Chapter 17: Laojun Market

They didn't clear the corpses from inside or outside the village, didn't even dare eat a full meal. After sweeping the battlefield clean, they pushed seventeen carts into the mountain valley and continued their long, distant journey.

On the road ahead, no one had a horse to ride. The seventeen severely overloaded carts were hitched to the warhorses, slowing the entire column even further.

Liu Chengzong and his group had extremely complicated feelings toward the local government offices. On one hand, most of them hoped the offices still retained enough control over their jurisdictions; on the other, they didn't want to run into government troops rushing from towns to suppress unrest.

In the end, whether government troops appeared or not, it left them torn between hope and fear.

Horsepower alone couldn't pull the heavy carts. By night, when they finally struggled to reach a village called Laojun Market, every man was rubbing the shoulders that had hauled the tow ropes, their bodies so exhausted they couldn't muster another shred of strength.

"Soldiers, you've had a hard journey — have a bowl of hot soup."

An old man from the village had diligently boiled water and called his sons to bring it to the border troops. His stove had blackened his clothes. He came forward with a slightly hunched back, a half-black, half-white cloth draped over his shoulder, and sighed with emotion: "Laojun Market hasn't seen this many people in a long time."

In these times, soldiers were nowhere near as endearing to common folk as they would be in later ages. Seeing soldiers was worse luck than seeing bandits holed up in the hills. Basically, the only thing worse than soldiers were roving bandits.

The entrenched bandits in the mountains weren't afraid you'd report them to the authorities, and they were dead certain you wouldn't dare, so they rarely took lives. In fact, to keep extorting money and goods the following year, the bandit chief would often mark out territory and protect the local villages from being ravaged by other bandits.

Soldiers were different. Wherever soldiers went, they demanded grain. At the slightest displeasure, they'd hang a man's head from a saddle and go claim credit for a kill.

Because soldiers feared you'd report them to the authorities, they'd go all the way once they started — better to leave no witnesses.

But the lone old household left in Laojun Market showed no fear at the sight of soldiers. They warmly called two youths to chop wood and boil water — they had real nerve.

"Old sir, I remember this market town still had quite a few people the year before last. How is it—" Liu Chengzong took the water bowl. It was so hot it scalded his hands, so he quickly set it on the ground before him and looked up to ask: "Is your household the only one left in the village?"

"All gone. Just this old man's one household left." The old man smiled and pointed at himself. "I was originally the temple keeper of Laojun Temple. I grew up watching the incense burn for Lord Laojun since I was small. Where could I run to? I'll just wait till I'm buried someday and that'll be that."

"The soldier has been to Laojun Market before — are you a local?"

"Yeah, a local." Liu Chengzong nodded and pointed south. "Black Dragon King Temple Mountain — has the old sir been there?"

"Black Dragon King Temple Mountain..."

The old man furrowed his brow, trying to recall, but before he could think of it, a youth passing by carrying soup interrupted: "Da, four or five years ago you went to the prefectural city to perform labor service for the government. You passed Black Dragon Mountain — you even told me about it."

In these parts, people called their father "Da." Hearing this form of address made Liu Chengzong glance sideways. He had always assumed these two young men were the old man's grandsons; he never expected they were his sons.

At his son's words, the old man remembered at once and hurriedly said: "Right, forty li away. A few years ago I could still perform labor service for the court. Now my legs won't obey — I haven't left home in years."

Liu Chengzong sighed and nodded slowly. "Right, forty li. We've burned your firewood, old sir — tonight, let's eat meat together."

Forty li. Forty li from home — it sounded close, but walking it was grueling.

They had horse meat, from the only casualty of the day's battle: that warhorse had its leg hacked off by a bandit and couldn't walk, so the government troops had no choice but to slaughter it.

The bandit who hacked it was one of those rare brave men.

Just as few people dare face the charge of an old sow head-on — and a horse is faster than a pig, heavier, with three more identical horses in each file, plus the ill-intentioned rider on its back swinging a waist saber.

Few men facing cavalry can summon the courage to strike back, even with a square formation at their side.

Fortunately, only forty li remained. If they had to travel another three to five days with today's load, more horses would likely drop dead from exhaustion.

They had far too much plunder.

When the old man's young son passed by Liu Chengzong and overheard there would be meat that night, his eyes lit up. Liu Chengzong even saw the grimy youth secretly swallow his saliva.

But for the old man, this information brought a few more traces of worry to the depths of his eyes as he looked at the government troops. He no longer dared linger beside Liu Chengzong to chat and went into the courtyard to boil water.

From the distance in the village came the clatter of horse hooves. Liu Chengzu, who had been setting up camp sentries, returned leading his horse. He exchanged greetings with his subordinates spread across the various courtyards, then walked toward his younger brother.

He came over with light steps and sat down on the ground. It seemed he had already scouted the night watch positions and the terrain. He picked up a piece of firewood and poked at the bonfire. "Tonight, have Sixteen feed Red Flag his fill. Tomorrow, you head back first."

Liu Chengzong raised his head. On his elder brother's face, half-lit and half-shadowed by the firelight, he clearly saw worry. He said, "Brother, rest easy. Look at this village — even a single household hasn't been touched by bandits. They didn't come this way."

"Wang the Second from Baishui, Monk Wang from Yanchuan, Wang Hu the Black Fierce God from Luochuan, and that Purple-Gold Beam are all in Yichuan. Left-Hanger, Flying Mountain Tiger, and Big Red Wolf are probably heading that way too."

He recalled the news his brother had told him two days ago at Yuhe Fort and mentally drafted the movement patterns of the contemporary old-generation revolutionaries. He consoled him: "As for Han Chaozai in Qingyang and Zhou Dawang in Wudu, they're both still far away. Nothing will happen at home."

"You've got it all figured out pretty clearly."

Liu Chengzu gave a light laugh and asked in return: "Then what about Master Gao? He's right in Ansai."

Master Gao referred to Gao Yingxiang, the man in Mizhi County's prison who had imparted practical combat experience and horse-judging skills to the two brothers.

The brothers only knew that Gao Yingxiang had risen in revolt, but because his banner wasn't famous and his troop numbers weren't large, and he never attacked county seats, no one knew where he was at the moment.

In northern Shaanxi last year, those who rose up — whether bandits, soldiers, or outlaws — were as numerous as ox hairs. Only Gao Yingxiang was someone the Liu brothers would take a detour to avoid if they saw him.

On one hand, it was because of past dealings and old grudges; on the other, the brothers knew very well that the combat strength of Gao Yingxiang's unit was formidable — absolutely not something the likes of White Hawk could compare to.

Dragon King Temple Mountain happened to sit right at the junction of Qingjian, Fushi, and Ansai counties. If Gao Yingxiang was still in Ansai, their old home was not safe.

This was the kind of thing you couldn't afford to dwell on. Once you started thinking about it, you had to worry.

Their elder brother's single counter-question left Liu Chengzong at a loss too. Just then, he spotted the youth passing by carrying a kettle and raised a hand to stop him. "Hey, kid, come here. What's your name?"

The old temple keeper's son was genuinely startled at being suddenly called to a halt. He still remembered Liu Chengzong as the one who'd said he'd have meat that night. He looked left, then right, before raising a grimy finger to point at himself. "Soldier's calling... calling me?"

He thought it was time for meat. His whole being perked up with excitement, his eyes bright, his skinny spine ramrod straight. "Reporting to the soldier — Temple-Born. My name is Chang Miaosheng!"

Liu Chengzong laughed at the sight of him and turned his head to look at his brother. "That's a fine name. Let him have some meat too. Miaosheng, let me ask you — have any bandits passed through the south these past two years?"

The name was indeed good — it even made clear where the person was born. And this kid, who looked not much older than Sixteen, was very sharp, knowing he was asking about Black Dragon King Temple.

"Bandits? Soldier, it's all barren hills around here. Not a single wealthy household — even bandits don't come. And I haven't heard any news of Black Dragon King Temple being hit by bandits either."

As Chang Miaosheng spoke, Liu Chengzong heard his brother stand up and call Cao Yao to ladle a bowl of horse-meat soup for the kid. His brother turned back and said to him: "Tomorrow morning we head home. If nothing unexpected happens, tell the tenant farmers and village militia to bring oxen and meet us on the road to haul the carts back."