Chongzhou, the garrison of Chen Jiajun.
As dusk settled, a single oil lamp inside the tent cast a dim light, making the shadows on the windowpanes flicker.
The young medicine boy, Azhu, sat cross-legged on a straw mat, the copper mortar he used for grinding medicine already placed aside.
He was only twelve or thirteen years old, thin and small, dressed in coarse cloth clothes that had been washed until they were faded, with a dark red string tied around his wrist.
Outside the window, a gray sparrow fluttered its wings and landed on the windowsill, tilting its head to look at him, its black bean-like eyes staring back.
"Sister Mo, General Chen has recruited some extraordinary people today." Azhu's voice was very soft as she picked up a pill with her fingertips and handed it to Gray Sparrow.
“Some extraordinary individuals are very powerful, but the strength of others is limited. Currently, the discipline of the Chen family army is not very good, and some people have become arrogant, trying to rob government granaries whenever they come across them.”
The gray sparrow pecked at the pill and, as if it understood, hopped around twice.
A-Zhu's lips curved slightly as she continued to whisper, "The one-eyed strategist suggested opening the granaries to distribute grain, and General Chen wants to learn from the barren mountains and build factories, but they haven't made any progress yet..."
He paused, took out a piece of candy from his pocket, broke it into pieces and scattered it on the windowsill. "If you fly over the refugee camp in the west of the city, remember to call out a few times to tell those children not to go near the riverbank. There have been torrential rains upstream these past few days, and the dikes here are probably not very secure."
A gray sparrow picked up a crumb of sugar and flew into the night. Several more sparrows landed, chirping and chattering around him, as if reporting something. A-Zhu listened intently, sometimes nodding, sometimes frowning.
"The Mighty Army has arrived in Qingzhou?" He remained expressionless. "The Mighty Army is nothing; they wouldn't dare to attack Qingzhou yet."
The night breeze blew in through the window, and the oil lamp flickered on and off.
A-Zhu got up and closed the window. She took out an object from her close-fitting cloth bag: a palm-sized wooden carving of a mountain god.
The wood was warm and smooth, with a faint scent of sandalwood. The patterns on the empress's robes were clearly visible, but her face was blurry.
Because no one has ever seen the true appearance of the Mountain Goddess, even her dress is just something everyone has imagined.
He placed the wooden carving neatly on the low table, and then took three grains of rice and a dried wild chrysanthemum petal, and respectfully placed them in front of the statue.
"Mountain Goddess." Azhu knelt on the ground, her forehead pressed against the cold mud.
"Today I saved three more soldiers with fevers using the remedy taught by Master Tong. The one-eyed strategist's cough is getting worse, and I have already taken care of him as planned..."
A-Zhu remained kneeling and reported on the important matters of the day one by one, such as the abilities of the newly surrendered extraordinary people and where the provisions were stored.
Each sentence is clearly organized.
After finishing his business, he knelt and bowed several more times before standing up and staring blankly at the wooden carving.
…
In Qingzhou, dusk was falling.
The Weiwu Army's camp was set up on a low slope ten miles outside the city, and the outline of Qingzhou City in the distance looked particularly peaceful under the setting sun.
The lanterns hanging on the city wall lit up one after another, looking like a winding fire dragon from afar.
Kan Dadao sat in the main tent, with a newly opened jar of strong liquor on the low table in front of him.
His rough fingers caressed the rim of the wine bowl, and his bronze armor, still in place, gleamed darkly in the candlelight.
The white cloth wrapped around his neck was oozing specks of scarlet blood; those were old wounds left in front of the Liangzhou Mountain God Temple.
"Damn it..." He tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of wine. His Adam's apple bobbed as it pulled at his wound, causing him to grimace in pain.
The wine dripped down his beard, leaving a dark stain on his leather armor.
"I've roamed the world like a tyrant, and yet I've stumbled in front of a dilapidated temple!"
The sound of patrolling soldiers' footsteps came from outside the tent, their leather boots making a dull thud on the mud.
Occasionally, the snorting of warhorses could be heard, mixed with the faint barking of dogs from distant villages.
This should have been a perfect opportunity for his troops to plunder, but he hesitated, always feeling that something was amiss.
Kan slammed his broadsword down on the wine bowl with a bang, a hint of resentment flashing in his eyes.
In the past, he would have led his men to storm into the mansions of the wealthy, robbing them of money, food, and women.
But now, as he touched the wound on his neck, the burning pain seemed to still be there.
"General," the guard cautiously lifted the tent flap, "the scouts have returned, saying that in some counties of Qingzhou..."
"What did you say?" Kan Da Dao squinted.
The guard swallowed hard: "Every few county towns, there's a mountain god temple where people kneel and worship morning and evening. Some even say..."
It is said that the governor of Qingzhou forcibly seized temple land last month, and died suddenly in his study the next day, bleeding from all seven orifices..."
The wine bowl slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground.
Cold sweat beaded on Kan Dadao's forehead, the golden light of Liangzhou from that day flashing before his eyes again. He suddenly stood up, the clanging of his bronze armor startling his personal guards into taking two steps back.
"Pass down the order!" His voice was hoarse. "The entire army is forbidden from disturbing the civilians! Anyone who disobeys will be executed!"
…
At the same moment, inside a gray tent in a corner of the military camp.
Ling Xian was adjusting his clothes in front of a bronze mirror. The mirror reflected a refined and slender face, the wrinkles between his brows that were usually tightly furrowed were now somewhat relaxed.
He took off the gray leather cloak of the Mighty Army and put on a plain blue long gown.
The imposing military token hanging from the jade belt at his waist was gently removed and placed on the table.
Shadows flickered outside the tent.
"The strategist has quite the refined taste." Jiang Dashan's figure emerged from the shadows, his coarse cloth clothes still damp with night dew.
His younger brother, Jiang Le, squatted on the roof beam, playing with a dagger in his hand, the blade flying like a butterfly between his fingers.
Ling Xian paused, then continued to tighten the belt around his waist: "You two have come to visit so late at night, are you here to take my head?"
"Strategist, you jest." Jiang Dashan grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth. "We're here to show you the way."
Ling Xian looked outside the tent, where there should have been patrolling sentries, but it was unusually quiet at the moment.
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