Chapter 26: The Crisis Averted, Warhorses Arrive, and the Refugees Starve

The enemy retreated as dawn broke and the dark clouds dispersed. Hulao Pass was submerged in a chorus of stifled sobs and wails. The regimental banner bearing the character "Tiger" stood tall atop the ramparts. Beneath that flag stood a young figure, gazing toward the east.

Chen An. This young commander, who had only recently joined the ranks, had already begun to shine. It was he who had bestowed a new glimmer of hope upon this ancient fortress.

Fang Ping slowly approached Chen An, his aged eyes brimming with tears. Chen An, assuming the man had come to offer his gratitude, was just about to speak when he heard words he had not expected.

"Commander Chen, you are a rare talent among the youth. You even possess a hint of the Great General’s bearing from back in the day!"

Chen An turned back in astonishment, his expression a mix of shock and unease. "Commander Fang, you are too kind."

Fang Ping’s gaze drifted upward. After a moment of hesitation, he began to recount: "I joined the army at twelve, serving as a lowly foot soldier under the Great General Fan. Later, I fought in countless battles, both great and small. These old eyes do not deceive me."

Fang Ping’s voice trailed off. His expression turned peculiar, and he seemed to hold back words that were on the tip of his tongue before swallowing them hard.

"Go check on your brothers," Fang Ping said softly. "The one called Wu Ergou seems to have been deeply shaken."

Chen An turned to leave, but as he descended the stairs, he heard Fang Ping’s understated remark: "A great kindness needs no words of thanks."

"Between comrades-in-arms, there is no need for such talk."

It seemed that among men, words of gratitude were better left unsaid.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire Tiger Battalion, Chen An walked step by step toward the burial pit. Wu Ergou knelt by the edge, silent, while Zhang Xiaojing and the others stood in formation. Seeing Chen An arrive, Wu Ergou said blankly, "One hundred and twenty men; thirty-seven are dead."

Chen An looked over to see Wu Ergou clutching a corpse tightly.

"Li Damao and I were still laughing and arm-in-arm yesterday. Today, there’s a gaping black hole in his chest, and the dried blood crust on his rough linen clothes is as hard as iron."

"Let us lay them to rest," Chen An said softly.

Wu Daizi drove the final banner into the rammed earth nearby. The scarlet fabric snapped in the twilight, looking like a blood-soaked rag. Wu Ergou turned his head sharply, bloodshot veins spiderwebbing across the whites of his eyes.

"Can we not take them home?"

His voice cracked, sounding like a bowstring snapped under a horse’s hoof. Chen An bent down to pick up a broken arrowhead, the verdigris gleaming coldly on the blade.

"Green hills are everywhere to bury loyal bones; why must one return wrapped in a horse’s hide?"

He reached out to wipe the blood from Wu Ergou’s face. "Their names will be engraved on tags, and they will come home with us."

With the crisis at Hulao Pass resolved and the Jiuli tribe retreating beyond the frontier, Chen An had no intention of staying long. After the burials were complete, he bid farewell to Fang Ping.

Just as the group reached the pass's gateway, a commotion broke out, followed by the familiar sound of whinnying horses. Chen An looked up to see three hundred warhorses being led across the drawbridge. Their sleek manes glowed like gold in the setting sun, and the sound of their hooves on the stone path shook the very earth.

"What is this?" Chen An asked quietly.

"These were recovered from the battlefield. Consider them a token of gratitude." Fang Ping stroked the mane of a horse gently. "I see your men are brave, but their mobility is lacking. Hulao Pass has a duty to defend the land, and we have little use for such a light cavalry force. You might as well take them back."

The words were spoken lightly, but Chen An knew their weight. To privately possess three sets of armor was a capital crime, and to secretly keep a warhorse was enough to warrant the execution of one's entire family. The stakes were clear at a glance.

In truth, during yesterday’s fierce battle, when He Zhe and his men had retreated so swiftly, Chen An had realized the importance of cavalry.

"Warhorses are rare commodities. If you traded these for military merit, it might even help you leave this place. You don't feel a pang of regret giving them to me?"

Facing Chen An’s doubt, Fang Ping smiled slightly and pressed the riding crop into Chen An’s hand. "Go on! When I have the time, I shall come find you for a drink."

Chen An looked at the sturdy, well-fed horses, a glimmer of joy flashing in his eyes. This was undoubtedly a massive boon for him.

"Understood. Zhang Xiaojing, Xiao Gui, you two take the main road and bring these horses back first. The rest of you, follow me by the mountain path."

Halfway through their journey, as the sun began to dip, Chen An and his men finally arrived at a marketplace. They stopped to rest at a dilapidated tea stall by the roadside. Just then, faint groans drifted from the side of the road.

Chen An followed the sound and saw a group of ragged refugees huddled in a corner, sallow-faced and hollow-eyed. An old man and his grandchild were in a particularly wretched state; the old man held the dying child close to his chest. Dehydrated and starving, the child’s lips were cracked and his face deathly pale. The old man’s cloudy eyes were filled with despair and grief as the child murmured, "Hungry... hungry..."

Chen An’s heart tightened. Without a word, he ordered Wu Ergou to bring their rations and water to distribute among the refugees. Seeing this, the refugees’ eyes ignited with the light of hope, and they knelt to kowtow. Some of the elders kept crying out, "Heaven-sent saviors!"

Watching the refugees, Chen An felt a complex mix of emotions. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.

"Ergou, while we may not be a grand army, we have at least established some connection with the common folk. There are many refugees along this road. If we open a few taverns, we could help these poor souls while earning a living. Wouldn't that be killing two birds with one stone?"

Upon hearing this, Wu Ergou’s eyes lit up, and he stepped forward. "Great idea! I’m willing to handle it! Compared to the endless killing, if we could make a steady living, that would be for the best."

Watching the anticipation in Wu Ergou’s eyes and remembering his exhaustion from the battlefield, Chen An nodded happily.

"But how shall we operate? You know, in this wild desert, any ingredients are expensive."

"True, these refugees are penniless; they can't afford anything."

Hearing his subordinates’ stammering, Chen An chuckled. "Do you remember those beef and mutton scraps we saw by the roadside earlier?"

"Bah, what use are those?"

"Just you wait and see!"

That night, Chen An called Wu Ergou over and explained in detail how to prepare beef and mutton offal hotpot and distilled liquor.

"Clean the offal, cut it into pieces, and stew it with star anise, cinnamon, bay leaves, and other spices. You must boil the broth several times," Chen An said, gesturing as he spoke. "For the liquor, you must select good grain, then steam, ferment, and distill it. You cannot be sloppy with a single step."

Wu Ergou listened intently, noting everything down.

As they ate the offal stew and drank the distilled rice wine, Wu Ergou couldn't stop praising it. "Chen An, I have to say, this taste is truly something else! I, Wu Ergou, have traveled all over, but this is the first time I’ve had something this good!"