Chapter 32

I panted heavily, watching the crowd trample over the road,

the cavalry, holding high their green banners and dressed in gray robes, like reefs splitting the black tide, mercilessly dispersing everything in their path.

If there was even a slight delay or obstruction, these cavalry, who seemed to have little patience, would use their sabers, spears, and trampling to create waves of blood in the crowd,

leaving behind a ground strewn with fallen and rolling bodies, mixed with various severed limbs, red and white flesh intertwined, with cries and moans rising amidst the cold, bloody air.

My heart, which had been pounding fiercely, gradually calmed down. Since coming to this world, I have seen too many tragic scenes of life and death, and the various ugliness that arise from the struggle for survival. Even the lives I have ended with my own hands are not just a few.

I glanced at the "head-hugging crouch," who had fallen off the red tiger's back, now huddled in the shadow of my embrace like a quail that had fallen into the snow, trembling and whimpering.

"Alright, I'll teach you a song... it will help you relax..."

I gently patted her trembling back and hummed in a low voice.

"I have a red tiger, I never ride it..."

"One day, on a whim, I rode it to the market."

"In my hand, I held a small whip, feeling quite proud."

"Then, for some reason, it went 'splash splash splash,' and I fell into a puddle of mud."

After humming it a few times, she gradually calmed down, but still clung tightly to my shirt, huddling in my arms, soft and afraid to get up.

At this moment,

the cavalry on the road had finally passed. The misfortune of the fleeing crowd had not ended. After waiting for a while, a large contingent of infantry began to appear on the road.

This time, the banners were very clear. Standing in the biting cold wind, the "Li" banners, square banners, and vertical banners representing this official army numbered over a hundred.

Based on the common knowledge I gained on Liangshan, each banner represents at least a squad leader. If fully manned, this official army has over ten thousand men, not including the cavalry that cleared the way and various laborers.

In fact, in such cross-state warfare, most of the laborers are conscripted along the way. Therefore, these refugees who did not escape became the best补充 for the army's labor force.

Thus, a new round of tragic stories of separation and family dispersion unfolded before my eyes. Young men and women were selected, tied with ropes, and dragged into the marching ranks.

From the direction of Xiaoguang County, the sounds of battle and the smoke from burning buildings began to rise, clearly indicating their true purpose. The most likely fate for these people is to become one of the many corpses filling the moats or serving as padding under the ladders during the siege.

After all, this is a chaotic era lacking in humanity and moral boundaries.

We continued on our journey, but before that, I thought of some necessary precautions.

I had just noticed that a few passersby had glanced at us and kept looking back as they walked away. I took a closer look and found something unusual. Although she was wrapped in a dull gray cloth, I had cleaned her up too much. Her overly pale skin and jet-black hair made her stand out like a crane among chickens wherever she went.

I tore the edges of her outer garment, dragged it on the ground to get it dirty and wet, and then draped her in an old, dull gray felt. This made her less conspicuous.

I took a handful of dirt mixed with the red tiger's urine and smeared it on her hair and face, finally covering the last of her unusual features.

The dirt and stench were enough to deter most curious and covetous eyes. The only side effect was that she kept dry heaving at mealtime, and I had to coax, threaten, and cajole her to eat, so she wouldn't lack the strength and be left to the wolves.

After all, our journey had already included encounters with wolf-like animals.

I repeated the process, adding more dirt to the places she had secretly cleaned, ensuring that she wouldn't attract undue attention and put us both in danger before she was too weak from nausea and vomiting.

I had read the famous, heavy-hearted manga "Wolf's Mouth," and as we walked, we encountered a half-destroyed post station. This time, we couldn't obtain any supplies.

However, in exchange for two cakes, I managed to get some bad news from a surviving old postman, who had been left to die with an injured leg after the station was attacked.

After all, as one of the few public facilities still functioning in this chaotic era, they were the last source of information.

It was said that the north, east, and west of this state were almost all at war. The reason was simple: the town was vulnerable. It was easy to imagine that due to the惨败 of the five-state coalition at Liangshan, which severely weakened their strength, the overseas vassal states took the opportunity to invade and seize large areas of land and population.

On the other hand, several military states near the Hebei region suddenly broke their usual behavior and, under the pretext of assisting in the suppression, crossed the border to take advantage of the chaos.

They did not directly engage with the forces of the overseas vassal states but followed closely behind, maintaining a certain level of threat and contact. Then, under the pretext of repelling the enemy, they took over the cities and lands of the Mi, Qi, and Zibo states, seemingly planning to stay for the long term.

Behind all this warfare and chaos, I could vaguely sense the power struggles and changes at various levels, from local militia commanders, garrison commanders, and defense commanders to provincial governors and even the highest-ranking military governors.

This was a reality that could not be worse for me. My preferred plan to go east to Dengzhou and cross the sea could not be realized, and my backup plan to go west to Qizhou and travel along the inland river would also fail.

As for going north to the Hebei region, that was out of the question. Before crossing the Yellow River, we would have to survive the invasion of several states.

The only option left seemed to be heading south and then turning west when the opportunity arose.

On the other hand, news of the internal strife on Liangshan had not yet spread. Therefore, the false calm and lack of defense in the surrounding areas of Liangshan, due to the retreat of the official army, could still last for a few days. If the news spread, the situation would change dramatically.

I had to take advantage of this window of opportunity to leave this war-torn region.

Soon, I discovered that my previous disguise and preparations were indeed wise.

"Don't look."

I gently turned her head and hugged her, then slowly walked past, being careful not to let the red tiger's hooves step on this soft obstacle.

Until the stench of blood and decay was far behind us, because

it was the body of a woman, her orifices violated and bloodied, her limbs dislocated and bruised, lying naked in the middle of the path, her face twisted and unrecognizable.

I couldn't help but think of Senior Dugu Wen and the only daughter she entrusted to me, carrying the six-year-old girl through the mud and ditches. I wondered where she had been taken after leaving Luoyang.

The "head-hugging crouch" by my side was not much older than her, and a soft spot in my heart was touched, but it was quickly buried under the harsh reality.

The further south we went, the more difficult the journey became, and the chances of encountering various refugees and official armies increased. We had food and weapons, which helped us fend off some of the dangers and covetous glances we encountered on the road.

The most dangerous time was when the "head-hugging crouch" was too tired and let out a small moan when the red tiger jumped over a pit. As we rested under a tree, we had an unexpected visitor, a seemingly honest farmer representing the villagers, who approached and started talking to me.

His heavy accent made me confused, but his eyes kept sneaking glances at the "head-hugging crouch," and even a fool could see the problem. I suddenly pulled out a crossbow and shot him in the shoulder, and he fled in pain.

In her shocked and horrified expression, I found the sickle he had been holding, with its rusty, blood-stained blade and lingering stench, clearly not from cutting rice.

So I made her suck on a fruit pit to disguise her voice, and we deviated further from the main roads and villages, often having to cross unfamiliar hills and forests to find temporary paths.

She was just a girl, and even with the red tiger as a mount, she still suffered from blisters and sores from the various changes and journeys, but she hardly complained, biting her lip and holding back tears, determined to keep up with me.

This changed my perception of her. Despite her appearance, which clearly showed she had been pampered, she showed remarkable resilience and adaptability.

For example, she had gotten used to the smell of donkey dung in her hair, which masked her scent and repelled most insects, and learned to use wood ash to clean her hands and feet, then eat with her blackened hands.

However, in some places, like deep mountain streams or narrow stone ravines, I still had to carry or carry her, which made our food and energy supplies deplete faster. There were also several times when her presence slowed us down, and we were discovered by searching soldiers.

We had to take more detours in the mountains, using discovered crevices and tree hollows to hide temporarily, to escape the impatient searchers.

Every night, she would touch the newly reopened wounds on her hands and feet, crying in pain until she fell asleep, and during the day, she would wipe away her tears and follow me closely, afraid of being abandoned.

To be honest, I had thought several times about getting rid of this small burden, but each time I made up my mind, the crisis unexpectedly resolved itself.

For several days, we were almost always leading the red tiger and the "head-hugging crouch" through the mountains, playing hide-and-seek with soldiers and patrols.

We often encountered people who had fled the war, hiding by the road or running, and these people were treated as spies and traitors by the soldiers and dealt with on the spot.

Or rather, they didn't even need to identify or verify; it was just a form of entertainment for them.

I had personally witnessed several times how the scouts and patrols sent by the official army dealt with ordinary passersby they encountered on the road or in the grass.

In a sense, these small patrols were more dangerous than the large armies. At least, if caught by the large armies, one would not die easily before being used as labor or cannon fodder.

But if caught by these patrols,

they would behead or chop the men, throw the children to their deaths, and if the women were still alive after being raped, they would be taken back on horseback and distributed as spoils along with the livestock and property.

The stripped and naked bodies would be left by the roadside, a chilling and routine scene.

But walking at night for too long, one is bound to encounter ghosts. Our tracks still attracted several searches and investigations.

This time, it was undoubtedly the most dangerous. The unknown pursuers, like leeches, had latched onto us. The roaring and shouting from just a few steps away sounded like a death sentence.

I had a sudden idea and buried myself in a pile of leaves and a slightly sunken area, but I had to abandon the red tiger, which was stuck in the bushes, and some of our belongings, including our tent and blankets.

To divert the pursuers, I stabbed myself in the buttocks and watched it dash toward the steep rocks, finally falling heavily into the deep valley.

Watching the unfamiliar soldiers, who were reluctant and regretful, return with the scattered loot, my heart was pounding, and my face itched from unknown insect bites. I had to use a sharp needle to stab my thigh to cover the unbearable itch with intense pain.

I held my breath, and the rustling in the forest came again. The glint of a round helmet appeared, and it was the leader of the official army's patrol, returning to the scene for a second round, but he faced only silence and disappointment.

The rustling sounds faded into the silence, and my limbs became numb. I slowly moved my body and found several places bruised and scraped, which made me wince in pain.

I struggled to stand up, not having time to stretch my cramped legs, and ran to a nearby mountain stream. In the swirling water and gaps between large boulders, the "head-hugging crouch" was lying unconscious, barely breathing, her face pale and stiff like a statue.

There was a trickle of blood on her head, flowing onto the mossy, damp rock wall, the result of my desperate push into the stream, as the wall could only hide one person.

I don't consider myself a person with overflowing sympathy and love, but I did it anyway.

I tore open her chest and, following the emergency procedures I had learned, used my fists and palms to compress her chest and perform artificial respiration. Then, I held her in my arms, feeling the small, cold body gradually warm up.

The sense of connection, of shared breath and heartbeat, made me almost cry with joy and a strange sense of melancholy. I found myself caring deeply about this small, vulnerable being I had met on the road.

Finally, she woke up. Her first reaction was not to scream or resist but to cling to me tightly, sobbing and crying with all her might.

We had survived again, and beyond the routine of our journey, a bond had formed between us.