And so the two of them staggered through the rain, one behind the other. Perhaps Laojun really was watching over them: although their route was all mountain hollows, muddy slopes, and spring grass, and they inevitably took a few knocks and falls, they kept laboring onward. When they rested at noon, they even caught a nest of rabbits, which Du Meng strung together and hung from his sword hilt.
But just as Du Meng had said the day before, the Mountain-Splitting Lord had burst forth, cleaving mountains and breaking open the earth. Though they could roughly guess that he meant to block and battle the opposing Sea-Averting Lord, making it broadly an act of "goodwill"... the Dragon Lord's might was unfathomable even to ghosts and gods. A single movement had already killed most of the fleeing soldiers and obliterated the original road.
Thus, the two could only struggle along the roadless mountainside. They traveled an entire day without seeing another living soul. Only on the afternoon of the following day did they spot three people in a mountain hollow, sitting beneath a large tree to shelter from the rain. Beside the tree, there was actually a winding little path, though where it led was anyone's guess.
"That heirloom of yours really is a treasure. It really can show the way." Du Meng breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. "I was just thinking, if this kept up, even if we got out of these mountains alive, the stifling loneliness would make us sick. But now we've finally found a few living people... let's join up with them!"
Zhang Xing had nothing to say against it.
In theory, he was eager to join a larger group. He would be less conspicuous, safer, and able to gather more information. At the same time, however, he felt a vague concern. They were all routed soldiers, without organization or discipline, fresh from a great ordeal of life and death, and equipped with weapons and armor. Who knew what might happen if they gathered together?
But whatever the case, Du Meng was making the decisions now. Could he, with his rheumatic legs, really object?
As the two approached, two of the three men sheltering beneath the tree immediately stood up. Du Meng naturally went forward to speak with them. Only then did Zhang Xing learn from their conversation that the military formation he and Du Meng belonged to was called the Central Rampart Army, while the others belonged to something called the Longwater Army. They seemed to share an origin within some larger formation. After a brief conversation, the rabbits hanging from Du Meng's long saber plainly delivered the deciding blow, and both sides agreed to join forces and continue through the rain.
It was at that moment, however, that Zhang Xing noticed the person beneath the tree who had shown no reaction at all. Supporting himself on his saber with one hand, he pointed beneath the tree with the other.
"Brother Han, Brother Wang... isn't he one of your companions from the Longwater Army?"
Of the two Longwater soldiers, one was tall and thin with a sallow face, surnamed Han; the other was short and dark-faced, surnamed Wang. At the question, they exchanged a look. Then the tall man named Han gave a cold laugh. "You've misunderstood, young Brother Zhang. He was already lying here before we arrived... we don't even know whether he's dead or alive."
Zhang Xing looked slightly surprised at this. Du Meng stepped forward a few paces and called out, "Brother, can you still walk? If you can, come along with us and make your way out of these mountains. At least we can try to find a way to survive!"
Hearing this, the man beneath the tree finally turned his head slowly through the rain, revealing a frighteningly white face. He said nothing, merely shook his head slightly, then weakly turned away again, clutching an unsheathed military sword to his chest.
"No external wounds. Either he overtaxed his strength like you, or he's starving," Du Meng explained, turning back to Zhang Xing. "Either way, he can't move for now."
"Leave him alone." The tall soldier named Han was clearly the one in charge of the other pair, and he frowned at the sight. "Our strength is limited, we've run into this natural disaster, and it's raining besides. Every bit of strength we can save is worth saving. Are we really supposed to take along a burden like him?"
The short man named Wang immediately nodded in agreement, while Du Meng also frowned and turned to look at Zhang Xing.
Zhang Xing considered for a moment, but had nothing to say. The other three were unwilling, and he still had his own rheumatic legs to contend with. How could he help?
"Wait a moment..."
Yet just as he was about to set off with the other three, Zhang Xing looked back at the man. Whether because of his own rheumatic legs, a transmigrator's lack of security, or simple humanitarian feeling, a sudden trace of compassion stirred within him.
Then, under the other three men's complicated gazes, he walked over, took two dry flatbreads from inside his robe, and tucked them into the man's arms.
At the sight of the flatbreads, the man looked up. His pale lips moved slightly, as though he wanted to say something, but in the end no sound emerged, and he even turned his head away again. Zhang Xing paid it no further attention either, simply turning and returning to the group with his saber as a crutch.
"Why throw food away?" The tall man named Han sounded somewhat displeased.
"An ungrateful wolf, too. Didn't even know to say thanks," Du Meng grumbled as well. "Can't stand up, but can't open his mouth either? And if he can't open his mouth, can't he at least nod?"
"If not for Brother Du Meng, I'd have ended up just like him. It was only a moment's compassion, and we can spare those two flatbreads." Zhang Xing hurriedly brushed it aside. There really was little else to say. "Let's go, let's go!"
The four finally fell silent and resumed their journey.
This time, probably because they had found a path, they began encountering scattered fugitives one after another, and their group gradually grew.
But the rain kept falling, and the Mountain-Splitting Lord's upheaval the day before had been too great. Everyone was exhausted and frightened. Though they supported one another, they spoke little, and what few words they exchanged never strayed far from their defeat or the sudden earthquake and natural disaster.
Yes, these people actually had no idea that the earlier upheaval had been caused by the Mountain-Splitting Lord cleaving mountains and breaking open the earth. They all still thought it was a natural disaster. And of the two who knew the truth, even Du Meng said nothing of what he had witnessed the day before, making their conversations all the more like an ox's head fitted to a horse's mouth.
Everyone simply forced themselves westward, intending to cross the mountains and return to the familiar territory they called Dengzhou before considering anything else.
And so they walked for another three days. The rain never stopped, and their journey grew harder still.
There was no helping it. Their bodies grew more exhausted, their food dwindled, and lighting a fire became harder with every attempt. Under these circumstances, everyone, Zhang Xing included, discarded their heavy armor, keeping only their helmets, which could serve as cooking pots and keep off the rain. Of their weapons, they retained only light daggers and long weapons that could serve as walking sticks and clear a path.
Then even valuables such as gold, silver, and copper coins were abandoned... they truly were throwing away weapons and shedding armor, reduced to utter misery.
People kept joining them along the way, and people kept falling behind. Often, someone would fail to follow when they set off after a brief rest. Others simply tipped sideways on the path, rolled down the mountainside, and moved no more. Those who saw could only grit their teeth and remain silent. Not one thought of searching, waiting, or attempting a rescue.
The only time anyone stirred was when a fugitive whose boots had worn out went down to strip the boots off a corpse.
In such circumstances, their spirits naturally sank lower and lower.
For Zhang Xing himself, however, there was one piece of genuinely good news during this time: over the past few days, his legs had gradually grown steadier. That morning, he had even managed to try circulating the so-called Ice True Qi and sustain it for a little while.
Regaining control of his body undoubtedly gave him a much greater sense of security. Even so, the transmigrator told no one. Instead, he continued walking at the rear of the group in his helmet, leaning on a long, eyebrow-tipped saber.
"Young Zhang."
That afternoon, just after everyone set off following a rest, Du Meng inexplicably dropped to the rear in the rain and suddenly came close. "We can't keep going like this... behind us, the mountains have collapsed and the earth has caved in. Ahead, we don't know what the court intends to do with us. And although we're on the right road, these dozen or so men grow more dispirited by the day. I'm afraid if this keeps up, even if we make it out, we'll be ruined."
Zhang Xing thought for a moment, then nodded directly. "You're right, Brother Du Meng."
"I know a place... seeing these mountains just now reminded me of it, but I can't quite remember the exact route." At this point, Du Meng pressed closer. "Brother, lend me your family treasure. These past few days, I've watched and worked it out, and I know that phrase of Lord Laojun's True Words too... hold the treasure and speak the True Words, and it points to the place you're thinking of. You don't need True Qi at all... right? I won't use it for anything else, just to find everyone somewhere to shelter from the rain."
Zhang Xing froze slightly, then unhesitatingly took the Compass from his waist and handed it over.
His reasons could not have been simpler. First was trust: whether he was a real brother or merely a supposed comrade, the bearded man had chosen to save him at a moment of life and death. Second was precaution: he knew neither the people nor the land, and had faced transmigration, war, and battles between immortals. Among these routed soldiers, life and death were fickle. This man was the only person he could currently rely on and trust. There was no need to offend him over an object, even if it might be a divine artifact. Third was practical necessity: they really did need somewhere to stop, or they would not hold out. What use would keeping a treasure be then?
To put it plainly, people came first in all things. However precious a treasure might be, beside a person it was still only an object.
Interestingly, though Zhang Xing handed it over readily-at least readily on the surface-Du Meng, who had asked for it, visibly faltered. He stared for a long time before accepting it, then merely wiped the rain from his beard and faced Zhang Xing earnestly.
"My good brother, I'll make sure I get you out of this chaos alive, and I'll return your treasure to you whole and intact."
Zhang Xing merely gave a casual nod.
Then Du Meng gripped the Compass and murmured the True Words. Sure enough, the needle pointed in a direction. Overjoyed, the heavily bearded man simply tucked the Compass away and strode proudly forward to speak with the others.
Among the dozen or so fugitives, Zhang Xing naturally needed no persuading. The others were dispirited and listless. Only the tall man named Han was still in decent spirits and seemed to have ideas of his own. After asking a few questions, he too approved of Du Meng's plan.
Thus, the group immediately changed course and followed Du Meng, who had hidden the Compass away.
Sure enough, after another night and at the cost of two more men falling behind, the group, now tormented beyond endurance by the rain, followed Du Meng through turn after turn and actually found a small mountain village in a hollow at noon the following day.
The village was tiny, with perhaps twenty or thirty households. Even so, to the seven or eight fugitives who had struggled for four or five days through rain, mud, damp, itching, exhaustion, and terror, it was more than enough to count as a lifesaving straw.
And indeed, that was exactly what it was.
Quite apart from the fact that finding a village naturally meant they could learn the route back to familiar Dengzhou territory, only upon entering did the group learn that the able-bodied men of these households had either been seized to transport provisions or had joined the army outright. Supposedly two had remained, but they had gone hunting in the mountains several days earlier and had not returned. Considering the war and the "natural disaster" a few days before, their prospects were probably poor... in stark contrast, almost every one of these uninvited guests carried a long weapon.
Under these circumstances, caught unprepared, the village households could only accept the uninvited guests' instructions under the leadership of a few elders and do their best to meet all their demands.
Hot water, hot soup, hot food, dry bedding. Zhang Xing had thought he could maintain a certain standard of morality and decorum in his conduct. In reality, only after he had eaten, wiped himself down with hot water, and, as a "wounded man," obtained sole use of one household's side room and its straw bed did a trace of awareness and shame abruptly surface.
So extremely harsh material conditions really could make a person readily cast aside upbringing and dignity, without even having time to remember them. One could only realize it afterward.
This gave the transmigrator Zhang Xing a trace of unease, and that unease grew stronger and stronger.
Finally, that afternoon, after lying down for about an hour, Zhang Xing rose and went outside, "leaning on his saber." He wanted to offer the villagers some verbal expression of his feelings and reassurance. Otherwise, exhausted as he was, he would still find it difficult to sleep peacefully.
But he had only just stepped outside, before he could seek out his host to express his thanks, when angry curses and pleas carried clearly over from nearby.
Zhang Xing dared not be careless. Following the voices, he made his way behind a neighboring house and forced down his agitation to listen. Within moments, he understood: a fugitive had wanted a widow to go alone to "make his bed," causing a disturbance and enraging Du Meng, who had arrived afterward. The two men seemed to have been arguing inside for some time, and now there were even signs of a fight.
Already uneasy at having occupied another's nest like a cuckoo, Zhang Xing now felt anger surge within him and came straight around from behind the house. Yet as soon as he turned the corner and the windblown drizzle struck his face, something stirred in the transmigrator's mind. He calmed down again, slowed his steps, and moved gradually forward with his eyebrow-tipped saber as a crutch.
Sure enough, after only seven or eight steps, he rounded the house and reached the open ground in front that served as a courtyard. Almost all the other fugitives stood there, some blank-faced, others stunned. The tall man named Han at their head even forced out a faint smile when he saw Zhang Xing approach.
Farther away, some of the village's elderly and infirm huddled fearfully in corners and behind haystacks, not daring to approach.
Just as Zhang Xing was about to speak, an even louder commotion came from inside. Du Meng's furious voice boomed like thunder, and the fugitive who had wanted the widow to make his bed suddenly fell silent. The woman's crying abruptly stopped as well. While everyone was still wondering, they saw Du Meng drag a bare-chested fugitive out of the house like a dead dog and throw him into the rain-soaked mud.
The man tried to struggle in the mud, but his limbs had clearly been dislocated, and he could not stand at all. When he opened his mouth, only hoarse rasping sounds emerged.
As for Du Meng, he had already turned back into the house and fetched a long saber.
"Brother Du Meng, is this really necessary?"
At this sight, the tall soldier named Han grew visibly uneasy and hurried forward to stop him. "We've all supported one another while fleeing for our lives. It wouldn't be wrong to call ours a bond forged through life and death. Once we leave these mountains, we may have to evade the court's pursuit together. Even if the court doesn't hold us accountable, we'll still have to stick together to find a way to survive. How much help is another strong soldier? Are we going to turn our blades on our own over a little thing like this?"
"I knew about this place because it's the home village of a comrade of mine. When we passed through last year, he pointed into the valley and told me about it! I brought you here only to find somewhere in the village to stay, so we wouldn't be rained to death in the mountains!" Du Meng glared with round, furious eyes, saber in one hand, shoving the other man back with the other. "You, Han! Tell me yourself: that comrade of mine died at the hands of the Dongyi at the start of this year, and I was the one who led us here. How could I let a mangy dog like this do such a thing?"
The soldier named Han was both startled and angry at being shoved. But after glancing at the other fugitives, who remained motionless, and the few elderly and infirm villagers who edged timidly forward at these words, he fell silent and retreated several steps.
Du Meng did not hesitate either. Taking the opening, he stepped forward and, with one forceful stroke, struck the head from the bare-chested fugitive who was trying to crawl away.
In an instant, a head hit the ground, blood splashed three feet, rain flew through filthy mud, and the gleaming blade reflected red.
The rain was hazy, but there was plenty of light. Though the transmigrator had experienced so many bizarre things in recent days and had sufficiently prepared himself mentally given his situation and identity, his heart still gave an involuntary jolt, followed by a moment of blankness... fortunately, almost everyone was looking at the dead man on the ground and Du Meng, who stood imposing as an iron tower. No one noticed him, still needing a "crutch."
A short while later, the men dispersed, each filled with dread, while Du Meng went to explain matters to the elderly and infirm villagers.
Zhang Xing had originally wanted to join him, but in the end he said nothing, slowly returning on his saber to the side room he had occupied. Perhaps he had walked too slowly, for he had only just entered when he heard a light knock on the door.
"Brother."
He knew from the voice that it was Du Meng.
Zhang Xing opened the door to face him. Du Meng slipped inside carrying his long saber, still wet with bloody water, then immediately lowered his voice. "Brother, I regret bringing these men here now... those old army hands are no good. We need to be careful."
After a moment's thought, Zhang Xing understood what he meant. Still, his expression remained unchanged as he feigned ignorance.
"Didn't you already kill the troublemaker to establish your authority, Brother Du Meng?"
"Not that bastard. I mean Han!"
Du Meng's tone was grave. "You don't know this, but Han's the one with ideas, and his mind isn't set straight... on the road, he told me time and again that once we crossed the mountains and got back into our own country, we wouldn't know how the court would deal with deserters like us, so we'd have to hide and watch for a while. And if we had to wait and watch, rather than go home and hide in fear, we might as well find a stockade and live free and easy. Then I'd be chief, and he'd be second-in-command..."
"He wants us to take to the greenwood and become bandits?" Zhang Xing was momentarily dazed.
What was this? Not the Sui and Tang, not Journey to the West, not the primordial wilderness, but Water Margin?
Should I come up with a nickname first... Zhang Xing, the Fleet-Footed Guardian? Would that repeat a character? What about Zhang Xing, the Rheumatic Legs?
"Of course we can't become bandits." Du Meng spoke firmly, incidentally pulling Zhang Xing back from his wandering thoughts. "At first I only took it as a joke. But just now, as soon as we'd entered the village and eaten, he said this place was good, a fine place to hide, and I became wary... as for the man I just killed, when he begged for mercy inside, he actually said Han had egged him on. That's why I deliberately dislocated his jaw and limbs before dragging him outside to kill him. First, to stop him shouting and causing trouble; second, to test and intimidate Han... and sure enough, Han came forward to stop me. I'm afraid he really has something wicked in mind."
"What should we do, then?" Zhang Xing asked gravely.
"Keep our guard up for now." Du Meng's thick beard quivered slightly. "If it really comes to fighting among ourselves, would I be afraid of him? Even with that short fellow Wang helping him, I'm not afraid. We only need to watch that he doesn't rope in the other two... but you need to be especially careful. You've trained in a True Qi method, but you haven't been able to use it, and your legs still aren't right. Whatever you do, don't meet those two alone. If you do, I won't be able to look after you."
Zhang Xing nodded. "I understand. I'll be relying on you for everything, Brother Du Meng."
Du Meng wasted no more words and turned to leave.
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