Chapter Sixteen: Turmoil

A group of people gathered again at the doorway.

In the house, Fuqiang Chu found a stack of IOUs, all left by a general surnamed Yang, stationed in the western district of the city.

Meanwhile, Cangshan Fuxue flipped through the clan genealogy in the small ancestral hall and found the name of the second son of the He family—He Xiuchu. Today, he was accompanying his wife back to her ancestral home for a visit and had gone to the Yan family graveyard.

Jiang He found a pig-killing dagger in the kitchen. Currently, he could only carry the Longhen Spear in his bag and lacked a secondary weapon for close combat.

The old man in the straw raincoat and bamboo hat, seeing that everyone had arrived, spoke bluntly: “I’m sure the three of you have heard about the massacre in Yangzhou. The upcoming sack of the city won’t be any prettier.”

“We four are a unit. I’ll be frank—if a special situation arises, such as rescuing someone, we must get everyone’s consent before acting.”

“Also, afterward, we can’t drag things out or keep all those we rescue with us. The more people there are, the easier it is to get noticed. Objectively, that makes survival harder.”

“Of course, if you’re unwilling, we can part ways now. Let’s be clear from the start to avoid endless surprises. I’m an old man with this kind of character. At my age, people live off memories, but unfortunately, I never had much worth remembering. So now that I’m a player, I’m even less willing to die.”

He glanced at Fuqiang Chu and added, “But I won’t join the Green Soldiers in doing evil.”

Jiang He sensed the change in atmosphere. Everyone had their own thoughts. The old man preferred to avoid trouble. Upon hearing of Yangzhou’s fall, the man in black had immediately switched sides. The original plan for the five of them to cooperate now seemed precarious.

After a moment, Fuqiang Chu said, “Let’s first go to the second son of the He family to avoid danger and understand the situation. Once that’s done, I’ll leave immediately and try not to involve you.”

He looked at the two beside him and continued, “I plan to gather the scattered soldiers by the city wall and fight the Green Soldiers in the alleys. The outcome probably won’t be good. There may be only a few of those broken soldiers still brave, but we’ll do our best. If you two are interested, you can join me. No pressure either way.”

Cangshan Fuxue handed over five yellow talismans to maintain a simple connection with the Order Bureau, then decisively stood with the old man.

Jiang He hesitated briefly. He actually leaned toward the old man but given the mission to kill two hundred Green Soldiers, it was more likely he would complete it alongside Fuqiang Chu.

Each made their choice.

“Then let’s move out,” Fuqiang Chu said.

...

Yangzhou had been prosperous since ancient times, a city of affluent merchants and powerful families, abundant with countless treasures of gold and jewels.

News of the Green Army’s breach spread rapidly. Over ten thousand fleeing soldiers died from falls and trampling. The citizens shuttered their doors and windows as order collapsed. Rioters and bandits seized the opportunity to create chaos.

Thousands of cavalry swept through the streets relentlessly, attacking any fleeing soldiers without hesitation. These cavalry formed the core force of the Iron Bell, all clad in white armor. As their horses galloped at full speed, their blades descended with such force that the momentum could pierce armor.

A junior commander led three hundred men patrolling the western district. Upon entering the city, the Iron Bell divided it into nine wards and twenty-seven streets, assigning each to their lieutenants to conduct systematic looting and slaughter.

Each lieutenant commanded about one thousand five hundred elite soldiers.

Each junior commander had three hundred elite troops.

...

As for the over fifty thousand surrendered troops collected along the way, they had to wait until the main force was “well-fed” before being allowed into the city.

The junior commander rode unhurriedly at the front, scanning the surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted four figures sneaking along the base of a wall.

An old man carrying a fishing rod, a woman wearing a strange headpiece, a blonde blue-eyed foreigner, and a sturdy man seemingly clad in armor.

The junior commander’s expression shifted oddly. He raised his hand. His adjutant understood the signal and immediately ordered the guards to shoot. These elite soldiers originally lived between the White Mountains and Black Waters, belonging to a wild tribe. The harsh environment had honed their formidable physiques and archery skills.

Several dozen bows were drawn, the twang of taut wood filling the air.

“Fire!” the adjutant commanded.

Arrows shot through the air at incredible speed, but the four reacted swiftly, pairing up and darting into a nearby alley. The arrows embedded an inch deep in the walls, fletching vibrating violently.

Squinting, the junior commander waved again. The adjutant dismounted and selected ten men to pursue.

In the alley, two of them sprinted.

Jiang He leapt over a pile of debris, helplessly saying, “You said this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Fuqiang Chu studied the ring on his hand with a puzzled look. This ring, called the “Mark of the Stealth Walker,” could render all creatures within three meters inconspicuous—a top-tier ordinary item.

“The gear’s fine. Maybe it’s the other side’s situation. The White Flag soldiers are Iron Bell’s core troops. Maybe there’s shamanic interference from beyond the borders,” Fuqiang Chu speculated. Most derived instances contained supernatural elements, but in this wartime scenario, such powers rarely revealed themselves openly.

The adjutant and ten pursuers closed in, drawing bows while running, maintaining deadly accuracy.

An arrow struck Jiang He from behind. Its force couldn’t pierce the scale armor under his clothes but made him stumble forward.

“Split up!”

They did not coordinate; sticking together would only widen the gap with the battle-hardened elite.

Jiang He sprang onto the wall ahead, pivoted, and leapt onto the roof tiles, which cracked underfoot.

The adjutant led the chase for the armored man. Five soldiers split off to pursue the other two, two of whom also leapt onto rooftops with nimble grace, like skilled swallows. The other three pressed from below, forcing the targets to change course.

The chase turned into a deadly parkour, leaping from eaves to walls. At a corner, Jiang He halted, held his breath, listening for footsteps closing in. Then he twisted sharply, swinging his right leg like a black arc—a fierce sweeping kick with the force of a steel blade.

His power, speed, and agility fused perfectly. Nearby ears seemed to rumble with muffled thunder. The soldier struck in the chest flew back like a snapped prawn, crashing into a brick wall and slumping lifeless.

The accompanying Green Soldier showed no fear. His battle knife darted like a viper’s tongue, aiming sharply for the attacker’s eye.

Jiang He turned his head aside, stepped closer, and stabbed the dagger straight into the soldier’s forehead. At the same time, an arrow flew from a nearby building. He was forced to slash it in half, losing his attack opportunity and stepping back prematurely.

The Green Soldier suddenly shifted the blade’s direction from a thrust to a horizontal slash, drawing a bloody cut across Jiang He’s face.

Seeing his attack fail, the Green Soldier pressed the blade horizontally and stepped forward with the other hand pushing the back of the knife, squeezing Jiang He’s movement space.

Jiang He was about to counter with a diagonal backhand slash when another arrow came. Dodging it caused him to lose footing. Facing the horizontal blade, he could only retreat, then suddenly crouched, crossed his feet, spun, and gathered strength to strike. His blow broke the white armor, leaving a shallow wound on the soldier’s abdomen.

The Green Soldier ignored the pain and switched the horizontal slash to a side stab, aiming fiercely at the back of Jiang He’s neck.

Jiang He sidestepped, turned his wrist halfway, and with a tremor through his arm and shoulder, his dagger surged fiercely, piercing to the bone. He leapt forward, following with a punch.

Another arrow flew, knocking Jiang He’s dagger away.

The Green Soldier was startled by the sacrificial strike but showed no fear. He held his battle knife tightly, quickly withdrawing and stabbing again. Close-quarters alley combat left little room for wide swings.

Suddenly, Jiang He’s fierce momentum evaporated. He dropped like a shot-down wild goose from his leap, narrowly avoiding the stabbing blade. His strength was spent, but his movement resembled a forward fall—the ebb and flow of martial arts, as elusive as a mountain snake.

Jiang He stepped forward suddenly, caught the falling dagger. Blades clashed fiercely, sparks flying, amid a flurry of arrows. Over twenty exchanges flashed like lightning.

The Green Soldier felt growing anger. From beyond the pass to within, from north to south of the river, he was a battle-hardened veteran with straightforward, lethal skills. Yet the opponent’s self-defense was slippery as a loach.

Moments later, two more Green Soldiers arrived, and an archer hidden in a civilian house stepped out.

Surrounded by four, three battle knives blocked all escape routes, while an arrow flew toward Jiang He’s forehead.

In an instant, Jiang He ceased holding back. A silver-white spear suddenly appeared in his palm like a dragon cutting through the sky. The previously relentless Green Soldier’s head was shattered, blood splattering the ground like ink.

Jiang He grasped the spear’s butt, leaned back like a bridge, and swung the spear in a circle. It struck precisely on the shoulder of an enemy behind him. The one-and-a-half-ton weapon crushed the man’s body instantly, reducing half of it to pulp—only his head and legs remained. An arrow whizzed by but was narrowly avoided.

Another Green Soldier charged with a battle knife, displaying surprising ferocity. Jiang He pushed with full strength, hitting the enemy with the spear’s tail. The enemy’s raised blade shattered suddenly. Overwhelmed by the heavy weapon, the soldier collapsed, chest caved in, eyes vacant before death.

The archer’s face twisted with rage. He raised his bow and fired an arrow into the sky. The arrowhead was wrapped with gunpowder and exploded. Though the blast was weak, the sound was piercing and carried far.

Jiang He threw the spear, ending the archer’s life, then swiftly cleared the battlefield and withdrew.

Only fifteen minutes later, a large force surrounded the alley. The junior commander’s face was grim—he knew all too well the fighting strength of his main force.

At this moment, the adjutant returned, with only two of his five men remaining.

“My lord, I am incompetent.”

The junior commander said sternly, “Enough. Inform the lieutenant about this matter. I know right and wrong in my heart. Losing one or two men might be your failure, but this outcome suggests something strange with the enemy. Stand up and lead my horse. A public walk will clear your name, but don’t forget to punish yourself with two lashes.”

The adjutant was moved to tears. The commander’s preemptive punishment meant this dereliction of duty was overlooked. Losing nearly a tenth of the core Green Soldiers outside of combat was a grave offense.