Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

Wang Zishun raised his head and looked at the long mountain range in front of him.

Baijialing is a natural barrier in the eastern part of Yan'an Prefecture.

Once you cross this ridge, you'll reach the Yellow River.

"Once we pass Baijialing, Hong Chengchou will be unable to catch up," Miao Mei said.

Wang Zishun nodded.

Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from behind the column. A scout, covered in blood, galloped towards them, tumbling off his horse before reaching them, shouting, "Brother! The government troops! The government troops are catching up!"

Wang Zishun's heart sank. "How many people? How far?"

"At least two thousand! And cavalry too! Less than twenty miles from here!"

The procession was thrown into chaos. The cries of women and children, the shouts of men, and the neighing of mules and horses mingled together. Some dropped their loads and ran, some collapsed to the ground trembling, and some clutched their children, unsure of where to go.

"Don't panic!" Wang Zishun roared, his voice hoarse amidst the chaos. "Miao Mei! You take the old camp brothers and protect the women and children as you go! Cross Baijialing and wait for us on the east side of the ridge! Liu Guolong! You take the cavalry and stay with me to cover the rear!"

Liu Guolong stepped forward in response.

Miao Mei opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end she just nodded emphatically, turned her horse around, and led the old camp and the women and children eastward.

Wang Zishun watched their departing figures, his gaze lingering for a moment on a small, thin figure riding a pony, closely following behind Miao Mei.

That's his daughter, nicknamed Huan'er, who is only eleven years old this year.

He looked away and drew his sword.

"Brothers!" His voice echoed like thunder through the valley, "The government troops are catching up! Run, no one can escape! The only way is to fight! Beat them until they are hurt, until they are terrified, then they won't dare to pursue!"

More than a hundred cavalrymen shouted in unison. Their swords and spears gleamed coldly in the sunlight, reflecting on their dark and resolute faces.

Prince Shun took the lead and went east to meet them.

Eastern foothills of Baijialing.

The government cavalry appeared on the horizon. A dark mass, their iron armor reflecting a cold light in the sunlight. The tremors of their horses' hooves could be felt from a great distance.

Prince Shun watched the approaching government cavalry, his palms sweating profusely.

He only had a little over a hundred riders. A direct confrontation would be suicide. He had to outsmart them.

His gaze fell on the narrow valley that the government troops were bound to pass through.

"Liu Guolong, you take fifty men and ambush them in the woods on the left," Wang Zishun said in a low voice. "Once the government troops get close, I'll lead the rest of the men in a frontal assault to draw their attention. You'll attack from the flank, targeting their rear. Remember, don't linger; charge for a bit and then retreat, heading up the mountain."

"Brother, charging head-on is too dangerous!" Liu Guolong said urgently. "I'll lead the men in a frontal assault, you flank from the side—"

"This is a military order," Wang Zishun interrupted him, his gaze leaving no room for doubt.

Liu Guolong gritted his teeth, nodded heavily, and led fifty men quietly toward the woods on the left.

Prince Shun turned around and looked at the remaining fifty-odd riders behind him.

Most of these people were border soldiers from Yansui Town, and they had followed him through many life-and-death situations.

He recognized every single one of their faces.

Their wives and children were in the group that was climbing the mountain ahead.

"Brothers," his voice was low but clear, "we've been fighting since the uprising in Yansui, the government troops have been suppressing us, chasing us, and offering bounties for our heads. Today, we're not running anymore. Right here, we'll fight them. If we win, life will be ahead. If we lose, this will be our graveyard."

No one spoke. But fire burned in everyone's eyes.

Prince Shun pulled down his armor and raised his knife. "Let's go."

More than fifty riders charged forward, facing the surging tide on the horizon.

The vanguard of the government troops then spotted the cavalry on the other side.

They never expected that this group of "bandits" who had been chased and fled eastward in panic would dare to turn back and kill them.

Wang Zishun's fifty-odd horsemen, like a sharp knife, plunged fiercely into the waist of the government army.

A flash of light, and blood splattered. The few government cavalrymen at the forefront were cut down from their horses before they could even react.

Wang Zishun took the lead, his long-handled broadsword flashing in his hand.

A government army officer charged towards him and was slashed by his sword.

Blood splattered all over his face. He didn't wipe it away and kept rushing forward.

"kill--!"

More than fifty riders charged wildly through the ranks of the government troops.

They don't seek to kill the enemy, they only seek to create chaos.

They used swords to slash, horses to charge, and every means to disrupt the government troops' formation.

The government troops' formation indeed fell into disarray.

But they outnumbered the enemy, and after a brief period of chaos, they began to regain their footing and began to encircle Prince Shun's cavalry.

Just then, Liu Guolong's fifty riders charged out from the woods on the left.

They circled around to the rear of the government troops and targeted the unsuspecting infantry in the rear.

A flash of light, and screams of agony followed.

The rear of the government troops was in complete chaos.

"There's an ambush!"

There was a brief period of confusion in the command of the government troops.

This brief period of chaos gave Prince Shun a chance to catch his breath.

"Retreat! Retreat up the mountain!" He turned his horse around and led the remaining cavalrymen towards Baijialing.

Liu Guolong, along with his remaining thirty-odd riders, retreated into the mountains from another direction.

The government troops chased them to the foot of the mountain, but hesitated when they saw the dense forest on the hillside.

The squad leader, surnamed Zhou, was a short, stocky man in his forties who had fought half his life and knew the principle of "not pursuing a desperate enemy."

Especially in this kind of terrain, cavalry cannot maneuver effectively, and infantry will only be sent to their deaths if they climb mountains and attack from below.

"Withdraw the troops." He ordered with a stern face. "Send someone to report to the commander-in-chief that the bandit Prince Shun's troops have fled into Baijialing. Our army pursued them, killed several hundred, and the remaining bandits scattered."

The lieutenant hesitated for a moment: "General, are we not pursuing them?"

"What are you chasing?" Lieutenant General Zhou glared at him. "You think you can climb this mountain? If you catch up, they'll fight you to the death. If you don't, you'll just be wasting your energy. Commander Hong wants Wang Zishun's head, not ours."

The lieutenant shrank back, not daring to speak again.

Prince Shun lay prostrate behind a rock on the hillside, watching the government troops gradually retreating down the mountain, panting heavily.

His battle robe was soaked in blood, indistinguishable between the enemy's and his own. An arrow had struck his left arm, the arrowhead still embedded in the flesh, causing excruciating pain with every movement.

Liu Guolong emerged from the woods, his face covered in blood. "Brother, the government troops have retreated."

Prince Shun nodded, gritted his teeth, and pulled the arrow out of his flesh.

Blood gushed out, and he tightly bound the wound with a rag, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Take a headcount."

The results of the inventory left everyone speechless.

Of the more than one hundred riders, less than fifty survived and made it back alive.

Fifty or sixty old brothers were left forever at the foot of the mountain.

Wang Zishun remained silent. He simply gazed at the dust rising from the departing government troops below the mountain, at the place where they had just fought.

Then he stood up.

"Let's go. We'll cross Baijialing and meet up with Miao Mei."

---

Eastern foothills of Baijialing.

Miao Mei led the old camp and the women and children over the mountain ridge and rested in a sheltered valley.

Huan'er sat on a rock, hugging her knees, gazing at the Yellow River to the east.

Miao Mei walked over and handed her a dry biscuit. "Eat it."

Huan'er took the cake, but didn't eat it.

She simply gazed eastward and asked softly, "Uncle, will my father... come back?"

Miao Mei squatted down and looked at her.

The child looks like her mother—an oval face, big eyes, and a stubbornness in her eyes that is beyond her years.

Her mother starved to death two years ago, and Wang Zishun took her with him wherever he went.

"He'll come back," Miao Mei said. "Your father is a tough guy, he's resilient."

Huan'er nodded, lowered her head, and took small bites of the dry biscuit.

The biscuit was hard and scratchy, but she chewed it very carefully, not leaving a single crumb.

She remembered her father saying—in this day and age, not a single grain of food can be wasted.

Miao Mei stood up and looked around.

The brothers in the old camp were distributing food, women and children were huddled together for warmth, and some were weeping softly. He frowned.

"Stop crying." His voice wasn't loud, but it was cold. "Crying will attract the government troops. Anyone who cries again will be thrown out."

The crying stopped abruptly. The women covered their mouths, afraid to make another sound.

Miao Mei nodded in satisfaction and was about to turn around when she suddenly saw a group of people appear on the mountain ridge to the east.

His pupils contracted sharply, and his hand gripped the hilt of his knife.

It's Wang Zishun. They're back.

Miao Mei breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to greet them.

Prince Shun rode on his horse, his left arm wrapped in a blood-soaked rag, his face covered in scabs and dust.

Behind him followed dozens of cavalrymen, all covered in blood.

Everyone remained silent, their faces showing no joy at surviving the ordeal, only deep weariness and grief.

"Big brother!" Miao Mei rushed forward, "How is it?"

"The government troops have retreated." Wang Zishun dismounted, swaying slightly before regaining his balance by gripping the saddle. "Fifty or sixty of our brothers have died."

Miao Mei paused for a moment, then nodded: "They are all heroes."

Wang Zishun raised his head, his eyes searching through the crowd.

He saw Huan'er.

Huan'er stood in the crowd, looking at him with bright, sparkling eyes.

She didn't rush over, nor did she cry; she just stood there, pursing her lips tightly, just like her mother.

Wang Zishun walked over, squatted down, and touched her head with his uninjured right hand. "Father is back."

Huan'er nodded, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't say anything.

She simply reached out and gently touched the blood-soaked rag on Wang Zishun's left arm.

"It doesn't hurt," Wang Zishun said.

Huan'er nodded again, then took out half a dry biscuit from her bosom and handed it to him.

"It was given to me by my uncle. I kept half of it."

Wang Zishun took the half-cake, looked at his daughter's thin face, and looked at her bright eyes.

His throat bobbed, but he said nothing, just stuffed the biscuit into his mouth and chewed it vigorously.

The biscuit was hard and scratchy.

But he felt that this was the best thing he had ever eaten in his life.

"Big brother, which way to go next?" Miao Mei walked over and asked in a low voice.

Prince Shun swallowed the cake and looked towards the Yellow River in the east.

"Head east. Cross the Yellow River and enter Shanxi."

"Shanxi?" Miao Mei frowned. "Shanxi is Zhang Xianzhong's territory. We're going there..."

"Zhang Xianzhong is no longer in Shanxi. He went to Henan," Wang Zishun said. "Shanxi is now empty. Moreover, I heard that the starving people in Shanxi are also rioting. If we go there, we can recruit people."

Miao Mei pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Let's go to Shanxi."

Wang Zishun stood up and looked at the exhausted-looking team.

More than a thousand people, old and young, injured.

Their faces were roughened by wind and sand, and emaciated by hunger.

But there is still light in their eyes.

That light is the yearning for life.

"Tell everyone to hold on for a few more days," Wang Zishun said in a hoarse but firm voice. "Once we cross the Yellow River, we'll have a way to survive."