Chapter 54: Guanyin Earth

The front line where arrows and bullets had swept was littered with wounded men wailing and writhing.

Liu Chengzong charged straight out of the gunpowder smoke, but only had time to cut down a few men before the fight was over.

These bandits were indeed numerous, but their actual quality was less than thirty percent of Bai Yingzi's.

The bandits ran faster than he did — before he could lead the cavalry out of the smoke, those who were meant to be shot had already been shot, and those who hadn't been shot had already scattered and fled.

The speed of their escape left others in the dust — you'd never guess they were on the verge of starving to death.

They could only curse their parents for not giving them four wheels and an engine.

The bandit chief had run even earlier; if he hadn't tripped over a field ridge, Liu Chengzong would barely have caught up to him — it was hard to imagine a man in full helmet and armor could bolt like a rabbit.

And it was precisely tripping over that field ridge that let him dodge Liu Chengzong's armor-piercing arrow.

Just one tiny mistake like that, and his head was stolen by a teammate.

Red Flag.

The bandit chief's few subordinates were being chased down by Gao Xian and the others; Liu Chengzong was already preparing to spur his mount over the field ridge to take him alive.

He hadn't expected that the seed-team leader had fallen rather hard and was slow getting up — he'd just raised half his body and was staggering forward trying to run when Red Flag stomped him dead with one hoof.

The horseshoe landed on the back of his skull, and half the seed-team leader's head was trampled into the dirt.

The color of it — when Liu Chengzong removed the helmet, it made him sick to his stomach.

That helmet was definitely a fine piece of gear; the man was dead but the helmet wasn't even broken, just left with a horseshoe print on the back.

While removing the helmet and armor, Liu Chengzong also took the chance to grab a prisoner — the young man in a Confucian scholar's robe beside the bandit chief had been paralyzed with terror, unable to move his legs, and without any weapon he was flailing wildly and shouting, waving a huqin fiddle.

He looked like no threat at all, so Liu Chengzong casually threw a piece of cloth over him and tied him up.

Liu Chengzu, worried the bandits might regroup after scattering, led the village soldiers and sturdy women with long spears and crossbows in formation, charging out to sweep the entire valley, driving every last bandit out of the mountains while spilling as little blood as possible.

The battle itself took very little time, but the cleanup work of policing the battlefield dragged on until dusk.

When Liu Chengzong led the prisoner back, he ran into Little Sixteen — the little bald kid had come out at some unknown point and was squatting beside that big-bellied roadside corpse, not the least bit afraid of the dead man, poking the stiff, swollen belly with a little stick.

The child's face was all smiles as he said, "Brother Lion, have you ever seen a belly like this? My dad was just like this — really impressive."

Said so innocently, it was heartbreaking to hear.

Liu Chengzong knew this kind of belly; it was very common among famine victims.

It was the aftereffect of eating too much Guanyin earth.

From being someone who simply ate food to someone who simply ate earth — the distance between the two is vast, vast enough to let a person who should have starved quickly live a few more months.

Guanyin earth is china clay, and northern Shaanxi has never lacked china clay.

The name is not ironic or meant in reverse — it doesn't mean someone's given up and eaten a little dirt to go meet Guanyin sooner.

When grain runs short, people will exhaust every means to gather and forage for food — wild greens and tree bark that can stave off hunger, Guanyin earth that can fill the belly, all of it gets gathered up.

The earth is sifted fine like flour, mixed with chopped and ground wild greens and tree bark, kneaded into lumps, steamed over the fire, and eaten.

It's called Guanyin earth because people haven't lived enough — eating this really can prolong life.

But china clay cannot be digested; it goes down easily but comes out hard. In small amounts, it can still be dug out with a stick during a bowel movement, but eating too much blocks the intestines, and you end up looking like this.

And these famine victims who charged into Black Dragon Mountain were cutting unripe millet with sickles and stuffing it straight into their mouths... they'd been driven past reason by hunger.

The village soldiers had won the fight with ease, and it should have swept away the gloom of Old Temple Village's massacre.

Yet the blood-soaked battlefield results could not lift their spirits.

Tenant farmer Shi Wanzhong was drenched in blood as he sat on the field ridge, eyes blank. His wife had run out of the village after the battle, collapsed in the trampled and ruined millet field, covered her face, and wailed, cursing heaven and earth through her sobs, saying she might as well be dead.

The millet in the fields needed only one more month to ripen, but it would never have the chance to ripen now.

The tenant rent was gone, and the summer tax was gone too.

Inside the house, Father sat grimly in the main hall, interrogating the prisoner kneeling on the ground.

The prisoner was called Song Shouzhen, a man from Yijun to the south — not a scholar, but a musician.

This band of bandits was not the same group that had massacred Old Temple Village. They came from the south and were subordinates of Wang Er of Baishui.

Not long ago, Wang Er had been killed by government troops at Shangluo. His ten thousand bandits scattered and fled, and this group kept fleeing north, gathering over a thousand men along the way.

Two days ago they reached Yan'an Prefecture, mingled among the refugees outside the city, and learned that Black Dragon Mountain had bought two thousand seven hundred mu of land and was owned by an official who had been dismissed from office — so they decided to come feast on a rich household.

Liu Xiangyu felt a wave of dizziness in his forehead; he shut his eyes and steadied himself before saying, with the grief of seeing something cherished turn worthless, "Your ancestors too were descendants of loyal subjects — why would you do such a... ah!"

"Descendants of loyal subjects? Descendants of loyal subjects, and only by rebelling can I wear a long — ow!"

Song Shouzhen hadn't finished speaking when Liu Chengzong kicked him to the ground: "If you don't want to live, keep talking back."

Worried about his father, Liu Chengzong ordered Guo Zhashi, the one carrying the iron hook, to guard the prisoner well.

He went over and helped Liu Xiangyu up, saying, "Dad, you've been worn out all day — go inside and rest. I'll interrogate him."

He knew this Song Shouzhen truly was a descendant of loyal subjects — everyone knew it.

The musician households of Shaanxi and Shanxi are all descendants of the loyal ministers who supported the Jianwen Emperor during the Jingnan Campaign of the Yongle Emperor.

During the Yongle reign, they were registered under a separate pariah caste, barred from the imperial examinations, made into prostitutes generation after generation, never to rise again for all eternity.

Liu Xiangyu looked truly exhausted; he showed no sign of arguing with his second son, letting himself be supported into the inner chamber, where he sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a heavy sigh.

Liu Chengzong was just about to leave when he heard Liu Xiangyu say, "Chengzong..."

He turned his head — his father hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping.

Liu Chengzong nodded and said, "It's fine, Dad. You rest. Set your mind at ease — I know what I'm doing."

He read far too much worry on his father's face.

The summer tax was due between the fifth and eighth months, but now Black Dragon Mountain's harvest was ruined.

This hurdle — they probably wouldn't make it over.

When he came out from the inner room, his elder brother Chengzu and cousin Chengyun were in the hall, while Cao Yao, Gao Xian, and the other border troops were in the front courtyard tidying up armor and weapons and drawing water to wash their faces.

"Is Dad all right?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "He's fine. There's just too much going on at Black Dragon Mountain — I was afraid he might faint. From here on, it's up to us brothers. Brother, any casualties among the village soldiers?"

Liu Chengzu looked exhausted too and nodded. "The coffin-maker's only son is dead — his line ends here. Old Xiangliang's youngest, Xiao Wuzi, has a ruptured gut; he probably won't make it. There are several others wounded — Teacher Yang is treating them now."

"Have the bandits' corpses been dealt with?"

"They're being hauled up to North Mountain right now — forty-six bodies. Digging two big pits will take till dark. I'll come back, wash off the blood, and head over to help dig in a bit."

Liu Chengzu let out a weary sigh. "What to do next — I still have no clue. I wanted to ask our father."

"Don't ask. Call the women and children back from the fields into the village. Don't let them go out tonight. Leave the corpses beside the pits — don't throw them in yet. Bring two cartloads of lime over from the brick kiln."

"And Chengyun is good with numbers — have him make another trip to the fields before dark and tally up the losses to each family's land this time."

Liu Chengzong drew a deep breath, turned to Cao Yao, Gao Xian, and Tian Shoujing, and held out his hand. "Brothers, lend me your wrist-cutting knives."

At those words, everyone knew what he intended to do.

Liu Chengzu said, "Chengzong, they were famine refugees too. They don't deserve to die without their bodies whole."

"Neither kin nor acquaintance, neither friend nor foe — you make it sound as if I have a heart of stone. Brother, if you ask me, they shouldn't have died. But did we deserve to die?"

Liu Chengzong took the wrist-cutting knife from Cao Yao and said, "The living and the dead — which weighs heavier? All I know is they were bandits. Bandit heads can be claimed for reward at the county office. If you fear heaven's punishment, report it to the authorities and stay out of it. I want their heads, so I'll go cut them off myself."