As long as war did not return, grass and trees would reclaim this ground; in time, it would look as though nothing had ever happened.
Street fighting had raged through the auxiliary fortress, leaving its buildings riddled with holes and entire blocks reduced to ashes.
As the Auxiliary Army marched through, a heavy silence fell upon them. He Yue's heart sank at the sight. He had never been to Panlong Ancient City; this was his first true glimpse of the cruelty of war and the cheapness of human life.
Just outside the auxiliary fortress, a newly carved stone stele stood in the valley behind it.
The soldiers who had fallen in the great battle of Woling Pass were buried here. He Chunhua ordered sacrificial offerings to be presented and offered a stick of incense with his own hands.
The atmosphere was solemn.
He Lingchuan glanced left and right, noticing that everyone was present except for one person, and felt a stir in his chest.
He quietly slipped away. Following directions from several soldiers, he walked more than two hundred zhang before finding Wu Shaoyi beneath another large tree.
Wu Shaoyi sat cross-legged on the ground, fingers locked in an incantation hand-seal, his eyes shut and motionless.
Above him, the broad crown of a Chinese plane tree swayed, shedding golden leaves in rustling flurries whenever the wind blew.
He Lingchuan looked closely at the ground in front of him. A wide swath was covered in fresh earth, distinct in color from the surrounding soil. It had clearly been turned not long ago, yet green grass had already begun to sprout.
In fact, the grass here grew even more luxuriantly than elsewhere, showing scarcely any yellow even in late autumn.
Why had Wu Shaoyi slipped away to this spot? Could it be...?
He Lingchuan sat down beside him, glanced at a vibrant garden balsam blooming before them, and let out a soft sigh. "How many are buried here?"
"At least twenty thousand," Wu Shaoyi said, slowly opening his eyes. "In death, they don't even have a single tombstone."
The imperial troops who died at Woling Pass had a stele, at least; the people buried here had nothing at all.
Indeed, buried beneath this soil were rebels—Wu Shaoyi's former brothers-in-arms.
He Lingchuan pulled a wineskin from his robes, handed it to him, and brought out two wine cups.
Wu Shaoyi did not decline. He filled a cup to the brim and poured it slowly onto the ground, offering the wine as a libation.
In that moment, He Lingchuan caught a glimpse of loneliness and dejection in his eyes.
Those who once shared his ideals were either scattered in flight or buried here. He himself had suffered lasting damage to his foundation from a secret technique; though he might live a few more years, his glory days of swinging a blade on horseback were gone forever.
Even a man like Wu Shaoyi, sitting upon this sorrowful ground, looked around in dazed disorientation, with no idea where his future lay.
He Lingchuan filled both cups. "Come, let me have a drink with all of you."
*All of you?* Wu Shaoyi fell silent for a long moment, then raised his cup to He Lingchuan, tipped his head back, and drained it in a single gulp.
Only after downing three cups in succession did he exhale a fiery breath.
This was the first time he had tasted wine since suffering his injury.
"Young Master, coming here like this, aren't you afraid Lord He will reprimand you?" Accompanying a former rebel to make offerings to the rebel dead—only this young master could pull off such a thing.
"My old man scolding me is practically part of my daily routine," He Lingchuan chuckled. "Still, the yin energy here is too heavy. You shouldn't sit around for long."
The aftermath of the Woling Pass battlefield had been handled by the imperial troops. Naturally, they buried their comrades on the sunny side of the mountain and dumped their enemies' corpses on the shaded side.
"I only came to see them. Once we part today, we will never meet again." Wu Shaoyi nodded. "Human life is as cheap as wild weeds. A few months, a few years from now, who will remember them?"
He Lingchuan chuckled. "To hear you tell it, a century from now no one will remember us either."
Wu Shaoyi stood up, his face flushed and his footing unsteady. He Lingchuan reached out to support him.
Because of the secret technique, this man's cultivation had been nearly eight- or nine-tenths ruined.
He Lingchuan understood that this was probably the crucial reason Wu Shaoyi had surrendered. Without his former ferocity, relying solely on his past prestige would make it hard to command respect among the rebels. Besides, his health was vastly diminished; if he continued to run and hide, he would likely collapse within two years.
Surrendering to He Chunhua, though a choice born of helplessness, was ultimately his best option.
The two walked back and caught up with the main force by the river.
The river water ran clear. On the bank stood a small wooden shack hung with ragged fishing nets front and back, its wooden door shut.
He Yue let out a light exclamation. "The clearing before the door is very tidy. Someone visits here often." Otherwise, fallen leaves and wild weeds would have dominated the place.
After the party had walked a bit further, a guard rushed up from behind and reported to He Chunhua, "In that shack by the river, there's a tablet enshrined inside to Holy Master Jiayuan, with offerings on the altar!"
The He brothers exchanged a glance. Hong Xiangqian's full title was indeed Holy Master Jiayuan!
To think someone still worshipped him out in this desolate wilderness.
He Chunhua paused briefly in his stride. "Blood offerings or cooked food?"
"A steamed bun and three sour fruits. Several bundles of incense have burned down to the ash in the censer."
He Chunhua waved a hand. "Pay it no mind."
Since he paid it no heed, the Auxiliary Army naturally paid no further attention.
Zeng Feixiong whispered, "My Lord, shouldn't we pull down that tablet?"
"Look at this area. Who would come all the way here to worship him?"
Zeng Feixiong instinctively looked around. "Local peasants?"
"Merely simple rustic folk seeking a bit of spiritual solace. It amounts to nothing; leave it be."
Wu Shaoyi, who had kept his head lowered all along, looked up at these words only to find He Chunhua looking right at him. Startled, he quickly hung his head again.
Lord He was being considerate of him.
Though Wu Shaoyi had thrown in his lot with He Chunhua, the latter had no wish to humiliate his former master in front of him.
Only after Woling Pass vanished from view did Madam Ying let out a long breath. "The fighting here was far too dreadful. Back when the master reclaimed Blackwater City, it wasn't nearly so tragic. By the way, where are we spending the night?"
"Woling Pass has been abandoned; passing carriages and mounts now stop at Shuanghe Town. The civilians have relocated there, and I hear a new city will be built on the site."
Shuanghe Town lay less than fifteen li east of Woling Pass. Fengling Ferry sat right between the two places, but as night was already falling, the Auxiliary Army planned to rest for the night in Shuanghe Town before boarding the boats the next morning.
Shuanghe Town had originally been a small town of just over four hundred residents, but now it had to absorb both the population and the functions of Woling Pass. When the Auxiliary Army marched in, they found construction underway everywhere, with an uproar of bustling voices at every turn.
Woling Pass had always been a vital trade route; merchant caravans coming from the south had to transfer to boats at Fengling Ferry once they arrived here. Now that Woling Pass was abandoned, everyone had no choice but to settle into Shuanghe Town for the night.
The Auxiliary Army had already expanded to six or seven hundred men. Under no circumstances could the town house them all, so they had to make do at the threshing grounds and farmsteads to the east of town. Conditions in the town were poor, so the He family decided to spend the night at a farmstead as well. The owner accepted two taels of silver and temporarily moved out, leaving behind a row of four rooms and a winnowing ground. By now, the grain had all been stored in the granaries, and the empty winnowing ground served as an open courtyard.
Supplies in town were scarce, and purchasing goods nearby was inconvenient, so the Auxiliary Army made do with their own dry rations for dinner. However, Zeng Feixiong was craving meat fiercely and roped He Lingchuan into going hunting in the mountains.
They had urged He Yue to join them as well, but Madam Ying forbade it, leaving He Yue to watch enviously as the detachment of twenty or thirty men vanished into the dense woods.
He Lingchuan's luck was quite good. About two hours later, they had bagged two roe deer and four wild hares, and on the way back, they stumbled upon a huge black wild boar weighing nearly four hundred jin.
The group dug a pit trap. Taunted into a wild fury by Maotao, the boar pursued him relentlessly until it tumbled straight into the trap and broke its leg.
What followed was straightforward:
The Auxiliary Army had meat to eat, and it was a night where only the cooks worked themselves to the bone.
Drinking alcohol was forbidden on the march, so the men ate meat, drank broth, and played drinking games with hand-signals until the moon reached the middle of the sky.
He Lingchuan returned to his room, unfastened his outer robe, and collapsed straight to sleep.
Having sneaked a few sips of wine earlier, he slept more heavily than anyone else.
In a haze, it felt as though someone were muttering something by his ear.
He Lingchuan paid it no mind, wishing to sleep a little longer.
And then—
He was shaken awake with great force.
The shaking was so violent it felt as if they were trying to tear his head off.
"Wake up!" someone roared right beside his ear—it sounded like He Yue's voice. "...Get up! Quick, quick, quick!"
He didn't catch several words, but He Lingchuan could hear the urgency in his voice. He snapped wide awake in an instant and grabbed his blade. "More bandits?"
He Yue rarely lost his composure like this, so He Lingchuan instinctively assumed something terrible had happened.
"No!" He Yue kept dragging him outside, his voice cracking with excitement. "Emperor's Flowing Dew! Emperor's Flowing Dew is falling from heaven!"
Emperor's Flowing Dew!
He Lingchuan froze upon hearing those words, unable to believe his ears. But his body reacted faster than his mind: with two great bounds, he cleared the doorway, leaving He Yue in the dust.
The original owner of his body had been ignorant and unlearned, but his memory of Emperor's Flowing Dew was firmly etched, such that He Lingchuan knew precisely what it was the moment he heard the name:
A massive eruption of worldly spiritual energy, so dense that it descended upon the mortal realm in liquid form!
For every living creature, it was an invaluable treasure.
Every man in the Auxiliary Army was in a frenzy. Clutching every bottle, jar, pot, or vat they could lay hands on—large basins and water vats were best, of course—they stood out in the open, catching the rainwater while opening their mouths and stripping off their shirts, determined to soak up as much as humanly possible!
He Lingchuan stepped outside and looked up into the sky. A full moon shone above, its silver light flowing like water. At the same time, he felt a delicate dampness on his face like silken drizzle, while a fresh, tranquil fragrance wafted into his nostrils.
The scent defied description—resembling sweet, ripened fruit, sweet osmanthus in the eighth lunar month, banana shrubs glowing in the morning sun, and a mountain forest draped in post-rain mist.
In short, it seeped deep into the heart and mind, wiping away all cares with a single breath.
Yet deep within his heart, an intense craving surged forth.
This craving was like someone starved for seven days suddenly beholding a feast of delicacies, or a traveler in the desert crawling into an oasis just as he was on the verge of collapsing dead...
It was a sincere cry welling up from body and soul:
*I want it!*
He Lingchuan dared not dally. Copying the others, he snatched two broad leaves from a banana palm grove and laid them out neatly on the roof. Then he retrieved wine jars from his storage ring, poured out the wine, and used only the jars to catch the spiritual dew.
He remembered clearly that Emperor's Flowing Dew was like rootless water: the moment it touched soil, it seeped right in, sinking deep underground until the shifting of the earth veins eventually formed profound crystal mineral veins. But that was something one could only stumble upon by sheer fortune; no one could track its movements, and the only thing any living creature could seize was the present moment.
The most recent occurrence of Emperor's Flowing Dew had taken place several decades ago.
Fresh dew was so precious that, as ancient texts recorded, obtaining a single drop could equal ten days of cultivation.
Beyond boosting cultivation, it could also nourish the origin and transform living beings down to their very bones.
Of course, talking about efficacy without considering the dosage was just being a scoundrel. He Lingchuan had no way of verifying how many milliliters were in a "drop," and the quality of Emperor's Flowing Dew probably varied as well, didn't it?
Chapter 152