Chapter 1312: Quiet Crowd

With Zhao Guangzhi dead, the territories he had conquered became leaderless. The first to react would seize the opportunity! If Yang Meng could grasp the moment to claim them, his territory, population, and army would expand accordingly. The more his power grew, the less of a threat the Liu family would pose to him.

"Thank you for the guidance!"

"Heaven helps those who help themselves."

"What do you mean by that?" Yang Meng was utterly confused and asked respectfully.

"Changes are coming to the Glittering Gold Plain. If you persevere for another three to five years, you will surely see the dawn."

"Changes?" Yang Meng pressed. "What kind of changes?"

The black-armored leader gave no answer. He gently shook the reins, and his horse resumed its trot. Dozens of cavalry followed closely behind, passing before Yang Meng's eyes without a backward glance. Unbeknownst to him, a thick fog had enveloped the forest. This strange troop of cavalry vanished into the mist in an instant.

The black-armored leader's warning echoed in Yang Meng's ears: "Accumulate more blessings, commit fewer sins. Otherwise, I will come for you sooner."

The sinister words reminded Yang Meng of the leader's methods, and he instinctively shivered.

Upon his return to the city, his subordinates reported that while clearing the battlefield, they had discovered a new bas-relief on the brick wall next to the city gate. The figure carved in the bas-relief had bulging eyes, sharp fangs, short horns on its head, and whiskers under its jaw. No one knew what it was. Yang Meng carefully examined it and said, unsure, "Could this image be of a flood dragon?"

No one knew how the bas-relief appeared. It certainly hadn't been on the wall before last night's battle. A city resident cautiously asked Yang Meng, "Lord Yang, could this be related to those divine black-armored figures who just left?" Recalling it, the mask worn by the black-armored leader was very similar to the bas-relief on the wall. Yang Meng thought so too. He reached out and touched the bas-relief. Could that troop have secretly carved it?

Soon, the residents of Shizhoutou discovered three more bas-reliefs within the city, also featuring flood dragon heads. Everyone marveled. The black-armored troops had limited time in Shizhoutou, most of which was spent fighting. If they intentionally carved these patterns, they must have used supernatural abilities, right? As time passed, however, the flood dragon head bas-reliefs became increasingly blurry. Three days later, they vanished completely. The wall looked exactly as it had before, as if the bas-reliefs had never existed.

Liuping.

Over the course of half the night, the Liuping garrison opened the city gates six times, as Zhao Guangzhi's routed soldiers, over four hundred of them, straggled back. The news of Zhao Guangzhi's death also returned with them, spreading rapidly among the garrison. General Zhao is dead! What would become of them, these common soldiers? Who would feed them, supply them, and who would they obey now? Despair and confusion swept through the entire army. All six hundred soldiers were at a loss. An army without a leader is helpless.

Two leaders saw an opportunity and stepped forward to volunteer themselves, hoping the others would support them as the new leaders. In chaotic times, power meant everything. Another leader, unwilling to participate, planned to leave with his confidants. But others blocked their way: The city's total garrison was only six hundred; if he took two hundred, what would become of the rest? The three men attacked each other, quickly escalating from a war of words to armed skirmishes, and then evolving into group fighting and a free-for-all. As the three factions fought fiercely, something happened at the city gate.

In the midst of the chaos, someone opened the city gate. This action wasn't particularly noticeable, as Zhao's troops had been returning to the city all night. Who could have imagined that this time, it wasn't fleeing routed soldiers entering the city, but dozens of phantom-like black-armored cavalry! Upon entering the city, they immediately began to slaughter. Zhao's army had already experienced a night of terror in Shizhoutou. In a daze, they realized the black-armored cavalry had followed them into Liuping! The nightmare was recurring. Most of Zhao's soldiers scattered and fled, unwilling to relive the experience of Shizhoutou; those who remained were terrified after two rounds of charges by the black-armored cavalry, unable to organize any decent resistance, and once again routed!

The battle before dawn was quite brief. The black-armored army took less than two quarters of an hour to rout their opponents, leaving them scattering in disarray. The battle for Liuping had also ended. But this brief calm harbored unease and restlessness. Afterwards, He Lingchuan ordered his subordinates to disperse and gather the people from the streets and alleys.

The short battle, lasting less than two quarters of an hour, left most Liuping residents trembling. But they were accustomed to being herded by Zhao's army. Now, like docile sheep or moles driven from their burrows, they bowed their heads meekly, slowly gathering in the open space by the market entrance. The space behind Liuping's city gate was too small, so the market entrance was the only option. However, those who appeared here were no longer Zhao's vicious army, but another unfamiliar force. More mysterious, darker, and seemingly more terrifying than Zhao's army.

No one dared to speak, only the torches around the open space crackled loudly in the wind. Wan Qifeng and Dong Rui looked at the villagers, who were all gaunt and shrunken. Some appeared terrified, while others seemed numb, like walking corpses. But their gazes, directed at He Lingchuan and his men, held no trace of goodwill. Liuping was always here. Today, it was occupied by Zhao's army; tomorrow, perhaps it would be Li's army, or Wang's army... The banners on the city walls changed hands, but what difference did it make who ruled? The only constant was that they, the common people, would still be exploited, oppressed, and consumed!

In this desolate silence, the black-armored leader spoke: "I have a gift for you!"

Wan Qifeng immediately dragged Zhao Guangzhi off his horse and removed his hood, exposing his face to the public. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. "Who recognizes him?" Many recognized Zhao Guangzhi, but dared not respond. No one knew what these black-armored riders were planning.

At that moment, a large cauldron had been set up in the open space, filled with clear water, and firewood burned beneath it. The cauldron was enormous, big enough to cook a feast or even a whole fat pig. Two black-armored cavalrymen bound Zhao Guangzhi to a log. "He is yours," He Lingchuan said, pointing his spear first at Zhao Guangzhi, then at the cauldron. "Who will begin?"

The crowd fell utterly silent. The villagers stared blankly at them, some with mouths agape. Most were timid and bewildered, while a few others looked utterly numb, merely breathing quietly. Dong Rui couldn't help but say, "Don't you want revenge?"

Revenge? A few villagers tilted their heads, as if pondering the meaning of the words. They looked at the black-armored riders, who in turn looked at them. Wan Qiliang noticed that even with Zhao Guangzhi tied up like a dumpling, the villagers dared not look too long, as if a glance would cost them their heads. He couldn't help but curse under his breath: "Cowards!"

Others had brought their enemy, bound and delivered, yet they didn't even dare to conceive of revenge?