Chapter Nineteen: A Secret Passage to the Granary

In the streets where the chaotic battle had erupted, a man dressed in red, a sword at his waist and wearing black-soled boots, arrived at the scene with unhurried steps. Handsome in appearance and in his early thirties, he scanned his surroundings and gently tapped the folding fan in his hand.

"At least two squads of armed, able-bodied men. The leader is truly peculiar—judging by his gait and the marks left by his spear, the weapon must be incredibly heavy, yet he bears its weight with ease," the man in red said with a smile. "My Imperial Father once campaigned with the Thirteen Iron Armored Cavalry. Men, once gathered together, are prone to making a scene. That Liu Taibao, having barely clung to his life, still refuses to give up."

"About thirty men."

Beside the man stood an attendant dressed in yellow and clad in armor. Standing over two meters tall, with bells tied to his waist, a drum in his left hand, and a drumstick in his right, his face was entirely covered by a black tiger totem. He provided a more precise count.

The man in red nodded slightly and asked, "What of that fellow who calls himself 'Chaos'? His palm techniques are vicious, but he might be of use. Give him another twenty or thirty years of training, and he won't be any worse than you."

The Great Shaman replied, "Chaos demanded ten beautiful maidens, a thousand taels of gold, and a precious weapon from the armory. He reported that there are at least four other extraordinary individuals within the city, each only slightly inferior to him. They were previously staying at the He family residence in the Western District."

The man in red’s gaze darkened as he recalled the recent incidents regarding the assassination of his battalion commanders.

"Liu Taibao has been absorbing these wandering 'extraordinary' individuals. If he can expand, he will have an organization, and where there is an organization, there is a goal. Have any battalion commanders died in the last two days without me being informed?"

The Great Shaman shook his head. "No one has the gall to be so reckless."

The man in red muttered to himself, "What are they planning?"

A group of armed men, including corrupt officials and extraordinary individuals—they could never be content to stay quiet.

After a long moment, the man in red commanded: "Send men to watch the riverbank. Kill anyone digging for water. Keep a close eye on the granaries and the armory. From now on, order the entire army not to set any fires. Recall all the White Banner Iron Cavalry. Seize a thousand Yangzhou residents and take them to the open ground at Central Square; execute them one by one until these people show themselves. Order all battalion commanders of the surrendered troops outside the city not to leave their camps from this moment on. I do not wish to hear any excuses. Have the Great Halberd Battalion and the Divine Machine Battalion stand by."

"As you command," the Great Shaman replied. Several black hawks immediately flew out from his hand drum and soared into the sky, disappearing into the distance.

...

The second night after the city fell.

The granaries in the Western District were guarded by two full battalions, totaling six hundred elite soldiers. Yangzhou had been prosperous since ancient times, and upon inspection, the reserves in this granary were enough to sustain a large army for three months.

Jiang He hid on the eaves of a civilian house, using a short blade to poke two holes in the wall, observing the opposite side by the moonlight.

His assigned task was to create chaos, and destroying the granary was one of the quickest ways to do so. However, for some reason, the White Banner Iron Cavalry had all concentrated in one area. A slight misstep would lead to being trapped in the fray and dying of exhaustion. The Garuda mode provided a massive boost, but it consumed energy just as quickly; it was only suitable for swift, decisive strikes.

On the other side of the eaves, a family of four huddled together, covered only by rags, trembling in fear. On the first day the city fell, the Qing soldiers were somewhat restrained while looting for wealth, but once they understood the situation, they simply resorted to violence based on their personal whims.

In the open ground not far from the house, a Qing soldier held over a hundred Yangzhou residents captive. They all knelt with their heads bowed, necks bared, none daring to flee. As for the young children, their hundred voices mingled in a chorus of cries, a tragedy that went unnoticed in the dark of Yangzhou.

Jiang He left the house to continue searching the surrounding area, trying his best not to look at the Qing soldiers to avoid triggering their predatory instincts.

Generally, the area around an ancient granary was a restricted zone, and reselling grain was a capital offense punishable by flaying. But driven by greed, they would sell at high prices when grain was scarce and buy back at low prices when the harvest was plentiful. With such large reserves, they could easily reap substantial profits.

Of course, such things could not be done in the open.

In the darkness, the wailing lingered in his ears.

Jiang He’s expression was solemn and patient. Late into the night, after several hours, he finally found a clue in a cow shed.

Beneath a mountain of weeds, two iron doors were embedded in the ground, rusted and locked with iron chains. Hidden among the weeds were a husband and wife who had lost their lives, killed by spears during a search by the Qing soldiers.

Jiang He pulled out his short blade, aimed it at the lock, and pressed his entire weight down with a sudden, violent force. With a crisp snap, the lock shattered.

He pulled the weeds back over the spot, dragged the corpses aside, and entered the tunnel. It was pitch black inside, and the screams from the outside were muffled. Grain was scattered underfoot, and wooden carts were parked in grooves carved into the walls. Extinguished oil lamps hung on the walls; it was clearly a passage for transporting grain.

Jiang He moved through the darkness and took one of the oil lamps. Since his vision was useless, he simply closed his eyes. After two hundred paces, his feet touched a set of stairs. He reached up, took twelve more steps, and felt something against his palm. As he fumbled about, he found another iron lock.

One more slash and it was severed; the dagger, inlaid with gems and belonging to a vice-general, was impossibly sharp.

Jiang He opened the door and burst out of the tunnel. He stood still for a moment, sensing the ventilation. He lit the oil lamp and found himself surrounded by walls of grain. Wooden frames barely held the mountain of food in place. He reached out, grabbed a handful, and shoved it into his mouth to chew.

After a few bites, he frowned; the texture was too dry and coarse, leaving him craving water. Fortunately, the Garuda Egg quickly surged with cyan energy, digesting the grain into nutrients and ultimately storing them in his heart.

Jiang He grabbed handfuls of grain, chewing and swallowing repeatedly. Half an hour later, the "wall" in front of him had been reduced by a layer. He turned in another direction and continued to eat.

An hour later, the space near the iron door had expanded significantly. Jiang He began to move, his iron stomach like a bottomless abyss, devouring the surrounding grain to his heart's content.

Outside, the sky began to brighten, clouds gathered, and a fine drizzle fell.

Jiang He kept his head down, eating incessantly. Such an opportunity was rare; in the real world, it would be difficult to find similar resource points on the island.

From late night to dawn, and from dawn to noon.

Finally, Jiang He’s speed slowed. He leaned against the wooden frame and retched a few times, his throat swollen and red, his cheeks aching. However, the harvest was clear: his heart beat with greater strength and power, the pure cyan crystals on its surface appeared exceptionally magnificent, and his defensive capabilities had increased significantly.

"It seems I won't need to eat for half a lifetime now."

Once full, Jiang He took out his cinnabar mirror to hypnotize himself, entering a state of deep sleep to rest right where he was.

...

In the Yangzhou dungeon.

Chu Fuqiang swung his heavy axe, and the lock shattered upon impact.

The two prisoners on the lowest level were released, staring nervously at the large group of people.

News of the fall of Yangzhou had long since spread. At first, hundreds of people had come here to hide, but then a group of Qing soldiers had charged in, killing indiscriminately. The core forces of the White Banner did not care for the prisoner-soldiers here because there was no profit to be made, leaving the dungeon as if forgotten by the outside world.

"You two can come with me to kill the Qing soldiers, or you can leave on your own. Make your choice quickly."

One prisoner, seeing the silence of the crowd, walked straight into their ranks. The other prisoner hesitated, unwilling to fight the wolf-like Qing soldiers, and turned to run.

Chu Fuqiang’s eyes darkened. He threw his heavy axe, the blade striking the fleeing prisoner in the back and nearly passing through his body. The man was left with only the ability to gasp for air, and he soon lost his life.

Chu Fuqiang felt no guilt. These were all criminals; if he abandoned violence, he would never be able to rally them. In a primitive, chaotic environment, only power could dictate rules and establish order.

The group left the dungeon. Before they had gone far in the streets, several men who had colluded in secret split off to flee.

Chu Fuqiang turned and said, "The Imperial Army is already a hundred miles outside the city. The Yangzhou Qing army is surrounded; this is merely their final madness. If you perform meritorious service with me, I will petition Liu Taibao after the battle to let you trade your merits for your crimes, restoring your freedom, or perhaps even granting you an official post."

In truth, few believed these words, but it did not stop the prisoners from using them as a goal to console themselves.

Half a quarter of an hour later, the dungeon was engulfed in flames.

Chu Fuqiang cleared away most of the traces to prevent the Qing soldiers from discovering that the prisoners had left, which might make them vigilant. The hundreds of corpses inside were enough to conceal the truth.

"I hope this succeeds."