"Or maybe they did get their hands on it, but an accident happened along the way and it was never delivered back to Xianyou Kingdom?" He Lingchuan couldn't resist arguing—or rather, raising a reasonable doubt. "Just because the treasure was never used on the battlefield doesn't mean it's still lying untouched in the Panlong Desert."
"No, it is still there," National Preceptor Sun replied with utter confidence. "Otherwise, how do you think the Panlong Wasteland turned into a desert?"
He watched He Chunhua turn the broken comb over and over in his hands with no intention of handing it across. Just as the preceptor was about to reach out and ask for it, He Chunhua beat him to it: "I'll hold onto this for now."
Knowing the magistrate didn't trust either of them, Sun Fuping dropped the thought of asking.
He Lingchuan looked slightly surprised. "Wait, wasn't it said that the unyielding vengeful spirits of the Gale Army extinguished all life across the entire wasteland?"
"If that is so, it is only on the surface. Without the Dafang Pot, they would have dispersed between heaven and earth long ago. Don't forget, if it could hatch tens of thousands of heart-confusing bugs, holding tens of thousands of vengeful spirits would be effortless."
Heart-confusing bugs possessed neither form nor substance, resembling soul entities, or perhaps they were originally a piece of the human soul itself. Since the Dafang Pot could contain such things, it was entirely plausible that it could house vengeful spirits as well.
Nian Songyu chimed in from the side: "The Panlong Ruins are actually not far. If we make a quick round trip, we might be able to pull out before the ninth month and avoid facing the fury of the Panlong Desert entirely."
Today was already the fifteenth of the eighth month, leaving only fifteen days before the ninth month arrived. Then again, the Panlong Desert didn't throw its tantrums by consulting the almanac; how could its shift in temperament be that precise? It could just as easily come early or late.
He Chunhua nodded. "We were already rallying men while searching for the leopard tooth. We can set out the morning after tomorrow!"
Nian Songyu frowned. "Can't we go tomorrow? It's already the middle of the eighth month..."
Before he could finish, Sun Fuping waved a hand to cut him off. "Let it be the sixteenth. Gathering men on such short notice is already difficult for Lord He. Preparing the expedition ritual on my end will also take some time."
Whenever the royal army embarked on a campaign, the National Preceptor was required to perform a ritual—first for divination, and second to pray for blessings.
Under normal circumstances, how could the petty commandery soldiers of Qiansong Commandery ever enjoy such grand treatment?
Before they dispersed, He Lingchuan approached Nian Songyu once more. "Commandant Nian, what about your explanation?"
Nian Songyu's mind was filled entirely with thoughts of the Panlong Desert. He asked offhandedly, "Explanation for what?"
"The person who leaked the news of my injuries," He Lingchuan reminded him. "Give me a name, and I won't bother you about it again."
A cooperation had already been forged between both sides, and Nian Songyu had never expected this pampered dandy to keep digging into the matter. The boy truly didn't know what was good for him. With a cold expression, he said, "My guards told me that person can no longer be found."
He laid the words right there. What could this countryside rich boy possibly do about it?
He Lingchuan wore a look of regret. "Truly gone without a trace?"
A corner of Nian Songyu's mouth twitched. "A trivial matter. Young Master He should focus on the present."
Uncle Hao happened to walk by from behind and caught the remark.
***
At dusk, someone from the Red-White Gang suddenly arrived seeking He Lingchuan.
"Eldest Young Master He, disaster!"
He Lingchuan looked surprised at first, then thoughtful. "Don't panic. How big a deal can it be? Where's Uncle Hao? Fetch him for me!"
Two days flew by in a flash.
Thanks to every party pushing things forward with all their might, these dozens of hours passed smoothly without incident.
The terrors of the Panlong Desert were deeply ingrained in everyone's minds, with cautionary tales of people perishing there every year. Even so, He Chunhua managed to assemble two hundred men within the appointed time.
Not everyone He Chunhua had pulled together was a soldier; a good portion were convicts exiled to the borderlands.
The Yuan Kingdom's exile terms were exceptionally long. While other nations imposed only ten to fifteen years, the Yuan Kingdom mandated eighteen to twenty-five. Convicts exiled to Blackwater City were prepared from early on never to return home.
Years of civil war had plagued the Yuan Kingdom—if it wasn't feudatory princes carving out independent domains, it was peasant rebellions sprouting up everywhere. With endless bloodshed consuming wave after wave of soldiers, recruiting fresh troops had long become an uphill battle.
Over the past decade, Qiansong Commandery had also weathered multiple foreign conflicts, causing severe casualties among its regular forces. As a result, Blackwater City did everything it could to absorb local manpower into its ranks. Whether exiles or murderers, as long as they were able-bodied, they were enlisted into the army, granted stipends, and spared ceaseless hard labor.
This time, National Preceptor Sun had also brought along an imperial amnesty from the royal court.
Any man who accompanied them on the expedition into the Panlong Desert would immediately regain his freedom upon completion of the mission. Regardless of their past crimes, all would be pardoned.
On top of that came generous rewards.
Under hefty bounties, brave men were bound to step forward. In this world, there were plenty of things far more miserable than death—poverty, for instance.
The bounty offered by the authorities was enough for these broke wretches to bid farewell to Madame Palm, marry a proper wife and take three or four concubines, father five or six plump sons, and buy seven or eight mu of prime paddy fields, allowing the whole family to live comfortably for the rest of their days without lifting a finger.
Simply put, it was either sudden death or sudden fortune.
Besides, borderlands were inherently crawling with desperate outlaws, and the number of recruits actually exceeded He Chunhua's expectations by several dozen.
As for Zeng Feixiong, the vice commandant leading this detachment, his elderly father had been mad for nearly twenty years and suffered from consumptive exhaustion. His monthly medicine expenses exceeded his salary, leaving him drowning in debt. He Chunhua had promised that if he took the lead on this trek into the Panlong Desert, all his debts would be cleared, and his father would be cared for in peace until his natural end—provided with medicine, waited upon, and finally given a proper mourning and burial.
In an era of chaotic warfare, securing a peaceful passing in old age was probably several times harder than striking it rich.
And so, Zeng Feixiong had stepped forward.
By the fifth watch, before dawn broke, the detachment was fully assembled at Blackwater City's north gate, awaiting the National Preceptor's ritual.
A sacrificial altar had already been erected here. Sun Fuping had bathed beforehand and mounted the stage wearing a bright yellow robe.
Robes of this color were reserved strictly for the sovereign and the National Preceptor; anyone else caught wearing them would be executed.
He Lingchuan watched with keen interest. Performing magic and rites to the gods in this world was far from a simple matter of peachwood swords, talisman water, and chanting hasty decrees.
Sun Fuping produced his long staff and tapped it lightly against the ground. The monstrous beast atop the staff lifted its head to the sky and let out a resounding roar.
The creature had a broad nose, a gaping mouth, protruding eyes, and a bearded jaw. Its bellow sounded like the lowing of an ox, shaking the surrounding countryside.
Passersby grew curious, gathering into a crowd of onlookers.
The monster roared three times, each louder than the last, the final blast like muffled thunder that left everyone's eardrums buzzing.
As if in answer to the beast's roars, clouds in the sky rapidly thickened and darkened. Deep within the heart of the cloud mass, several sharp peals of thunder cracked, rumbling downward.
This was the resonance between heaven and man.
A dozen breaths later, rain actually began to fall.
The clouds hung solely above the detachment, so the rain fell exclusively upon the soldiers. The onlookers standing nearby remained entirely dry, neither their clothes nor their hair touched by a single drop.
Such pinpoint control was truly extraordinary.
"The beast atop the staff is a Yazi, capable of calling the wind and summoning rain, though it lacks two horns," He Yue murmured beside his brother. "Why didn't National Preceptor Sun draw upon the dynastic fortune to pray for rain? Wouldn't doing this drain his energy?"
His voice was very soft, yet Nian Songyu still overheard: "He cannot use it, lest it disrupt the expedition ritual shortly after."
"This isn't the ritual?" He Lingchuan stood between him and his younger brother, using his own frame as a barrier to separate them. "Then what is the National Preceptor doing?"
Chapter 17