Chapter 91: Oath-Swearing Meeting

Before the executioner’s blade could descend, one man stepped forward. This man was Guo Xin.

“All of this is my fault for failing as a father. If you must kill, kill me first!” Guo Xin wept.

His face, now streaked with tears, perfectly portrayed the visage of an old man overwhelmed by sorrow. At fifty years of age, he was already half in the grave. To endure the agony of losing his son would shatter his remaining strength.

Yet Xu Wenshan displayed no compassion. “Is this merely a matter of poor upbringing?” he demanded.

Guo Xin froze.

“Your son has repeatedly attempted to incite discord between our village and Fengshi Village. Did you not tacitly condone it? Did you not know of his meetings with Fengshi villagers? Your son is colluding with them to exploit the village’s resources, disregarding the welfare of all. Is this only poor parenting?”

“You, your family, are all malignant growths in Luhe Valley.” Xu Wenshan pronounced.

Although his words touched only briefly on the Guo family’s misdeeds, they struck a chord with the other villagers. The ones who had lorded it over others with brute force, who had seized the village’s finest resources thanks to their large clan, were them. Despite the Xu family’s own past transgressions, public outrage now conveniently overlooked them and fixed its gaze on the Guo family.

“The young master of the Guo family is no saint; he uses men as shooting targets. But his sire is worse still. Without his indulgence, this never would have happened.”

“The Guo family is arrogant and calculating, never suffering a loss without exacting revenge. Haven’t they recently gathered at the grain and oil shops?”

“The Guo family is indeed a cancer upon this village!”

The adage “accumulation of rot leads to bone-destroying” and “many voices can pierce metal” came to mind, but Guo Xin never expected these once-kind villagers, so easily oppressed, to turn into stone-throwers against his family.

“You want to do what?” Guo Xin asked, his face turning ashen.

Xu Wenshan signaled the guards. Dozens of men moved as one, subduing every member of the Guo household.

“On the eve of battle, slaughtering our own villagers is ill-omened. Imprison all adult males of the Guo family for now. Once we have conquered Fengshi Village, we will pass judgment.”

The villagers of Luhe Valley erupted in cheers, hearts overflowing with delight.

With three precise strokes, the heads of Fengshi’s spies tumbled to the ground, blood spattering the grand banner emblazoned with “Luhe”.

The banner was makeshift and tattered. No suitable cloth could be found in all of Luhe. Xu Wenshan had requisitioned gauze from fuse materials and scraps of uniform cloth, stitching them into a flag.

This banner garnered unanimous approval from Xu Wenshan’s men and the troops, yet the villagers cherished it deeply. They remembered the grueling days of crafting military supplies before the march, and this flag was their labor’s symbol.

The soldiers dubbed it the “Patchwork Flag,” likening it to a beggar’s quilted coat. But posterity would know it as the “Battle Flag.”

...

Late at night, five miles deep in the forest beyond Fengshi Village.

After a night and a full day of marching, the fifty men of Luhe Valley had finally reached the enemy’s doorstep. Their resilience was extraordinary; eighteen grueling hours had not broken them.

Xu Wenshan addressed the troops: “Comrades, we stand mere steps from the foe. I now deliver today’s final command: ...”

Li Dazhuang, Lei Laohu, Wu Yi, and their soldiers bore resolute countenances despite their fatigue. With a single word from Xu Wenshan, they would traverse hell and heaven.

The village oath had ignited their passion, forging an unbreakable link between personal gain and communal interest. Even the half-Luhe Valley warriors like Lei Laohu and Wu Yi burned with fierce resolve.

But Xu Wenshan’s words were: “My order is... sleep.”

Some soldiers grumbled, yet Xu Wenshan continued, “You are all exhausted. Only the weary can fight effectively. Rest here until dawn. When the enemy rises to prepare their meals tomorrow, that is the hour of our assault. Dismissed!”

Though their spirits soared, sleep claimed them swiftly.

Once the soldiers slumbered, Xu Wenshan stayed awake.

This month’s frenzy had illuminated the truth of “a single cannon’s roar brings ten thousand taels of gold.”

Consider their armaments: helmets for all, basic half-armor, long spears, and two incendiary bombs apiece. The cost had devoured vast sums.

Each man had only two bombs. After successful trials, they had tested throws twice, gauging power and feel.

Now, only a hundred or so remained.

It was not throwing bombs but casting away wealth!

He had believed Shaxian funds ample for his plans. Yet this expenditure would bankrupt them!

Inflation loomed, grain a dire concern.

Gazing upon distant Fengshi Village, Xu Wenshan whispered, “White Dragon Salt Gang, do not betray my trust...”

The first light of dawn broke.

It was time to sound the battle horn.