Chapter 144: Asking the World, How Many Snows Can One Get?

Autumn wind sweeps across, the vast wilderness clear and cold.

Withered vegetation envelops the chill, the mud cold, frost deep.

Du Shanü brought three or four donkey carts, as well as a mighty throng of twenty-plus people on horseback, exiting the city gate, heading north.

Horse hooves trod on the muddy official road, splashing mud droplets that fell into the empty fields, not stirring a ripple.

Occasionally on the field ridges one could see overturned single-wheel carts, their ruts filled with dried mud, the owners' whereabouts unknown.

The farther north they went, the sparser the population, the more decrepit the villages by the roadside.

Roofs collapsed more than half, black gaping holes stared open, inside no human voices, no dog barks, only the wind whimpering through broken windows.

Du Shanü rode the jet-black steed, leading the way.

The soldiers following behind all wore face coverings, silent and speechless.

No one spoke, nor did anyone urge the horses.

Human hearts are flesh after all; moreover, they were originally plain commoners, previously recruited by Dun Cheng for manpower, only then drafted into the military.

These places might have been fields once tilled by someone.

Or perhaps they were once someone's home.

After the group had driven for most of the day, with the sun moving from east to overhead then slanting westward, Du Shanü finally raised her hand to tighten the reins, slightly easing the horse's pace.

She narrowed her eyes toward the not‑far distance—

Ju Cheng lay within arm's reach.

The city still stood, but it was no longer a city.

Ju Cheng's city gates stood wide open; the banners once planted on its walls had vanished, leaving only a few bare flagpoles askew, pointing at the sky.

Even though Du Shanü wore a mask, she could not block that surge of foul stench.

The scene inside the city was worse than anyone's worst expectations.

The streets were covered in semi‑dry sludge, bottomless.

At the base of collapsed walls lay piles of debris—torn cloth, broken tiles, snapped bench legs—all coated in a layer of gray‑black mildew.

Mosquitoes and flies swarmed the city in unbelievable numbers, black masses buzzing in clusters, hovering over the rotting, sunken corpses, competing with maggots for food, emitting a nonstop buzzing that made one's skin crawl.

Behind Du Shanü someone retched dryly, then swallowed it back.

She herself also frowned; her ever‑present Chinu rode forward and advised:

"\"There could be no survivors; even if there were, the disease they carry would not be mild...... Wife Master, take action. \""

Just five simple words, yet Du Shanü knew what he meant—

【Burn the City】

In places of flood and rotting corpses, first collect toxins, dry dampness, then set fire to burn—this has been the most extreme measure employed by governments and armies since ancient times to confront great disasters and plagues...... yet it is also the most orthodox epidemic prevention method.

This act harms the harmony of heaven.

Yet this act can avoid a more gruesome "slow death."

Yes.

Heaven and earth are never lenient, nor do they ever grant only a swift, clean death.

If the city is not burned, leaving corpses to rot, any stir of wind could spread the plague, bringing disaster to the surrounding hundred li, even a thousand li.

After contracting the plague, one does not die immediately but suffers fever, festering, vomiting, diarrhea, total bodily collapse—whole families perish, infecting each other, corpses litter the fields, people resort to cannibalism...

The anguish of plague is a prolonged anguish.

To preserve the livelihoods, troops, and foundations of the surrounding thousand li, to end the source of plague, one must sacrifice a city.

Du Shanü naturally knows which is more important, yet when this city lies plainly before her eyes, she always feels a momentary daze.

Especially, this city—she had been here before.

Back then, Ju Cheng could hardly be called prosperous, full of grimy‑footed barefoot paupers, a few soldiers loafing at the gate, shaking down passing merchants, cursing while guarding the entry fee...

Yet back then, it at least had some liveliness.

Du Shanü rode along the official road when a child chased a yellow dog, a pancake‑seller lacking silver to enter the city simply set down his load and shouted his wares on the spot, while a few men lounged in the sun at the base of the wall.

This certainly wasn't good, but at least they were alive.

Being alive meant there was still hope.

And now...

Du Shanü closed her eyes, then opened them again.

Before her lay only a silent, empty city, and those owls perched on the walls waiting for nightfall to feed.

Heaven and earth are merciless.

Whenever someone thinks their heart is hard as iron, heaven takes up the knife and cuts another slice into their chest.

That wound does not hurt at first, but when the night grows deep and all is quiet, upon close inspection one realizes it has already been thrust through, leaving one numb to any pain.

How did it come to this?

Du Shanü did not know, yet she unconsciously spoke:

"\"A Nu...... I want to become an emperor who lets the world know no more suffering. \""

She finally understood why Yu Baobao, when mentioning the world, feels guilty about her own inadequacy.

This world...

If at that time someone had come to rescue the disaster, if at that time she could have had more people, if orders could have been disseminated......

"\"There will be a chance. \""

Chinu rode alongside her, matching pace, and whispered softly:

"\"This world will sooner or later be Your Majesty's. \""

"\"I will always accompany you as you reign over the rivers and mountains. \""

Even if Du Shanü were dumber than ever now, she still knew she had been duped.

What's more,...

In that dream, from start to finish, she willingly sank into depravity.

Behind her veil, Du Shanü curled the corner of her mouth into a faint smile, but she quickly suppressed it herself.

The next instant, she gripped the reins, straightened her back ramrod straight, and suddenly raised her voice in a loud shout:

"All units, listen—scatter lime!"

Her voice wasn't loud, yet it rang like metal and stone hitting the ground, cutting through the wind and stench, clearly reaching every soldier's ear.

No one hesitated.

The troops already lined up and waiting immediately split into several groups, pushing carts and shouldering sacks, spreading out along the predetermined positions outside the city.

Several able-bodied soldiers on the spot crossed two thick logs to make a frame, assembling a simple catapult—

"Fire!"

The first volley of lime packets arced out and smashed into the city.

The grayish powder exploded in the streets, everything shrouded in pallor and silence.

Then came the second and third rounds.

Lime drifted down, covering the city, the standing water, and the corpses lying flat in the mire, covering every corner where mosquitoes buzzed.

Countless white ash slowly settled under the dim, overcast sky of deep autumn, like the first snowfall here, blanketing a city that would never wake again.

Du Shanü stared unblinking, continuing to give orders:

"Spread it thick, cover every inch of the corpses' surfaces, leave no spot bare!"

So-called burning a city isn't just a matter of setting a fire and leaving.

A little carelessness, and the plague will spread with the smoke...

But fortunately, Du Shanü had previously discovered lime.

This stuff not only dries dampness and absorbs toxins, but also kills maggots and prevents disease.

The moisture in the mire was sucked up by the lime, gurgling with tiny bubbles, as if the dying city were exhaling its last breath.

"Let it sit for one day."

Du Shanü lowered her raised right arm, her voice sinking:

"Everyone retreat to the upwind side to set up camp, no one may approach."

One day.

Within a day, the lime slowly corroded the city, slowly seeping into every corpse and every inch of foul earth.

Moisture was absorbed bit by bit, the stench emanating from Ju Cheng vanished completely, leaving only the dry, bitter taste of lime.

Du Shanü gazed for a long time, and finally issued that order:

"Set fire on all four sides."

Four words, each word paused.

The soldiers split to the four sides, lit the fire arrows with the fire oil packets, and hurled them into the city.

Almost simultaneously, tongues of flame leapt up from the four different directions, joining together into a sheet, merging into a towering blaze.

The lime-dried timber beams, doors and windows, and corpses burst into fierce flame at the slightest spark, the fire soaring higher than the city walls, orange-red light exploding and turning half the sky into molten copper.

A wave of heat hit them.

Du Shanü stood at the edge of the heat wave, her sleeves snapping in the scorching wind.

Behind her, flames danced wildly over Ju Cheng's ruins, crackling, collapsing, and booming all mixed together.

Rolling thick smoke twisted into a black vortex, climbing up the ashen sky.

Ash drifted down from the heavens, turning into black snow that speckled Du Shanü's shoulders.

Du Shanü did not turn back to look again at the city blazing behind her.

She simply said:

"Go pick up Yu Baobao."

"This time, no matter what, I must make Ruansizong serve me... The sooner I gain the world, the less suffering its people will endure."

?? Eared owl: owl.