Chapter 1316: A Wisp of Phantom Fire

Wan Sifeng couldn't help but ask, "Should the number of participants be reduced? They need more experience."

"They will rotate in small teams, which also makes observation easier. Those who are suitable will stay; those who aren't will be replaced." He Lingchuan was building the Black Armored Army to the standards of the Great Gale Army. Every cavalryman was a key subject for evaluation. He Lingchuan would comprehensively assess each person's cultivation level, willpower, character, and real-time reactions. Anyone who didn't meet the requirements would be replaced.

Just as He Lingchuan predicted, because Shizhou Tou and Liuping were very close, Yang Meng led 200 men and arrived in Liuping by the end of the Chen hour.

Zhao Guangzhi's army, originally stationed there, had already been driven off by the Black Armored Army, leaving Liuping's military force vacant.

Yang Meng expended little effort and smoothly entered the city to take over. For one, his reputation was much better than Zhao Guangzhi's. Since someone had to govern the city, being under Yang Meng's rule was perhaps better than under other powerful individuals. Secondly, the people of Liuping had also heard that Yang Meng was coming and were mentally prepared.

After entering the city, Yang Meng quickly saw the large pot at the market entrance. Inquiring about what had just happened, he was secretly alarmed. When Zhao Guangzhi was taken away by the Black Armored leader, Yang Meng knew the man would not come to a good end. But to treat someone in the same way they treated others? The Black Armored Army's methods were indeed brutal.

However, the villagers of Liuping not only didn't mind but were all as happy as if it were New Year's. Zhao Guangzhi's hundred-odd catties of flesh and bone had been completely divided and snatched up by the common folk. Even his head was taken by an old woman, who said she would preserve it well with lime.

Furthermore, everyone also discovered a flood dragon head relief on the walls of Liuping. The people of Liuping didn't know what this was about, but Yang Meng confirmed what he had suspected. This item had appeared in both places the Black Armored Army had passed through. How did they manage that? Yang Meng scrutinized the relief, always feeling as though the dragon's eyes were fixed on him, their gaze steady and majestic. He shivered subconsciously.

After entering the city, Yang Meng began reorganizing the local defense. Originally, after Zhao's army occupied Liuping, they coerced local men into military service to expand their ranks. Now that Zhao Guangzhi had been defeated and killed, some men fled back that night and were re-integrated by Yang Meng, preparing to move on to the next unclaimed territory.

He Lingchuan observed in secret, and only after seeing them work in a reasonably organized manner did he return to Jucheng with Dong Rui.

On the way, Dong Rui asked him, "We captured Liu and Zhao. It would have been simpler to just kill them with one blow. Why insist on handing them over to the villagers for execution?"

"Since we're doing things, we should produce an effect. Why do good deeds anonymously?" A squirrel darted out by the roadside, startling the horse with a 'plop'. He Lingchuan patted its neck to soothe it. "Besides, I want to see their attitude towards evildoers." He needed to implement his plan while observing its effects, so he could adjust his strategy at any time.

"Attitude?"

"What we're doing now is like trying to light wet firewood. If the wood is damp, we need to increase the heat; if it's even wetter, we add more heat," He Lingchuan said earnestly. "But if they can't even seize an opportunity for revenge, then it's not firewood; it's stone, and it won't ignite." Just like the people of Liuping tonight, when they first saw Zhao Guangzhi, even though he was tied up like a dumpling, they still didn't dare to look him in the eye. Prolonged oppressive terror can sometimes ignite fighting spirit, but it can also foster servility. Some rotten mud can never be plastered onto a wall. In such cases, He Lingchuan would have to adjust his strategy.

Dong Rui then asked, "So what have you seen now?"

He Lingchuan smiled, "Good fortune. I found what I most wanted to see in them."

"Their fighting spirit remains?"

"And their hatred for suffering."

As long as a flicker of dim fire remains in their hearts, even if it's currently obscure, who can say it won't one day blaze brightly?

After days of travel, the two returned to the city and first went to a tavern, ordering large bowls of sour bamboo shoot vegetarian noodles to line their stomachs before starting to drink and listen to stories.

It must be said that while the liquor at these two small taverns in Jucheng was ordinary, their noodles were quite good. The young bamboo shoots were sour just right, and with a bit of spicy pepper, some shredded radish, and a few mushroom slices, the prepared sauce poured over hand-pulled noodles... The noodles, slurped down, gained an extra two points of chewiness. A whole bowl down, one could even break a sweat in the slightly chilly early spring. Then, one could warm up some wine to drink, accompanied by stir-fried snails in sauce and cold lotus root cubes.

The tavern was full even before evening, with everyone eating, drinking, and listening to the storyteller. There were three stories tonight; He Lingchuan hadn't heard any of them before, but each was more "colorful" than the last. The final one was about a woodcutter boy who encountered a beautiful ghost in a desolate mountain. It was truly full of details from start to finish, with a thrilling, blood-pumping "demonic battle" that captivated Dong Rui, making him even order two extra plates of diced cured meat.

He mumbled, "When Old Fu told this story before, I didn't think it was this good."

The story was originally Fu Liushan's, but this storyteller wasn't Fu Liushan. He was hired by the Yangshan Merchants Guild and had undergone several days of training before starting.

"Vivid and with many twists," He Lingchuan chuckled. "I've read this script. This storyteller, surnamed Xue, didn't stick exactly to it; he added his own embellishments." But the additions were good, making it vibrant and lively, and he even played two roles himself. To earn money with your words, you really have to be good at speaking. Tavernguests often interrupted the storyteller mid-story, either to ask questions, pick a fight, or ask quarrelsome questions. This Mr. Xue responded instantly and quickly. If a guest was satisfied with his storytelling, they would even give him a small tip for his throat.

Unconsciously, the two spent an hour in the small tavern, having several jars of wine and two or three rounds of appetizers. He Lingchuan was usually busy with many duties and rarely spent time like this, which showed that this Mr. Xue was indeed a very good storyteller. Truly, in every trade, there are masters.

Dong Rui was also very satisfied with the listening experience, but then he remembered and said, "He didn't tell any of our past stories, did he?"

"Appealing to the gut is better than appealing to the heart; stories that focus on the 'lower regions' are the most captivating," He Lingchuan admitted, recognizing the wisdom in Fu Liushan's words. "Our own material can be subtly included here; telling it occasionally won't cause resentment."

At this point, the storyteller was also drinking tea to rest his voice, and he ate two kumquats. Just then, a waiter approached with a tray, calling out: "A patron by the window has offered a reward, half a *guan* of large coins!" Patrons usually didn't carry hundreds of copper coins when going out, so there was half an *liang* (tael) of silver on the tray. Although the money had to be shared with the tavern, the storyteller was greatly invigorated and repeatedly expressed his thanks.

The patron by the window immediately said, "Tell us about Beijia in the west! And the burning of the Heavenly Palace you mentioned last time; I only heard the second half."

"You certainly know how to pick them!" The storyteller put down his cup and gracefully returned to the front. "Beijia is a rare powerful nation in this world. Everything planted in its land yields bountiful harvests, and its rivers flow not with water, but with honey! Take a sip, and it's sweetly delicious."

Dong Rui interjected, "Why not wine? We could save some money on drinks if we went there."