Chapter 1143: Night March

Since this place had turned up empty, there was no point lingering here. Thirty li north of Hawk's Beak Cliff lay another stronghold — originally a hidden estate belonging to a wealthy landlord in Mengyin, it had later been seized by desperate bandits from all over. They gathered fugitives there, building a force of over two hundred men, and with backing from local gentry, their reputation in the area was formidable. According to the Shu family's confessions, this so-called High Tower Stronghold had also taken part in the attack on the Xuzhou estate.

Though this was mountainous country, those thirty li ran through river-flat lowlands between the hills, so the going wasn't particularly hard. Zhao Jin's force set out after resting for half a shichen — they'd missed the catch here, but they couldn't afford to come up empty there.

This raid no longer cared much about sparing the horses; speed and surprise were everything. Yet to their surprise, this estate was empty too. Though the gates were shut tight, giving the appearance of being closed up, there wasn't a soul inside. They found over a dozen corpses of ransom hostages. Examining the wounds showed the killing had been done about a day and a half earlier. A thorough search did turn up twenty-odd survivors, but they were women locked in the cellars, ravaged beyond any human semblance, who only knew that no one had brought food or water for a day.

The stronghold's grain stores were still there, and even some of the gold and silver hidden in secret caches remained — a sign of how hastily they'd fled. Zhao Jin used the gold, silver, and part of the grain to send the women on their way, then replenished the unit's supplies from the remaining stores, set a torch to the stronghold, and led his men away.

Two fruitless raids in a row had dampened the unit's morale, and Ji Xiang had grown edgy too. But by now there was no time to head for the next target. A little over a shichen remained before dark, yet the mounts were too spent to go on — they had to rest. Zhao Jin didn't push matters; he simply ordered camp pitched and summoned the twenty-odd men with the best riding skills and deepest experience.

"Each man carries three days' rations. Two horses per man. Change into plain clothes. Groups of three at most. I'm not sending you to kill or win victories — I'm sending you to scout for information. Every village we passed on the way here — the ones around Ox Head Mountain, around Hawk's Beak Cliff — you'll approach quietly and observe. See if those bandits and outlaws have fled there. If you get word of anything, don't get greedy for glory — come back and report first." Zhao Jin laid it out for them clearly.

They all acknowledged the order. Those who'd followed Zhao Jin here included not only the household troops but also the finest of the Xuzhou volunteers — men in their thirties and forties who might not have the nerve for pitched battle, but who knew the ins and outs of the local underworld better than anyone. They would be the scouts and outriders for this mission. As the orders were given and the men made ready, Zhao Jin also dispatched men to keep watch near the stronghold they'd burned, with orders to report back at once if anything seemed amiss.

"The common folk and the bandits are one family. The villages we passed through — some of them will have already tipped off these outlaws, maybe even taken in these mounted brigands to lie low for a while. And at the Shu Family Estate — if we left too few men there, someone may well have slipped out to carry word." Zhao Jin's voice was grim.

"Have they no shame at all? Those bandits plague them without mercy day in and day out — you saw what those women were reduced to — and still they collude and shelter them? Have they lost their minds?" Ji Xiang spoke with heat.

A cold sneer crossed Zhao Jin's face. Darkly, he said, "In the eyes of the locals here, we're probably even less welcome than their homegrown bandits. With the local outlaws, they can split the loot and share the spoils. With us? We've come to dig up their roots. They think they can ride this out? What a joke!"

Ji Xiang gripped his saber hilt. "This time we'll make them feel the pain — spill enough blood, and next time they'll all fall in line."

In the mountains, darkness fell earlier than elsewhere. Not long after camp was pitched, the sun sank behind the ridges and the valley grew dim. There was one advantage here — game was plentiful. With no need for full alert, the household troops on sentry patrol brought down quite a few birds and beasts and sent them back for the evening meal, a taste of meat. Two empty raids in a row — they needed some meat to lift their spirits.

Just as the first campfire was catching, the household troops who'd been watching the nearby stronghold returned — and brought back three men with them, one dead and two alive. They'd been lying hidden in the shadows there. After about half a shichen, they'd spotted figures approaching from a distance, all on horseback — three men. The riders had been cautious at first, keeping their distance, even making a wide circuit to be sure the men of Zhao Camp hadn't strayed far. The Zhao Camp men on watch had held perfectly still.

Only when the riders decided it was safe and approached on horseback did the Zhao Camp household troops burst out. One man was shot dead with an arrow; another had his horse shot out from under him and was thrown; the third tried to spur his horse and flee, but a Mongol household trooper lassoed him straight off the saddle and dragged him down. They were brought back just like that.

The moment the two living captives entered the camp of Zhao Jin's unit, their eyes went wide. They'd never imagined seeing such a well-ordered encampment — sturdy horses and powerful oxen, heavy wagons built of timber and iron fittings, suits of armor laid out row upon row, the food in the pots giving off an irresistible aroma, and every man moving about with disciplined precision. The whole camp exuded an oppressive, intimidating presence.

"Who sent you?" The two captives were stubborn, just hanging their heads in silence. After another couple of questions, one of them said, "If you've got the guts, kill us!"

Zhao Jin smiled. Beside him, Ji Xiang was losing patience. Gruffly, he said, "Big Brother, let me handle the interrogation — no point wasting time."

With Zhao Jin's assent, Ji Xiang and several household troops took the two captives out of camp to a secluded spot. Immediately, heart-rending screams rang out — so harrowing they startled the birds and beasts roosting in the woods, even set the oxen and horses in camp to whinnying and lowing. Zhao Jin frowned and stopped Sun Dalin from going to check.

Some thoughts could only be turned over in the mind, never spoken aloud. Ji Xiang was bloodthirsty and brutal. Keeping him reined in at his side all this time hadn't worn that vicious streak away — it had only compressed it further. The moment he was let out and drew blood, he seemed barely able to hold himself back. Looked at from that angle, maybe letting him vent wasn't such a bad thing.

Not long after, Ji Xiang and the household troops returned. The two captives were nowhere to be seen. Ji Xiang was drenched in spattered blood, filthy from head to toe, and the household troops behind him eyed him with a touch of fear. Walking up to Zhao Jin, Ji Xiang said with some excitement, "Big Brother, the men from that stronghold left two days ago. They're at Lü Family Village, ten li from Mengyin county seat."

Zhao Jin nodded. "The captives?"

"Neither could hold out. Both dead." Ji Xiang answered with a grin.

"Leaving one alive would've at least given us a guide." Zhao Jin shook his head. Ji Xiang's face went blank with chagrin.

Still, among the Xuzhou volunteers and inner guards they'd brought, there were men who knew the way. Mengyin County, nestled in the mountains, was a key junction for certain hidden routes. For smuggling contraband and fleeing across regions, the mountains were far safer than the plains. The only trouble here was the area around Mengyin county seat itself — it sat squarely in the middle of the valley floor where the official road ran. To cross this mountain region, you had to pass by that county seat, so many had dealings with the place. As for Lü Family Village's exact location, they'd have to ask once they got there.

From the stronghold's position to the county seat was an hour and a half by hard riding, but this wasn't Xuzhou — traveling by day and marching by night were very different things. The volunteers didn't dare boast in front of Zhao Jin; they only said it would take at least two and a half shichen, likely more.

"Pick five hundred men. A hundred of them carry firearms. Bring one one-pounder cannon. We rest another half shichen, then move out. The rest of the household troops stay camped here and await our return. Daxiang, don't be impatient — you're coming with us!" Looking up at the night sky, Zhao Jin gave the order.

By the time Zhao Jin's unit set out, the sky had gone completely dark. They made no effort to hide their movements, raising lanterns high to light the way, the rest following behind. In this region, no prefectural or county seat could field a force capable of matching these five hundred household troops, and the mountain villages along the route certainly lacked the nerve to provoke them.

But speed was indeed impossible. The soil in late autumn and early winter was dry and firm — the easiest season for horses and wagons — yet the roads here were still terrible. Ruts and potholes went without saying; gullies appeared now and then as well. And this was supposed to be the official road linking Mengyin County to the outside world — even it had fallen into such disrepair.

"Good thing we brought the one-pounder this time — a few men can still carry it across. If it'd been a three-pounder, we'd have no choice but to turn back!" someone in the ranks murmured. Everyone knew the discipline — no loud talk on a night march — but having rarely ventured beyond Zhao Camp's domain, they couldn't help marveling at the gap between the outside world and Xuzhou. At such comparisons, neither Zhao Jin nor Ji Xiang bothered to rein them in.

"Within the territory we control, we can win every battle, because everything there is prepared for us. Broad, solid roads that can carry artillery. Waterways with boats at the ready — the big vessels moored at the docks can transport cannon. Every stretch of the way has a Cloud Mountain Inn, which are really our supply depots. The farming estates along the route are our fortresses. Not to mention that our brigades already hold every key point. Within that sphere, our manpower, provisions, and equipment can flow in an unbroken stream. As long as we don't get muddle-headed and make the wrong moves ourselves, we won't lose. But outside is different. Here, though there's no strong enemy either, danger lurks everywhere. So we must be cautious and vigilant. The great battles we'll fight in the future — most of them will probably be like this." Zhao Jin was speaking of far more than this one operation.

Ji Xiang listened intently. In a low voice, he asked, "So we can only go to war near our own territory? Press forward step by step?"

"Not necessarily. The trouble lies in the journey. If we had our own fleet, then anywhere near the waterways and ports would be the same!" Zhao Jin replied.

Designated household troops tracked the movement of the stars and moon to gauge the passage of time. Every half shichen, they dismounted and led the horses on foot. Every full shichen, the entire force rested for a quarter-hour. And at every interval, they called roll and counted heads, fearful of anyone going missing. Marching this way was certainly slow, but it kept men and horses — already worn out from the day — from losing their stamina.

Thanks to old friends "Qi Sanwen, Windless Summer, User 107474524, Words of Dissent, Dragon King of the Wind" for the tips. It's the end of the month — please cast your monthly votes for Ming Warrior!