Chapter 2

Under the cover of dusk, I dragged a bag full of food, caked with mud and dust, and carefully navigated through the rubble. My familiarity with the nearby environment and households, as well as the locations of their kitchens, from my brief teaching career, allowed me to expand my activity radius. I rummaged through the ruins of burned and collapsed houses, finding some edible tubers and dried goods, some salt, and small pieces of cured meat.

With these, I could stew a pot of mixed porridge. There was still water in the ice cellar, and as for firewood, it was almost everywhere in this scorched scene.

Unfortunately, as part of an unknown mission, I remembered several hiding places and supply caches, but with the outbreak of war, only this large ice cellar remained useful.

Suddenly, my hair stood on end, and I heard a whistling sound. A projectile grazed my scalp, leaving a burning trail, and embedded itself in the wall with a thud, sending up a puff of dust.

From the half-collapsed wall, several helmeted and bandaged heads appeared. They were part of the marauding soldiers who had looted and burned the city. Among them were the nearly defunct troops of the capital region, the Sixteen Guards filled with incompetent soldiers, the once-glorious but now hollow Imperial Guard and the ceremonial guards from the palace, as well as various irregular forces summoned by imperial edict, perhaps to take advantage of the chaos. There were even retainers and household guards from some noble families.

Not to mention the countless ruffians from the city who had turned into bandits overnight.

After the city gates were sealed, they launched desperate attacks and looted every坊 (neighborhood) and residence they could see, venting their fear and confusion on the innocent or less innocent. In the frenzy of fighting and killing, they burned their lives and energy with a hysterical intensity.

As a result, the four Tianjin Bridges over the Luo River were covered with a dense layer of floating corpses, so thick that even an adult could walk on them as if on solid ground.

This was their final狂欢 (orgy). Perhaps after tomorrow or the day after, the surviving ministers would begin their counterattack, and these rampaging soldiers and civilians would become sacrifices to the new ambitions and desires.

But for now, their brutality was still needed to cleanse the city of the numerous aristocratic families and their followers.

Whether noble or humble, rich or poor, the only thing that determined their chances of survival was the height and thickness of the walls of their neighborhood and the determination and will of the people around them to protect themselves.

Lost in these thoughts, I fled for my life. Just as I was about to jump into a sewer shaft, a tripwire in the dark street corner flipped me over, and I rolled heavily to the ground, losing consciousness before I heard:

"Another one..."

When I woke up, my mouth was full of blood and dust. My hands were tied behind my back, and I limped along, a large bruise on my thigh. But at least I was still alive, my bones intact, and I could drag myself along. Others who were no longer useful had been disposed of, their throats slit, and they became nameless corpses in the roadside ditches.

A group of soldiers, reeking of blood and smoke, stood or sat, leaning against the walls. On the ground lay several bodies, regardless of gender, age, or social status, all beheaded cleanly. Their heads were piled on top of their naked, dismembered bodies, forming a small pyramid. Fresh and old blood flowed from the pile, creating a pool of coagulated, blackened clots.

At the top of the pyramid were the heads of a dozen or so unfortunate souls, their hair and beards matted with blood, making me feel a deep sense of horror. Clearly, they had been killed after being toyed with for entertainment.

A hoarse voice, as if emerging from a hell of fire and ashes, said:

"Give me a reason to spare your life..."

"I'm a good cook..."

"A cook..."

The surrounding men laughed, their scarred faces contorting.

"We can all cook meat. What use do we have for you?"

As the man with the knife approached, I quickly said:

"I also know how to treat injuries..."

"Oh..."

The laughter subsided, and a man with a bloody half-body was brought to me. The stench of rotting flesh hit me as I peeled away the rotten flesh and maggots with a small knife, then wrapped the wound with lard and meat skin. Thus, I temporarily became one of their unofficial members.

There were a few other new members, some of whom joined voluntarily or were coerced. One was a heavy criminal who had escaped from the capital prison, claiming to have taken dozens of lives; another was a street vendor who claimed to know how to repair metal; a former jailer who had killed several colleagues to prove his loyalty; a fat monk who had murdered the abbot of his temple; and even more.

As we were driven to join a larger gang, I gradually learned their backgrounds. They were part of the provincial militia that had responded to the call to defend the capital, from the Qingxu Town, one of the many military towns in Henan that had been established to resist the so-called rebels from overseas. Qingxu Town was one of the more obedient towns, relatively submissive to the waning authority of the capital.

This militia was composed of various elements, most of whom were former bandits and rebels who had been recruited by the state, thus not lacking in cruelty, ferocity, and other traits necessary to survive in this chaotic world.

Thus, they were sent as cannon fodder to show their loyalty and to probe the situation. They, along with others, became trapped in this vast city like fish in a jar.

After several days of疯狂 (rampage) and looting, there were reportedly dozens of such gangs, each acting independently. Although they often clashed, the city was large enough to provide them with ample space to wreak havoc and to survive in sufficient numbers.

Injuries were inevitable, and fortunately or unfortunately, they had not found a competent doctor, which gave me a chance to survive.

On a cart pulled by a mule, they had piled up their loot, initially a mix of household items, which were soon exchanged for silk and brocade, then for broken gold and silver objects, and finally for bags of money and jewels. This was the result of their multiple clashes with other looters in the city.

Because of my cooking skills and basic knowledge of treating injuries, I was kept as an unofficial member, half-coerced and half-threatened. To protect me, a scarce resource, they even fought another gang, resulting in several casualties.

After all, as long as there was fighting, there would always be injuries, and a little medical knowledge could mean the difference between life and death.

But I never thanked them, even though most of them, with their camaraderie and shared drinking and feasting, seemed to have accepted me and promised to give me an official position and a good woman once we left.

However, I was determined to escape them, return to my hiding place, and survive this disaster, while collecting the interest I was owed from the women.

Especially after witnessing their simple and pure camaraderie, and their brutal treatment of innocent victims, I felt a deep sense of disgust and fear. They showed no mercy to the elderly, women, and children.

But I seemed to be too good, and they valued me so much that they guarded me day and night, leaving me with no chance to escape. Any misstep could bring catastrophic consequences to me and those I protected.

"Brother, don't you want to join in?"

A soldier, satisfied after abusing a woman, got up from her legs and invited me with a grin. Although the woman was already dead, they continued to abuse her body, boasting about who had left the most marks and lasted the longest.

I maintained a zombie-like expression, mixing an unidentified ointment, which bored them, and soon others joined in.

"You're a coward..."

"She wouldn't look at you, you big brute."

As expected, a chorus of ridicule followed.

The virtuous women hiding in the neighborhoods, despite cutting their hair, dressing as men, and blackening their faces, could not escape the soldiers' notice. Their thirst for water left traces that the soldiers, with their keen eyes, quickly spotted. The scene that followed was even more graphic and brutal than any dark story I had read.

Victims were often first dislocated or broken to prevent resistance, and then, according to the group's hierarchy, they might be accidentally killed or strangled. The soldiers had plenty of victims.

The new members, once coerced into joining, fell even faster into depravity, suggesting many heinous ideas and actions.

They were few in number but among the most intolerant of my existence, as I managed to remain somewhat detached from their brutality. Their constant taunts were inevitable.

But I was secretly assessing their supplies and equipment, noting the hand signs, spears, and swords, as well as a muzzle-loading gun, a fuse, and several bottles of gunpowder. They had developed some skills with firearms after suffering from the skilled use of such weapons by the rebels.

That night, the opportunity finally came. After a clash with another gang, I gathered most of what I needed.

The Luo River was now filled with ships and masts, as the canal troops began to seal the bridges. The northern part of the city, where the imperial palace and granaries were located, was filled with the sounds of battle and smoke, while the southern part, where I was, was eerily quiet.

Everyone seemed to sense the end was near. Like a drowning ant colony, they abandoned their last hopes and began their final frenzy, disposing of the weak and injured, and then fighting over the escape route. They then feasted and drank excessively.

In the soup and wine, I added everything I could find, leaving the rest to fate.

The first to fall were the outer guards, followed by the lightly injured who were resting.

The leader and a few remaining loyalists, along with the rest, secretly entered a sewer. But something went wrong, and they were pursued. Some had not drunk the spiked wine or had not consumed enough.

I resolved to fight these former comrades, killing them and disposing of the immobile injured.

As the scout, I led them into a sewer tunnel filled with accumulated gas.

I covered my nose, blocking out the screams, pleas, and threats from behind the stone slab, which eventually turned into a dead silence.

Even the youngest voice, scratching the stone, swearing and crying, claiming to be a good person coerced into joining, and begging for a chance to repent, was silenced.

Crossing the bodies, twisted and contorted from the gas and suffocation, I felt no unease, fear, or other negative emotions, despite having killed so many for the first time.

I limped out of the sewer, sat down beside the well, and sighed, "It's dawn."

Perhaps some would survive, but it no longer mattered. With the sound of drums and trumpets, the well-prepared troops under the command of the ministers began to enter the city.