Chapter 838: Spring Thunder Splits Tongues, Summons the Militia; the Low‑Ranks Revolt and Bind Their Officer

The blood line on Zhao Tiezhu's neck thickened slowly in the firelight, the blood flowing down the curve of his neck and soaking into the collar of his sturdy uniform.

A heat hotter than a blade surged in his throat, making his teeth tremble—not from fear, but because the words he had cried out beside the Jiangwu Hall bonfire were rushing out of his chest.

"Brothers, do you know who those winter coats in the corner are for?"

His voice was hoarse to the breaking point, yet everyone on the Xiaochang heard him clearly.

"They're for you! The Pillar of State allocated them from Zongguan Fu for your winter!"

Liu Biao's blade pressed another half‑inch against his throat, splitting the blood line into two.

"Shut up!"

Zhao Tiezhu did not shut up.

His eyes stared fixedly at the militia in thin jackets trembling in the night wind on the Xiaochang, his voice straining with his last ounce of strength upward.

"Liu Biao took your winter coats—what did he do with them? Don't you know?"

His finger, tangled in the coarse rope, frantically pointed toward the road behind the Military Camp that led to the town.

"Exchange for silver! Exchange for wine! Exchange for women! You freeze here until your toes turn purple, while he gnaws lamb legs and drinks fine wine in the barracks!"

The air on the Xiaochang changed its taste after those words.

The change didn't explode with a roar; it was like a needle piercing water skin, ripples spreading outward in circles.

The first to change were the gazes of the veterans in the front row.

They stared at the Dark Red Chest Badge on Zhao Tiezhu's chest stained with blood, at the wound on his neck still oozing, and at his eyes, blood‑veined and never having moved even for a second.

Then their gaze fell downward.

Landing on the thin, wind‑piercing jacket each wore.

Landing on the boots whose soles were worn through.

The oldest veteran lowered his head, glanced at his frost‑cracked hand back, the cracks bleeding in the night wind; his lips moved twice, his Adam's apple rolled, but no words came out.

Yet his hand involuntarily clenched the Long Spear beside him.

Liu Biao sensed that change in the air.

The change sent a fine chill crawling up his spine.

He withdrew the Horizontal Blade from Zhao Tiezhu's throat, turned to face the militia on the Xiaochang, and raised his voice to the highest.

"Listen to this dog's nonsense! The winter coats weren't issued because there weren't enough, I've already reported it upward, they'll arrive in a few days!"

Zhao Tiezhu's voice burst out behind him, hoarse as if rubbing his throat with sandpaper, yet each word hammered into everyone's eardrums like a nail.

"Not enough? Go check the Zongguan Fu seals on the bundles of winter coats piled in the corner! They arrived half a month ago—exactly five hundred pieces!"

Liu Biao's complexion changed.

It turned a iron‑gray mixing guilt and fury.

"You mother‑fucking shut up!"

He lifted the Horizontal Blade over his head, turned and swung it toward Zhao Tiezhu, the blade's wind tilting the torch beside the Wooden Stake.

"Brothers! The Pillar of State is watching you!"

At the instant the blade descended, Zhao Tiezhu mustered his last ounce of strength and squeezed this sentence from his throat.

His voice carried something that made everyone on the Xiaochang's hearts tremble.

The young militia in the broken boots moved.

His name was Wang Erniu, nineteen this year; last autumn he was conscripted from the Liuren into the camp, and the fifty mu of land allotted to him was the first thing he ever owned.

His sister enrolled in a school in Tongwan City using a free slot the Pillar of State had allocated.

His mother farmed at home, surviving on the few taels of military pay he sent each month, but after Liu Biao deducted thirty percent, the amount left couldn't even buy a bag of rice.

His toes in the holes of those broken boots froze purple, each step feeling like stepping on a blade tip.

Wang Erniu's eyes reddened.

He gripped the Long Spear tightly, the blue veins on his arms bulging in the firelight, and a roar rose from his throat that he himself had never heard.

"Fuck you, Liu Biao! I'm done!"

The Long Spear thrust outward.

The spear tip cut a straight silver line in the firelight, precisely splitting Liu Biao's Horizontal Blade; the blade's shaft was deflected by the spear's force, slicing three inches above Zhao Tiezhu's head, striking the Wooden Stake and driving half an inch deep.

The vibration of the spear's shaft numbed Liu Biao's palm for a beat, the Horizontal Blade nearly slipped from his hand; he staggered back two steps, staring in disbelief at the charging young militia.

"You! How dare you?!"

Wang Erniu gave him no reply.

He held the Long Spear horizontally between Zhao Tiezhu and Liu Biao, the tip pointing at Liu Biao's chest, his voice quivering with tears yet not a single word trembling.

"Political Commissar Zhao is the Pillar of State's envoy to speak for us! On what authority do you strike him!"

The Xiaochang fell silent for two breaths.

Then the second man moved.

A veteran in his early thirties stepped out from the fifth row, the Horizontal Blade in his hand half‑drawn, his voice as rough as a grinding wheel on iron.

"Wang Erniu is right! What's wrong with the Political Commissar auditing the accounts? What's wrong with checking the winter coat distribution?!"

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

One after another, militia stepped out of the ranks—some brandishing Long Spears, some clutching Horizontal Blades, some charging bare‑handed without weapons.

"Protect the Political Commissar!"

"Down Liu Biao!"

"The Pillar of State gave us land; what has Liu Biao given us?!"

Roaring shouts gathered from all directions of the Xiaochang, like a pot of boiling water whose lid had been lifted, the churning bubbles growing larger and denser one after another.

Liu Biao's complexion, as the sounds swelled, shifted from iron‑gray to pale green, then to a ghastly pallor he had never known in his life.

He stepped back two paces, the Horizontal Blade in his hand pointing at the militia closing in, his voice already hoarse.

"You, you have rebelled!"

He glanced back at the personal guards beside him.

He had raised more than forty personal guards for five years; they were accustomed to being arrogant, but now faced hundreds of red‑eyed low‑rank militia, the sheer numbers making the blades in their hands uneven.

Two of the personal guards had quietly set their Horizontal Blades on the ground, their knees bending a little.

Wang Erniu's Long Spear brushed Liu Biao's left rib, the spear tip piercing the fabric of his cuff and pinning his left arm in mid‑air.

"Kneel!"

Liu Biao's knees buckled under the combined pressure of the roar and the spear tip.

But he did not kneel all the way.

His right hand still gripped the Horizontal Blade, his teeth chattering, his mouth twisting a grin uglier than a cry.

"You lot who know no good or bad, I've been here five years, who ordered your pay from above, who protects your lives on the battlefield, you…"

A hand riddled with frostbite seized his back of the neck.

The hand belonged to the oldest veteran, the frost‑cracked back of his hand oozing blood threads in the firelight.

The veteran's voice was hoarse, like scraping the bottom of a pot.

"Liu Biao, the pay you fetched for us, how much have you deducted again?"

He pressed down on Liu Biao's nape, and Liu Biao's knees finally slammed onto the Mudi.

The militia surged forward.

The hemp rope binding Zhao Tiezhu was cut, his body slipped off the Wooden Stake, and two militia held him from either side.

The same hemp rope coiled around Liu Biao's wrist and ankle, tighter than on Zhao Tiezhu, squeezing his fingers purple on the spot.

The Horizontal Blades of more than forty personal guards clattered to the ground, each person kneeling in the mud, their faces etched with terror at their five‑year‑built "territory" suddenly overturning.

Zhao Tiezhu was helped onto a large stone at the edge of the Xiaochang, his wounds still bleeding outward, a few militia fumbling to tear their own sleeves to bandage him.

His mouth still bore the half‑covered curve of blood and mud, his voice hoarse to the point of a mere gasp.

"Brothers, you are fine examples."

Wang Erniu crouched before him, his eyes reddened, his voice thick with nasal tones.

"Political Commissar Zhao, stop speaking, first stop the bleeding."

Zhao Tiezhu shook his head, his fingers trembling as they brushed the Dark Red Chest Badge soaked in fresh blood on his chest.

"This badge was pinned on me by the Pillar of the State himself; as long as it remains on my chest, I will not let anyone ride over you."

Outside the Xiaochang, a heavy clatter of horse hooves suddenly sounded.

Everyone's gaze swept toward the Camp Gate of the Military Camp.

In the firelight, a black steed charged in from beyond the Camp Gate, its hooves thudding on the broken‑stone road.

The figure on the horse, clad in Xuanse Jinshen, emerged in clear outline in the firelight, the Horizontal Blade at his waist emitting a faint metallic clink as the mount jolted.

Chen Yan.

Behind him followed Gu Yuci and sixteen Beiwei Dead Guards, each gripping a drawn Horizontal Blade, the blue veins at their temples pulsing under adrenaline.

Hongye rode another horse, the moon‑white sleeves billowing slightly in the night wind, his right hand already resting on the hilt of a short sword tucked within the sleeve.

Chen Yan tightened the reins at the edge of the Xiaochang.

His gaze passed over the firelight, landing on Liu Biao bound in the mud at the center of the Xiaochang, then shifting to Zhao Tiezhu, seated on the large stone, his body drenched in blood.

Hundreds of militia on the Xiaochang, the instant they saw him, all bent their knees.

Not by order.

But of their own accord.

"Pillar of the State!"

A wave of voices surged from the Xiaochang, hot from being suppressed for far too long.

Chen Yan flipped off his horse, the sound of his boots on the Mudi striking sharply in the night wind.

He walked step by step toward the center of the Xiaochang.