After enduring an entire stretch of chaotic persuasion and "ideological re-education" from the Gao Family Village labor-reform prisoners, the messenger finally reached yet another crossroads and boarded a new bus.
This time, however, the atmosphere was different.
There were no labor-reform prisoners on board.
Instead, the seats were filled with ordinary civilians.
Only then did the messenger realize—he had reached the outer edge of Huanglong Mountain. Beyond this point lay lands no longer sealed within its rugged embrace.
The people on the bus looked… alive.
Their clothes were clean and neat. Their faces were relaxed. Their speech was unhurried. Compared to the hollow-eyed residents of Yansui, they felt like people from an entirely different world.
In Yansui, conversations revolved around survival:
What can we eat today?
Where can we find grain tomorrow?
Which shop sells the cheapest millet?
Here, people chatted about entirely different things.
"The opera troupe's new show is pretty good."
"I'm thinking of buying a landscape painting for the wall."
"My daughter tore her cotton coat again—needs replacing before winter."
The messenger sat in stunned silence.
Was this… still the Great Ming?
At last, the bus rolled to a stop.
Han City Station.
The messenger disembarked, mounted his horse, and spurred it toward Dragon Gate Ferry.
The moment he arrived, he froze.
Before him stretched a magnificent bridge, spanning the Yellow River like a steel dragon laid across raging waters. It was vast, solid, and awe-inspiring.
And upon that bridge—
An army was already crossing.
Banners snapped in the wind.
At the forefront flew a great standard bearing bold characters:
"Hejin Garrison Commander Shi."
Shi Jian.
The messenger's heart leapt. He galloped forward and shouted,
"Commander Shi! I bear—"
"I know," Shi Jian cut him off calmly. "You're here for reinforcements for Yanchang County."
The messenger froze.
"You… you already know?"
Shi Jian didn't explain. He merely raised his hand and barked an order:
"Increase speed! We must reach Yanchang County before the bandits harm the people."
"Run!"
The Gao Family Village militia broke into a jog.
"One—two! One—two!"
The sound rolled like thunder.
The messenger stared in disbelief.
Even while running, the formation didn't scatter. Every soldier stepped in perfect unison—left foot, right foot—each stride matched exactly to the cadence.
Not a single line wavered.
What kind of army… runs like this?
But that question was no longer his responsibility.
Seeing that Shi Jian had already departed, the messenger turned back. He rode to Han City, rested for the night, then began his return journey the next morning—bus after bus, transfer after transfer.
When Route 86 finally dropped him off where he had started, he stood there for a long time, staring at the road.
It felt unreal.
Like waking from a dream.
Yanchang County.
The moment Shi Jian's unit entered its borders, the atmosphere changed.
Oppression.
Mountains rose on all sides, carved apart by countless ravines that crisscrossed like the veins of a beast. Every advance required descending into a gully, then climbing out again—over and over.
The terrain was a nightmare.
Shi Jian had once been a scout himself, among the earliest of Gao Family Village's militia. He understood better than anyone how deadly such land could be.
He immediately dispatched more than a dozen scouts, sending them into different ravines to probe ahead.
Zheng Gouzi walked beside him.
The two had once scouted together, back when they hunted down Wang Zuogua in Huanglong Mountain.
Zheng Gouzi glanced around and laughed quietly.
"Brother Shi, remember back then? When we were scouting Wang Zuogua, and Flat Rabbit was hiding in the bushes, using his My Heaven Rabbit Rending Overlord Sword to cut off… well."
Shi Jian burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! I remember. Back then we were nobodies. Now look at us—commanders."
"All those old brothers," Zheng Gouzi said softly, "at least centurions now."
The laughter faded.
Shi Jian's expression hardened.
"This terrain is terrible. Ambushes could come from anywhere."
"The scouts are out," Zheng Gouzi said.
Shi Jian shook his head.
"Only a dozen experienced ones. At best, one per ravine. Gaps are inevitable—"
Before he could finish—
A hundred meters diagonally ahead, people suddenly burst out of a narrow gully.
Tattered clothes. Mixed weapons—spears, blades, clubs.
Bandits.
The moment they saw the government troops, they screamed,
"Government soldiers!"
Then they turned and fled straight back into the gully.
Shi Jian hesitated.
Just for a breath.
Were they bandits—or local militia?
That moment was enough.
By the time his men reached the gully entrance, it twisted sharply after only a few dozen meters. The figures were already gone.
Zheng Gouzi clenched his fist.
"I'll take a squad and chase them."
"No," Shi Jian said firmly. "Too dangerous. If there's an ambush inside, you'd be dead before we could react."
Zheng Gouzi exhaled sharply.
"…You're right."
They looked around.
Ravines everywhere.
"This won't work," Shi Jian muttered. "Scouts alone aren't enough."
"We could climb the slopes," Zheng Gouzi suggested.
"And get stuck halfway," Shi Jian replied bitterly. "Then descend, then climb again. Our scouts would need to be monkeys."
Both fell silent.
Then—
Hoofbeats.
Two scouts galloped back. One sat upright. The other lay slumped across his horse.
Shi Jian's heart clenched.
"What happened?"
The upright scout shouted,
"Bandits hiding in a gully ahead! They fired stealth arrows when we passed—Old Li was hit!"
"Medic!"
The ranks stirred. A medic rushed over, examined the wound, and applied treatment.
"Not serious," the medic reported. "He'll recover."
Only then did Shi Jian breathe out.
He looked up at the endless ravines ahead.
His jaw tightened.
"This is impossible," he muttered.
"How are we supposed to fight in a place like this?"
Around him, the soldiers felt it too—
That creeping, suffocating unease.