Chapter Four: Paths of Every Kind

Li Cui's preparations ultimately proved unnecessary—those they encountered ahead were simply too feeble. The enemy was scattered in a single charge led by the vanguard captain, leaving no opportunity for the main camp forces to engage.

“When did Hou Maode become this formidable? To win so decisively in a hasty night encounter?” Li Cui grumbled inwardly, his efforts wasted, and sought out a familiar face to vent his frustration.

It wasn’t long before Li Cui, through a few conversations, pieced together the precise news from the front. The adversaries they’d met were five hundred garrison troops, transferred from Xianxi to Li City. Their daily training was mere pretense for the court’s benefit, and with the sudden order to march overnight, their morale was low. By halfway through, they were little different from ordinary townsfolk. So, when they met the enemy, a few shouts sufficed to make them surrender without a fight.

“Tch, what rotten luck! How can these people even be called soldiers?” After learning the truth, Li Cui shook his head repeatedly, complaining without quite knowing at whom.

Even Liu Chen felt uneasy about how things had unfolded. He’d thought that, even if he couldn’t witness the valorous generals and brave soldiers of old, struggling through hardship to seize victory, at the very least he’d see a hard-fought battle. Instead, victory had come for reasons bordering on absurdity.

As the army advanced, the noise ahead grew louder. It turned out that because they had captured a group of prisoners, a temporary rest was called by the riverbank, and it was these captives who made such a din.

The entire camp was busy nearly until dawn, dealing with the prisoners. Liu Chen calculated that more time was spent on the captives than on the actual fighting.

When morning light finally broke, Liu Chen saw Zhao Qian again, looking exhausted but openly delighted, clearly pleased with last night’s gains.

“Guess what those captives had? A hundred crossbows! I’ve served in Annam for eight or nine years, and I’ve only ever handled as many myself!” Zhao Qian’s eyes danced with excitement as he spoke.

“Oh, and you lot, and Brother Liu—come with me, there’s something good!” Laughing, Zhao Qian beckoned to Li Cui, a few others, and Liu Chen, leading them away.

After several hundred paces, they reached a high spot by the river. Upon it stood a rough military tent, and before it, seven or eight soldiers, dressed like Li Cui, surrounded a man in scaled armor—whom, after Li Cui’s reminder, Liu Chen realized was the commander himself.

In front of this commander stood two or three men, their faces kindly, dressed like wealthy landowners, with several dozen able-bodied men behind them pushing carts piled high with goods.

“All the men under your command are as fierce as wolves and tigers. Hearing of your coming, we could not help but admire you. So we have brought these humble gifts, that your men might find some comfort after their journey.”

By the time Liu Chen’s group arrived, the formalities had passed and the real business began. At a signal from their leader, the wealthy men had their servants unload rice, wine, and meat, forming three large mounds, and then presented a casket, likely filled with gold and silver.

“What’s going on? Is it normal to receive gifts of food and drink during a campaign?” Li Cui rubbed his eyes, sniffed the air, then looked at Zhao Qian, utterly bewildered.

“These are wealthy families from Li City, come ahead of us with gifts to buy their peace. Just eat your fill and don’t worry about the rest!” Zhao Qian lowered his voice and explained to Li Cui and the others.

“I accept your generosity,” said Commander Song, “but we must still enter Li City. If we pass it by, and the city’s garrison attacks us from behind or leaks our movements, I and my men will end up in the underworld together.”

“Do not worry, Commander,” one of the wealthy men replied after exchanging glances with his peers. “The county magistrate received orders just days ago and sent a captain with a hundred men to intercept you. Heaven must favor you, for that captain and his men were killed by bandits the very night they left. So now, the city is completely undefended.”

“Are these people fools?” Liu Chen muttered. “On one hand, they don’t want the army to enter; on the other, they’re saying there’s no one left to guard the city. Are they trying to keep us out or invite us in?”

“Brother Liu, you don’t know what these people are capable of,” Zhao Qian replied, a cold sneer twisting his lips. “They say there are no soldiers, but their own households are still well-guarded. Don’t be fooled by their kindly smiles—they’re ruthless men who’d chew you up and spit out the bones. That captain and his hundred men? I’d wager these very people killed them. No bandits would dare massacre a government force so completely otherwise.”

“So it was them?” Liu Chen wasn’t slow—he simply hadn’t considered this possibility. Now, connecting their actions and Zhao Qian’s words, he reached the same conclusion: these wealthy men had slaughtered the hundred soldiers.

And that captain, leading a hundred men, must have been the ill-fated Qin Captain and his group.

Realizing this, the ceaseless buzzing in Liu Chen’s mind suddenly stilled. An inexplicable will surged within him, filling him with murderous intent.

“What’s wrong?” The veterans around Liu Chen sensed it instantly. Seeing Liu Chen’s eyes clouded with killing intent, they knew he was about to do something reckless. Without a word, Zhao Qian shot Li Cui a look, who immediately grabbed Liu Chen and led him away.

“What’s gotten into you?” Li Cui asked as they left the hilltop, stopping where they couldn’t see the others. Liu Chen managed a bitter smile.

“Did you lose friends in that massacre?” Li Cui guessed, seeing Liu Chen’s silence.

“No. I was just there when it happened.” Though the urge to kill lessened once out of sight of the wealthy men, it still gnawed at Liu Chen, making him irritable. He spoke without thinking.

“You were there?”

“Yes,” Liu Chen replied heavily. “The valley, the rain of arrows, and finally, the flames. They were all killed.”

“Tch, that’s rotten luck.” Li Cui, picturing the scene, clicked his tongue in sympathy.

“So that’s it. I always thought you were mild-mannered, Brother Liu. No wonder you suddenly flared up with such murderous intent.” Zhao Qian joined them, sitting beside Liu Chen with a sigh.

“What will you do now, Brother Liu?” Zhao Qian asked, sensing Liu Chen’s simmering rage.

“I have to kill those men,” Liu Chen replied, looking Zhao Qian in the eye. It wasn’t just the will in his mind driving him—he truly believed those men deserved to pay for what they’d done. That will, though, gave him the resolve to act.

“I thought as much.” Zhao Qian sighed again at Liu Chen’s determination. Turning slightly, he continued, “I hate what they did as well, but the commander has already struck a deal with them. For now, they must not die. You understand this, don’t you? For the greater good, you must restrain yourself.”

Liu Chen smiled. He saw the contradiction in Zhao Qian’s words and knew that refusal would mean he could no longer stay here; perhaps, if he spoke out, they would become enemies.

He rubbed his temples. Strangely enough, once he resolved to kill those men, the turmoil in his mind subsided, and clarity returned.

“I understand. But I’m not one for patience—delay, and I may never act. So, forgive me.”

Straightening, Liu Chen looked at Zhao Qian and Li Cui. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Zhao Qian urged. “Wait a few months, and not only will I not stand in your way, I’ll lend you a hand.”

“I know you mean well, and I respect the bigger picture. But I can’t bear the thought of those men living peacefully for even a few months. Farewell, until we meet again.”

Looking at Zhao Qian, Liu Chen felt a pang of regret. Had it not been for this, perhaps they could have been friends. But now, with their paths diverging, it was best to part ways.