Bodhisattva and evil spirits
The wind from the western border, carrying sand and the smell of blood, blew day and night on a Qiang camp that had just been conquered.
The tattered felt tent was still smoking, and scattered weapons and solidified dark red were scattered all over the ground.
Wang Mengzi stood in the open space in the camp with his sword in hand. His armor was splattered with blood, and a new scar ran across his face, making him look even more hideous.
Kneeling in front of him was the leader of the Western Qiang tribe, who was tied up tightly.
Although this man was defeated and captured, he still held his head high, with resentment in his eyes, and cursed loudly in stiff Chinese mixed with Qiang language.
"Ning Lingyi! She's nothing but a slave girl who traded her body for power!"
"When my Qiang warriors conquer the Southern Dynasty, we will capture her and make her a camp prostitute, letting thousands of men..."
Dirty words are unbearable to hear.
The Southern Dynasty soldiers standing solemnly around were instantly shocked.
"Shut up, you bastard!"
"Tear his mouth apart!"
"General! Let me skin him alive!"
Several generals were furious and stepped forward with their swords drawn, ready to eat alive the chief who had spoken so arrogantly.
"Stop right there!" Wang Mengzi shouted, shocking everyone.
There was no expression of joy or anger on his face. He walked step by step to the chief and looked down at him condescendingly.
The chief was frightened by his eyes, and his cursing stopped abruptly. He made a hoarse sound in his throat and shuddered involuntarily.
"Your tongue and your mouth have committed great disrespect."
"Killing you like this is too easy. This sin must be redeemed slowly."
He waved his hand, his tone as calm as if he was giving instructions for dinner: "Take him away, keep him alive, and I will personally entertain him."
The personal guards received the order and dragged the pale-faced chief away.
In the following days, inhuman howls were often heard from this temporary military camp. The sounds became more shrill, yet weaker day by day.
Wang Mengzi will go to carry out the execution personally. When he comes out, his face is still calm, but the blood on his hands is a little darker.
He couldn't do any delicate work before. He watched others slaughtering pigs in his hometown, cutting them one by one, scraping off the skin and flesh, and peeling off the heart and lungs, and he learned a lot from them.
He really couldn't bear to let him die so early, so he had to take up the knife with great effort and scrape open his head, his chest, his limbs bit by bit. It was not very painful at all.
However, it's a craft, and you have to learn it slowly.
He did not deliberately block the news, and even intentionally allowed some of the tragic situations to be seen by the Western Qiang scouts.
Soon, the horrific legend that "Wang Mengzi of the Southern Dynasty was the reincarnation of an evil spirit" spread like a plague among the Western Qiang tribes.
The Qiang people changed color when they heard his name, feeling both fear and hatred. The siege and attacks on Wang Mengzi's troops became more and more crazy and brutal.
Wang Mengzi responded with even more ferocious and cruel killings.
The army under his command was like a torrent of steel, or like a Shura rushing out of hell. Wherever they passed, no grass grew and blood flowed like a river.
Hatred was like a poisonous fire, not only burning the Western Qiang people, but also eroding himself day by day.
Until a letter from the central military camp was delivered to his desk.
The letter was written by Ning Lingyi herself.
Unfolding the letter, the familiar clear handwriting came into view.
There was no inquiry into the specific progress of the war, nor was there any urging for the next military action. The opening was just a normal greeting, expressing concern for the bitter cold outside the Great Wall, and urging people to take care of their health.
However, halfway through the letter, the tone of the writing suddenly changed.
"However, I have recently heard reports that you are using increasingly harsh punishments, killing countless people. While the enemy chieftain is detestable and his words deserve punishment, there should be moderation. Since you joined the campaign in Mingzhou, you have been known for your bravery and loyalty, a fact I know well. However, you are plagued by resentment and may be harboring demons. This is not good for the country, nor is it what I desire. The Northern Expedition is not yet complete, and the flames of war in the western border are still lingering. Can you still hold on?"
Every word and sentence was like ice water poured over his head, extinguishing the hot murderous intent in Wang Mengzi's chest.
He held the letter in his hand and sat in the tent for a long time without saying a word.
The light in the tent illuminated his angular face, which was full of traces of weathering.
Inner demon?
He slowly closed his eyes.
What flashed before his eyes were the 3,000 lively and eager young faces who had shown immense trust in him during the Mingzhou oath-taking ceremony.
They shouted, "Follow Boss Wang, kill Qiang dogs, and have a full meal!" and followed him all the way north, engaging in bloody battles.
What about now?
He suddenly opened his eyes and glanced at the guards standing solemnly outside the tent. Most of those faces were unfamiliar. Of the original 3,000 Mingzhou men, less than 500 were still standing here.
Every loss of personnel, every familiar name that turned into cold ink on the list of the dead, was like a blunt knife cutting into his heart repeatedly.
Their blood feud, their wronged souls, screamed in his ears day and night, urging him to kill and take revenge!
How could he let go? How could he not hate?
Official position? Military merit? Even a title of nobility is just around the corner.
These things are nothing compared to those brothers who have fallen forever in a foreign land!
He hated the Western Qiang, the land that had swallowed up countless of his brothers. He had sworn an oath that he would not return to the elders of Mingzhou, nor would he face His Majesty, until all his enemies were slain and the Western Qiang court was razed to the ground.
The curtain was gently lifted, and a tall figure walked in. It was Ding Guinan.
Several years of military service had already washed away his humility and fear.
Today, Ding Guinan has a strong body, dark skin, calm eyes, and moves with the agility unique to a soldier. He already carries the rank of a sixth-rank Zhaowu lieutenant on his shoulders.
He saw Wang Mengzi sitting in front of the lamp, holding the letter tightly in his hand, his expression more gloomy than ever before, so he silently poured a bowl of hot tea and handed it to him.
"General, is this the letter from His Majesty?" Ding Guinan asked softly.
Wang Mengzi didn't take the teacup, but handed him the letter: "Your Majesty's letter. He's worried that we are too murderous, so he asked."
Ding Guinan took the letter. He could now recognize some words and could barely understand the general meaning.
He watched silently, his brows gradually furrowed.
He had an almost god-like reverence for Ning Lingyi.
It was the army under Ning Lingyi's command that pulled him out of hell, it was Ning Lingyi who posthumously conferred the title of Song Yaoer, and it was Ning Lingyi who gave him the opportunity to pick up a knife, to seek revenge and gain dignity like a real man.
He had never seen the princess, but she was the only light in his dark life and the one he was willing to die for.
But the words in this letter made him feel inexplicably wronged?
Too murderous?
He suddenly remembered that cold night when he curled up in the tattered tent, looking at the sparse stars in the sky. Suddenly, the faces of his parents, which had long been blurred, appeared clearly before his eyes.
My mother's warm embrace, my father's rough but strong hands, although our family was poor, the fire in the stove was always warm...
Then came the flames, the screams, the blood, the fear of being dragged, the sinister smiles of the Western Qiang people, and the more than ten years of barking and licking like pigs and dogs...
The hatred that had been suppressed for more than ten years and almost became a part of him, erupted like a volcano at that moment, burning him so hard that his whole body trembled and tears streamed down his face, but he couldn't make a sound.
From that night on, he finally understood why he was alive and why he held the knife tightly in his hand. He hated it, he hated it to death, he hated it so much that he wanted to kill all the Qiang people!
How can this hatred be held or overcome?
Ding Guinan gently placed the letter back on the table: "General, Your Majesty has never smelled the stench of livestock in the camp, never eaten stale rice covered in mud, and never been whipped by a frozen leather whip..."
"She doesn't know that some people don't deserve to live, and some hatred cannot be resolved."
Wang Mengzi looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot.
Ding Guinan stared at him without hesitation: "Your Majesty has the heart of a bodhisattva, and he pities all living things. But we are not bodhisattvas, we are evil ghosts that crawled out of hell! Our lives were washed clean with the blood of the Qiang people! The debt of the three thousand brothers in Mingzhou, the injustice of Song Yaoer and the others, and my parents, and those ten years..."
"This debt can only be paid with blood!"
Every word he said hit Wang Mengzi's heart.
Your Majesty is a woman, a god, the mother of all people. Naturally, she has compassion and sympathy, but they are not. They are two sharp knives forged by hatred. They can no longer turn back, nor do they want to turn back.
The turbid anger in Wang Mengzi's heart that was suppressed by Ning Lingyi's letter seemed to surge up again, even more intensely.
He nodded heavily: "That's right! Blood debt must be repaid with blood!"
He spread out paper and pen and began to write back to Ning Lingyi.
He was not well educated, and his handwriting was rough and even a little crooked: "Your Majesty, please understand: I, Mengzi, bow my head. Your Majesty's teachings, I will keep in mind."
"However, three thousand men from Mingzhou followed me north, and now only one in ten remains. This hatred and resentment is etched deep in my heart, and I will never forget it! It is not that I am bloodthirsty, but the Qiang captives and I have long been embroiled in a sea of blood, and only death can bring relief. I will annihilate the Western Qiang and plow through the fields and sweep the bloodshed. If I fail to fulfill this wish, I cannot face the elders of Mingzhou, nor can I stand before Your Majesty's steps! I have never slackened in my resolve to march north, and I will lead Your Majesty in the vanguard and annihilate the stubborn captives!"
Having written this, he paused, his chest heaving violently.
He no longer knows how to cry, and tears have long since flowed through his heart.
Ding Guinan, who was standing by, suddenly spoke up: "General, could you please write a few words to His Majesty for me as well?"
Wang Mengzi glanced at him and handed him the pen: "Write whatever you want."
Ding Guinan took the pen, his hands trembling slightly.
He can't read much and writing is even more difficult for him.
He held the pen clumsily and, on the blank space at the end of the letter, wrote with great care a few lines of crooked, varying sizes: "Your Majesty, rest assured. I will kill the enemy for you. I will die for you. You are our heaven."
No signature.
These were the only words he could write, and it had taken all his strength.
The messenger carried the heavy letter, crossed the beacon line, and rode at full speed to deliver it to the central army.
Ning Lingyi unfolded the reply letter.
Wang Mengzi's words were filled with burning hatred and obsession, which frightened her and made her sad.
When her eyes fell on the end of the letter, she was speechless for a long time.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty. I will kill for you. I will die for you. You are our God."
She seemed to be able to see how the boy who once lived like a dog wrote these words clumsily and devoutly. He worshipped her as if she were a god, willing to die in loyalty to her, but the foundation of this loyalty was an irreconcilable blood feud.
They revered her as heaven and were willing to die for her.
But is her sky just for bearing sacrifice and death?
Ning Lingyi closed the letter and sighed.
Outside the window, the wind and sand of the western Xinjiang have already worn away countless lives and souls beyond recognition.
After a long time, she spread out new letter paper. This letter was addressed to Ding Guinan alone.
“The words ‘die for me’ are heartbreaking to read.
I do not wish to see those who died, but rather to see those who survived. I fought bravely to protect my life, not to die. I have tasted the bitterness of war, and only wish that from now on, I will never see the smoke of war again.
Please help me break the formation and kill the enemy, and also protect yourself for me. Ning Lingyi"
She hoped that this letter could cross the flames of war and reach the hands of the young soldier filled with hatred and loyalty.
She didn't know whether this faint voice could penetrate the high wall built of blood and fire and sow a seed of "life" in his heart.
She knew that Wang Mengzi and Ding Guinan could no longer be easily brought back.
They and countless people like them have been firmly bound to this war and this hatred.
The road to the Northern Expedition was destined to be paved with more blood.
And after the victory, how should she face these souls reshaped by hatred, how should she guide them from the loyalty and bravery of "seeking death" to the responsibility of "living", and how should she comfort this land soaked in blood and fire?
The road ahead is still long and difficult.
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