Where Immortals Once Walked

Lu Yao, utterly filled with rage, bellowed, “Fire the signal arrows! NOW!!!”

Two signal arrows shot into the sky, one red and one green, blazing bright against the moonless dark. They arced high, calling to the hidden troops he had stationed nearby.

Wu Shaoyi barked a laugh. “Summoning reinforcements? Ha! General Pei has already welcomed them on my behalf!”

Lu Yao’s stomach dropped.

Among the three rebel generals, Pei Xinyong had always been the calm, measured one. If not for his mediation, Lu Yao and Wu Shaoyi would never have agreed to meet at all. At best, they would avoid each other; at worst, they would try to kill each other on sight.

How could Pei Xinyong have swung entirely to Wu Shaoyi’s side in just one night?

Unless... Could they have agreed to take me down together long ago?

If that were true, the nine hundred men he had brought were not too many, but far too few.

Wu and Pei’s combined forces numbered at least two thousand and six hundred.

Cold sweat ran down his spine as he shouted hoarsely, “I only meant to keep that damned official busy and wait for you both to arrive so we could offer him up as our blood sacrifice! He’s bound for Xia Province as governor-general. If we seize his papers and seal, we’ll be able to rule Xia Province at our leisure. There would be no more running, no more hiding! I swear on my ancestors’ graves, we’ll split the spoils evenly, no betrayal, no tricks!”

Wu Shaoyi sneered. “If you’re sincere, then kneel and submit. Once we’ve taken that dog official, you’ll have your fair share.”

Lu Yao roared back, “Bah! Don’t push me too far!”

He had endured slights again and again tonight. When had he ever bowed so low? And this man dared to press him further? Lu Yao’s eyes darted around as a plan formed in his mind. He then shouted, “Men! Move down to the lakeshore! Cut the boats loose!”

* * *

As the two rebel generals turned on each other, the state soldiers pulled back at once, obviously not eager to be caught in the inferno.

Wu Shaoyi’s focus never wavered from Lu Yao. To him, betrayal burned hotter than any state threat. His spearmen crashed into Lu Yao’s men with murderous zeal, determined to tear them apart before a single arrow turned against the state troops.

Old hatred flared like dry tinder. He had even given the order, “Slaughter Lu Yao’s rabble to the last!” His troops obeyed, locking the Lu Yao’s soldiers in brutal, one-on-one clashes. Few spared thought for the state troops, and fewer still gave chase when they withdrew.

And withdraw they did, smoothly and swiftly.

He Chunhua had been ready for this moment. He had ordered his men to sleep in armor, weapons close at hand. The baggage had never been fully unpacked, and any that had been unpacked were repacked and lashed tight through the night. Even Madame Ying’s bedding and small belongings were boxed away and strapped to the wagons.

The horses had been watered and fed, muscles fresh for the march or any swift escape, already harnessed to the wagons.

So, when the village erupted into chaos, He Chunhua gave the order without hesitation, “We leave through the west!”

Over four hundred men, wagons creaking, moved out at once toward the mountain road to the west.

The soldiers kept their voices low, but villagers had eyes and ears. When they saw the group setting off, they surged forward in tears, wailing,

“Lord Official, please take us with you!”

He Chunhua had anticipated this and had instructed his subordinates on what to do beforehand. As the villagers approached, his officers pointed straight down the road and said, “Fall in behind us. Everyone, line up! No more than three abreast!”

“Horses may go, carts and wagons must stay!”

The order was repeated again and again, but still some villagers tried to pile their possessions onto carts, urging oxen and horses forward. When the soldiers blocked the way, angry shouting erupted, followed by shoving, and fists began to fly.

He Yue and Zeng Feixiong were overwhelmed trying to keep order. He Lingchuan strode up, voice cutting through the din, “Abandon the carts and go on foot, or stay with your wagons and get left behind. But no matter what, don’t block the road!”

The mountain road was narrow, barely wide enough for two wagons abreast. If the villagers pressed their carts forward, they would choke the route, and neither soldier nor commoner could pass.

One man shouted back angrily, “The soldiers can take wagons, why can’t we?”

“Exactly! Our whole lives are in these carts. If we leave them behind, what are we supposed to eat—air?”

Tempers flared, shoving ensued, and the column began to buckle.

He Lingchuan seized the nearest man by the collar and dragged him bodily off his cart. Holding him eye to eye, he barked, “Soldiers can cover the rear. Can you? Can you stand and fight while others escape? Whoever can take up arms and cover the retreat, their cart may pass!”

He then shook the man hard again. “Well? Can you?”

The villager’s eyes bulged. His neck stiffened, unable to nod, unwilling to shake his head. He could not answer.

They were all common folk, not warriors. What right did they have to stand against killers who had butchered a hundred villagers in broad daylight, including their strongest men?

And these were not mere bandits or brigands; they were hardened rebels, veterans of sieges and slaughters, soaked in blood. What could a farmer do against men like that?

“Those who can’t fight, dismount and go on foot! Those who can, put your families on the carts, but you stay behind with us!”

The sharp command, coupled with sudden screams from the rear that the brigands were coming, broke their resistance. No one dared argue further. Villagers clambered down, abandoning their carts, and fled westward on foot.

Soldiers shoved the villagers’ carts to the roadside, clearing a passage. Half the road carried fleeing villagers, the other half imperial wagons. The column regained its rhythm, and it had at least become orderly enough to facilitate steady movement.

Soon, He Lingchuan saw the glow of flames and the shadows of brigands breaking into houses on the western side of the village.

He could not even tell whether they were Wu Shaoyi or Lu Yao’s men. Either way, looting was their specialty. And now, seeing themselves outnumbering Lu Yao’s remnants, Wu Shaoyi’s soldiers could not resist temptation. Why not start plundering early?

In looting, the fastest hand wins.

The night before, Lu Yao had slaughtered the villagers and seized the place, but he had never had time to pillage. The officials had arrived too soon, and the brigands had held back, thinking to deal with the soldiers first. So the villagers’ abandoned goods and livestock were still in their homes.

From the hills, the soldiers and refugees could see it all. Instead of fury, many felt grim relief.

Any time the rebels spent looting was precious time that could have been spent escaping.

But fortune never lingers. More and more brigands turned their eyes toward the western road.

Some were obeying Lu Yao’s order to seize He Chunhua. Others, driven west by Wu Shaoyi’s ambush, retreated straight into the same path the state troops and villagers were taking.

Zeng Feixiong and the others were shouting themselves hoarse, running back and forth to keep the column moving.

No one gave He Lingchuan orders; no one dared. Even Madame Ying had told him gently, “Stay near the front, and lend your father a hand.”

The front was the safest place. Ever since that ill-fated prophecy, no one had the heart to throw him into danger.

He Lingchuan clenched his fists, watching Zeng Feixiong’s back.

The Water Spirit’s omen gnawed at him. If his great calamity was truly destined for tonight, then stepping forward would be folly.

But what if it was not the case?

Would he shrink back the next time? And the time after that? Would he spend the next ten years retreating, waiting for calamity to befall him?

It was easy to hide behind others. But who could guarantee the blade would not swing down on his neck in the end?