The Great Tang's Legacy

As for Huang Family Fort's own reputation, he had made inquiries during his time here.

It was neither good nor bad, just that of an ordinary local landowning power with some armed strength.

The scattered information he had pieced together ultimately agreed with what Huang Liu had said.

As for the relationship between the two sides, at least on the surface, he had heard nothing about collusion.

"Mm, the information matches. He hasn't lied to me so far."

Qing He Miao thought to himself.

Though he actually did not much care whether Huang Family Fort was really in league with the bandits.

It would be best if they were in cahoots. Then he would have a reason to take them all out in one go!

But it was always good to learn something beforehand and prepare himself mentally.

Only after dealing with all this did he quietly return to his own world.

To avoid affecting his family if killing his own kind for the first time had changed his demeanor, Qing He Miao did not go straight home this time.

Instead, he deliberately stayed a little longer on the mountain behind his home.

He spent more time in the cold wind, letting the winter gusts whistle past his cheeks and lapels as he gazed at the distant silhouettes of rolling mountains covered in ice and snow.

He let his thoughts and feelings slowly cool and settle.

Perhaps it was because of the system, or perhaps a soul that had lived two lives was inherently resilient.

Qing He Miao adjusted far faster than he had imagined.

That night, he went to bed only a little later than usual.

The next day, Huang Liu's reply arrived as expected, accepting the invitation.

It was nearly noon, and the winter sun had risen high, illuminating the mountains and reflecting off them in a dazzling glare.

At this hour, everything seemed to be huddling against the cold. The vast mountain wilderness was empty and silent, with scarcely a soul in sight; only the occasional jackdaw swept past with a hoarse caw.

Seen from afar, the so-called "Huang Family Fort" did not have the towering brick-and-stone walls of a true city.

Instead, it resembled a tall earthen wall built against the steep mountainside, rammed together from yellow earth and crushed stone and reinforced at key points with thick logs, forming a simple but sufficiently practical system of defenses.

Several lookout towers stood atop the wall, with indistinct figures patrolling them.

The fortified settlement was not particularly large. By eye, it could accommodate several dozen to around a hundred households, making it more like a large mountain village.

Several faint wisps of cooking smoke curled up from within the settlement.

A mountain breeze blew past, carrying a faint sense of the life being lived inside.

That was if one did not look at the foot of just one mountain, where far too many nameless corpses lay.

The scene before him did indeed fit, to some degree, a modern person's fantasy of rural scenery.

Huang Liu led the way, pointing ahead as he said:

"Daoist priest, our humble fort is just ahead. We'll be there once we pass the outer moat and a few wooden palisades."

Qing He Miao, who had come alone, nodded with a calm expression.

"Let's go."

The closer they got, the clearer the details of the settlement's defenses became.

Simple but practical moats, barricades, and wooden palisades formed successive layers, displaying the warfare wisdom of the ancients.

Decades of turbulent times had taught the ancients about warfare more than anything else.

The guards in the arrow towers had evidently spotted them long ago. Someone leaned out and called to confirm their identities, and although the guards' bows remained undrawn, they stayed on alert.

Without even thinking about it, one could tell that these defenses were crude compared with those of a true military fortress.

But for refugees, routed soldiers, and even small bands of brigands lacking heavy equipment and tight organization, they were already a barrier that was hard to cross.

An ordinary rabble of eighty or a hundred people probably would not even get close enough to touch the outer wall.

Huang Liu went ahead to speak with someone, and the people in front of the settlement's gate immediately let them in.

But the men on guard at the entrance fixed their eyes firmly on Qing He Miao, their wariness undisguised and their hands resting all the while on the hilts of their sabers or the shafts of their spears.

After all, they too needed to go out to buy supplies, hunt in the mountains, and chop firewood.

Except during unusual times, the barricades on either side of the gate and the gate itself were not moved frequently during the day.

Thus, many cities in ancient times had been breached from within by people who had slipped inside under various pretexts just like this.

Upon entering the settlement, they first came to a small square surrounded by low houses and livestock pens. The ground was fairly level, but the place still felt crowded and rough.

The air was thick with the mingled smells of animal dung, woodsmoke, and a densely populated settlement.

After about a quarter of an hour, presumably because someone had gone to report their arrival,

a group of people came filing over from not far away to greet them.

The man in front was exceptionally burly, half a head taller than an ordinary person, with broad shoulders and a long stride, his steps landing steadily and powerfully.

He wore a coarse padded cotton coat washed pale, with a sleeveless animal-fur vest over it and a cloth belt loosely tied around his waist. His whole bearing spoke of a toughness and vigor forged in the mountain wilderness.

Behind him followed a dozen or so men of varying ages, dressed in a haphazard assortment of clothes: some in short work jackets, others in old padded coats.

But every one of them had a sharp gaze and a nimble build. Though they stood casually, they carried the air of men who were brave and skilled in battle.

"Wulang, this is Daoist Priest Qing Miao!"

Huang Liu hurried forward a few steps to introduce them.

Huang Wulang, the burly man at the head of the group, immediately broke into a broad smile. He strode to within about three paces of Qing He Miao, stopped, and cupped his fists, his voice ringing out:

"Huang Wu greets Daoist Priest Qing Miao! Your great name has been resounding in my ears like thunder these past few days. Wulang should have called on you himself, yet instead you've taken the trouble to come to our humble fort. I've truly been remiss. Please forgive me, Daoist priest!"

His words were courteous and polished, and his manners impeccable.

Qing He Miao followed his example, cupping his fists in return.

"Fort Master Huang, you're too polite. I'm the one who took the liberty of coming to disturb you. I should be the one asking forgiveness. You've already shown me tremendous respect."

Huang Wulang's eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly.

It would have been a lie to say he felt no wariness at the other party's sudden visit.

Still, the meeting had been arranged inside his own fortified settlement, where there were no fewer than several hundred capable fighters, all close clansmen.

Since the man had come to his door alone, it would not do to avoid him and appear lacking in bearing.

"Daoist priest, how can you say that? We can hardly welcome an honored guest to our doors quickly enough!"

Huang Wulang laughed heartily and stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

"Things are simple here in the mountains, and we have little to offer. If you don't mind, Daoist priest, please come inside for a chat and a cup of humble tea to chase away the cold."

With that, he personally led the way, keeping a certain distance from Qing He Miao.

He ushered him onto a reasonably broad main road.

On either side stood tiers of houses built along the mountainside, most of them also made of earth and stone and looking sturdy and durable.

Before long, the group arrived at a relatively spacious courtyard near the center of the fort.

The house in the middle of the courtyard was taller than the other buildings. Its walls were built of large blocks of rough stone and looked extremely solid.

Huang Wulang stopped in front of the house and turned to instruct Huang Liu, who was following behind, in Qing He Miao's presence:

"Uncle Six, we must not neglect an honored guest. Go and stoke the brazier in the hall, and prepare some wine and food. Make sure they're hot."

"Yes, Wulang!"

Huang Liu promptly agreed and turned to make the arrangements.

Far fewer people followed them inside. Only five or six men, plainly Huang Wulang's trusted aides or men of considerable standing in the clan, came in with them.

The others remained outside the courtyard.

Chapter 46: The Great Tang's Legacy

The hall was quite spacious inside, but its furnishings were extremely simple, even crude.

Thick beams and pillars stood exposed, still bearing traces of bark and the marks of axes and chisels. They crisscrossed one another, supporting the high roof.

The floor was packed earth, and several earthenware jars and long benches stood in the corners.

The only conspicuous feature was the large stone hearth in the middle of the hall.

The firewood inside was being stirred back to life, its orange-red flames dancing as they drove away the chill in the room.

As the host, Huang Wulang naturally took the seat of honor at the head of the hearth.

A whole animal hide was spread there.

Qing He Miao, meanwhile, was ushered to the first seat on his left.

The five or six other Huang Family men who had followed them in sat scattered in the lower seats or around the hearth, their eyes never leaving Qing He Miao.

Once seated, Huang Wulang watched as a clansman served brown tea in coarse earthenware bowls. He gave his guest a slightly apologetic smile and opened the conversation:

"We mountain folk have rather coarse fare. I hope you won't laugh at us or take offense, Daoist priest."

"Not at all. Fort Master Huang, you're too modest."

Qing He Miao took a small sip of tea and glanced at the status bar on the system panel that only he could see. Calmly and composedly, he said:

"All living beings are equal. In times like these, to have built such a sturdy fortified settlement against the mountainside and sheltered the young and old of your clan in peace is already an extraordinary achievement! Naturally, practicality is best."

Tang-era tea tasted so strange.

Hearing Qing He Miao's assessment, Huang Wulang was quite pleased, yet also felt a slight catch in his heart. He forced a smile and asked tentatively:

"Daoist priest, you think... these are turbulent times?"

"If we count from Emperor Xuanzong of Tang's Tianbao era, natural disasters and man-made calamities have continued without end. It's been more than a hundred years of upheaval by now, hasn't it? Naturally, these are turbulent times."

For that little speech, he had to thank the simple bits of knowledge provided by the ability [General History (proficient)].

He remembered them really clearly.

It seemed that an ability like this did have its uses. When he had time in the future, he would still have to grind up its proficiency.

As he spoke, Qing He Miao glanced at the system panel again and confirmed that there was nothing unusual in the status bar. To show his sincerity, he took another sip of tea.

It still tasted so strange.

"Daoist priest, you really are... well informed! But those are all affairs of the previous dynasty. Please be careful with your words."

The subject was a little sensitive.

Huang Wulang hesitated, then waved a hand at several of his own men.

"I'll have a proper talk with the Daoist priest. You don't all need to stand around here. Go and rest; I'll call you if I need anything."