The Yellow Robe Army

Chen Fan's laughter sounded a little rough.

That was a trait he had inherited from Black Wind Baleful Intent.

He held Cuiqiao's smooth chin, feeling the warmth of the beauty in his arms.

"Blood for blood? I'll be waiting right here on Black Wind Mountain."

"If she's capable enough, she can bring whoever she likes to take the head off my shoulders."

"But..."

He changed tack, sweeping Cuiqiao into his embrace as well.

"Tonight, neither of you is getting away."

With that, he gave them no further chance to speak.

The temperature in the stone chamber kept rising.

Chen Fan let himself go completely.

All manner of tenderness and warmth left them intoxicated.

That night, Chen Fan experienced the life of a mountain king to the fullest.

It was thoroughly satisfying.

The next half month was the most comfortable time Chen Fan had enjoyed since transmigrating.

Black Wind Mountain grew prosperous.

That fatty Smiling Tiger had carried the policy of "robbing the rich to help the poor" to its extreme.

Of course, with a discount.

Of the money and grain they plundered, seventy percent went into the stronghold's stores, twenty percent was spent rewarding the brothers with food, drink, prostitutes, and gambling, and only the remaining ten percent was reluctantly distributed to the impoverished people at the foot of the mountain.

Even so, Black Wind Mountain's reputation underwent a remarkable change throughout Qinghe County.

To the local gentry and wealthy households, Black Wind Mountain was a death warrant more terrifying than the authorities.

But to the displaced people and tenant farmers who could no longer make ends meet, Black Wind Mountain had instead become a kind of elusive hope.

The bandits in the stronghold were much more spirited.

They had money and grain, wine and meat.

Though the chief had laid down some strange rules, as long as they could live well, who cared whom they robbed or how much they shared with the mudlegs?

Iron-Armed Monkey no longer drank to drown his sorrows. He led men in drills every day and occasionally went down the mountain to "open for business," full of enthusiasm.

The whole of Black Wind Mountain presented a strangely flourishing scene.

As for Chen Fan, he had fully settled into the corrupt life of a feudal overlord.

Every day, he slept until he woke naturally.

When he woke, three stronghold wives, each with her own distinct charm, were waiting on him.

After eating, he would go to the back mountain to practice his saber and familiarize himself with the inner force growing within him day by day.

Although this body had mediocre aptitude and no hope of breaking through, feeling his strength grow every day was still a pleasant experience.

He spent the rest of his time in the stone chamber at the rear, studying the true meaning of life with his wives.

Life was simply a boundless pleasure.

He had almost forgotten that Zhao De was still down the mountain, ready to make a comeback at any moment, along with Zhang Shan, whom he had let escape and who had vowed revenge.

It didn't matter.

When soldiers came, a general would block them; when water came, earth would dam it.

With the Substitute Death Reincarnation System, what did he have to fear?

At worst, he would change identities and start a new life.

This go-with-the-flow, Buddha-like attitude made his life exceptionally easy.

That was until one afternoon.

Chen Fan had just finished practicing a set of the Gale Saber Technique and returned to the stone chamber at the rear, drenched in sweat.

Cuiqiao was holding a plate of sliced fruit, about to bring it to him.

The two had only just met and hadn't even had time to exchange a few intimate words.

"Bang!"

The stone chamber's door was shoved open with enough force to nearly smash it.

A bandit assigned to guard the mountain came scrambling in, an expression of mixed terror and bewilderment on his face.

"C-Chief!"

Chen Fan frowned, somewhat displeased.

Which blind fool dared disturb his peace this time?

"What are you panicking for? Have the government troops attacked again?"

He took the towel Cuiqiao handed him and wiped the sweat from his face.

"N-no, it's not the government troops!"

The bandit panted heavily and shook his head frantically.

"A... a group of people came to the foot of the mountain!"

"A group of people?" Iron-Armed Monkey and Smiling Tiger had also hurried over after hearing the news. The former carried a saber over his shoulder, his face brimming with killing intent.

"How many? Were they armed? Coming to run wild on our Black Wind Mountain turf-they must be tired of living!"

"N-no, they weren't carrying weapons. There were only a dozen or so of them," the bandit explained with a stammer.

"They said... they're a righteous army!"

A righteous army?

In the Gathering Hall, all the bandit leaders who had hurried over at the news were taken aback.

The term was both familiar and unfamiliar to them.

In the final years of the Great Shang Imperial Dynasty, the world was in chaos. People rose up across the land, and groups calling themselves righteous armies were as numerous as the hairs on an ox.

But weren't they all causing trouble elsewhere? How had they ended up in a remote backwater like Qinghe County?

Smiling Tiger's eyes darted about as he leaned forward.

"A righteous army? What are they here for? To borrow grain from us, or to bring us under their command?"

"Neither!"

The expression on the bandit messenger's face grew even stranger.

He swallowed, seemingly trying to find the words.

"They... they asked for our chief by name."

When Iron-Armed Monkey heard that, he burst out laughing.

"They want to see big brother? Who the hell do they think they are? Are they even worthy of seeing him?"

"Big brother, if you ask me, we should just drive them out!"

Chen Fan sat in the large tiger-skin chair, peeling an apple with a small knife. He didn't even look up.

"Let them come up."

His words brought Iron-Armed Monkey's laughter to an abrupt halt.

"Big brother?"

Chen Fan ignored him and simply waved at the bandit messenger.

As though granted a pardon, the bandit scrambled out.

Soon, a dozen or so men were brought into the Gathering Hall. They wore all sorts of clothes, but every one of them carried a tough, capable air.

Their leader was a tall, middle-aged man with a resolute face.

The moment he entered the cave, his gaze locked directly onto Chen Fan, who sat in the seat of honor.

The man's gaze was sharp as a blade.

He sized Chen Fan up and down, as though confirming something.

The atmosphere in the cave was somewhat tense.

The bandits gripped their sabers and stared at the uninvited guests with hostility.

The middle-aged man, however, paid them no mind. He cupped his fists toward Chen Fan, neither servile nor arrogant.

"I am Zhou Tong, a thousand-man commander of the Yellow Robe Army."

The Yellow Robe Army?

Chen Fan's hand paused as he peeled the apple.

He had come across that name in Black Wind Baleful Intent's memories.

It was one of the eighteen righteous armies of the Great Shang Imperial Dynasty and had always been stirring up trouble in Jing Province-in plain terms, it was rebelling.

But weren't they supposed to be in Jing Province? What were they doing here?

Jing Province was next door; he was currently in Xiushan Province.

"What do you want?"

Chen Fan handed the peeled apple to Hong'e beside him and finally raised his head.

The middle-aged man named Zhou Tong looked steadily at him.

A moment later, he spoke in a low voice, each word carrying clearly throughout the cave.

"We came to find you."