Eighth month, thirtieth day, Northwest land.

As the autumnal rain began, it drizzled ceaselessly, showing no sign of stopping. Beneath the heavy rain lay desolate mountains, stunted trees, withered grass, and gurgling streams. Occasionally, one could spot corpses lying prostrate on the ground—men or warhorses, their breaths forever stilled in the mud or among the weeds.

The chaotic battlefield of last night, the trails of slaughter stretching for over ten miles from north to south, was in reality no more than a clash after an encounter of two or three thousand people. Having relentlessly fought their way down this path, the bodies now lying scattered in this remote part of the battlefield remained unattended.

A group of forty-three men traveled from south to north. Along the way, they picked up four wounded horses to carry four of their injured comrades. Upon encountering corpses, they would dispatch some men to scavenge for items.

The torrential rain had long soaked them to the bone. The air was frigid, and their boots sank deep into the muddy road, requiring great effort to pull them out. Zhuo Yongqing had long hung his shoes around his neck, feeling a dull ache in his chest as he stuffed a small piece of military rations into his mouth.

"Pfft... Tell me, where are we going now?"

The incessant rain was most vexing, forcing him to wipe the water from his face while moving forward, only for it to cloud his vision again moments later. Walking beside him was his comrade Chen Side, fiddling with a crossbow, perhaps broken.

"We came from wherever we were fighting last night, so let's go back there." Chen Side glanced ahead. "Logically, there should still be people waiting for us there."

"Will the Jin dogs also have sent people to wait for us there?"

"...Hard to say." Chen Side hesitated, pulling hard on the crossbow in his hand. A "snap" sounded, and it shattered into pieces. Zhuo Yongqing said, "Go get a good one." He then squatted down to pick up the iron pieces and pins from the mud with him. These parts from the crossbows would still be useful back home.

The rest of the group walked past them, stepping lightly or heavily, some supporting the injured as they moved forward. Suddenly, a loud thud came from behind. A figure fell from horseback, splashing into the mud. The person leading the horse stopped, and others ran back. Zhuo Yongqing wiped the water from his eyes: "It's Lu Shitou..."

By now, everyone in the front and back of the group had stopped, watching the comrade who was helping up the figure from the mud. That comrade stood frozen for a moment, looking back at them: "He's dead... Lu Shitou..."

Someone stirred. From the front of the group, Qu Qing stepped forward: "...Take his things and leave him by the roadside."

"...Should we bury him?" someone asked softly.

"No time." Qu Qing said this, paused, and pointed to the three horses in the back, "First, find a place to heal, catch up with the main force. This place has us, and also Jurchens. It's not safe."

The others complied. They took Lu Shitou's knife, shield, bow, and crossbow, helped another severely injured person onto horseback, covered them with a raincoat, and continued forward.

It was still a gloomy, overcast autumn rain. The forty-odd men advanced along the muddy path, about to turn around a rugged mountain road ahead. Under the silvery-gray sky, over twenty Han Chinese men in Jurchen military uniforms were also coming down the mountain road. Due to the obstruction of earth and stones, neither side had yet seen the other.

"...Last night, the main force shouldn't have scattered. We were too eager in the fight... I remember Lu Lifu died."

"Lu Lifu... Where?"

"I don't remember. On the way, a Jin dog's warhorse... knocked him away. Hold this for me."

While speaking, Chen Side continued to fiddle with another crossbow in his hand. After taking a sip of water, he handed his woven rattan canteen to Zhuo Yongqing. Zhuo Yongqing took the canteen and subconsciously pressed his chest.

"Knocked away doesn't necessarily mean dead. My bones might have been broken, but I didn't die. So he might..."

Before he could finish speaking, movement suddenly came from above the hillside. It was the sound of people fighting, and a crossbow fired. Two figures suddenly tumbled down the mountain slope, one of them being one of the three scouts from the Black Flag Army, and the other was clearly a Jurchen scout. At the road turn in front of the line, someone suddenly shouted, "Engage!" Arrows flew, and the people at the very front raised their shields.

In that instant, Zhuo Yongqing was stunned. A feeling of dread suddenly rose from the back of his head and exploded. He hesitated for only a moment, then suddenly rushed forward. He threw away the canteen, took off the crossbow, cocked it, and loaded an arrow. Others had already rushed past him even faster.

A few simple shields were quickly erected into a loose formation. Arrows flew from the opposite side and struck the shields. Luo Ye, holding a knife, shouted, "How many—"

"Twenty—"

"Kill them!"

At the turn in the road, a warhorse suddenly charged out, heading straight for the hastily formed shield wall. A Han Chinese soldier was knocked aside by the warhorse. The Jurchen fell into the mud, wielding a long knife to chop and slash. Another warhorse also charged in. The Jurchens there rushed over, and the people here also met them.

Luo Ye walked through the mud with a knife in one hand, watching the Jurchen cavalry charge towards him. His pace didn't slow. He switched the knife to both hands, and as the warhorse approached and passed him, his steps abruptly stopped. He shifted his body to the side, roared, and slashed out.

"Arrogant motherfucker—"

The warhorse flew out spurting blood. Before the Jurchen on the horse could get up, he was stabbed to death on the ground by a spear from behind. By this time, the conflict had begun. People charged and fought on the muddy road and the dangerous hillside. Zhuo Yongqing rushed up. Nearby was Platoon Leader Mao Yishan, wielding a knife and slashing at the Jurchens. Mud was kicked up as they ran. The Jurchen dodged the slash and returned a blow, but Zhuo Yongqing raised his shield to block it.

Mao Yishan stepped over the shield and slashed again. The Jurchen rolled to dodge again and fell into the mud, motionless. An arrow had pierced his face. Zhuo Yongqing looked back, not knowing who had shot it. At this moment, Mao Yishan shouted, "Form a group—"

In the autumn rain, the dangerous battle instantly became the theme of this mountain road. Zhuo Yongqing and Mao Yishan had formed a group. At some point, his face was covered in sticky blood. Not far away, Luo Ye led a few people in a small group, the most aggressive. Hou Wu, Qu Qing, and others formed another group, the largest in number. This sudden encounter saw the Jurchens being extremely fierce, but when the Han Chinese soldiers gathered together, their fierce hunting no longer gained the upper hand. In a moment, several people fell, and blood flowed again on the hillside.

A wounded soldier named Pan Xiaomao hid behind the warhorses carrying the seriously injured, guarding seven or eight crossbows, occasionally shooting arrows in sneak attacks, sometimes hitting horses, sometimes hitting people. A Jurchen soldier was shot in the leg and limped down the hillside. Not far below was the cliff of a mountain stream. A soldier named Wang Yuan pursued him with a knife all the way to the edge of the cliff. Luo Ye shouted, "Come back!" But it was too late. The soil and stones on the hillside slid, and he fell down with the Jurchen.

The battle continued for an unknown length of time. Two Jurchens escaped on horseback. When there were no more moving Jurchen soldiers nearby, Zhuo Yongqing sat down panting. Mao Yishan patted him on the shoulder, "Good kill!" However, Zhuo Yongqing had not killed anyone this time. He had exhausted a lot of energy, mainly because the injury in his chest had increased the consumption of energy.

"Check the numbers! Save the wounded first!" Qu Qing shouted in the crowd, and everyone rushed to the injured around them. Luo Ye ran all the way to the edge of the cliff, leaning over to look down, wanting to find a glimmer of hope. After taking a few breaths, Zhuo Yongqing stood up shakily to check on the injured. As he walked back, he found that Chen Side had fallen in a pool of blood. An arrow had pierced straight through his throat.

Zhuo Yongqing's mind buzzed. This was certainly his first time on the battlefield, but in recent days, Chen Side was not the first comrade and friend he had watched die. Witnessing such a death, what was stuck in his heart was not sadness, but more of a weight. They were living people, their past interactions, their words... Chen Side was good at handicrafts, and could often disassemble crossbows, and could often repair broken ones by hand. The rattan canteen in the mud, with a leather bag inside, was extremely exquisite, said to have been woven by Chen Side's mother when he joined the Han Chinese army. Many things, after suddenly stopping, seemed to suddenly weigh down on this moment. Such weight made it difficult to swallow directly into the stomach.

However, everyone had to swallow all of this. The dead were heavy, but at this moment they were light. People were dying on the battlefield all the time. Dwelling on the dead on the battlefield would delay greater matters. The contradiction between the extremely light and the extremely heavy was pressed together like this.

Zhuo Yongqing's eyes were churning with sourness, and something was welling up. He turned to look at the people around him. Luo Ye, the madman, stood at the edge of the cliff for a while, turned and walked back. Someone was saving people on the ground, constantly pressing on people's chests, the seemingly calm movements mixed with a trace of madness. Some people checked beside the dead for a moment, also stunned, and then silently walked aside. Hou Wu helped up a wounded person and shouted to the surroundings, "He's okay! Bandages, bring them here—Medicine, bring it here—"

Zhuo Yongqing picked up the rattan canteen on the ground, hung it on his body, and went to help others. After a period of chaos, the number of people was counted. There were thirty-four remaining, ten of whom were injured—Zhuo Yongqing, whose injury did not affect combat, was not counted. As everyone prepared to move forward, Zhuo Yongqing subconsciously said, "Should we... bury them..."

He looked at the corpses placed by the roadside.

"...No time." Luo Ye said this, then paused, and suddenly pointed below, "Or, let's throw them down there."

"Okay." Qu Qing nodded and walked towards the corpses first, "Everyone, hurry up."

They threw the eight corpses by the roadside into the deep ravine, and then continued forward. They had originally planned to return along the original route from last night, but considering the condition of the wounded, and the fact that there would be their own people and Jurchens along the way, they simply found a fork in the road and went down. After walking a few miles, they temporarily left the lightly and seriously wounded in a relatively hidden mountain depression under a cliff, arranging for two people to look after them.

"You can't go any further." Qu Qing said to these people, "Even if you go past, it will be difficult to fight against the Jurchens again. Now, either we find the main force and then notify the Zhong family to come and pick you up, or we can't find them, and we'll turn back tonight."

After leaving these twelve people, Zhuo Yongqing and the other twenty-two went to the place where they had engaged in battle last night. On the way, they encountered a small five-man Jurchen team, killed them, lost one person, and reunited with five people along the way. When they arrived at the small woods on the mountain where they had hastily engaged in battle last night, they saw that the traces of the battle were still there, but the main force of the Han Chinese army had obviously moved with the Jurchens.

The twenty-six men ventured into the woods at great risk, and hastily retreated after engaging the enemy. At this time, the Jurchen stragglers were obviously also frequenting this place. The Han Chinese army was stronger in formation and cooperation, while these Jurchens who had emerged from the White Mountains and Black Waters were stronger in individual combat in the wild and in the forests. Staying here and waiting for their companions might be an option, but it was too passive. After discussing it, Qu Qing and the others decided to go back and settle the wounded first, and then estimate where the Jurchens might have gone and chase after them.

This round trip was again in the muddy rain. When they approached the mountain depression, they saw a corpse lying by the roadside, with almost a dozen arrows stuck in it. This was the warrior they had left to take care of the wounded, named Zhang Gui. Everyone suddenly became nervous and headed to the mountain depression on high alert.

It was already too late.

The mountain depression was full of blood, with corpses densely scattered on the ground. There were a total of eleven corpses of Han Chinese soldiers, each with arrows in their bodies. Obviously, when the Jurchens came, the wounded had put up a resistance with shields and crossbows, but were ultimately shot to death by the Jurchens. At the innermost part of the mountain depression, the four seriously injured who could not move easily were killed by the Han Chinese soldiers themselves. After killing them, the lightly injured soldier thrust his long knife into his heart. Now the corpse was sitting next to them, but without a head—the Jurchens had cut it off.

The sky was already dimming, and the rain was still falling. Everyone carefully checked everything. Someone remembered Zhang Gui, who had died far away by the roadside, and said softly, "Zhang Gui was trying to lure the Jurchens away..." Luo Ye and a few others went out with knives in silence, apparently wanting to find traces of the Jurchens. After a moment, Luo Ye's roar came from the dark mountains: "Come on—"

After a moment, there was another shout: "Come on—" But there was no reply. Soon after, Luo Ye returned. On the other side, someone had carried Zhang Gui's body back.

"Now we have some time." Hou Wu said, "Let's bury them."

Luo Ye nodded: "Light a fire and cook, we'll rest for the night."

"The Jurchens may still be around."

"Let them come!" Luo Ye said through gritted teeth. After a moment, Qu Qing said over there: "Still light a fire, we need to dry our clothes."

Everyone dug a pit and buried the twelve corpses. That night, they rested by the graves. The soldiers ate some heated military rations, and those with injuries like Zhuo Yongqing had them bandaged again. This day of twists and turns, the heavy rain, mud, battles, and injuries, had exhausted everyone. After drying their clothes, they extinguished the fire. Zhuo Yongqing felt alternating waves of cold and heat, vaguely hearing everyone discussing where to go tomorrow.

"...Wanyan Lou Shi has been circling around Yanzhou and Qingzhou these days. I think he is waiting for reinforcements to come... The Zhong family's army has already surrounded him, but maybe the Zhe family will also come, and it's hard to say whether the Jinning army will join in the fun. In a few days, the surroundings will be a mess. I estimate that if Wanyan Lou Shi wants to leave, he is likely to choose the Xuanjia Gully direction today..."

"...Wanyan Lou Shi is not afraid of fighting, he is just cautious, he has a plan for fighting. He doesn't engage us head-on, he is afraid of our artillery and balloons..."

"If we deduce it this way, maybe we'll have a big fight while it's raining heavily..."

"Maybe it's tonight..."

"Yeah..."

"Anyway, tomorrow we'll head towards Xuanjia Gully?"

Zhuo Yongqing leaned against the grave, listening to Luo Ye and the others buzzing and discussing for a while. He didn't know when, but he heard Qu Qing saying: "Leaving the wounded here, that was my fault..."

"What's your fault? Stop taking things on yourself!" Luo Ye's voice grew louder, "The injured can't walk, and we have to rush to the battlefield, everyone can only do this! The Jurchens should be killed, and what should be done is to get it back from the Jurchens!"

"Maybe a few people can go to find the main force, and we'll wait here."

"There is no such option!" Luo Ye said decisively, "Who are we fighting now? Wanyan Lou Shi! The number one Jurchen! It looks like we are evenly matched with him now, but who knows when we will have a flaw, and they will eat us! Since we are going to fight head-on, we will risk everything we can! We are only twenty-odd people, but who knows if just because we are missing, the front will be a little worse? Send someone to find the main force, and the main force will send some people back to find us? Qu Qing, fighting! What is the most important thing in fighting? What Mr. Ning said, put your life on the line!"

Luo Ye paused: "Our lives, their lives... My own brothers, they died, I'm sad, I can die for them, but we can't lose the war! Fighting! Is risking your life! Mr. Ning said, do everything possible to risk your own life, risk other people's lives! Risk to the extreme! Kill yourself, and if others can't keep up, kill others! Stop thinking about those things, it's not your fault, it's the Jurchens who deserve to die!"

"Thank you, Luo, the madman." Qu Qing said, "Don't worry, the fire in my heart is no less than yours, I know what it can be used for."

"Humph, today here, I haven't seen anyone whose inner fire has diminished..."

The coldness faded, and the heat wave came again. Zhuo Yongqing leaned against the grave, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. Soon after, he fell asleep again. The next day, the rain continued to fall. Everyone ate something, said goodbye to the graves, and set off again towards Xuanjia Gully.

Again, it was heavy rain and rugged roads, but on the battlefield, as long as there was still a breath of life, there was no room for complaints and grievances...

Except for moving forward, there was no other way.