Starting from 1618 of the Ming Dynasty

Chapter 71 Safe Arrival

June 10th, dusk.

Five li north of Yanzhou city was the government army camp.

This camp, which originally housed 30,000 reinforcements, now resembles a huge, slowly decaying garbage dump.

The dilapidated fence lay crookedly in the mud, the tents were in ruins, and groups of emaciated soldiers sat slumped on the ground picking lice. The air was thick with a suffocating stench of spoiled food, excrement, festering wounds, and the stench of corpses.

We've been without food for three days.

A shadow of impending mutiny loomed over everyone. The soldiers' eyes gleamed with a green light, the look of ravenous wolves. Even the patrolling officers dared not raise their voices, fearing they might incite a mutiny.

Inside the central command tent, Shandong General Yang Zhaoji was pacing back and forth irritably, his horsewhip broken in two.

"We're not there yet?! What are they doing in Jinan?!"

Yang Zhaoji kicked away the military stool in front of him. "The scouts we sent out to provide backup the day before yesterday haven't returned either? This is the third wave! Has Xu Hongru sealed off this area for hundreds of miles around?"

"My lord..." The guerrilla general beside him said weakly, his lips cracked and dry, "The rations in the camp, even if mixed with sand to make thin porridge, will only last for one meal tonight. People in the rear camp have already started slaughtering horses. If there is still no food by tomorrow, these 30,000 men... I'm afraid they will have to scatter."

Yang Zhaoji slumped back into his chair, his eyes bloodshot. He knew that once the army collapsed, Xu Hongru's 100,000 bandits would flood Shandong like a tidal wave, and he, as the general, would have only one fate—to be executed by slow slicing by the imperial court.

"Report—!!!"

A mournful howl shattered the deathly silence of the camp.

"My lord! They're here! They're here!"

A scout stumbled into the tent, his helmet askew from running so fast, and his face was contorted with a near-manic joy.

"The bandits are here?" Yang Zhaoji suddenly drew his sword, his hand trembling.

"No...no! It's a grain convoy! The grain convoy from Jinan has arrived!" the scout gasped for breath. "They're right outside the gate! Lots of carts! Lots of grain!"

"What?!"

Yang Zhaoji was stunned for a moment, then overjoyed surged into his heart. He disregarded his general's dignity, grabbed his sword, and rushed out, not even caring that he'd lost a shoe. "Quick! Follow me to meet them! Anyone who dares to block our way will be killed without mercy!"

However, when Yang Zhaoji led a group of generals to the gate, his steps involuntarily slowed down.

At that moment, he felt as if he were seeing two worlds.

Inside the gate was a filthy, chaotic, and collapsing old army; outside the gate stood a disciplined steel formation, like visitors from outer space.

Forty-eight cleaned sidecars (two of which were damaged) were lined up in a neat, knife-cut column. Although the wagons were covered with shocking knife marks and arrow holes, and even a few obvious burn marks, this only added to the grim sense of these steel monsters.

The escorting soldiers were dressed in uniform dark gray cotton armor. Although some had blood-soaked bandages wrapped around their heads, each of them stood ramrod straight, their eyes cold and vigilant. Their rifles were like a forest, with matchlock muskets slung over their shoulders, the bolts even covered with dust-proof tarpaulins.

That kind of discipline that only battle-hardened soldiers possess, that sense of order that "even if the sky falls, we must still line up," made Yang Zhaoji's disheveled personal guards subconsciously shrink back.

At the forefront, a huge black flag with red characters fluttered in the wind: Jinan Volunteer Corps.

Lu Yan rode a sturdy green horse, his chainmail gleaming, and even his horse tack meticulously maintained. When he saw Yang Zhaoji emerge, he did not dismount and kneel, but merely bowed slightly.

With the legal status of a "local militia" and the life-saving food, he is now Yang Zhaoji's equal "partner," not his subordinate.

"General Yang."

Lu Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it could be clearly heard in front of the quiet gate: "The militia of Jinan Prefecture, by order of the Provincial Administration Commission, have come to deliver 3,000 shi of military rations."

"Three...three thousand koku? Not a single grain missing?"

Looking at the rows of heavy trucks, Yang Zhaoji swallowed hard, as if he could already smell the aroma of rice.

"Except for the two vehicles that were ambushed at Guichoujian, the other forty-eight vehicles were intact."

Lu Yan dismounted swiftly. He pulled out a document tightly wrapped in oiled paper, along with a hardcover notebook, from his robes.

"This is the list of supplies, and also the delivery receipt."

Lu Yan walked up to Yang Zhaoji, handed him a charcoal pencil, and said in a businesslike tone, "Please have the General inspect and sign this. Also, this is the battle report of the ambush we encountered on the way, which we also brought along. Four hundred and twenty-three heads were beheaded, and the heads are all on the car behind. I think you will find it useful, sir."

"Four hundred beheaded?!"

Yang Zhaoji gasped. His 30,000-strong army had been locked in a stalemate with Xu Hongru for half a month, fighting more than a dozen battles, large and small, and hadn't even beheaded more than 200 people. This grain transport team of a few hundred men, having fought their way through, had actually cut off 400 heads?

He walked quickly to the car behind him, and Zhao Changying lifted the canvas.

A strong smell of lime filled the air. Inside, hundreds of grotesque human heads were neatly stacked, all with typical White Lotus sect hairstyles, and even a few heads that were clearly those of leaders.

"hiss--"

The surrounding government troops and generals gasped in unison. This was no grain transport team; it was a killing machine!

"Good! Well done!"

Yang Zhaoji, his face flushed with excitement, patted Lu Yan's shoulder forcefully, his attitude instantly becoming incredibly warm and friendly. "Commander Lu is truly a pillar of the nation! This batch of grain and these severed heads are life-saving medicine! Quick! Have the carts unloaded! Tonight, I will host a banquet to celebrate Commander Lu's victory!"

"There's no need for a celebration."

Lu Yan deftly avoided Yang Zhaoji's hand, his tone remaining coolly aloof, "I'm a businessman, efficiency is key. After unloading and signing, my men need to rush back to Jinan to transport the next batch. After all, with 30,000 men under your command, this amount of grain will only last ten days."

These words were like a bucket of cold water, calming Yang Zhaoji down.

Indeed, this is just a drop in the ocean. Without establishing a long-term supply line, they will still starve. And this young man is the only one who can bring food in.

"Then...when will the next batch arrive?" Yang Zhaoji's tone carried a hint of flattery, a humble attitude from the client towards the sole supplier.

"As long as the money and supplies are in place and the roads are clear, supplies can be transported every seven days."

Lu Yan pointed to the receipt in his hand, "This is the contract. Also, I need to borrow your army's medical camp to treat the wounds of my dozens of wounded soldiers and get some good wound medicine. I hope you can provide that, General?"

"Give it all! Give it all!" Yang Zhaoji waved his hand and roared at his deputy behind him, "Summon the best doctors from the military medical battalion! Bring out the best medicines from the storeroom! Anyone who dares to withhold anything, I'll chop him down!"

Over the next half hour, a strange scene unfolded in the government army camp.

Those government soldiers who were usually so arrogant and quick to rob the common people were now obediently helping the grain transport team unload their goods, their eyes filled with awe and obsequiousness. Meanwhile, Lu Yan's guards stood aside, their hands on their sword hilts, coldly watching as if they were the masters of the place.

When the last bag of grain was delivered to the warehouse, Yang Zhaoji signed his name on the receipt and stamped it with the general's seal.

Lu Yan took the receipt, blew the ink dry, and carefully put it away.

"It's a pleasure working with you, Lord Yang."

Lu Yan mounted his horse, clasped his hands in a fist salute to Yang Zhaoji, and said, "See you in seven days."

"All team, listen up! Return!"

With a command, the steel convoy started up again. Without stopping, without exchanging pleasantries, like a precision machine that had completed its mission, it rumbled out of the gate.

As the sun set, Yang Zhaoji stood at the gate, clutching the list of supplies in his hand, watching the "Jinan Militia" banner disappear into the distance, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

"My lord, just who is this Scholar Lu?" the adjutant muttered to himself. "His imposing presence and equipment are even more impressive than the Imperial Guard's Divine Machine Battalion."

"I don't know either."

Yang Zhaoji squinted at the dust on the horizon. "But I know that from today onwards, no one in Shandong will ever treat him as an ordinary scholar again. This tiger has been released from its cage. And this tiger only recognizes meat, not people."