Transmigrating to the Chongzhen era, I started by confiscating the Donglin Party.

Chapter 42 Bloodfire Sword Sect

February 20th, the sixteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, at Jianmen Pass.

The last three warhorses were slaughtered at dawn.

The horse meat was chopped into small pieces, mixed with the last bit of salt from inside the pass, and thrown into ten large iron pots to cook.

The water was a mountain spring, collected from a crevice in the rocks behind the pass; it was clear and icy cold. The fire was made from dismantled gun barrels and knife handles; the flames licked the bottom of the pot, making a crackling sound.

Five thousand White-Spear Soldiers stood silently around the pot, waiting. No one spoke, only the rumbling of their stomachs rose and fell.

Qin Liangyu stood before the gate tower, leaning on her white waxwood spear. She didn't go to collect the horse meat, but only drank half a bowl of soup—the soup from last night's boiled leather belts, which had been reheated for the third time; the soup was murky and had a few grass leaves floating on it.

Madam Ma Xianglin brought over a bowl of meat soup: "Madam, you..."

"Give this to the wounded soldiers." Qin Liangyu pushed the bowl away. "I can still manage."

Ma Xianglin's eyes reddened. She looked at Qin Liangyu—a 65-year-old veteran, her white hair hastily tied up with a wooden hairpin, her cotton armor torn in three places, revealing the blackened cotton inside.

There was a fresh wound on my left arm, which was grazed by a stray arrow when I was guarding the pass the day before yesterday. It was only wrapped with a rag and was oozing dark red blood.

"Xianglin," Qin Liangyu suddenly asked, "what day is it today?"

"On the forty-third day of defending the pass, food supplies ran out... Day ten."

Qin Liangyu nodded. She looked towards the pass, where Zhang Xianzhong's camp was faintly visible in the morning mist, its banners densely packed, like a withered forest.

"Has Sun Kewang replied?" she asked in a low voice.

"Not yet," Ma Xianglin shook his head. "The third batch of messengers sent yesterday haven't returned either. I'm afraid..."

"I'm afraid he's dead," Qin Liangyu replied calmly. "Zhang Xianzhong's military law dictates that anyone caught treasonous must be skinned alive, stuffed with straw, and displayed as a warning."

She paused, then continued, "But if Sun Kewang really wanted to kill the messenger, he should have thrown the body in front of the pass to intimidate us. The fact that he didn't means..."

"Does this mean he's hesitating?"

"We're weighing the options." Qin Liangyu's gaze was deep. "An adopted son is still an adopted son. Zhang Xianzhong had four adopted sons: Sun Kewang, Li Dingguo, Liu Wenxiu, and Ai Nengqi."

Li Dingguo is currently in Hanzhong, Liu Wenxiu is with Zhang Xianzhong in the central army, and Ai Nengqi is with Sun Kewang. There is also open and covert competition among these four adopted sons.

She turned and walked towards the gate: "Let's go, patrol the gate."

The scene on the locked wall was horrific.

The parapet had collapsed in many places and was hastily rebuilt with wood, stones, and corpses. The bricks were soaked in blood, turning an eerie purplish-black. Arrows were densely stuck in the crenellations, like a patch of withered reeds. A cold wind swept through, carrying a heavy stench of blood and corpses.

The soldiers were either sitting or lying down, most of them with their eyes closed, trying to conserve their energy. When they saw Qin Liangyu arrive, they all struggled to get up.

"Sit down." Qin Liangyu waved her hand and walked to a young soldier. The soldier's left eye was wrapped in cloth, and blood was seeping through the cloth.

How big?

"Ten...seventeen."

"Where are you from?"

"Madam, from Shizhu, my father was General Ma Qiancheng's personal guard. He died in battle in Liaodong in the second year of the Chongzhen reign."

Qin Liangyu was silent for a moment, then reached out and patted his shoulder: "After the war is over, come back to Shizhu with me. In the Qin family ancestral hall, set up a memorial tablet for your father."

The boy cried, tears streaming from his one eye, mingled with blood.

Qin Liangyu continued walking forward. She walked very slowly, each step landing on the blood-stained city bricks.

When she reached the western section of the city wall, she stopped—this was the most severely damaged section. Two days ago, Sun Kewang's troops launched a fierce attack on this area, killing more than a hundred defenders. Their bodies were still piled up at the base of the wall and had not yet been buried.

"Madam," came the centurion guarding this section. He was a one-armed man surnamed Luo. "Last night, Sun Kewang's troops were digging soil at the foot of the mountain again. It looks like they're going to build a mountain of earth and pile it up directly onto the gate wall."

Qin Liangyu looked down. Sure enough, a hundred feet below the pass, countless figures were wriggling, some carrying soil, others pushing carts, and they had already piled up a mound three feet high.

"How high do they want to stack it?"

"At this rate, in another five days, we'll have piled up to halfway up the wall," Luo Baizong gritted his teeth. "Then, the bandits can just jump over the earthen mound."

"Five days..." Qin Liangyu murmured.

If we run out of food for ten days, can we hold out for five?

she does not know.

On the same morning, at Sun Kewang's camp.

The tent was filled with the smell of mutton and sweat. Sun Kewang sat on a tiger-skin chair, with a charcoal brazier burning brightly in front of him, but he felt cold, as if a chill was seeping from his very bones.

He clutched a letter in his hand—delivered last night by Qin Liangyu's fourth batch of messengers at great risk, sewn into the lining of his garment. The letter was short, containing only a few sentences:

"General Sun, you are wise: Zhang Xianzhong's massacre in Hanzhong has angered both Heaven and the people, and the court will surely do everything in its power to suppress him. If you were to defect on the battlefield, I would guarantee with my life that you would retain your position as General-in-Chief, and all your soldiers would be appeased."

Five thousand White-Spear Soldiers within Jianmen Pass can testify for the General. Three days are the deadline; those who miss this period will not be allowed to serve. Written by Qin Liangyu.

Sun Kewang read the letter three times, then brought it to the edge of the charcoal brazier and burned it. The ashes curled and turned black in the flames, finally vanishing into nothingness.

"Big Brother." The tent flap was lifted, and Ai Nengqi walked in. He was two years younger than Sun Kewang, with a burly build and a full beard. He was the bravest of Zhang Xianzhong's four adopted sons, and also the least cunning.

"What is it?"

"Father is urging us again," Ai Nengqi said in a low voice. "The military order that just came says that if we don't break through Jianmen by March 15th, we'll have to pay with our heads."

Sun Kewang sneered, "Give him your head? Would he really do that? Of his four adopted sons, Li Dingguo is fighting Qin Liangyu's nephew Qin Yiming in Hanzhong, Liu Wenxiu is his bodyguard, and only the two of us are risking our lives on the front lines. If he really kills us, who will fight for him?"

Ai Nengqi scratched his head: "So...should we go for it or not?"

"Attack." Sun Kewang stood up and walked to the wall of the tent, where a simple map of Jianmen Pass was hanging. "But we need to change our attack method."

"How do I change it?"

"We launched a fierce attack on the western section a few days ago, losing over a thousand men, but we didn't even get close to the city wall." Sun Kewang pointed to the map. "Qin Liangyu's White-Spear Soldiers are unparalleled in defending cities. Even if we add another five thousand men, we still can't take it by force."

"What should we do then?"

Sun Kewang remained silent for a long time, then suddenly asked, "Nengqi, how many years have you been with me?"

"Twelve years." Ai Nengqi replied without hesitation, "In the fourth year of Chongzhen's reign, we started an uprising with our father in Mizhi. At that time, you were just a junior officer, and I was one of your soldiers."

"Twelve years..." Sun Kewang turned around and stared at Ai Nengqi. "In these twelve years, how many people have we killed? How many cities have we seized? And in the end... what have we gained?"

Ai Nengqi was stunned: "Big brother, you..."

"Zhang Xianzhong has declared himself emperor. In Chengdu, he wears a dragon robe and sits on a dragon throne." Sun Kewang's voice was low, as if he were talking to himself. "And what about us? We're still adopted sons, still subordinates. When he's happy, he rewards us with some gold and silver; when he's unhappy, he beats and scolds us at will. The year before last, Li Dingguo advised him to kill less, and he was whipped twenty times, his back ripped and bleeding. Last year, Liu Wenxiu took a concubine, and he took a fancy to her and just snatched her away..."

"Big brother!" Ai Nengqi said urgently, "You can't say that!"

"It's just the two of us here." Sun Kewang walked back to the charcoal brazier, warming his hands by the fire. "Nengqi, let me ask you: what will we do if Zhang Xianzhong is defeated one day?"

"We can't lose!" Ai Nengqi retorted, his neck stiff. "Father has an army of 300,000!"

"Three hundred thousand?" Sun Kewang laughed, a desolate laugh. "Three hundred thousand mouths, how much grain do they need to eat every day? The grain we plundered from Hanzhong is all gone. We can't take Sichuan, we can't get into Huguang. Li Zicheng's side in Guanzhong is starving themselves, how can they help us? These three hundred thousand troops, when they're desperate for food, they'll eat people—first the common people, then the old and weak, and finally… them generals like us."

The tent was deathly silent.

The charcoal fire crackled and popped.

"Brother," Ai Nengqi's voice trembled, "you...you want to defect to the imperial court?"

"You've read Qin Liangyu's letter too," Sun Kewang countered with a question, "Tell me, how much of what she says can be trusted?"

"Qin Liangyu..." Ai Nengqi pondered, "This old woman has a good reputation. I heard that she guarded Shizhu for forty years and was a woman of her word. In the Liaodong War in the second year of Chongzhen's reign, she led the White-Spear Soldiers to defend the emperor, and the emperor awarded her a plaque inscribed with 'Commendable Loyalty'."

"So if she vouches for us, the court might believe her," Sun Kewang said. "Besides, she's in dire straits herself right now, so there's no need for her to lie to us—if she does, we'll launch a furious attack on the pass, and she'll die even faster."

Ai Nengqi swallowed hard: "Then...really?"

"Wait a little longer." Sun Ke looked out of the tent, his gaze piercing through the leather curtain towards Jianmen Pass. "Waiting for someone."

"Who?"

"Qin Yiming," Sun Kewang said slowly, "Qin Liangyu's nephew. He broke through the siege three days ago. If he can really bring reinforcements or an imperial decree... then let's take a gamble."

"What if no reinforcements arrive?"

Sun Kewang remained silent for a long time before uttering two words:

"storm."