Chapter 79: Recruitment

Returning to the human realm, they should have moved closer to the military encampment—it was only dozens of li away, easily reachable. But Li Zhi did not alter his orders; the troops still retreated toward Quyang as Wei Yuan had commanded.

After a few more moments of fighting, a great cloud of dust suddenly rose from the direction of Quyang County, and the ground trembled faintly—but the tremors were perfectly rhythmic, clearly indicating a disciplined elite force advancing in perfect step; otherwise, such distant vibrations would not have been felt.

With reinforcements arriving, Li Zhi and his personal guards were greatly emboldened; magic weapons launched arrows like they were free, forcing the Northern Liao cavalry to draw back.

As the reinforcements drew near, they could now see the forest of long spears rising through the dust—the formation marched in a square, each step perfectly synchronized, advancing like a dense grove, with an aura as mighty as a mountain!

The dust obscured the exact number, but from the length and width of the formation, there were surely over a thousand men. When Da Tang fought the Northern Liao, elite infantry always used long spears as shields, backed by powerful crossbows and Daoist magic arrows for long-range sniping, unafraid of open-field battles against Northern Liao iron cavalry. This reinforcement force was not only large but strictly disciplined, its aura surging skyward—no mere two or three hundred-man Liao cavalry units could stand against it; even six or seven would have to detour.

Seeing the strong reinforcements arrive and realizing they were now within human territory, the two hundred-man commanders refused to linger. They raised their hands. The two hundred Northern Liao iron cavalry ceased their charge, drew back, and turned to retreat into Liao territory.

After joining with the reinforcements, Li Zhi was astonished to see they were not elite border troops, but a group of ragged peasants.

These peasants formed a hollow square; only the front row carried twelve-foot spears, while those behind held sharpened wooden poles. Their leader, Fang He Tong, wore half a scholar’s robe, held a long sword aloft, and swung it with precise rhythm—each time the sword moved, the peasants stepped forward in unison.

The flying dust concealed their true formation; from afar, they appeared as an invincible elite force. Only up close could one see they were merely peasants.

Wei Yuan dismounted and walked forward. “Fang brother! How did you come here?”

Fang He Tong raised his sword; a glimmer of Daoist energy flared at its tip, and the entire formation halted instantly, hundreds moving as one. He lowered his sword and said, “I saw your distress arrow. Knowing you were in danger, I hurried here with men. I calculated the range at which the Liao barbarians could sense us, then began marching in formation, hoping to scare them off before they even approached.”

Wei Yuan said, “That’s far too dangerous! What if the Liao barbarians charged?”

Though the three hundred militia from Shayang Village appeared disciplined and imposing, they were physically weak, lacked heavy crossbows or armor, and possessed barely any proper weapons. If the Northern Liao cavalry truly charged, this force would be annihilated.

Fang He Tong replied, “To stand by and do nothing when others are dying is not the way of a scholar. If the Liao barbarians truly come, I will sacrifice myself for righteousness. As long as the Liao barbarians remain, the people live daily on the edge of death. It matters little whether one dies sooner or later.”

Fang He Tong had long since placed life and death beyond concern; so too had the three hundred militia behind him.

Li Zhi, watching from afar, was deeply moved. He prepared to ride forward and forge a proper bond.

But no matter how he urged his horse three or four times, it refused to budge. Li Zhi then remembered—he was riding a Liao horse, one Wei Yuan had subdued. He had never imagined the Liao horse was so fickle: it would obey Wei Yuan, but not him.

Li Zhi said nothing, dismounted as if nothing had happened, strode up to Fang He Tong, and bowed deeply. “Fang brother, your righteousness moves me. Tonight, I host a feast—we shall not part until we are drunk.”

Fang He Tong looked embarrassed, stammering, “General Li, you flatter me. I’ve merely done my duty. Isn’t this what scholars are meant to do?”

“Fang brother, you cultivate yourself, harmonize your household, and govern your state—you are the very model of a scholar!”

Fang He Tong quickly shook his head. “I am dull by nature—I cannot claim to have cultivated myself. I sold my ancestral lands; I cannot speak of harmonizing my household. All I do now is try to protect two or three villages. I cannot even govern a single county—how could I speak of governing the state?”

Li Zhi said, “Great things begin small—that is the Dao of heaven and earth. Even the sages began from humble origins. Why should we not walk the same path?”

Fang He Tong seemed moved.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, dust rose again in the distance—another reinforcement force was approaching. But these troops came from afar; had Fang He Tong not frightened off the Liao barbarians, Li Zhi’s personal guards might have been reduced to none by the time they arrived.

Seeing the reinforcements, Li Zhi remained calm and ordered, “Send a signal: the enemy has retreated. I will rest at Shayang Village. Have them rendezvous there.”

The captain of the personal guard shot an arrow into the sky, transmitting the message.

Fang He Tong had assumed Li Zhi would rest in Quyang County town—Shayang Village had nothing. But since Li Zhi had decided, he offered no objection. He swung his sword several times, pointed toward Shayang Village, and a flash of Daoist energy lit its tip. The three hundred militia instantly shifted from square to a single long line and marched back toward Shayang Village.

Li Zhi waited for Wei Yuan to return to the Liao horse—he knew without Wei Yuan, the horse would stand like a statue.

Wei Yuan glanced at the Liao horse. “This horse is useless. We need another.”

Only then did Li Zhi notice the Liao horse’s belly bore several arrows—each buried to the fletching. Yet it had endured such wounds, marching steadily until now.

As if in response to Wei Yuan’s words, the Liao horse suddenly collapsed, dying without a sound. A wisp of black energy rose from its body and returned into Wei Yuan. But when Wei Yuan used the Heaven’s Rogue, he had employed two black energies—now only one returned. He could not tell whether the one that subdued the soul had vanished, or the one that commanded movement.

Li Zhi’s personal guards offered two horses to Wei Yuan and Li Zhi, then returned to Shayang Village. Mounted, Li Zhi glanced toward the military encampment, his gaze cold: “Liao Jingwu…”

The military encampment was closest to the battlefield; by all logic, it should have been the first to arrive. Yet now, reinforcements from other counties were nearly here, and the border troops remained unseen.

Twenty li still separated them from Shayang Village. Fang He Tong led the three hundred militia on foot; Li Zhi’s cavalry followed behind. The militia marched in two lines, swift and light-footed, and most remarkably, perfectly synchronized. Whenever their steps grew uneven, Fang He Tong’s sword would flash with Daoist energy, and the line instantly realigned.

The militia did not merely march in step—they moved at a pace equal to a normal person’s light run. Li Zhi observed for a while and realized their stamina drained slowly; at this rate, they could march for hours without pause—clearly another ability of Fang He Tong.

Li Zhi rode closer to Wei Yuan. “Fang brother is formidable in command and tactics!”

Wei Yuan said, “His Dao foundation is built on three essays. This is the second—‘Achieving Merit’—it enhances soldiers’ combat power on the battlefield.”

Li Zhi, raised as a Confucian cultivator and well-versed in classics, understood at once: “So this is drawn from the Three Immortalities of the sages. ‘Achieving Merit’ is powerful—not only useful in battle, but vital in organizing troops. Look: just this march alone, repeated enough times, turns rabble into disciplined soldiers. And to weave the sages’ words into one’s Dao foundation—Fang Master is no less than a great Confucian. How did he come to this?”

Li Zhi recalled last night’s banquet, his expression thoughtful: “Fang Master is indeed stubborn in character. But with his talent, how could he be discarded? Has the Western Jin court sunk this low? That’s good news.”

Wei Yuan said, “You wish to recruit Fang Master? He speaks harshly.”

Li Zhi laughed. “If what he says is right, even if he points at my nose and curses me, I’ll welcome it!”

PS: Scheduled for release on the 1st. Still adjusting later content—the climax is coming soon, and the pace won’t slow. Updates will remain this way for now—bear with us, it won’t be long.

(End of Chapter)