Chapter 26: Saying Hello

Zhou Tong led Cao Chuan to the rear of the formation, stopping before a clump of shrubs. "What does the gentleman think of this spot?"

Cao Chuan surveyed the position — roughly a hundred meters from White Village's wall, the earthen mound beneath his feet barely over a meter high. He swept his gaze around, found no better location, and nodded. "Here, then."

At his words, Zhou Tong turned and shouted. A dozen or so civilian laborers eating dry rations at the rear immediately ran over, knives and spades in hand, and began clearing the weeds and shrubs underfoot. In no time they had cleared a patch of ground. Right after, several men hauled over bundles of bamboo poles and planted them around the cleared space, erecting three bamboo walls and leaving an opening at the back.

Inside the bamboo enclosure, someone swiftly set up a long altar table and a chair.

Cao Chuan strode over with measured steps, sat in the chair, and tested it — not bad, the height was just right. At this distance, screened by the bamboo walls, no one on the opposite wall could see him.

As for the altar table, it had been moved from Hengtang's ancestral hall. The idea had come to him after that first demonstration of the "dharma artifact," because he was uncertain of one thing: if the ancients on the other side saw themselves being aimed at by a strange object, would they just stand there dumb and unresponsive — even if they had never seen an assault rifle?

Now, a row of bamboo poles neatly solved that problem. The opponent could not see him, and neither could his own people — which also helped enhance the old man's mystique. Rumors could be spun at will, the wilder the better. As for the truth — well, the fewer who knew it, the better.

Besides, his marksmanship was, shall we say, modest. Without a bipod and an altar table, even at just a hundred-odd meters, relying purely on arm strength to hold the rifle steady — he truly had no confidence.

Zhou Tong saw Cao Chuan nod from his chair and waved at Zhao Si. In short order, a bowl of parched rice, a slab of cold meat, and a bamboo tube of spring water appeared on the altar table.

By the time a certain someone had eaten and drunk his fill, the men on both sides of the wall had more or less finished their rest and reorganization. The fighters of Pingfeng Stronghold rose to their feet one after another, while the figures on the wall gradually multiplied. With strength restored, foul curses once again echoed across the battle lines.

Once Zhao Si had cleared the tabletop, Cao Chuan waved a hand. At his feet appeared a long aluminum case. He opened it, took out a K17 kit, and slowly began assembling it.

At that moment, just outside the bamboo enclosure, all of Pingfeng Stronghold's leaders were gathered. Chen Huoding was pacing back and forth in agitation, craning his neck. Zhou Tong extended a palm and pressed it downward before him, signaling him to be patient. Only when Cao Chuan called out from within did Zhou Tong turn and step through the bamboo fence.

Cao Chuan was sitting in the chair, eyes closed in repose. On the altar table lay a fully assembled K17 with its complete accessory kit, beside it several magazines and a box of grenades neatly arranged. Zhou Tong entered, bent forward, and murmured beside Cao Chuan's ear, "Sir."

Cao Chuan opened his eyes, looked at Zhou Tong, and asked mildly, "Great Boss, this White Manor crew — robbing merchant caravans, kidnapping for ransom, stopping at no evil — if they fell into official hands, that would mean beheading, wouldn't it?"

Zhou Tong nodded. "Some might escape beheading. If we go by the Great Ming Legal Code…"

Here Zhou Tong paused, caught Cao Chuan's puzzled look, and gave a soft laugh. "The ringleaders won't escape the word 'dismemberment.'"

The two men locked eyes for a moment, then Cao Chuan burst out laughing and clapped Zhou Datong on the shoulder, uttering a phrase the latter could not understand. "As expected of a leader — you've got a real knack for psychological counseling."

The next sentence, Zhou Tong could understand. "The hour has come. Won't the Great Boss go and greet the White brothers?"

Zhou Tong cupped his hands, turned, and strode out. He pointed ahead and said to Chen Huoding, "Go gather the men. The moment you hear the fire lance go off from this side, lead them toward the eastern junction. Once at the junction, don't rush the gate — wait until you see me wave the banner, then charge. Anyone who shits himself, cut him down with one blade. Morale must not falter in the slightest."

Chen Er Dangjia's face was alight with excitement, his dark complexion flushing black-red. "Big Brother, rest assured, I know what to do," he rasped. As he spoke, he pulled a desert edition riot helmet from behind his waist, jammed it over his head, and ran toward the main force.

Zhou Tong, still uneasy, shouted after him, "Charge only when you see the banner wave!" Only then did he turn and say to Chu Jianli, "Third Brother, guard the gentleman and the master well. There will be a great commotion soon. If anyone panics and runs, smash them with the flat of your blade. If anything happens, send word."

Chu Jianli crossed his hands in acknowledgment. Zhou Tong straightened the scabbard at his waist and strode toward the main force.

The White brothers were at that moment peering down from the stone wall. Bai Shouhu was in his early thirties; though his face was fair and clean, he sported a full beard, a long face, and a narrow nose. The two brothers looked much alike, except Bai Shouye was darker and leaner, half an inch shorter.

Bai Shouhu's uncommon peach-blossom eyes were fixed intently on the large force before the manor gate, yet his mouth curved into a grin. "Zhou Tong, that old goods, has only this much family fortune. Since he's come offering dishes today, brothers, let's not stand on ceremony. Don't let White Manor be accused of slighting an old customer."

A wave of raucous laughter swept the wall. Beside him, Bai Shouye furrowed his brow and pointed at the bamboo stockade below. "Just now I glimpsed someone dressed like a Daoist priest go in there. Has Zhou Tong gone senile, inviting some roadside alchemist to mount an altar and work magic?"

Bai Shouhu roared with laughter. "If he's working magic, he ought to at least dig a couple spadefuls of earth and pile up an earthen altar. What's a few bamboo poles stuck in the ground supposed to be — fooling the Three Pure Ones? The way I see it, that's a latrine. Old wretch Zhou Tong can't trade two strokes without getting the runs — that latrine is something the old wretch prepared in advance."

Bai Shouhu naturally had no idea that from the gaps of what his own mouth had dubbed a latrine, a sinister gun barrel had already emerged. From his angle, he could not see the scope's reflection either — and even if he had, he would not have understood what it meant.

At Bai Shouhu's mockery, another wave of manic, bizarre laughter erupted atop the wall, mixed with volleys of abuse hurled down at the men below. Those below were naturally not content to be outdone, and a din of verbal artillery erupted on both sides — for a moment, wall-top and wall-foot alike seethed with noise.

Suddenly, the White brothers simultaneously reached back and pressed a hand downward. The wall-top fell silent at once, and the large force below also stilled their tongues in the same instant. The crowd parted down the middle, and Zhou Tong walked forward alone.

After twenty-odd paces, Zhou Tong halted, raised his head, and met Bai Shouhu's gaze. He cupped his fists and called out in a ringing voice, "Worthy Nephew Bai, it has been many days. I trust you have been well?"

A cold sneer spread across Bai Shouhu's long face. "Great Boss Zhou, you've come today with your whole family in tow. Could it be that Pingfeng Stronghold has been flooded out, and you've all come to White Manor to flee the famine?"

A flock of sparrows suddenly took flight — perhaps startled by the legendary killing intent, or perhaps alarmed by the two men's shouts. Their voices echoed through the silent mountains. Amid the reverberations, a fine crosshair silently locked onto a certain someone's face.

Zhou Tong lowered his fists, utterly unprovoked by Bai Shouhu's words. He let out a long laugh and folded his arms across his chest. "I have brought my brothers to knock on your manor today to meet the man who has thrown Taihu into turmoil — White Seven, Third Master Bai. A stout fellow who hails from our own Mu Mountain, I hear he has won himself a towering name out on Taihu. Third Master Bai — heh heh — would this good friend dare to come out and show himself?"