Thousands of Boats Float Along the Narrow Jin River (Part 6)

When the boat was sailing in the middle of the night, Meng Shizhuang smelled something wrong.

The faint smell of blood mingled with the fishy odor of the river. It was a rather strange scent, vaguely lingering at the tip of the nose, perhaps drifting away if one wasn't paying attention. But when one could smell it, it felt strangely "heavy," as if it had accumulated day after day, freshness mixed with a sickening staleness.

Meng Shizhuang was driven mad by the odor that kept creeping into his nose. His entire body was in rebellion. He dropped the oar in his left hand, rested his hand on the plank, and bent over to spit into the river. As he lowered his head, the odor pushed the contents of his throat back up.

Lao Ju was sitting cross-legged just one step away from him. Seeing this, he reached out to untie the cloth tied around his right wrist, bent his shoulders, and told him to go to the stern of the boat.

The small boat that had been spinning in place for a long time continued to move on the vast river.

The boat rowed by Lao Ju was much steadier than that rowed by Meng Shizhuang.

Meng Shizhuang did not go to the stern of the boat. Instead, he sat down with his back to Lao Ju, resting his head against the wall of the boat, and tried to calm himself by the smell of rotten wood on the old boat.

By this point, the river was mostly filled with large ships, though there were also smaller boats, the size of kittens, barely a speck of water. Meng Shizhuang's body rocked gently with the boat. He thought he was just closing his eyes for a moment's rest, but in reality, he had already fallen asleep. In the silence of the boat, his right hand slid down, touching a damp spot on the boat soaked by the river water.

Meng Shizhuang frowned uneasily. Coupled with the increasingly obvious smell of blood around him, he thought he touched sticky blood.

The night wind that gently brushed past his ears suddenly became shrill and squeaky, and Meng Shizhuang returned to the woodshed in Fanli Village. He broke out in a cold sweat, his memory and the scene before him intertwined. The woodshed door was opened, but he didn't see the evil ghost in purple. Luo Shun stood in the doorway, laughing at him with a look of revenge on his face.

Meng Shizhuang stumbled after being pushed, and turning back to see a guillotine, as tall as an adult, falling towards him. Then, covered in blood and mud, Old Hu appeared and shoved him away. Meng Shizhuang's heart and throat tightened as a wave of hatred and regret washed over him. He stared at Old Hu intently, watching as the hand that had pushed him away morphed into a single finger.

The hand pointed at him from the blazing mountain.

“Ah yes!”

Meng Shizhuang suddenly woke up and ran into Lao Ju's worried eyes.

He left Lao Ju, stumbled, half walked, half crawled to the side of the boat, and vomited violently.

The dirty water slowly rippled away. Meng Shizhuang rested his chin on the boat, his nose touching the surface. The slight chill slowly pulled him out of his horrific dream. He finally opened his eyes, and his gaze was drawn to the underwater weeds. The "weeds" gracefully turned in the water, swirling in an enchanting arc with the ripples. Meng Shizhuang parted the tangled weeds with his gaze and saw two dim "pearls."

Lao Ju, who came to check on Meng Shizhuang out of concern for her condition, just happened to support Meng Shizhuang's body as she suddenly fell backwards.

Meng Shizhuang's face was still filled with fear as he staggered to his feet and confirmed that it was a swollen human head!

"No! Don't go!"

He grabbed Lao Ju who wanted to find out what was going on, looked around, and found that the fire in his dream was not a scene in his memory.

The river, which should have been pitch black, was now ablaze with flames, as boat after boat gradually lit torches. Their frail little boat was huddled in the shadow of the larger ship. Meng Shizhuang followed the firelight, his pupils shrinking. He clutched Lao Ju tightly, then lunged for the oars, and just as the dark shadow behind him approached, he paddled at the critical moment.

The boat spun dizzily, just passing through the path of the larger ship.

The stench of blood on the river was too overwhelming to ignore. Meng Shizhuang, barely accustomed to the scent, noticed the boats were all closing in. But along the way, there were no mountains on either side. Even looking up at the sky, he could only see a lonely, cold moon. He thought of the head that had floated in the water, and a sense of foreboding washed over him.

Meng Shizhuang rushed to the stern again. Perhaps the waterway was too wide before, and he thought that all the boats of the same size as theirs had retreated. Now they were slowly gathering together, and the density was still so dense that it made people's scalps numb.

After he lost consciousness and could no longer turn back, Meng Shizhuang dug out the broken basket in the boat and handed Lao Ju his two swords. He also pulled out a forearm-length short sword from under a bag of dry food—a used sword he had scavenged from the city's blacksmith shop before setting sail. His right hand had been disabled for a long time, and although he had tried to train his left, it was not as flexible as his right. So he settled for a sword that was easier to wield.

Then, he wrapped his right fingers one by one tightly to avoid any trouble later.

Lao Ju also half-knelt at the stern, knowing that there was about to be a dangerous challenge ahead.

The boats on the river were moving forward peacefully as in the previous half of the night. This was the calm before the storm.

The ships gathered together and the flames slowly gathered. Meng Shizhuang's eyes were shining brightly and his straight back was full of energy.

At the darkest hour before dawn, the Xinglu River turned into the West Flowing Sea, but it became narrower and narrower as we went further.

Meng Shizhuang felt like she was breathing blood.

The river water was murky, almost reddish-black. Meng Shizhuang, sitting cross-legged, looked up. A simple, solemn, and majestic water tower stretched its wings, slowly baring its fangs at the visitors. The wings curved to either side, terminating in rolling hills on either side of the river. Combining this with the human head, Meng Shizhuang immediately deduced the true nature of these "hills."

All the boats stopped.

The tower was also brightly lit. If Meng Shizhuang could read, he would have known that the three large characters engraved on the tower were "Ming Hunzhou".

Under the three words "Ming Hunzhou", there is a guard at every step. The guards have torches in their hands, reflecting their faces that are either extremely old or extremely young. In short, they are not the normal age of city guards. In the dark, several heavy bows and crossbows are aimed at those who want to knock on the door to enter the city. Looking down, there are mottled buildings. The foundations of the buildings are in the water, and there are probably countless resentful souls of those who died in vain.

Song Jingyan stood on the deck, wearing a coat that was neither thick nor thin to keep out the cold.

Shao Zheng, dressed in civilian clothes, and his soldiers, also in civilian clothes, were carrying heavy objects from the bottom of the hold in baskets. A strong stench of blood and decay filled the deck, but Song Jingyan didn't even frown. Hengbo followed her, his eyelids drooping in pity, mumbling something like a mantra for the afterlife.

Qiu He came from behind and reported to Song Jingyan: "His Highness has fallen asleep. I have counted the guards. Don't worry, sister."

Song Jingyan tried to put on a casual smile as usual, but she couldn't even comfort herself. She couldn't rest assured. She wasn't afraid of the countless dead souls and bones in the Xiliu Sea, but she hesitated because of the few scout ships hidden among the thousands of ordinary ships on the sea.

Xi Zhongting really wants to take action tonight.

She clenched her hands into fists beneath her coat. Shao Zheng could see through Song Jingyan's forced composure better than anyone else and warned her, "Jingyan, there's no turning back."

From the moment they decided to follow the old King of Liang and leave the capital when Bian Yu was on the verge of collapse, there was no turning back.

The river was completely silent. Song Jingyan took a deep breath and ordered, "Knock on the city gate."

Shao Zheng didn't hesitate. He put his right hand to his lips and blew a long whistle.

A whistle blew, and another medium-sized civilian ship, several dozen feet away from the tower ship, broke the peaceful situation on the river. The people on this ship, who had obtained a horn from nowhere, blew it far away towards the tower. The rich sound echoed back and forth, waking everyone on the river. At the same time, the ship accelerated forward, and the surrounding small boats moved out of the way.

Meng Shizhuang was unlucky. His boat was too close to the "outgoing ship," and the other boats beside it were much larger than his boat, so he had to row frantically and sweat profusely to dodge. In this action that almost shook his brain, he was still able to pay attention to the movements below the city wall.

He heard the whirring of gears, and in the dim firelight, he saw several neat rows of people standing on the boat that had led the charge—a strangely orderly formation. The night wind was light, and the boat's speed was steady, yet it actually caused these people to sway repeatedly, and in perfect unison. Before Meng Shizhuang could even think, the sound of a taut bowstring echoed, and the ethereal shape of a full moon almost instantly appeared in his mind.

Then - the absurd hunt belonging to Minghunzhou began.

A perfect number of arrows rained down from the sky, mowing down half the people on the boat. The sound of people falling into the water echoed one after another, and fresh blood flowed into the West Flow Sea. Meng Shizhuang rowed, and a mouthful of blood mist hit him. It was as if time had stopped. He paused for a few breaths, unable to react to what had happened on the river.

But time did not stand still, nor would it wait for his reaction.

After the arrows fell, the sound of the gears turning became more obvious. The city wall stood quietly in the night, and the black between the two wings opened its mouth, which was also filled with fire. The ships sailed leisurely towards the city gate.

Nearly three thousand ships of all sizes were parked at the world-famous "Narrow Collar" outside Hunzhou in the Ming Dynasty, lined up like a military parade to die.

Meng Shizhuang was supported by Lao Ju. The boats beside him moved forward, but theirs remained in place. He stared straight at the behemoth before him. The firelight was reflected in those dark eyes, and he could still clearly see the silent thought in them.

At this moment, he did not feel scared or strange.

There is a type of person who, when encountering something he has never seen before, does not want to ask why at the first time, nor will he show off his limited knowledge. Instead, he will try to understand it with empathy.

But unfortunately, Meng Shizhuang's usually effective method didn't work this time.

Because he really couldn't experience the experience of being burned, killed and looted while lying flat on his back.

After leaving Daohai City, Meng Shizhuang once again gained a new understanding of the people outside the mountain.

People outside the mountains are not smart and are timid.

Meng Shizhuang's dismissive attitude didn't last long. He passionately figured it out, stood up furiously, and finally sat down again, defiantly. After all, even if there were three thousand men at sea, he was the only intelligent one, a half-crippled one. Even if he could outmaneuver a hundred, his fate would be nothing more than a pile of mud washed away by the sea.

Thinking of this, Meng Shizhuang rowed the boat, ready to go upstream.

There is a dead end ahead, and going back is not easy either.

The big ship was blocking the way, and some people saw that they were just small shrimps and wanted to get two more heads on board.

Lao Ju was sitting at the stern of the boat. The two swords in his hands were not just for decoration. They scared away a group of people with bad intentions.

After gliding a distance, away from Minghunzhou, Meng Shizhuang naively believed he was out of danger. He even had time to feel depressed, thinking he had worked all night in vain, his arms aching from rowing. Lost in his thoughts, he was suddenly awakened by a scream. Looking up, he saw an old woman on the boat ahead crying out in despair.

Meng Shizhuang looked again and saw a larger boat in the direction of the old woman's crying. A middle-aged man was holding a child in his hands, and it seemed that he had snatched the child from the old woman's arms.

It was a familiar face, the fat boy he had met in the city before.