Desperate Straits

Yang Xiu suddenly looked up.

Then the drumming stopped abruptly, and the entire venue fell into a deathly silence; you could hear a pin drop!

At this moment, the eunuch raised the second imperial edict high and shouted sternly:

"Although the Bronze Horse Army has accepted the amnesty, they harbor wolfish ambitions and Non-Self our kind. They have surrendered their weapons but not their hearts, laid down their armor but not their resentment. Keeping them alive risks future trouble; execute them on the spot!"

When the last four words were uttered, even the campfire in the mine seemed to dim slightly.

Su Yao's flute playing suddenly rose in pitch, like a night bird startled into flight.

Armored soldiers swarmed out from the side of the platform, surrounding Yang Xiu and more than ten Bronze Horse Army soldiers.

The glint of swords reflected in the campfire, turning half of the high platform crimson.

Mo Li subconsciously reached for her waist, but found nothing.

The weapons had all been surrendered during the surrender ceremony. The pile of knives, spears, axes, and halberds on the stone table had been pushed aside by the armored soldiers. Now, though only a few feet away, they seemed like an insurmountable chasm.

He clenched his empty fist, tilted his head back, and screamed:

"Listen up, you lackeys of the imperial court! We were originally farmers in Longshang, driven to desperation by your oppressive government, forced to take up arms and rise up. Today, we are willing to accept amnesty only to seek a way to survive, to return to our hometowns and cultivate a few acres of barren land so that our brothers can have enough to eat! But you feign amnesty, tricking us into disarming us, and then you turn around and try to exterminate us!"

His voice was hoarse and strained, and there was already Blood Qi in his throat:

"More than 100,000 brothers are watching! This imperial edict of amnesty is a death warrant! Once we surrender, we're meat on the chopping block! Even if we die today, we'll show the world that not a single word from the government can be trusted!"

The audience was completely silent. Some miners bit their fists, while others turned their heads away, unable to bear watching.

Yang Xiu slowly stood up and raised his hand to stop Mo Li.

He glanced around at the gleaming cluster of knives, and suddenly smiled:

"Brothers, we've rebelled our whole lives, and in the end, we didn't die on the battlefield, but we died because of this imperial edict."

All the soldiers knelt down, weeping uncontrollably.

Yang Xiu helped Mo Li up from the ground, turned to the crowd, and suddenly raised his voice:

"What are you crying for! We, the Bronze Horse Army, have rebelled and cursed the Emperor while standing tall. Now that we're going to die, we'll die standing tall!"

He turned around and faced the more than 100,000 miners below the stage.

The campfire flickered on his face.

He was unarmed and unarmed, yet he stood ramrod straight and shouted sharply:

"Later generations, listen carefully! To be granted amnesty is to be sent to your death!"

Before he could finish speaking, Ying Qi suddenly burst out from behind Yang Xiu. He had no weapon, so he spread his arms and used his back to ram into the armored soldier closest to Yang Xiu.

The armored soldier staggered from the impact, his long sword slanting half an inch before grazing Yang Xiu's shoulder and falling to the ground.

"General, run!" Ying Qi roared, lunging towards the second row of armored soldiers, ramming his chest into the thicket of blades.

He didn't turn around, but used his back as a shield to push Yang Xiu desperately to the side of the stage.

The armored soldiers hesitated for a moment, then turned their blades.

The first slash struck Ying Qi's shoulder, and he groaned but did not retreat. The second slash pierced his ribs, and he gritted his teeth, still spreading his arms to shield Yang Xiu. The third and fourth slashes fell in succession, and his arms finally fell limply, and he slowly slid down on the stage.

"Ying Qi!" Yang Xiu turned around and caught him.

Ying Qi collapsed into Yang Xiu's arms, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but he only coughed up a mouthful of blood.

He raised a blood-stained hand, pointing tremblingly to the escape route blocked by armored soldiers on the side of the platform, before letting it fall limply to the side.

Yang Xiu knelt on the ground, holding Ying Qi's gradually cooling body in his arms.

He gently closed Ying Qi's eyelids, then suddenly burst into laughter.

The laughter, like the blood-curdling cry of an owl, lingered over the mine.

"Third Ying..." he whispered, "Back then, you pulled me out of the pile of corpses. You said you believed I could lead the brothers to survival." He gently placed Ying Qi's hand on his chest, "But now, I couldn't even protect you."

He slowly raised his head, looking at the stunned miners below the stage, and then at the lingering glow of the campfire on Ying Qi's face.

Although his face was as still as if he were asleep, a trace of despair lingered at the corner of his mouth, as if to say, "Master, I've ultimately followed the wrong person in this life."

Seeing this, Yang Xiu was even more heartbroken.

The armored soldiers have regrouped.

Yang Xiu gently laid Ying Qi flat on the platform and slowly stood up.

He was bare-handed, covered in blood, with only his eyes still burning.

"Those who come after, listen carefully." His voice wasn't loud, but it drowned out the clamor of the crowd. "Rebellion is a dead end, and so is surrendering to the emperor. This world has left us no way out."

Then a flash of light appeared.

Yang Xiu's upright figure swayed, and he slowly fell to the ground.

He collapsed beside Ying Qi.

Mo Li and the soldiers fell one by one onto the platform.

There were no weapons to parry, no desperate struggles, only a bare-handed body silently collapsing amidst the blades.

The stage gradually fell silent.

Only the gong kept striking, as if urging someone to give up.

As the last note of the flute faded away from Su Yao's lips.

The flute music stopped then, stopping completely, as if afraid of disturbing someone.

A long silence followed.

Zilin, who had changed into plain clothes at some point, slowly walked out from the side of the stage, holding a solitary lamp in her hands.

She walked to the front of the platform and gently placed the lamp on the stone table, where the weapons that had just been confiscated were still piled up.

She slowly raised her head and looked at the stunned miners below the stage:

"Once you surrender your sword, you're meat on the chopping block. Once you accept the imperial edict of amnesty, you're a ghost in the underworld. My sword is still on the table, my blood is still hot on the blade, do you still believe in that piece of yellow paper?"

After speaking, she stood with her hands at her sides, her expression solemn, and said no more.

The lamp swayed precariously in the night wind, yet it never went out.

Chen Hai sat in the superior position, tapped his right index finger three times lightly on his knee, and suddenly spoke:

"To accept amnesty is tantamount to sending oneself to one's death."

He picked up the wine bowl, but didn't drink it. He just stared at the wine, its surface glowing red from the campfire, and thought to himself:

"In today's performance of ' The Bronze Horse Holding a Ring in Its Mouth,' the Bronze Horse Army surrendered their swords and their lives. If we are to achieve great things, we must never surrender our swords. Only when the sword is in our hands can our lives be in our own."

He raised his wine bowl towards the solitary lamp on the stage, then tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

Then he stood up, picked up his wine bowl, circled around it, and loudly addressed the more than 100,000 miners:

"Let the characters in this play serve as a warning; we will never become the next Bronze Horse Army!"

The miners below the stage were filled with righteous indignation, their shouts deafening.

Chen Hai put down the empty bowl, sat back down, and his gaze fell on Su Yao, who was playing the flute at the side of the stage:

"Continue the performance, now perform the third act, ' Burning Talismans at the Shaman Shrine.'

After they finished speaking, Su Yao, Zilin, and the others left the stage one after another. Liu Yunhe and the others stopped pretending to be armored soldiers and instead took over various musical instruments.

A moment later, Lu Yu, dressed in shamanic robes, emerged from behind the curtain, holding a bone staff in his right hand and leading Ziheng, who was dressed in royal robes, by the hand with his left.

Behind them, the people from various Witch Department, dressed in their respective tribal attire, wore broad smiles.

Ziheng, with her human head and snake body, was already eerie, but her next words sent chills down the spines of the miners below. She first turned her head to look at Lu Yu, then loudly proclaimed:

"Priest, there has been a severe drought recently. These hundred thousand or so offerings are perfect for the sacrifice to Heaven!"