Chapter 5

Four days passed, and Zhou Shixiang was still lingering in the mountainous area of western Guangdong. During this time, he got lost several times, which made him extremely anxious.

In his previous life, if he had to go out, the railways, highways, national roads, and provincial roads were all well-connected, with large signboards at every intersection. As long as he could read, he wouldn't get lost, and there would always be a way to go. However, the transportation infrastructure in this era in Guangdong was far behind. Apart from the official roads connecting the prefectures and counties, the number of other roads could be counted on one hand. Most of them were just small paths that the villagers (mountain dwellers) had walked out themselves. These small paths were familiar to the locals, but outsiders couldn't navigate them, especially in the mountains. Without a guide, it was very difficult to find a way out.

Zhou Shixiang didn't dare to walk on the official roads. Last year, Li Dingguo led his troops to attack Guangzhou, and the Qing army didn't dare to engage in battle, abandoning all the prefectures and counties in western Guangdong and only defending Guangzhou. After Li Dingguo's defeat in Xinhui and was forced to retreat, the Qing army took advantage of the situation to reoccupy most of the prefectures and counties in western Guangdong. At present, the official roads leading west were almost entirely controlled by the Qing army, and the checks on passers-by were extremely strict.

The story of passing through five checkpoints and slaying six generals was something that only happened in novels. Zhou Shixiang wasn't Guan Yu and didn't dare to walk on the official roads. Not to mention other things, just the Mongolian horse he was riding could make him a target for the Qing army. A simple question like "Where did you get this horse?" would leave him speechless and exposed.

Although walking on the small paths was difficult, it was safe. However, Zhou Shixiang didn't know the way, and after wandering in the mountains for two or three days, he still didn't know where he was. If someone could give him a map at this moment, he would be willing to do anything for them.

Zhou Shixiang wasn't unwilling to ask a local for directions, but there was no sign of human habitation within dozens of miles. He did pass a few villages, but they had long been abandoned, with nothing but overgrown grass. There wasn't a single person to be seen. The villagers were either killed by the soldiers or had fled to avoid them.

Since the Qing army occupied Guangdong, the people of the province suffered greatly. The provincial capital, Guangzhou, was massacred by the Qing army, and the massacres in other places were countless. The tragedy in Xinhui was not much worse compared to these places.

The western Guangdong region had been repeatedly ravaged by both the Ming and Qing armies. The area was already in ruins, and with the rampant bandits and soldiers, few people could still live in peace in their hometowns.

Without a guide, Zhou Shixiang could only grope his way forward helplessly. The skills he learned as a cavalryman in his previous life came in handy, at least he wouldn't get lost or starve. He had eaten quite a few snakes, rats, insects, and ants.

As the sun was about to set, Zhou Shixiang wanted to find a place to rest. Otherwise, in the wilderness, the safety level at night was indeed low, and he couldn't guarantee that there were no tigers or wolves in the mountains of Guangdong in this era.

Fortunately, his luck was good. As the sun set in the west, Zhou Shixiang found a shack to rest in. The shack was built in a bamboo grove on a hillside. From a distance, it looked like a hermit's abode, but upon closer inspection, it was just a place for mountain dwellers to rest while cutting firewood.

The shack was extremely simple, with a bamboo frame, some grass on top, and branches used to block the sides. It was as rudimentary as it could be. There was nothing inside except a rusty iron pot, which hadn't been used for at least a month, judging by the rust.

After carefully examining the surroundings, Zhou Shixiang tied the Mongolian horse to the side of the shack, gathered some dry grass to spread inside, and ate a few fruits he had picked on the mountain. Feeling drowsy, he couldn't hold out any longer and fell asleep.

It was late March, and the temperature in Guangdong was still comfortable. The night wasn't cold, so Zhou Shixiang didn't feel the chill. Otherwise, it would have been a difficult night.

The mountain forest was silent at night, except for the sounds of birds and unknown wild animals. The vast mountain was completely quiet.

The Mongolian horse had also suffered a lot these past few days, eating nothing but grass. It was hungry but seemed to understand that its current owner couldn't provide food, so it lay down quietly without making a sound.

Zhou Shixiang was indeed very tired these past few days. After experiencing so much, he was both physically and mentally exhausted. When he woke up, he had forgotten everything and felt very comfortable.

In a daze, the Mongolian horse suddenly neighed, and the alertness from his previous life as a soldier immediately woke Zhou Shixiang. He realized there was danger, but before he could jump up, he was already pinned down, and the saber he had placed by his right hand was kicked away.

"Who are you!"

Zhou Shixiang looked at the men with torches in front of him in surprise. Some of them were wearing mismatched Ming army uniforms, while others were dressed as civilians or hunters. They looked neither like soldiers nor civilians, but the one thing they had in common was that they all had knives in their hands.

The two men pinning Zhou Shixiang were dressed in short, tight-fitting clothes, with rough faces, clearly not good people.

"Heh, this kid is asking who we are, but I haven't even asked him who he is yet," a man dressed as a hunter laughed at Zhou Shixiang.

The man holding Zhou Shixiang's left hand laughed, "This kid has smooth skin and looks like a scholar. Tsk, tsk, the Tartars really know how to send people."

Another man joined in, "The Tartars have invested a lot. That horse outside is a top-quality Mongolian horse. I've seen it before when I was with the prince. If we sell this horse, it would be worth a lot of silver."

"Right, that's true. Lao Ben and the bandits lack horses. There are few Mongolian horses in their army. If they see this horse, they'll be envious," another man added.

Thinking about how they could exchange this Tartar spy's horse for silver with the Ming army, the men were all excited.

While these men were talking, Zhou Shixiang noticed that they definitely weren't Qing soldiers, but they didn't seem to be Ming soldiers either. They were probably bandits. From their tone, it seemed they had contact with the Ming army in Guangxi. He wanted to explain that he wasn't a spy but was planning to join the Ming army. Just as he was about to speak, the man in the mismatched Ming army uniform walked up to him and asked sternly, "You Tartar spy, tell me, what are you doing in the mountains!"

Zhou Shixiang was startled and quickly shook his head, "I'm not a Tartar spy, you've misunderstood!"

"Not a spy?" The man laughed coldly and suddenly reached for the back of Zhou Shixiang's head, "Hmph, if you're not a spy, what is this?"

The man's movements were too quick. By the time Zhou Shixiang realized what was happening, he felt a pain at the back of his head, and then a braid like a rat's tail was thrown in front of him.

A braid?!

Zhou Shixiang was shocked again. He then remembered that the original owner of the body had shaved his head, and in his recent days of seeking revenge, he had forgotten about the infamous queue from his previous life.