xymnovel Chapter 17 Stealing Gunpowder
Chapter 17 Stealing Gunpowder
In the tenth year of the Xianfeng Emperor's reign, the sky over northern China was leaden gray, like a cast iron pot turned upside down on the earth.
The sound of hooves clattered on the frozen ground. Li Qian rode at the front, the wind and sand lashing against his stubble-covered face like fine sandpaper. He paid no heed to Sun Deshan's mention of "General Du"; such rumors were commonplace during famine years. Today they'd say a savior had emerged in the south, tomorrow a granary had opened in the west, but Li Qian, having crawled through piles of corpses for so many years, understood that this world offered no hope to the living.
He went to western Yunnan not to seek refuge with anyone, but because he felt that the mountains there were high and the roads were long, and the Qing Dynasty's rotten whip might not be able to lash out for so long. In the Cizhou region during the tenth year of the Xianfeng Emperor's reign, Heaven was so stingy that it wouldn't even grant him a breath of life.
The sound of horses' hooves pounding on the ice-covered riverbank carried far across the desolate wilderness. Li Qian lay prone on the horse's back, his body swaying mechanically with the old horse's steps. His uniform was long since unrecognizable, the collar covered with a thick layer of grease and blood scabs, rubbing hard against his neck.
"Boss Li, there's black smoke behind the earthen slope ahead." Sun Deshan pulled on the reins. He was only in his early thirties, in the prime of his life, but the hardships of the past few years had etched deep lines on his face, making him look much older than his actual age. The matchlock gun in his hand only had one or two rounds of powder left, and at this moment he could only hold it like a stick covered in iron.
Li Qian didn't reply, but simply straightened up slightly, squinting at the swirling plumes of smoke. The smoke was black, carrying the smell of burnt, aged wood, and faintly tinged with a nauseating, fishy odor. The roof beams were on fire, but not yet fully burned.
"The horse is strangled, and the man is on the ground." Li Qian flipped and slid off the horse, his movement as light as a piece of dead wood falling to the ground.
Awang and Old Man Zhao, trembling, led the five horses into a dry thicket. Su Mo'er, her hand injured, lost her footing and stumbled upon landing, her palm striking sharp gravel. The pain made her lips twitch, but she bit her lower lip tightly, silencing all sound. She watched Li Qian's retreating figure; the man's back was hunched, like a fully drawn crossbow, yet to be released.
Li Qian crouched low, feeling his way up the shady side of the earthen slope. Sun Deshan followed closely behind, carrying a matchlock gun.
Down the slope was a small village called Luanshigou, with only a dozen or so mud houses. At that moment, two strong men were hanging from the crooked locust tree at the village entrance, their trousers stripped off, their soles charred black from the fire, and a foul smell of burnt flesh wafted up the slope on the wind. A dozen or so stragglers wearing blue uniforms were gathered in the open space in the middle, some stuffing rotten grains they had looted into their clothes, others busy rummaging through a pile of junk for ironware.
"Government troops?" Sun Deshan lowered his voice and squeezed out two words through gritted teeth.
"Defeated soldiers from Cizhou Camp." Li Qian's eyes swept over the group of fourteen people. The leader was a burly man wearing a short jacket with a menacing face, a goose-feather saber slung across his waist, and three shiny leather medicine bottles hanging on his chest.
Li Qian touched the hilt of his knife. He was short of gunpowder, and these three gunpowder flasks were their tickets to cross the Zhang River.
He glanced back at Awang, who was huddled at the back, trembling as he stared at the horrific scene below the slope. Li Qian pulled a sharpened iron shovel from his boot and shoved it into Awang's hand.
"Here. When the fight breaks out, you go deal with that straggler behind the woodpile. If you don't stab him through the neck, he'll chop you up and cook you." Li Qian leaned close to his ear, his voice icy cold. "If you want to go to western Yunnan, you can't be without a life under your command. Go, follow behind Old Sun."
Awang's hand, gripping the iron spade, trembled so badly he could barely hold it, but Li Qian's sinister glare forced him to swallow his pleas for mercy.
"Old Sun, in a bit, take Awang and show your head on the top of the slope. Don't actually charge in. Light the fuse, and when you hear my whistle, fire that shot down." Li Qian instructed, "That shot should be aimed at the densest part of the crowd. Just make sure it goes off."
Li Qian slid down the dried-up ditch on the side of the earthen slope. The ditch was full of rotting grass roots and corpses. He held his breath and lay face down in the mud, inch by inch, until he reached the pile of dry firewood at the village entrance.
In the village, the corporal was kicking the old woman's corpse, cursing and swearing, trying to pry out the money meant to appease her debts. "Damn it, in this world, you can't even get a hot meal!"
"Whoosh—!" A whistle exploded at the top of the hill.
"Bang!" Sun Deshan pulled the trigger from above. The loud noise echoed repeatedly in the narrow valley.
"There's an ambush!" The stragglers were thrown into chaos.
Li Qian sprang up from behind the pile of dry firewood, his broken knife slicing open the neck of the soldier carrying the homemade gun. Blood splattered across half his face, but he didn't wipe it away. He grabbed the homemade gun and used it as a hammer, smashing it down on the two men who rushed at him, shattering their skulls.
"Kill...kill!" Awang yelled from the top of the slope. Whether he was scared or crazy, he slid down the embankment and crashed into the soldier hiding behind the woodpile.
Just as the soldier reached for the broadsword beside him, Awang pounced on him with his eyes closed, gripping the iron spatula in both hands, and frantically stabbed the man in the chest and neck.
"Pfft! Pfft!"
Scalding blood sprayed all over Awang's face. The thug struggled, clawing at Awang's shoulder until his nails dug into his flesh, but Awang seemed to have lost his mind, making hoarse noises as the iron spike was repeatedly pulled out and pushed back in. Even after the thug's body went completely limp, Awang remained kneeling in the pool of blood, mechanically stabbing at the already mangled throat.
"Stay together! Don't scatter!" The sergeant drew his sword and slashed at Li Qian.
Li Qian stepped back, turned sideways, and slammed his shoulder into the soldier's. The corporal, weak and unsteady, lost his balance instantly. Li Qian's military knife slid into the soldier's ribs and twisted violently.
"Ah—!" The corporal screamed and fell to the ground.
Li Qian didn't stop. He pulled horizontally, the sound of breaking ribs crisp and piercing. He ripped off the three medicine pots and growled, "Grab the medicine pots! Get out of here!"
The remaining soldiers, seeing their corporal disemboweled and Sun Deshan waving the fuse on the slope, assumed they had run into a large band of bandits and cried out as they fled into the woods.
Li Qian didn't chase after him. He was panting heavily when he walked over to Awang, who was still mechanically stabbing the corpse, and kicked him awake.
"Alright! Grab the medicine pot and get on your horse!"
Awang looked up, his face covered in blood, his eyes glazed over, still clutching the deformed iron shovel tightly in his hand. Li Qian picked up a broadsword from the ground and shoved it directly into Awang's arms.
"Take this knife, and you must carry this stench of blood with you to western Yunnan."
Sun Deshan and Su Mo'er rushed down. The group gathered their weapons and rations like vultures. Su Mo'er walked to Li Qian's side and saw his face covered in blood dripping onto the medicine pot. She reached out her hand, wrapped in a dirty cloth, to wipe it off for him, but Li Qian pushed her away.
"Pick up the ammunition." Li Qian's cold gaze sent a chill down her spine. "This is fate, do you see? This is fate."
This pot of medicine isn't a panacea to save you from suffering; it's money from the King of Hell to buy your life.
As dusk fell, the fire in Luanshigou Village was still burning, and more than a dozen more corpses, not yet completely cold, lay scattered around. Li Qian sat on the stone mill, wiping his knife and calculating the journey to Zhangde Prefecture.
Awang lay sprawled to the side, retching violently, even vomiting yellow fluid, but Li Qian knew that this kid would no longer be a burden.
"Take the back paths and go through the old forests." Li Qian stood up and tied the medicine pot tightly to the saddle. "We can't reach the flag that Du Wenxiu raised in western Yunnan, but we have to crawl over these thousands of miles inch by inch."
Su Mo'er clutched the iron fork she had picked up, her eyes, which once held the gentle tenderness of a girl from a modest family, now worn away by the cruel reality.