Late Ming Dynasty: Summoning players from Liaodong to support the Ming Dynasty

The splashing of water and decaying leaves in the muddy pond gradually subsided. Wu Jingjing and Feng Zhongzhuifeng's tightly entangled arms finally loosened, and the two collapsed like rag dolls in the icy, bone-chilling mud. The cold seeped into their bones through their soaked, tattered armor, and their chests heaved violently, their throats emitting heavy, labored breaths like broken bellows.

Wu Jingjing raised his rough, mud-covered hand and hastily wiped the mud off his eyes. As he rolled over, he brought his bloodshot eyes close to Feng Zhongzhuifeng's ear. The madness in those eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a calculating, cold glint. He lowered his voice to a whisper, blending into the howling wind: "Enough acting. Let's change locations. Go to that open area up ahead and get yourself killed."

Feng Zhongzhui clutched his chest, the sharp, throbbing pain causing him to gasp for air mixed with icy shards. The heavy punch had landed squarely on his ribs, the pain incredibly real. He clenched his teeth and nodded sharply, discreetly in the mud.

Wu Jingjing, bracing himself against the slippery mud, staggered to his feet. His legs trembled violently in the mud, but he managed to steady himself. He whirled around and kicked away a half-rotten piece of wood beside him. Pointing at his teammates who were also sprawled in the mud, he opened his cracked, bleeding throat and began to curse, spittle flying in the cold wind: "Are you all playing dead?! Are you just waiting to die?! Get up and move forward! Find a river! My throat is parched!"

The remaining players immediately understood, their faces contorted with resentment and numbness. Muttering curses, they helped each other up from the mud pit. The group dragged their heavy steps, stumbling and shuffling forward.

The withered, sharp branches tore through their already tattered leather armor without resistance, leaving streaks of blood on their skin. They completely abandoned the dense forest that could have provided cover, exposing themselves directly to the pale sunlight, heading towards the lower, more exposed valley. Their tattered boots pounded heavily on the hard, frozen earth and ice, making a crisp, cracking sound. The sound carried far through the desolate Yanshan Mountains; their march was extremely reckless, a display of the despair and recklessness of routed soldiers, with absolutely no intention of concealing their tracks.

The cold winds of the Yanshan Mountains transformed into sharp icy blades, scraping through the crevices of the gray-white rocks and producing a piercing, mournful wail. The leaden sky was suppressed by thick clouds, and the entire mountain ridge was shrouded in a cold, desolate gloom.

Hu Yongqiang pressed himself tightly against the protruding, cold rock, his cheeks almost glued to the frozen ground. His eyes, gleaming with a venomous light, were pressed against the edge of his monocular telescope, his gaze fixed intently on the ground below. Those swaying black dots had completely broken free of the dense forest's cover, exposed defenselessly on the bare downhill path, heading straight towards a dead end with no way out.

A few steps behind, in a sheltered hollow, Turgh's massive body crouched irritably. His large, fan-like hand roughly yanked on the rough reins, causing the warhorse to wince in pain, snort loudly, and exhale a thick cloud of white vapor.

"Hu Yongqiang! What are you waiting for, you Han dog!" Turgh roared in a rough voice, his fleshy face contorted fiercely in the cold wind, his eyes blazing with uncontrollable bloodlust. "These few half-dead crippled Ming dogs, I'll take two Ba Ya La and charge down right now, chop them all to pieces one by one! Just leave one alive and drag them up for questioning!"

Hu Yongqiang didn't turn around at all. His thin fingers gripped the brass binoculars tightly, his knuckles turning deathly white from the excessive force.

"Master, please calm down." Hu Yongqiang lowered his shrill voice to a very low hue, the words squeezed slowly through his teeth into the howling wind, "This matter is sinister, something is definitely not right."

"Something's not right!" Turgh spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the frozen ground, angrily retorting, "These bastards were risking their lives for half a sack of water, fighting each other to the death! How could that be fake!"

"Master, please think it over carefully." Hu Yongqiang slowly lowered his binoculars and turned his fair face to look at Turg. In the dim, gloomy light, the muscles around his eyes twitched violently, his features contorted with an extremely sinister and chilling aura. "Since these people are like defeated soldiers who have lost their souls, they should be hiding well in the forest. Now they're actually heading towards the open valley! There isn't even a single rock to block the wind there. Once our scouts catch up with them, they won't even have a way to escape. Aren't they just rushing to their deaths?"

Turgh's rude movements abruptly froze, his thick, dark eyebrows furrowing into a tight knot. Although the Manchus were savage and bloodthirsty, their keen intuition, honed by years of hunting and fighting in the Changbai Mountains and Heilongjiang River region, was not lacking. A flicker of hesitation flashed in his wide-open eyes.

"What you mean, you Han dog, is...?"

"These guys are definitely suspicious!" Hu Yongqiang whirled around, raised his binoculars again, and stared intently at the receding figures below, his teeth grinding together. "That little bastard Chu Ze is full of cunning schemes! Those unkillable monsters outside Guangning City—can any of them be analyzed using common sense? These guys might just be a poisoned bait thrown out!"

The open valley offered no shelter, and the biting north wind whipped up snowflakes that raged and raced among the pebbles of varying sizes. A half-frozen stream struggled through the pile of rocks, its waters crashing against the ice with a crisp cracking sound.

Wu Jingjing waded into the riverbed, his tattered military boots slamming against the thin ice on the bank. Icy, muddy water instantly flooded his shoes. Ignoring it, he knelt on the icy rocks, cupped his hands, covered in black mud, and gulped down several mouthfuls of the frigid water. The icy, stinging water stung his throat, sending a shiver down his spine, even turning his lips blue with cold.

He shakily stood up, supporting himself on his knees with both hands, his bloodshot eyes quickly scanning his surroundings.

This place is absolutely perfect. It's drafty on all sides, offers no cover whatsoever, and has an extremely wide field of vision. Anyone standing on any of the surrounding ridges can see the entire riverbank without any blind spots.

"Start a fire!" Wu Jingjing whirled around, his voice cracked and bleeding, and ordered his teammates, who were shivering from the cold, "I'm frozen stiff! Make the fire bigger! The bigger the better!"

Feng Zhongzhuifeng stood frozen in place, his lips trembling. He lowered his voice and leaned closer, saying, "Brother Chong, are you crazy?! Lighting a fire in this open valley? Once the smoke rises, it'll be clearly visible for dozens of miles around! Isn't that just telling the Tartars we're here to die?"

"Nonsense! I want them to see this!" Wu Jingjing's eyes widened, his fervor impossible to suppress. He shoved Feng Zhongzhuifeng aside, spitting as he spoke. "Hurry up! Go gather firewood! Get all those damp leaves and rotten pine needles around here! Go now!"

The players immediately understood and, dragging their weary bodies, frantically collected withered branches and leaves at the edge of the valley.

In the dim light, a tiny spark from the tinderbox ignited the dry thatch. The orange flames flickered violently in the cold wind, quickly leaping up the withered branches and radiating a faint warmth.

Wu Jingjing picked up a large bundle of still-wet leaves and half-rotten pine needles and, without hesitation, piled them all onto the newly lit fire.

stab-

A dull, teeth-grinding sound erupted instantly. The leaves tumbled violently under the scorching heat, and thick white smoke exploded and shot into the sky.

The smoke was not only extremely thick, but also carried a pungent, acrid smell. The billowing smoke rapidly gathered in the grayish-white sky, forming a strikingly thick column that drifted southwards along the mountain ridge on the biting north wind.

Wu Jingjing coughed violently from the thick smoke, tears mingling with the mud on his face as they streamed down, leaving two distinct black and white lines on his cheeks. He hunched over, clutching his chest tightly as he gasped for breath, but inside he was overjoyed.

Now you should all see it! I've even posted the coordinates straight to the sky!

Thick, pungent plumes of white smoke tore through the leaden sky, shooting straight into the depths of Hu Yongqiang's pupils.

He was instantly pinned to the cold rock, his breath completely stopped. The sinister scheme on his fair face was utterly crushed by extreme horror, his withered chest heaving violently, yet he couldn't utter a sound.

Turgh's massive body sprang up from the sheltered hollow, his heavy leather boots slamming into the hard ground, crushing a large chunk of frozen earth with a crack. His bloodshot bull-like eyes widened, his thick arms pointing directly at the arrogant plume of smoke rising from the valley below. His thick lips were half-open, cold wind rushing into his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

"This...this bunch of Ming bastards have all gone mad!" Turgh's rough voice trembled violently in the cold wind, his face contorted with extreme disbelief. "On our Great Jin territory, they've lit such a huge fire! Are they afraid our scouts will be blind and won't be able to find them?!"

A chilling aura, mixed with ice shards, rushed up Hu Yongqiang's tailbone and into his back, freezing him to the core.

This is very unusual.

This is not a desperate attempt to survive by fleeing soldiers; it is blatant provocation! In the desolate wilderness where they could be hacked to pieces by the Later Jin cavalry at any moment, to create such a thick and pungent column of smoke—any sane person would never do something so suicidal!

"A trap! Master, this is definitely a trap!" Hu Yongqiang turned his head sharply, his eyes filled with a wild, frenzied terror. He scrambled to his feet, his thin fingers gripping the edge of Turg's leather armor tightly, gritting his teeth as he growled hoarsely, "We absolutely cannot go down! That plume of smoke is a signal—a broken cup! There are definitely Chu Ze's ambush forces lurking around this barren valley!"

Turgh flung Hu Yongqiang's hand away, his large palm slamming against his waist, and with a clang, he drew half of a heavy saber. The gleaming blade reflected a blinding light in the dim daylight. He was like an enraged blind bear, pacing restlessly behind the cramped rock, thick white breaths billowing from his large nostrils.

"Ambush? You Han dog, open your dog eyes and look!" Turg angrily brandished his broken saber, the tip pointing directly at the exposed, rocky beach below. "This wretched place is drafty on all sides, there isn't even a forest to hide in! Where can Chu Ze's tens of thousands of troops hide? Did they all turn into turtles and burrow into that muddy ground?!"

"Master! Have you forgotten those monsters that suddenly appeared outside Guangning City?!" Hu Yongqiang's eyes were bloodshot with anxiety. He lunged forward again, clinging tightly to Turge's thick arm. His shrill voice was strained to its limit, cracking and grating. "That little beast Chu Ze knows sorcery! His heavenly soldiers don't respect the rules for the living at all! These few people are just bait covered in deadly poison! As soon as we show our faces, countless invincible madmen will instantly emerge from the mud and tear us to pieces!"

Turgh's erratic pace came to an abrupt halt.

The hellish meat grinder beneath the walls of Guangning, those shirtless giants whose bodies were half-blown apart by gunpowder yet still laughing and wielding knives, instantly transformed into a cold, heavy hammer, slamming down on his heart. It was a nightmare he could never erase from his life.

His thick arm froze in mid-air, and the fleshy part of his eye twitched violently a few times uncontrollably.

Clang!

Turgh slammed his half-drawn saber back into its sheath, the dull thud of metal echoing along the ridge. He gritted his teeth, his chest heaving violently.

"Then what do you suggest we do?! Are we just going to cower here and watch like cowards?!"

"Look! We'll keep watching!" Hu Yongqiang released his grip and lunged back behind the cold rocks. He grabbed the brass binoculars, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the roaring campfire below, his voice chillingly venomous and restrained, "Let's see what tricks these monsters are up to in this deadly place!"

On the rocky beach at the bottom of the valley, a campfire, mixed with damp leaves and half-rotten pine needles, crackled and burned. Thick white smoke billowed straight up to the leaden-gray dome, and the pungent smell of burning quickly filled the open space on the biting north wind.

A full half-stick of incense time has passed.

Wu Jingjing stared intently at the bare mountain ridges around her. In the dim light of the sky, apart from the withered grass trembling in the cold wind, not a single ghost appeared.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and his molars clenched so tightly they clicked. Were these Tartars all blind?! Even a blind man could smell that thick plume of smoke!

The play has progressed to this point, and the audience still hasn't entered. This won't do; we need to resort to drastic measures.

Wu Jingjing's chapped lips were pressed into a tight line. He dragged his heavy steps to a flat bluestone by the campfire and slumped down heavily. As he rubbed his frozen hands, he raised his bloodshot eyes and gave a very subtle wink to Feng Zhongzhuifeng across the way.

All cards are revealed; let's get straight to the main course.