Chapter 37

The yamen runners hurried off, and the others, soldiers included, carefully tried to make friends with Bai Lang. A fierce warrior who could wield a sixty-four-catty iron mace was a rare sight. If he wasn't boasting and could really demonstrate his skill on the training ground, then, at the very least, becoming a personal guard or household retainer shouldn't be a problem. He might even become a local guerrilla commander's or general's personal guard.

Anyone with a lick of sense knew that Great Ming was in danger. It was probably doomed, beset by internal and external threats. Inside, rebel bands ravaged the land; outside, the Jian Lu repeatedly broke through the passes to plunder. The current emperor was also eager for quick results. How many chief ministers had been replaced in recent years? How many officials had been beheaded or thrown in prison? Even the clever ones thought the late emperor had been better off sticking to his carpentry. The harder this emperor worked, the faster the dynasty seemed to crumble.

The old folks especially missed the reign of Emperor Wanli, when all under heaven was at peace and life was prosperous. How had Great Ming fallen so far in just a few years? These were times when men of ability could rise. If you were skilled with bow and horse, could fight, and could take enemy heads, you had a future—and Bai Lang had one.

The yamen runners and their ilk were shrewd enough to know that a warrior like this couldn't be a bandit or rebel. What bandit chief would use a warrior like him to take a city? Besides, the nearby bandits and rebels had recently been suppressed, and many of their leaders had been captured, taken to the capital, and executed by slicing. In Shandong, it was far more realistic to worry about the Tartars breaking through the passes again to plunder. Hadn't the Tartars ravaged Jinan just two years ago? When the rebels ran into the Tartars, they fled as far as they could. Otherwise, they'd be killed or carried off as baoyi aha.

Bai Lang had more or less figured that out, too. He just hadn't expected two Purple Gold Maces to make him seem like a respectable man. Thinking it over, though, it made sense. Before long, a yamen runner returned with a fine set of clothes for Bai Lang to put on. They also invited him to bathe at the finest bathhouse in the city and change there. Then he heard that Prefect Lord wanted to meet him, and the city's General naturally did as well.

Fortunately, this was a large city, and they could find clothes that fit his size. After bathing and dressing, Bai Lang slung the Polished Purple Gold Mace across his back with a belt and went to meet the officials. He stepped into the government hall and gave a brief salute. The officials inside, along with several men in military uniforms, took the opportunity to size him up.

"What a strapping warrior!" One of the military officers—whether second- or third-in-command, Bai Lang couldn't tell—called out in admiration. The officials stroked their beards and smiled. "Brave warrior Bai wishes to enlist and make a name for himself. He offers his skills, both civil and martial, to the emperor. Excellent!" They rewarded him with ten taels of silver and assigned him to serve under the city's General.

Meeting Bai Lang was only a brief interlude. The senior military and civil officials were mainly discussing how to pacify the region, especially the bandit troubles nearby. After Prefect Lord gave Bai Lang a word of approval, a servant led him out of the hall to register his name at the military camp. It was a way of keeping an eye on him, too. Better to have him stay in the camp than wander around the city.

The camp had received orders from the General and really did give Bai Lang a complete new set of padded winter clothes. They didn't give him armor, only an iron helmet, and no horse, either. There was no bow or arrows, but they did give him a Wild Goose Feather Saber. Bai Lang drew it and decided they hadn't skimped on him; the blade was actually serviceable. He turned down a spear, and that was all. "Soldiering in Great Ming is pretty rough. They issue one set of winter clothes, and no spare set to change into," he muttered. At least he had a room in the barracks all to himself, which wasn't bad.

When the General returned to camp, he summoned Bai Lang and, after a few kind words, asked him to serve as a personal guard. But at first, he wouldn't be staying at the General's side. He'd be serving as a vanguard instead. So, a household retainer, but not yet a trusted one. More like a shock-troop vanguard. That suits me just fine.

The next day, Bai Lang waited for the roll call, but it never came. He stopped a soldier and asked, only to learn that they held roll call every five days and drills every ten. That was already considered quite frequent. Bai Lang had no choice but to train on his own; he practiced every day without fail. Soon, a ring of soldiers gathered around to watch him train, cheering his every move. Some called it all show, but who had ever seen a show-off wield a sixty-four-catty Purple Gold Mace? Besides, Bai Lang really was holding a pair of iron maces, and every move stirred the air into a gust. He looked utterly fearsome.

The General watched from outside and praised him. "Truly, a warrior with hammer and mace is no one's match in strength." The others were all rather afraid of Bai Lang, whose arms must have had several thousand catties of strength—no ordinary man could compare. It was like one of the mighty warriors from a storyteller's tale had come to life. They could follow him and collect enemy heads.

The government officials had indeed been discussing a campaign to suppress the bandits nearby, but before they could finish preparing, terrible news arrived: the Tartars had broken through the passes once more, splitting into several routes. Among them, the Tartar chieftain Abahai was leading one force toward Shandong. Bai Lang had been enlisted for only two months, but he had already gathered dozens of soldiers around him. "Defend the city!" That was Prefect Lord's decision, and the General agreed. Fight the Qing in the open? Ming troops had probably lost that kind of courage long ago. Defending the city was their only hope.

Before Bai Lang arrived, Great Ming had suffered the Battle of Songshan, wiping out the elite troops of the Nine Border Garrisons. Then came the Battle of Zhuxian Town, after which rebels like Li Zicheng could no longer be contained. By now, the situation had fallen into complete ruin. Bai Lang offered to lead troops out of the city and form a supporting position, arguing that simply defending the city was doomed to fail. But he was rebuffed, so he made another offer. "Then I'll take a few men to scout the Qing forces and keep watch for the defenders."

Bai Lang repeatedly asked to fight. Prefect Lord admired his courage, but the others thought he might be looking for a chance to flee, so they stopped him again. Bai Lang could only smile wryly. "Very well. I'll kill the enemy from the walls." He had confidence in his own strength. It was simple: he'd found no one in this world who seemed to have cultivated Internal Energy. Or perhaps no one practiced this kind of external conditioning. He couldn't be certain that there were no Internal Energy practitioners, but he thought it unlikely.

"If a horse's momentum is behind it, a heavy sword or long saber should be able to break through my Golden Bell Shield. But killing me will still be difficult. In that case, let the city walls become a graveyard for the Qing soldiers." Prefect Deng was a capable official, but there was also Prince Lu in the city. Bai Lang had heard that he refused to spend money to raise morale. "What a pig."

The Qing soldiers met no resistance outside the city and surrounded it at once. From atop the walls, Bai Lang saw them below, clad in cotton-padded armor and looking quite fierce. They had also driven along large numbers of captured civilians. The defenders' morale was low, though no one seemed willing to surrender and hand over the city. But when the Qing soldiers attacked the gates, those gates and sections of the wall were in trouble almost at once.

"I never thought they'd be this useless," Bai Lang muttered. Wearing only chain mail, he charged at the Qing soldiers as they climbed onto the wall. The soldiers behind him were stunned, and only a handful followed. The Qing soldiers climbing the wall were burly and wore two layers of armor. As soon as they reached the top, they cut down the defenders nearby. Then they and the others who followed them up began fighting their way down to open the gates—but the first man to meet Bai Lang was crushed into the shape of a dent.