Xiao Feng heard Lu Zhengren cursing inside—he sounded furious. He was clearly wary of the Qin family, so he didn't name names, but he was clearly aiming his words at someone.
How could Fang Zichen not catch that? He stood outside the tent with his hands on his hips, yelling right back at him.
Xiao Feng: "..."
Uncle Fang really does offend people wherever he goes.
If he didn't have some backing and couldn't fight a bit himself, Uncle Fang's bones would have been cold long ago.
A few soldiers looked over. Xiao Feng hurried to pull him away. "Uncle Fang, let's go!"
Fang Zichen was so angry his nostrils flared. Leaving now felt a bit like retreating without a fight, but they were on the other side's turf—outnumbered and outmatched. Better to lose face than lose your life!
Retreat first!
Fang Zichen led his people back.
He didn't dare linger in Xinghe County and planned to travel through the night. But just as they left the city, as the sky was darkening, torches lit up ahead.
The firelight was stark against the pitch-black night. At the same time, bugle calls sounded from behind.
The enemy was attacking again.
But the enemy was behind them—what was going on ahead? Were the refugees running into the villages to loot again?
This was completely lawless.
Fang Zichen led his people over. Before they even got close to the village, they heard crying, screaming, and wailing mixed together. Someone was laughing. Someone was talking.
That sound...
When Xia Jinghong celebrated his birthday, Da Liao had sent envoys. Fang Zichen had heard them speak—he could just barely understand a few phrases. What he couldn't understand sounded like quacking ducks.
It was the Da Liao people, not refugees.
Da Liao soldiers had sneaked around to the rear?
What was going on? Had the Northwestern Army not noticed?
Fang Zichen's group crept around to the back of the village and lay low in the shadows. They saw enemy soldiers going door to door, searching. In the open space in the village, many people were kneeling—mostly the old, weak, sick, and disabled. The young ones who could run had probably already fled. These were the ones who hadn't made it out in time.
Enemy soldiers stood guard with broadswords. The villagers knelt trembling, not daring to look up. Many were dragged out of their houses by the enemy.
The enemy said something—a bunch of gibberish—then pulled the women and gers apart. One ger was quite pretty, and the enemy soldier's eyes lit up. He dragged him toward a house. A woman nearby tried to stop him and was kicked to the ground. The infant in her arms was still crying. A Da Liang soldier seemed to find the noise annoying, so he ran the baby straight through with his blade. The child went silent instantly. The Da Liang soldier lifted his blade, bright red blood dripping down the steel. The man wore a crazed grin, laughing and laughing, then slammed the infant hard onto the ground.
Someone else stuffed a child into a burlap sack, tied the opening tight, then poured lamp oil over it and set it on fire. The child inside the sack immediately rolled around on the ground, screaming.
The agonized screams were heart-wrenching. The enemy soldiers around seemed to find it amusing. The fire wasn't burning very strong yet—when the child rolled to their feet, they kicked him back and forth like a game, dancing with glee.
Fang Zichen's eyes went wide with fury, anger practically spewing from his ears. His blood seemed to freeze solid in an instant. He bit his lip hard, not daring to make a sound.
"Beasts."
A young man beside Fang Zichen watched with reddened eyes and immediately wanted to charge out. Qin Liu hurriedly held him back.
Who wasn't furious?
But what was the situation right now?
Charging out now was suicide. How many of them were there? The other side had a hundred or more.
The young man seemed to know this too. He slumped back down, covered his ears, and lowered his head, not daring to look anymore.
Ahead, the screams, wails, and pleas for mercy continued without end.
All the males, old and young alike, were killed. The women and gers were bound at the wrists and taken away.
Fang Zichen had seen anti-Japanese dramas. Even thinking with his toes, he knew what they wanted to do with the people they took back. These animals weren't about to treat anyone gently.
Most of the village was thatched huts. After the killing, the enemy tossed in torches, and the houses went up in flames in an instant.
Fang Zichen clamped his hand tightly over Xiao Feng's mouth, his eyes bloodshot, his heart aching. He felt his palm grow wet — Xiao Feng's shoulders were shaking, but his ragged breathing gradually steadied.
Fang Zichen let go. Tears streamed uncontrollably down Xiao Feng's face—fear and grief and fury all at once.
Fang Zichen's hands trembled nonstop. He couldn't describe what he was feeling—just that chill spreading through his whole body, like his heart and lungs were about to burst.
Back in history class, they'd definitely covered how brutal the Japanese army was during the invasion of China. But what you read in books is always shallow. Someone from a time of peace could never truly feel it. Now, witnessing this scene with his own eyes, the impact left Fang Zichen's mind completely blank.
Afraid?
Angry?
He couldn't deny it—he was afraid, but also utterly furious, his whole body practically about to ignite.
How could such people exist in this world? What kind of heart could kill people like killing chickens without even blinking?
If they'd been facing each other on the battlefield and killed Da Xia soldiers, Fang Zichen wouldn't hate them this much. But those were unarmed old people, women, gers, and children! How could anyone bring themselves to do this?
This was on a completely different level from beating someone up.
Fang Zichen felt no fear when fighting. But if you asked him—would he dare kill someone? Absolutely not.
Back when the Ma family was bullying Zhao Ger, Ma Laosan even sent people to ambush him, trying to cripple him. Fang Zichen was furious. But then something happened to Ma Laosan. Guaizai saw the man covered in blood, lying motionless—he looked dead. When Guaizai came back, he excitedly told Fang Zichen that Ma Laosan was dead.
At that moment, Fang Zichen felt no joy whatsoever. His first reaction was overwhelming fear and panic.
He killed someone!
No matter what, you can't kill people.
That's against the law—a capital crime, one that gets you shot.
Even if someone is guilty, it should be the law that punishes them. He'd always kept that firmly in mind.
But now, someone had killed people right in front of him—and not vicious criminals, but unarmed civilians...
This was a world where the strong preyed on the weak—a world that devoured people.
If they didn't fight back, countless unarmed Da Xia people would die under enemy blades.
Either you die or I live.
For the first time, Fang Zichen clearly realized this.
Only by going there himself did he realize the situation in Jizhou was even worse than his subordinates had reported.
After returning from Jizhou, just a couple of days later, news came from there again: Xinghe County had fallen.
It was expected.
Jizhou was the same as Hezhou—vast territory and many towns.
Three counties had already been lost. Jizhou couldn't hold out much longer.
In a few months, the enemy might be fighting their way to Hezhou.
Fang Zichen couldn't sit still. He was even more anxious than Xia Jinghong. He'd clearly sent a letter not long ago, but waiting made him feel like each day was a year—it felt like months had already passed. He couldn't help writing to Xia Jinghong again, asking why the reinforcements were so slow. Were there even any reinforcements?
If they didn't come soon, the enemy would be at their doorstep.
But even with an 800-li express courier, it would still take many days.
In the eleventh lunar month, news came back from Jizhou again: Yongning County had also fallen.
Still no reply from the capital.
Waiting is long and agonizing. It was like a great blade hanging over his head, ready to drop at any moment and split his skull in two.
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