Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

Everyone inside the tent stood up and paid their respects to Chen Jisheng.

Liu Xingzhi also turned around to face Chen Jisheng.

He bowed deeply, his voice hoarse but respectful: "Since the General has personally come to offer sacrifices, Xingzhi thanks you on behalf of his deceased brother."

Chen Jisheng reached out to support him, his eyes reddening genuinely. "Xingzhi, I worked with Xingzuo for many years. His passing was heroic, and I feel..." He paused, "...I feel terrible."

Liu Xingzhi lowered his head and remained silent.

"The ceremony begins—" the master of ceremonies announced loudly.

First, incense was offered. Chen Jisheng, as acting commander-in-chief, took the lead in offering incense and bowed three times to the memorial tablet. Then came Ma Shirong, Liu Yinghe, Mao Chenglu, and the generals of each battalion.

Then came the reading of the eulogy. Liu Yinghe, as the Grain Supervisor, was chosen to read the eulogy.

He unfolded the pre-written message on the silk and read it aloud in a melodious, official tone:

"On the twelfth day of the fourth month of the third year of the Chongzhen reign, Chen Jisheng, acting commander-in-chief of Dongjiang Garrison, together with the civil and military officials of Dongjiang, respectfully offered simple wine and delicacies to the spirit of the late Liu Xingzuo, deputy commander of Dongjiang Garrison..."

The eulogy was written in a grand and dignified manner, with phrases such as "loyal and brave in serving the country," "heroic martyrdom," and "his name will be remembered in history."

Liu Xingzhi knelt before the coffin, head bowed, his face expressionless.

He knew the entire eulogy was a lie—if he truly was "loyal and brave in serving his country," why didn't the court provide him with compensation? If he truly was "famous throughout history," why were the rumors ignored?

After the eulogy was read, the last item was the mourning ceremony.

Everyone knelt down and kowtowed three times to the memorial tablet.

Liu Xingzhi knelt at the front, his head slamming heavily against the cold ground, once, twice, three times. He didn't cry; his tears had long since dried up.

After the ceremony, Liu Xingzhi stood up, turned around, and faced the crowd.

"Gentlemen, I have prepared a small feast to bid farewell to my late brother. He loved drinking, and I would like to invite you all to join him for three more drinks today."

Everyone clasped their hands in greeting, saying, "It's our pleasure," and "Brother Xingzhi, you're too kind."

The food and drinks were served quickly.

Food was scarce on the island, but the feast was not meager—there was seafood, cured meat, and rice wine brought from North Korea.

Liu Xingzhi carried a wine bowl and went from table to table offering toasts. When he reached Chen Jisheng, he knelt on one knee and raised the bowl above his head with both hands.

"General, this bowl of wine is offered by Xingzhi on behalf of my late brother. He often said that in Dongjiang Town, the person he respected most was you, General."

Chen Jisheng took the wine bowl, his eyes reddening again. He drank it all in one gulp, his voice choked with emotion: "Xingzhi... don't worry. I will definitely... definitely urge the recipient of Xingzuo's compensation."

Liu Xingzhi nodded, stood up, and continued to toast the next table.

After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere inside the tent gradually shifted from solemn to relaxed. Some people began to talk in hushed tones, some started urging others to drink, and some, emboldened by the alcohol, began to speak louder.

After drinking several bowls of rice wine, Ma Shirong's plump face flushed red, and he became more talkative.

He glanced sideways at Liu Xingzhi, then said in a high-pitched voice to Liu Yinghe beside him:

"Prefect Liu, tell me, how exactly did Liu Xingzu die? I heard in the capital that he had dealings with the Jurchens, and his death in battle this time, I'm afraid it's not..." He chuckled twice, not finishing his sentence.

Liu Yinghe chuckled twice but didn't reply. He was a civil official and knew these words shouldn't be spoken here. But he didn't stop him.

The sound wasn't loud, but a sea breeze blew in at that moment, and the tent fell silent for a moment. Liu Xingxian, sitting in the corner, had already placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Liu Xingzhi stopped him with a look.

Liu Xingzhi, holding a wine bowl, walked up to Ma Shirong.

"Eunuch Ma, you want to know how my brother died? I'll tell you." His voice wasn't loud, but it silenced everyone in the tent. "He was killed by the Tartars. When he died, he was still holding a knife in his hand, the blade still stained with Tartar blood. He fell facing the enemy. He died a glorious death on the battlefield."

Ma Shirong was intimidated by his imposing manner and subconsciously shrank back. "General Liu, I was just saying that casually, don't take it seriously—don't you all agree?"

No one answered from inside the tent.

Liu Xingzhi placed the wine bowl on the table, then straightened up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"My lords, today is the 21st day after my brother's death. I have invited you all here for two reasons: first, to pay tribute to my deceased brother, and second, to ask you about something in front of you."

He turned around and faced Chen Jisheng.

"General Chen, will you approve my brother's pension?"

Chen Jisheng's expression changed. He hadn't expected Liu Xingzhi to make trouble in this setting. He stood up, forcing a smile: "Xingzhi, let's talk about this privately—"

"I'm asking you, will you approve it or not?" Liu Xingzhi's voice suddenly rose.

The air inside the tent froze. Everyone realized this meal wasn't going to be pleasant. Chen Jisheng's smile froze on his face: "Xingzhi, this isn't something a mere acting commander-in-chief can decide; we must wait for the imperial court—"

"What about him?" Liu Xingzhi pointed at Ma Shirong. "Did you hear what he just said? As the acting commander-in-chief, someone publicly slandered your fallen deputy general as a Tartar spy. Aren't you going to do anything about it?"

Beads of sweat appeared on Chen Jisheng's forehead. "Eunuch Ma, what you just said was indeed inappropriate—"

"How is this inappropriate?" Ma Shirong, relying on his status as a eunuch and fueled by alcohol, actually stood up. "This humble servant is a military supervisor sent by the palace. The court's will is this humble servant's will! Liu Xingzuo originally came from the Tartar side. His death was suspicious, and people aren't allowed to ask about it?"

Liu Yinghe tugged at Ma Shirong's sleeve from below, signaling him to be quiet. Ma Shirong shook off his hand and was about to speak again.

Just then, Liu Xingzhi picked up the wine bowl in his hand.

He glanced at the remaining wine in his bowl, then looked up and smiled at everyone. The smile was faint, almost imperceptible, but Chen Jisheng, sitting opposite him, suddenly felt a chill—that wasn't a smile. It was a gesture of goodwill.

Liu Xingzhi raised the wine bowl high above his head and then slammed it to the ground.

A sharp crack echoed through the tent. Immediately afterward, the felt coverings around the tent were torn apart, and over a hundred armored soldiers wielding steel swords poured in from all directions. Their movements were perfectly synchronized; their swords were already drawn, their cold gleam reflecting on their murderous faces.

Chaos erupted inside the tent. The screams of the women, the roars of the generals, and the shattering of cups and plates filled the air.

Mao Chenglu instinctively stood up and reached for the sword at his waist, only to remember that he had been "asked" to disarm himself before entering the tent. His hand found nothing, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.

"Liu Xingzhi! What are you doing!" Chen Jisheng shouted sternly.

Liu Xingzhi did not answer. He slowly drew the knife from his waist.

The blade was drawn from its sheath with a sickening scraping sound.

The sunlight outside the tent shone through the torn felt and onto the gleaming blade.

"What am I supposed to do?" Liu Xingzhi walked up to Chen Jisheng. "General Chen, I'll ask you one more time. Was my brother killed in battle? Was he a loyal subject?"

"Yes...yes!" Chen Jisheng's voice trembled.

"Then why doesn't the court provide any compensation? Why is no one doing anything about the gossip about the islanders behind their backs?" Liu Xingzhi's voice grew louder and louder, like a red-hot iron, constantly heating up. "When Marshal Mao was alive, no matter how bitter or difficult things were on our island, it never chilled the hearts of our brothers. After Marshal Mao died, Yuan Chonghuan slapped a 'colluding with the enemy' charge on us, without even giving us a chance to defend ourselves. Now my brother is dead, his death shrouded in mystery, and you still want to smear him—"

He turned abruptly and pointed at Ma Shirong. "You, come out here."

Ma Shirong was so frightened that he collapsed onto the mat, his face ashen. "General Liu... I'm from the palace, you... you can't..."

"I can't?" Liu Xingzhi strode over, grabbed Ma Shirong by the collar, and dragged him to the center of the tent.

His knife was held to Ma Shirong's neck.

"Eunuch Ma, tell me, how did my brother die?"

Ma Shirong trembled violently, his teeth chattering: "Fight...fought to death..."

"Speak louder!"

"They died in battle!" Ma Shirong screamed.

"Then let me ask you, who sent people to spread rumors on the island? Speak!" The blade grazed the flesh, cutting a shallow gash, and a few drops of blood flowed down Ma Shirong's plump neck.

"This humble one...this humble one doesn't know..."

Liu Xingzhi sneered. He released Ma Shirong and turned to look at the officials, both high and low, in the tent. The tip of his knife pointed at the broken bowl on the ground, and his voice boomed like thunder in the tent.

"You were all here just now. You all heard what Eunuch Ma said. My brother's body is barely cold, and someone has already poured dirty water on him. General Chen said 'it can't be rushed,' and Eunuch Ma said 'his death is suspicious.' Is this the explanation the court gave to my brother? Is this the explanation Dongjiang Town gave to its fallen brothers?"

No one dared to speak. Someone had wet their pants, the stench mingling with the smell of spilled rice wine, filling the tent. Mao Chenglu's face was ashen, his hand still unconsciously clutching his empty waist, regretting not having hidden a dagger in his boot.

Liu Yinghe managed to squeeze out, "Lieutenant General Liu, calm down, everything is negotiable—"

"Discuss?" Liu Xingzhi turned his head, looking at the slick grain supervisor. "Supervisor Liu, let me ask you, how much of the grain and provisions allocated by the court to Dongjiang Town was left on the island? Tell me yourself, how much did you embezzle? Our brothers are fighting the Tartars at sea, and you're feeding them stale grain mixed with sand? Marshal Mao isn't here, and you dare to do this? Who gave you the guts? Hmm?"

Liu Yinghe's legs went weak, and he knelt on the ground: "It wasn't me... it was..."

"Chen Jisheng tacitly approved it, right?" Liu Xingzhi spoke for him.

He turned back to Chen Jisheng. "Chen Jisheng, today I ask you on behalf of our fallen brothers! How did Pi Island, left behind by Marshal Mao, become such a pathetic place in your hands? Tens of thousands of brothers are starving and freezing, their families can't even get porridge. The court doesn't provide rations or pay, what have you done besides endure and wait? You are the acting commander-in-chief, have you ever led them to seize a single grain of rice? To fight for a single penny of pay?"

Chen Jisheng's face flushed red, his lips moved, but he couldn't utter a single word. His fingers were trembling.

"Xingzhi," his voice was hoarse and desperate, "listen to me—"

"It's too late."

A flash of light appeared. Chen Jisheng's voice abruptly stopped.

It wasn't a one-hit kill. Liu Xingzhi stabbed him, twisted it, pulled it out, and stabbed him again. Blood splattered all over his face, streaming down his chin. The first stab was for his brother; the second was for the brothers starving on the island. Chen Jisheng collapsed to the ground, his eyes still open, filled with shock and confusion.

The tent was deathly silent. Then Ma Shirong let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered.

"Liu—Liu Xingzhi! This humble servant is from the palace—"

He didn't finish his third repetition. Liu Xingzhi stepped over Chen Jisheng's corpse and slashed his neck with a knife. The cut was deep, almost severing half the neck. Blood gushed out, splattering onto Liu Yinghe's face beside him. Liu Yinghe shuddered and collapsed to the ground.

"Liu Tongpan, do you have anything else to say?" Liu Xingzhi looked down at him.

Liu Yinghe could no longer speak coherently; he could only kowtow desperately, his forehead slamming against the ground with a loud thud: "Spare me... spare me..."

Liu Xingzhi plunged a knife into his back. Then he straightened up and waved to the armored soldiers around him.

"Let's do it."

This was not a battle. It was a massacre. Among the civil and military officials inside the tent, some were cut down while trying to escape, some knelt on the ground begging for mercy, and some died still clutching their chopsticks.

Blood seeped from the gaps in the tent flaps, soaking the parched earth outside. The screams startled the seagulls roosting on the distant sea. The seagulls circled in the air, emitting mournful cries, as if singing a lament for the massacre.

Meanwhile, in the tents outside the camp, Cui Yaozu and two hundred men were "entertaining" the personal guards brought by each camp.

One of Chen Jisheng's old bodyguards was the first to react, overturning the table and rushing out, only to have half of his shoulder chopped off by a knife.

One of Ma Shirong's personal guards rushed to the stable to steal a horse and escape, but was riddled with arrows by several archers who had been lying in ambush.

Caught completely off guard, many of the guards were cut down by the surging armored soldiers before they could even touch their swords. The cries of pain and curses rang out intermittently for a moment before falling silent. Dozens of corpses lay scattered outside the camp, blood slowly seeping into the soil from the cracks in the ground.

There was only one exception—Mao Chenglu. Liu Xingzhi did not kill him. When the armored soldiers' swords were placed against Mao Chenglu's neck, Liu Xingzhi raised his hand to stop them.

"Deputy General Mao," he crouched down, looking at Mao Chenglu, whose face was ashen, "you are Marshal Mao's nephew. Marshal Mao has been kind to me, so I will spare your life today. But you must remember—from today onwards, Pi Island will not belong to the Chen or Mao families, but to the Liu family. You either follow me, or you take your men and leave Pi Island."

Mao Chenglu's lips trembled, and in the end he only managed to utter two words: "I'll go with you."

The massacre inside the tent lasted less than fifteen minutes. When the last scream faded, the tent was a river of blood.

Among the fallen corpses were Chen Jisheng, Ma Shirong, Liu Yinghe, and more than a dozen officials of varying ranks. The stench of rust in the air was so thick that it was hard to open one's eyes, and the stench of blood mixed with spilled rice wine and dishes was nauseating.

Liu Xingzhi stood in the tent, covered in blood.

His knife was dulled, and his hand trembled slightly. He looked around at his fallen comrades. Some were familiar, some were not; some had offended him, some had not. He couldn't tell anymore.

All he knew was that from this day forward, there was no turning back.

Liu Xingxian walked out of the tent, stepping over the corpses scattered on the ground. His body was also covered in blood, but his eyes remained sharp.

"Brother, everything outside has been taken care of. All the officers and soldiers in the camp who refused to comply have been executed."

"Where is the Korean envoy?"

"We don't know when they left; we can't find them anymore," Liu Xingxian said in a low voice. "They probably ran away in the chaos when the incident happened."

Liu Xingzhi frowned. But things had come to this point, and he didn't have time to chase after a few North Koreans. He nodded, then ordered Li Dengke: "Seal off the entire island. No one is allowed to enter or leave. Each battalion must count its personnel and tally the casualties."

"Yes." Li Dengke clasped his hands in a fist salute, turned around, and strode away.

Liu Xingzhi stood at the tent entrance, gazing at the gray sky outside.

The sea breeze was still blowing, carrying salty, fishy vapors that ruffled his blood-stained robes.

His elder brother, Liu Xingzuo, grew up under this same sky. Now, his brother was dead. He couldn't let his brother die in vain, nor could he let those tens of thousands of brothers continue to live such a wretched and pathetic life.

"Issue an order to the entire island," he said in a hoarse voice, "From this day forward, I am the General Commander of Dongjiang. Chen Jisheng, Ma Shirong, and others are accused of secretly communicating with the Jurchens and plotting rebellion; they are to be executed. Anyone who disobeys will be beheaded on the spot."