Eighteenth Jin and five others have always followed in the Qingshan Army.
Whether they got enough of these villagers' tricks and gave up on escape, or for some other reason, they did not try anything, and they hardly even spoke, just like these villagers, to the point that even the villagers forgot who they were, not to mention the officials from Hejian Prefecture.
Although Lei Zhonglian was not afraid of Eighteenth Jin and the others, he was also cautious, and at this moment, he gave a cold smile.
"I'm really sorry, I've let you down all this time," he said.
After speaking, he walked past them, not afraid that Eighteenth Jin and the others might attack him from behind or try to escape furiously.
He ran towards a place surrounded by supply carts, where Miss Jun was talking to Yang Jing and others.
"So this is how these were made." After listening to Miss Jun, Yang Jing nodded with a sudden realization, "We didn't know, if it wasn't for you, Miss Jun, then these ammunition would have just run out."
Miss Jun also sighed as she looked at the newly made pile of stone bullets.
"So this is how these are used," she said, also sighing lightly, "If I hadn't encountered you all, I probably would never have known what those messy things he took me to play with were really for in my lifetime."
Since she began leading the people following her, Miss Jun didn't refuse or say anything; she just looked at their armor and the weapons they carried.
Then along the way, she bought various materials to make more of these weapons, asked about their accustomed military formations, and reorganized a new army formation based on their numbers.
They were like a knife, treasured for many years, once unsheathed, meticulously polished and stained with a hint of blood, now revealing its sharpness and chilling air, invincible.
Liang Chengdong, standing by the side, also had many thoughts, looking at the neatly arranged stone bullets and the supply cart.
The pots, pans, ladles, and grain on the cart could conveniently aid refugees encountered along the way, but the cart itself could also be dismantled to serve as a shield or transformed into a large bow, shooting arrows with enough force and speed to pierce through a team of Jurchen people.
This cart was a Bodhisattva in the eyes of the refugees, yet could instantly transform into a Vajrayakṣa.
This was a heavy weapon suitable for advancement or retreat, and he no longer dared to complain about why the Qingshan Army always brought this cumbersome cart that slowed them down.
Their armor looked no different from that of Great Zhou soldiers, but upon closer inspection, the armor had three layers, extremely precise. The arrows of the Jurchen people were virulent; this armor could greatly serve as protection.
Last time, in a battle against a troop of Jurchen people, both soldiers from the Shun'an Army and the Qingshan Army were hit. Several soldiers from the Shun'an Army died on the spot, but two men from the Qingshan Army seemed to bleed profusely. When they removed their armor, the arrows had not penetrated deeply, thus sparing their lives.
The significance of life on the battlefield is well known to all, but afterward, Liang Chengdong carefully inspected their armor and dismissed the idea of making similar armor for himself.
Life was stacked up with money; the cost to make one such piece of armor could be used for a hundred pieces in their army.
This was impossible.
This could only be done by these powerful bandits, Liang Chengdong felt both envious and helpless.
There were some other small things, such as the bamboo tube hanging at Yang Jing's waist, which could incredibly allow one to see far distances, just like the legendary omniscient being, attracting the generals of the Shun'an Army to vie for a look.
No need to ask, this thing must be even more valuable.
Did these bandits rob the Immortal Mansion? How come these things have never been seen before?
Lei Zhonglian ran over and told Miss Jun the news from Xia Yong.
"There are quite a few Jurchen people, and they have already moved close to the border," he said, "There are also many hostages, to rob or not to rob?"
"Of course we rob," Miss Jun said without hesitation, "Even if it's close to the border, we can't just watch our people, our fellow citizens be taken away."
After saying that, she looked to the side.
"Hanqing."
Zhao Hanqing, who was sitting on top of the supply cart swinging his legs, perked up and jumped down.
"You take people to find out how many Jurchen soldiers there are, which route they are taking, their pace, and if there are more Jurchen people supporting from outside the border," Miss Jun said.
Zhao Hanqing responded and mounted his horse; two others joined him, and the three of them galloped away.
....................
When the day began to dawn, Third Zhuang woke up from a doze, gazing at the faint blue glow feeling a bit stunned and pensive.
Another day survived.
It was lucky to be alive, but Third Zhuang didn't look very pleased.
As an increasingly older man, he suddenly didn't know if it was luckier to be alive or dead.
Cries of a child echoed in his ears.
"Grandma, grandma, get up,"
Third Zhuang turned his head to see a boy of five or six years old beside him, pushing on an elderly woman's body.
The old woman did not move and seemed to be in a deep sleep.
Anxiety struck Third Zhuang's heart, and he hurriedly reached out to check the old woman's breathing, his expression grievous.
Another person has failed to endure and died.
In this freezing cold, many people, tired and hungry, couldn't wake up after sleeping on the icy ground through the night.
He stepped forward to pick up the child.
"Hei Xiao, your grandma is tired; don't disturb her," he coaxed.
Being just a child, Hei Xiao was easily calmed and stopped crying.
"Grandpa Third, I'm hungry," he said, blinking and biting his dark little fingers.
Third Zhuang sighed.
"We're almost there. Once we arrive, there will be food," he said.
His words had barely fallen when shouts and cries rang out, accompanied by the cracking sounds of whips, children's cries, women's screams, and men's cries of pain. The previously dark expanse stirred to life, filled with men, women, and children of all ages.
These were the people captured by the Jurchen people to be taken away for enslavement.
A man, slow to react, was whipped down to the ground by a woodcutter and convulsed a few times before dying right there.
Sounds of crying and fear rose all around, yet no one dared to step forward.
Third Zhuang held the child tight in his arms, shielding his eyes, his cloudy eyes brimming with tears.
Once at the Jurchen people's place, treated no better than cattle, how could there be good days?
"Hurry, hurry," a Jurchen disguised interpreter rode over, hand on hip and shouting, "If you're slow, it will delay the journey of the superiors, and you could be beaten to death."
The people helped and supported each other, looking at the dense ranks of tall, strikingly armored Jurchen soldiers on either side who watched them like beasts in the dim morning light.
"Keep moving, we can get there today," the interpreter continued.
Hearing this, the people's expressions grew more distraught and their crying louder.
Their homes had long been destroyed, but the land under their feet was still familiar. Now, they were even leaving this land behind.
The crying grew louder, displeasing the surrounding Jurchen soldiers. A dozen woodcutters rode forward, brandishing their sabers and striking down mercilessly, resulting in screams of agony.
Third Zhuang tightened his grip on the child, shrinking his shoulders, squeezing into the crowd, and forcefully moving forward.
Despite life being so difficult, they still wanted to live, as if waiting for a glimmer of hope, although he himself did not know what he was waiting for.
In the midst of crying, the crowd of citizens and soldiers slowly started moving forward when suddenly, there was turmoil among the Jurchen soldiers at the front, and the marching column stopped.
What happened? What's going on?
Old Man Zhuang, puzzled, raised his head. The Jurchen formation had not only stopped but was also filled with noisy voices. Although he couldn't understand their words, from their expressions, it was clear they were angrily cursing, and the usually fierce Jurchen soldiers seemed somewhat fearful.
Fearful? What could possibly make them afraid?
Unable to resist, Third Zhuang looked ahead; as the dawn light faded, the first light of morning appeared. Within this dawn, there stood a disciplined formation up ahead.
This formation seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, as if descended from the sky.
The formation, with long spears like a forest and armor shining under the morning light, stood firmly on the ground like a mountain.
"I am from the Great Zhou Army, by the emperor's command to protect the nation and its people. I now order you to hand over the citizens of Great Zhou, or face severe punishment!"
Loud shouts came from the mountain.
Is this the Great Zhou Army?
As the morning light grew brighter, illuminating that mountain more clearly, banners fluttered like a forest, one flag bright red and brilliant, dancing in the winter morning's breeze.
Third Zhuang stared wide-eyed, finally catching sight of the words 'Qingshan Army' on the banner.
Qingshan Army.
Qingshan Army.
Third Zhuang, holding the child, suddenly knelt down, his forehead touching the cold ground. His dry lips passionately kissed the icy surface repeatedly, tears flowing like rain.
Do not abandon us.
Do not abandon us.