Li Yan deftly manipulated the lengthy firelock, his fingers tracing over the stock and the fire-striking curved hook, before tossing it to Wang Sheng.

"Sir, this..."

The youthful Wang Sheng, his face still tender, clutched nervously at his palm.

"You're the youngest among us; keep it for self-defense."

Deng Tianxiong, his hair fluttering, stepped forward, bringing with him a sneering gust of cold wind.

"Lord General Flag, both bodies have been disposed of in the ice hole. No traces left behind."

Li Yan, holding another ronin's katana upright, furrowed his brows slightly. "We can't linger here any longer..."

His gaze shifted to Deng Tianxiong. "The Japanese blades are decent. Do they suit you?"

Deng Tianxiong scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "I still find our Ming Dynasty swords more to my liking."

"I see."

Li Yan didn't press the matter. The katana was exquisitely crafted, but if it didn't feel right, there was no point in insisting.

"I can use it."

A voice came from beside the furnace.

The speaker's face bore deep wrinkles, one eye blind, his visage like a segment of dark, tough bark. His belly was wrapped round and round with cloth, giving him a somewhat bloated appearance.

Others called him Diao the Blind, an old acquaintance of Deng Tianxiong.

"When I served under General Qi, I trained with the Japanese sword in his camp."

"Old Diao, you're seriously injured. Are you sure you can handle it?"

Li Yan asked.

It wasn't that he was unwilling to part with the weapon. Including himself, the nine men of the Ming army only had six swords between them. Should trouble arise, those with swords would be the first to charge.

This man was one of the three severely wounded in their group of ten, with a gaping hole in his belly from a spear thrust, hardly fit for the front lines.

"No problem."

The man fell silent, saying no more.

Li Yan handed over the sword, which the recipient wiped with his sleeve, examining it for a moment before suddenly speaking up.

"Lord General Flag, that ronin was of no low status..."

"How can you tell?"

Old Diao bit off a piece of dead skin from his purplish-black lips before responding, "On the battlefield, organized infantry wield long spears, and the Japanese pirates are no different. Many peasant soldiers would rather tie a dagger to a long branch than use a shorter sword or blade. Such a well-crafted katana is typically worn by those of higher status among the Japanese pirates, like a 'Foot Soldier' or even a 'Banner Retainer.'"

"Uncle Diao, you seem quite knowledgeable about the Japanese pirates."

Wang Sheng quipped with a jest.

Old Diao's solitary eye swiveled.

"When I was single-handedly battling Japanese pirates, you were still toddling around in split-pant trousers."

"Bragging..."

Wang Sheng retorted with a hint of disbelief.

Old Diao cackled strangely, his tone indifferent, "Compared to General Li's Banner's clean and efficient swordsmanship, I'm indeed hardly worth mentioning."

Li Yan knew the one-eyed old man had not lied; his military expertise was only at 63%, which was average among this group, yet he possessed a skill.

Killing Like Hemp (92/100)

Unlike He Andong, this was the Age of Cold Weapons. Much like the matchlock gun just fired, managing to shoot once a minute was considered decent. In the chaos of battle, one's reliance was still on the weapon in hand.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

This meant ninety-two individuals had mostly fallen to the old soldier by blade or even bare hands!

Wang Sheng, though young, was a master of reconnaissance.

Deng Tianxiong had broken through the 70% barrier that even Zhang Mingyuan had not achieved.

Then there was Diao the Blind...

Li Yan had rescued these individuals, each with their unique strengths. Among the three thousand men led by Cha Da Shou, there were the formidable soldiers from Liaodong Town, and even the legendary Qi Family Army.

Even if the intelligence was flawed and they had underestimated their enemy, to nearly achieve total annihilation of such a force was a testament to the unique capabilities of the Ming dynasty's army, which had endured a hundred years of warring states conflict.

Li Yan was not very familiar with the era of the Warring States that was so adored by countless others; he only remembered a name known as Ghost's Flat Eight.

Honda Tadakatsu...

A cold smile played on Li Yan's lips.

Rainbow Zhang Fei, perhaps?

"Song Tongyi..."

Li Yan spoke up.

The man who had been quietly smearing vegetable oil on his weapon lifted his head after Li Yan's words. He had become much more subdued, no longer pretending to tremble in fear, but now wore a constant cold expression.

"We want to avoid the Japanese Pirates and head towards the Yalu River. Which way is best?"

Song Tongyi grabbed a handful of soil, sketching with his finger, and soon enough, he had drawn a reasonably accurate map of the terrain.

"Go this way, circle around the base of She Mountain, and you'll find a small fort. When the Imperial Court set up defenses here, there were about twenty men. I'm not sure how the Japanese Pirates have arranged things, but there definitely won't be many. If we can avoid them, we'll have succeeded halfway."

"That's too far," Li Yan shook his head.

"Wouldn't following this river be faster?"

Deng Tianxiong chimed in.

"The riverbanks are swarming with Japanese Pirates. If you're looking to get killed, don't drag me into it."

Song Tongyi scoffed, his attitude much stiffer.

Deng Tianxiong wasn't offended; the local man was educated and knew more than he did. That's the good thing about Big-Head Soldiers—they heed advice...

"I see She Mountain isn't particularly treacherous; can't we go straight through?"

Li Yan inquired.

Song Tongyi's expression wavered for a long time before he hesitantly replied, "You could try, but it's very dangerous. The chance of being discovered is also high."

"Procrastination breeds trouble."

Li Yan had his own considerations; to circumvent She Mountain would be a time-consuming effort, and that was just one aspect of it. The area Song Tongyi pointed out was indeed open and expansive, making it less likely for them to be discovered by Japanese pirates. However, should they encounter them, escape would be impossible as the pirates were mounted.

Crossing She Mountain directly was not only faster, but even if they were discovered, the rugged mountain paths would be impassable for cavalry, giving Li Yan a fighting chance.

As Li Yan and the others huddled together, gesturing and murmuring over a map, a young girl who had brought her mother a bowl of hot soup stood by quietly. Suddenly, she spoke up.

"What did she say?" Song Tongyi asked, his expression peculiar. "Nothing important, just child's talk."

Li Yan, somewhat irritated, scratched his neck where an itchy sensation persisted: "Just tell me what she said."

With a sense of resignation, Song Tongyi replied, "The little girl said that She Mountain is haunted. Are you really taking a child's words so seriously?"

"Haunted? I, Old Deng, have lived for over thirty years and have yet to see a ghost. If it's a male ghost, I might be able to handle it, but if it's a female ghost, heh heh..." Deng Tianxiong was dismissive.

It was Diao the Blind, sucking on his teeth, who chimed in, "Ghosts might be mere superstition, but as the saying goes, 'When a nation is about to perish, there shall appear great demons.' With death all around us, who knows what malevolent spirits might be afoot."

Song Tongyi bit his lip. The mention of the nation's downfall didn't offend him, but the reference to the ubiquitous dead struck a chord.

Since the Japanese pirates invaded, they had committed mass slaughter; in Jinzhou alone, sixty thousand had perished. Along their journey, Li Yan and his companions had seen countless emaciated corpses by the roadside and bodies hanging from trees, picked over by crows.

"There are ghosts," Li Yan murmured, his hand unconsciously touching the tattoo over his heart.

"That's even better..."

...

Night fell, more than six hours since Li Yan and his party had set out.

To the west of Pyongyang City's walls, within the staggered and sprawling Zhuangzi Estate.

"So, True Feather and the other one left the troop and caught up with us, only to... die like this. How am I to explain this to Mr. Kuroda?" The man, dressed in an unadorned white Wu-style robe with faint cloud embroidery, his slender neck and fingers carrying the scent of sake, looked troubled as he gazed at the sodden corpses brought before him.

"Drifted down the icy river, probably the work of something like the Korean Volunteer Army," suggested the samurai beside him with a shrug.

"The traces have been cleaned too thoroughly for it to be the work of some mob," the man said gently, shaking his head. "It's the work of a regular army."

"Shall we pursue them?" the samurai asked.

"Of course. I'll go myself. Assign five of the Red Reserve to me. They can't be many, or we would have encountered them on our way here."

A weathered yellow bucket clattered as it was thrown into the well.

The frayed hemp rope creaked under the strain, unable to bear the weight, and clear well water leaked from the sides of the bucket.

The man scooped up a ladleful and took a sip, the water ice-cold and refreshing. Satisfied, he gestured, and two Japanese pirates grabbed a child, no more than ten, and tossed him into the well with a splash.

"Fill it up."

After giving the order, the man turned away, leaving behind the wild flames that raged.

He crouched down, his index finger tracing the throat of a corpse before tasting it.

The clean fingernail was coated with icy blood, sharp to the taste.

He looked surprised.

"Such a swift blade."

**********

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