The three-pounder cannons were tasked with suppressing the city walls with ricochet fire, providing cover for the mortars.

For a time, the entire area outside Withered Wood Fort was a continuous roar of cannon fire with no respite at all.

Inside the city, the defenders were being battered into wailing and screaming—cries of agony, sobs, and coughing mingled together, all drowned out by the unbroken succession of explosions. It was truly a living hell on earth.

Even though Zhang Fengyi already knew the power of the Great Xia artillery, witnessing this scene still left her deeply shaken.

She shouted to Ma Xianglin beside her: "Shouldn't we conserve some gunpowder?"

Ma Xianglin shouted back, utterly unconcerned: "We're about to go all out—conserve what? Fire every last shell!"

At the same time, in the distant forests and mountains around Withered Wood Fort, the relief forces of the Jiaohua Sanbu Division and the Bazhai Division watched this scene in silence, the entire army struck dumb. The late Ming already had cannons, and both sides had used them extensively in the She-An War, but their tactics were to blast a breach in the city walls to cover an infantry charge—who had ever heard of a tactic of just firing cannons without stopping?

Could this even be called a tactic? Wasn't this just cheating?

Against such heaven-and-earth-shaking power, charging forward would no longer be a rescue—it would be suicide.

After watching for a long while, the relief troops of both divisions turned around in silent accord and returned to their own camps.

After half a day of relentless bombardment, Ma Xianglin ordered the artillery to cease fire—while the cannon barrels cooled, he sent an envoy out to ask whether the defenders in the fort were willing to surrender.

Xu Chen, newly assigned to the Foreign Affairs Department, volunteered for the task. Raising a white flag, he rode forward and shouted beneath the walls: "Will you surrender or not?"

After waiting a moment with no response from within the city, Xu Chen turned his horse around and left.

Just then, the gates of Withered Wood Fort opened, and a dozen or so native soldiers emerged, kneeling and kowtowing repeatedly, speaking words no one could understand.

It turned out the native sentry post inside the city had been blown to death by a single shell. These men had long wanted to surrender, but only now that the gunfire had stopped did they find the opportunity to open the gates.

After Ma Xianglin took Withered Wood Fort, the army advanced another ten li to the southwest. From afar they could see a great river rushing between mountains and terraced fields, with a small village on its bank, above which flew a dark red banner.

As the army entered the village, they came face to face with Mu Tianbo walking toward them. He had changed into a set of crow-black military uniform. Ma Xianglin did not recognize him and assumed he was one of the boy soldiers the Great Xia army had recruited.

Zheng Zhilong then led his men out of the village to greet them, smiling: "General Ma, why have you come so late? I have been waiting for some time."

Ma Xianglin and Zheng Zhilong had met once in Guangzhou—not exactly well acquainted—but seeing one of their own in these perilous mountain forests and valley streams always brought a sense of warmth.

He stepped forward with clasped hands and said: "Director Zheng, you really did deliver the grain. How did you persuade the King of Annan?"

Zheng Zhilong smiled calmly and said: "With the strength that Annan and Guangnan possess today, they are in no position to refuse."

Behind Zheng Zhilong followed Lü Zhou, the current Governor-General of the Water Chenla Agricultural Reclamation Company. For this grain transport, the company had dispatched its very finest. Ma Xianglin greeted each of them in turn, then said: "Let's first take a look at the supplies. Lately the Luoluo soldiers have been setting up checkpoints and poisoning along the road, and the Sha soldiers keep harassing our supply lines—we've taken heavy losses and need to replenish quickly."

Zheng Zhilong laughed heartily: "Please!"

The group walked together toward the river, where twenty flat-bottomed sand boats were moored, with six bird boats patrolling around them.

Civilian laborers were busy unloading supplies from the sand boats.

Lü Zhou walked ahead toward the sand boats and waved his hand grandly: "Fifteen boats are loaded with rice, these three with gunpowder! The other few carry beans and miscellaneous goods."

"Beans too?" Ma Xianglin said in disbelief.

Lü Zhou laughed: "Why wouldn't there be? The *Complete Treatise on Agriculture* says that planting beans enriches the soil. Water Chenla has the Mekong River's silt, but even so, planting rice year after year can't hold up—you have to rotate crops."

As he spoke, Lü Zhou walked over to a burlap sack and stood it upright. On the sack was a conspicuous red stamp, with the large characters "Water Chenla Chartered Agricultural Reclamation Company" written in the middle, and rice-stalk patterns painted on both sides.

Below the stamp were the words: "Black beans, produced in the eleventh month of the first year of Zhongxuan, Sixth Reclamation District, Tenth Li, Eighth Jia."

Lü Zhou casually tore open the sealed mouth of the sack, scooped up a handful—as if holding a handful of black pearls.

Ma Xianglin took it to examine. The black beans in his hand were plump in outline, each one distinct, with a matte black sheen on the surface. When he turned them over slightly, they gave off a crisp rustling sound. "Good! The beans are excellent, and well stored too!"

From the stamp on the sack, one could also tell these were last year's aged beans. In the hot, humid south, let alone storing them for over a year—even three months of storage made them extremely prone to mold.

And beans happened to be the most important concentrated feed for war horses—another reason the south was unsuitable for raising horses.

Lü Zhou smiled: "The *Complete Treatise on Agriculture* says: 'During the three fu days of summer, dry them thoroughly in the sun, and store them while still hot. First spread rice-husk ash on the bottom of the jar, then cover them with ash on top, and they will not be worm-eaten.' It also says..."

While Lü Zhou was reciting from the book, Ma Xianglin ordered his personal guards to bring over a war horse, then grabbed a handful of black beans and held them up to the horse's mouth.

The Jeju horse sniffed, then ate all the black beans with its soft lips, crunching loudly and snorting repeatedly—clearly enjoying the meal. The Jeju horse's characteristic was its tolerance for coarse feed; ordinarily it was fed only fresh grass and hay, but since joining the campaign, it had finally tasted concentrated feed. And it wasn't just the war horses—oxen and mules fed on concentrated feed also gained more strength, could walk faster, and work longer. For livestock, this was like a person eating braised pork.

With concentrated feed on hand, logistics would presumably run much more smoothly from here on.

After finishing, the Jeju horse stuck its head back into the sack, as if still not satisfied.

"Shoo, shoo!" Ma Xianglin waved the war horse away.

Raw black beans couldn't be fed in excess—too many would give a war horse bloat; they had to be boiled soft first.

Lü Zhou said: "This is only the first batch of ships. We have three hundred more sand boats that will arrive in succession. And this year's black beans are almost ripe. These aged beans, once out of the granary, will spoil if kept too long—feed them to your hearts' content!"

Ma Xianglin laughed heartily: "Delightful!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen