Several days later, in the central region of the Cloud Mist Mountain Range, mountain peaks rose one after another.
There was a river and a grassland near a valley.
The man in blue and the others were resting there, but they looked absolutely miserable. Every one of them was covered in blood; some had lost an arm or a leg, while others had swollen noses and lips that looked like sausages, as if they'd just had botched plastic surgery.
They looked like patients who'd just been discharged from a hospital for the disabled—about as miserable as anyone could be.
At that moment, Xia Ping had gone somewhere else to pee, so he wasn't with them for the time being.
"Damn it, we can't go on like this. If that bastard keeps tricking us into those mountain peaks, we're finished. We'll die without a place to be buried. We might as well rebel."
With a smack, a student in red hurled the cup in his hand to the ground, smashing a deep hole into it. His face twisted with fury.
He looked just like a peasant pushed to the limit by an emperor's oppression, unable to endure the court's harsh punishments, heavy taxes, and forced labor any longer, and ready to rise up in rebellion.
"Maybe we shouldn't. That bastard Wu Wudi isn't someone to take lightly. If we rebel, he'll probably slaughter us on the spot." One student trembled with fear. Over the past few days, Xia Ping's brutal methods had terrified him so badly that they'd left a psychological scar. He didn't have even the slightest courage to stand up to Xia Ping.
"What the hell are you afraid of?"
The student spat as he spoke. "Haven't you seen how this bastard's been treating us these past few days?