To the west of Daning County stretched a district so run down that it barely deserved to be called part of the city at all. Crumbling shacks leaned against one another for support, their walls cracked and their roofs sagging, as if a strong wind might scatter them into dust. There was not a single proper house in sight. This was clearly where the poorest of the poor had gathered, the kind of place even bandits would wrinkle their noses at.
After hearing from the soldiers that survivors had been found here, Cheng Xu, Xing Honglang, and the others hurried over at once. At an intersection clogged with rubble and broken timbers, they ran straight into Ma Xianglin. When they saw one another, a flicker of relief passed between them without a word being spoken.
They had all feared the same thing, that not a single living soul remained in the city. To find survivors here felt like stumbling upon a patch of living green in a land of ash and gray.
The group moved together into the heart of the district.
At once, they saw figures peering out from doorways and holes in broken walls. Crowds of common folk huddled inside their dilapidated homes, clutching one another, eyes wide with terror as they stared at the soldiers in the street.
Ma Xianglin looked at the collapsing houses lining both sides of the road and let out a quiet sigh. "This place must have been too poor even for the rebels to bother with."
Cheng Xu shook his head. "They rob the rich, but they also squeeze the poor. Poverty alone would not stop bandits from preying on them."
Ma Xianglin frowned slightly. "That is true. Then how did this district survive?"
No one answered at once. The question hung in the air, puzzling everyone.
Xing Honglang cast a meaningful glance at her old subordinate, Lao Zhu. "Go ask."
Lao Zhu nodded. He pulled a steamed bun from his satchel, then ducked into one of the shacks. A moment later, he emerged again, followed by a young woman who was stuffing the bun into her mouth with desperate urgency. Some of the terror in her eyes had faded.
After all, when someone gave you food, it usually meant they did not intend to kill you.
She swallowed several mouthfuls in a hurry. Seeing that the people around her wore relatively calm and even kind expressions, her courage slowly returned. "Sirs… is there… something you wish to ask?"
Xing Honglang forced her face into what she believed was a gentle expression. "The rebels did not kill you?"
No matter how hard she tried, her features twisted into something fierce, and the word kill seemed to echo ominously in her tone. The young woman immediately misunderstood.
Could this female general think we surrendered to the bandits, and that is why they spared us? Is she planning to settle accounts now?
The thought made her body tremble uncontrollably. She no longer dared to eat the bun, retreating several steps in fear.
Zao Ying stepped forward at once. "Sister Xing, you frightened her. Let me try."
She walked up with what she thought was the gentlest expression she could manage. "Do not be afraid. We do not eat people."
"Ah!"
The woman recoiled even farther, eyes filled with pure panic.
The group exchanged helpless looks.
In the end, Zhang Fengyi stepped forward. "Do not be scared. We only want to ask you a few questions."
Her appearance was unremarkable, her expression calm and ordinary, like a kind middle aged woman from any town. At last, the young woman stopped backing away.
Everyone glanced at Xing Honglang and Zao Ying with a trace of sympathy.
Both women clenched their fists at the same time, veins bulging on the backs of their hands. "Are you looking for a beating?"
Zhang Fengyi soothed the young woman for a while longer before she finally dared to speak. "This district… was occupied by a rebel leader called Chuǎng Wang. He said everyone living here was very poor, so he spared our lives. He did not come in to rob or kill, and he did not force us to join his army. His men guarded the outer perimeter of the district, so no other bandits dared come in."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the group.
Wang Er and Bai Mao, however, looked less astonished than the others. When Wang Er had wanted to leave Wang Jiayin's forces in the past, Chuǎng Wang had spoken up for him, asking the others to let him go so as not to break the code of brotherhood. This had happened long ago, but they still remembered it clearly.
Among a crowd of ruthless bandits, this Chuǎng Wang was considered someone who still maintained a shred of order, not entirely sunk into wanton slaughter.
Wang Er nodded. "If Chuǎng Wang held this area, then it makes sense. That man dislikes killing for no reason."
Bai Mao nodded in agreement.
Perched quietly on Gao Chuwu's shoulder, Dao Xuan Tianzun reflected inwardly. At this point in time, Chuǎng Wang was not yet Li Zicheng. He should be Gao Yingxiang.
Historical records said that Chuǎng Wang Gao Yingxiang raised his forces in Anse and had once been a horse trader. Beyond that, there was little detail about his character, his background, or his life. Other rebel leaders were vividly described. Li Zicheng was cunning and ungrateful. Zhang Xianzhong was a relentless butcher. The rebel leader nicknamed Cao Cao was known for mediating disputes. Fan Shan Yao, Gao Jie, was famous for his handsome appearance. Only Gao Yingxiang seemed to drift through the records as nothing more than a name and a list of battles.
In a novel, such a figure would be called someone with a forgettable face, a sign that the author lacked the skill to give him defining traits, leaving him to blur into the background until readers forgot him entirely once the book was closed.
Even the author of Those Ming Dynasty Things could only describe him as, "Gao Yingxiang was a peculiar man, and his peculiarity lay precisely in his complete lack of distinguishing features."
This was the first time Dao Xuan Tianzun had learned anything about Chuǎng Wang Gao Yingxiang beyond the dry lines of history.
Ma Xianglin spoke again. "So there are people like this among the rebels. That is a good thing. Sparing the common folk counts as a good deed. How many people survived in this district?"
The young woman answered timidly, "Maybe a few thousand… I am not sure… After the rebels entered the city, we never dared leave our homes…"
Ma Xianglin raised his voice. "White Pole Soldiers, go door to door. Call out everyone hiding inside. Count them and see how we can help."
The Sichuan White Pole Soldiers moved at once, knocking on doors and calling out. Before long, streams of common folk emerged hesitantly from their homes.
This vast slum truly hid many people. Once gathered together, there were roughly three thousand individuals, all from the lowest rungs of society.
During the days the rebels occupied Daning County, these people had hidden indoors without daring to step outside. To avoid drawing bandits to their doors, they had not even dared light cooking fires or let smoke rise. They ate their food raw. When the cold set in, they did not dare light braziers or heat their sleeping platforms, instead huddling together and shivering through the nights.
After enduring days like this, every one of them looked wretched beyond words.
Ma Xianglin watched the scene, his heart aching, yet unsure what he could possibly do.
Just then, he heard Cheng Xu ask from nearby, "How much military grain do our troops still have?"
Zheng Daniu grinned broadly. "None. Not a single grain left."
Cheng Xu snorted. "Your appetite is not a reliable measure. Next."
Zao Ying chimed in, "Why do you not believe him? The military grain really is gone. Look, my bag is empty too."
Cheng Xu shot back, "Your rations are probably all in Daniu's stomach. You are not reliable either. Next."
Laughter broke out among the group.
Bai Mao raised his hand. "I have one day's worth of rations left."
"I also have one day's worth."
"Most of us have about one day left."
Cheng Xu nodded and pulled out a map. "Daning County is still forty li from the Yellow River bank. We can reach it in one day. Our rations are just enough to get us there."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Cheng Xu made his decision. "Good. All soldiers will give their remaining rations to the common folk. We will go hungry for a day and march to the Yellow River. It will not be a problem."