Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 280: A Race Against the Flames

“The mine tunnel has another exit. If you want to trap them like turtles in a jar[1], that black powder will be perfect.” He Lingchuan pointed at Jiao Tai. “He knows exactly where that mine exit is.”

Zeng Feixiong was overjoyed. Then, he cupped his fist and said, “Many thanks, Young Master!”

The title stabbed straight into He Lingchuan’s chest, reminding him of Mao Tao’s death. He waved a hand. “Save it. Get the merit first, then come thank me after you succeed.”

Zeng Feixiong knew time was tight. With Jiao Tai still leading the way, he spurred his men on toward the mine.

While the two of them were speaking, He Chunhua pulled out a blank sheet of paper. In his haste, he could not be bothered to grind ink. He simply bit his fingertip, dipped it in blood, and scribbled a dozen characters.

He Lingchuan asked, puzzled, “Father?”

He Chunhua did not answer. He snatched up his mandate token, dabbed it in blood, and stamped it on the sheet. After that, he folded the paper and reached into his storage ring for something else.

It was a gray pigeon.

Everyone blinked. Only when they looked closely did they realize it was not a bird at all.

It was a mechanical puppet. It was a mechanical messenger bird.

He Chunhua opened a hidden compartment in its belly and slipped the blood-written note inside. The puppet’s wings fluttered twice, and its beady little eyes lit up.

Then Governor-General He tossed it into the air. With a soft whoosh, the mechanical bird flapped hard and shot off into the night, heading east.

He Lingchuan let out a long breath. “So you brought one of those with you after all. That’s a relief.”

Mechanical birds were masterpieces of puppet masters, but few had the skill to build one with a flight range of several dozen kilometers, as such a task required extreme precision. This particular bird had originally been the work of one of Hong Xiangqian’s expert subordinates, back when the man had been the supreme commander of the rebels. When the Righteous Army was crushed at Woling Pass, Wu Shaoyi had escaped with several of these mechanical birds.

After he surrendered, he handed them over for military use.

He Chunhua had kept that in mind. When he had led troops out this time to hunt the enemy, he had deliberately brought a mechanical bird along, just in case.

Now, that “just in case” had arrived.

He Chunhua said with a grim face, “I only hope it makes it in time.”

A bird flew faster than even the finest couriers on horseback. If it could reach Xinhuang before Hong Chenglue began his raid, they might still avoid disaster.

Needless to say, He Chunhua then ordered the rest of the army to turn east, galloping back toward Xinhuang at full speed.

Watching all this, He Lingchuan slowly pieced together what his father was thinking. They had already brought the whole army this far; going home empty-handed would be a bitter look. Thus, he decided to let Zeng Feixiong hit the mine. The bait Hong Chenglue had tossed out was still tempting, and it was not particularly hard to swallow. Even in the worst case, even if Xinhuang’s grain was burned, they would at least have captured an enemy general by capturing Baili Qing.

On the way, He Chunhua questioned him closely about the entire chain of events. When he heard that Mao Tao had died in battle, he sighed. “He’s been with you from the very start, hasn’t he? Any family?”

“None.”

He Chunhua said softly, “In some ways, that’s easier.”

He was burning up inside with urgency, desperate to sprout wings and fly back to Xinhuang. This was no time to be offering comfort.

Xinhuang still had troops stationed there, and Cloud-Piercing Pavilion was helping hold the line. But Hong Chenglue had at least a half-step head start, and the man was nothing if not resourceful. Whether their return would be in time or not, that was a question He Chunhua had no answer to.

He had reached too far for glory and underestimated his opponent.

* * *

Back at the abandoned mine, in one of the low shacks, Baili Qing slowly drifted up from unconsciousness. The sky was already dark. His throat was dry as he muttered, “Water...”

The guard at his side hurried to lift his head and slowly pour water into his mouth.

Soon after, two officers rushed in, faces lit with relief. “Lord Baili, you’re finally awake!”

“How long was I out?”

“Almost the whole day. Your wounds are healing well.”

Baili Qing glanced at his missing arm and gave a bitter smile.

What use is a well-healed stump?

Still, I’ve heard of secret medicines that can restore lost limbs, maybe...

Someone had set half a roast chicken on the table by his bed. One officer picked it up, grinning. “I’ll warm this up. General Hong brought it over himself to pay his respects.”

“Where is General Hong?” Baili Qing asked. He peered outside. There seemed to be few men moving around.

“Our scout in Bailu Town was captured, so the Xia Province army started heading this way. General Hong left with a force to draw them off.”

Baili Qing’s expression sharpened. “The mine is exposed? Why didn’t you relocate?”

“Um...” The two officers exchanged awkward looks. “Your injuries are serious, my lord. Moving you too soon might...”

“Fools!” Baili Qing struggled upright. “Order a retreat immediately. Where did General Hong say we would regroup?”

“At Xinqiao Township.”

“Get the medic in here to change my dressings.” The bandage at his shoulder was soaked through.

“The medic went with General Hong.”

Baili Qing froze. “What did you say?”

The more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt. Losing an arm should not have left him unconscious all day.

The medicine. I must have been drugged.

“How many men here can still fight?”

“General Hong left fifty.”

Baili Qing slammed a hand on the table. “That bastard is ruthless!”

The two officers were still bewildered. Baili Qing snapped at them, “Hurry and get everyone moving! Find a stretcher for me, go!”

They had just started to answer when screams rang out from outside.

The officers rushed to the door.

Arrows poured in from the forest, followed by a surge of firelight.

The Xia Province army had arrived.

* * *

In Xinhuang, the grain convoy’s camp burned bright against the night.

Within the encampment, torches and lanterns cast harsh halos of light. But when the soldiers looked out toward the town, almost the whole of Xinhuang lay in darkness. Only a handful of houses showed any light at all.

On the western watchpost, which was the one furthest out on the edge of camp, a young sentry yawned and grumbled to his passing comrade, “This place is dead. No people, no noise. It’s like guarding a ghost town. I’d rather sleep out in the wilderness. At least there we could hunt something for supper.”

Yawns were contagious. His comrade could not help yawning himself. “Didn’t you hear the locals? They’ve eaten all the birds and beasts nearby. There’s nothing left. Anyway, stay sharp. I’ve got things to do.”

The sentry jerked. “Hey, don’t leave me alone here!” His last partner had died in last night’s surprise attack.

“I’ve been stuck on watch for ten hours straight. I’m dead tired!”

“Not my problem. Everyone’s shorthanded. You want to complain, complain to whoever made the roster.” The other man waved and walked off. “You can blame them for sticking you with a solo watch.”

The western watchpost sat out on the camp’s outermost rim. Standing alone here was mind-numbing work. The spring night breeze was soft and gentle, and after a while, the sentry leaned against a wall and nodded off.

Something dropped from the dark sky and landed in front of him with a dull thump, flapping weakly.

But the sentry was too deep in his doze, even whistling faintly through his nose. He did not notice a thing.

No one else passed by, either.

No one knew how long it lay there before three figures finally came along the western side of the camp. At their lead was Elder Liang of Cloud-Piercing Pavilion.

His gaze swept across the ground. The gray shape caught his eye, and he stopped. One of his disciples stooped to pick it up and let out a curious noise. “What’s this?”

He had thought it was a dead pigeon, but the thing in his hands was cold and hard.

It’s a crafted device. It should be a mechanical messenger bird.

There were claw marks on its back, which were likely the work of some night owl that had tried to snatch it as prey.

That would explain why it had not completed its flight to Wu Shaoyi. Some components must have been damaged.

Elder Liang took it, examined it briefly, and fiddled with a few parts. A hidden compartment in the pigeon’s belly popped open, revealing a folded strip of paper within.

Moments later, Elder Liang was sprinting toward Wu Shaoyi’s command tent with the mechanical bird and its message.

Wu Shaoyi was sitting under the lamplight, reading. The tent flap burst open with a crash. Before he could even bark a rebuke, Elder Liang had slapped both bird and paper onto his table.

The message was written in large, bold writing:

URGENT DANGER!

Wu Shaoyi glanced down, and his face changed instantly. He slammed his palm on the table. “Fuck! Full alert, now!”

With He Chunhua away, he was the highest-ranking officer in the camp.

Orders flew from his mouth in rapid succession. Gongs sounded in several corners of the camp. The men on duty scrambled up. Most had been running around all day and had fallen into a dead sleep the moment they lay down. Now, jerked awake by the gongs and drumbeats, their hearts pounded.

Wu Shaoyi commanded them to arm and armor up at once. The cheval-de-frise were hauled to the camp’s entrances to form barricades. Elder Liang led his disciples to set up formation arrays around the perimeter, battle arrays designed specifically to blunt mass assaults like arrow storms and fire attacks.

But they had barely finished setting up the second array when the sound of hooves thundered from outside Xinhuang.

The riders carried no torches and galloped in pitch darkness, charging straight toward the camp.

That alone made their intentions clear.

Wu Shaoyi’s face turned dark. He ordered the archers to loose the first volley.

Strike first, strike hard.

He had taken a severe beating at Hong Chenglue’s hands the previous night. He had lost the camp, lost the grain, and lost face. And now Hong Chenglue had the gall to choose his watch for a second ambush?

There were limits to what a man could swallow.

Tonight, old grudges and fresh ones would be tallied together!

* * *

He Chunhua’s heart burned like fire. The thousand-plus men under his command pushed themselves and their mounts to the limit.

On the way, several warhorses stumbled and went down, breaking their legs outright.

And this was on an official road, though one that had not seen proper repairs in years.

They had just rounded a bend when a signal arrow exploded above the ridge directly ahead, bursting into a large bloom of red light.

Someone was on that hill!

He Lingchuan tensed, but He Chunhua never slowed, never even glancing up. He urged his men onward.

This ridge stood about half a kilometer from Xinhuang, a choke point on the western approach to the town. Obviously, Hong Chenglue had stationed a lookout there to watch for troop movements.

Anyone with reflexes like He Lingchuan’s felt their stomachs tighten.

Because that signal clearly meant that Hong Chenglue’s men were already at Xinhuang.

The enemy had beaten them to the punch.

As they neared the town, firelight flared up ahead. But amid the glow, they heard the sound of men in combat.

Oddly enough, that sound eased the knot in He Lingchuan’s chest.

If there was still fighting, the camp had not yet fallen.

There was still something to save.

Sure enough, when He Chunhua led his troops into Xinhuang, the grain camp was still burning, but Hong Chenglue’s force was nowhere to be seen. The moment their lookout on the western ridge fired the signal arrow, the Xun Province cavalry had broken off and pulled east.

Wu Shaoyi and Elder Liang were leading the survivors in hot pursuit.

The grain convoy’s soldiers cheered when they saw He Chunhua return.

He Lingchuan swept his gaze across the camp and saw nothing but chaos. After last night’s raid, they had spread the grain carts out to reduce risk, but even now, dozens more wagons were on fire, flames still climbing their sides.

Signs of battle were everywhere. Walk ten or fifteen paces, and you were bound to see a corpse—human, horse, or both.

He Chunhua peeled off a detachment to help beat back the flames and salvage what grain they could. He himself led the rest eastward to join with Wu Shaoyi and finish the fight.

With such a disparity in numbers, the outcome should not have been in doubt.

He Lingchuan did not go with them. He stayed in camp to help.

1. This is a Chinese idiom that’s basically equivalent to the English saying, like shooting fish in a barrel. ☜