Luoxing Mountain, one of the many peaks in the northern mountains of Ningbo, boasts seventy-two peaks, resembling stars fallen to earth. Its main peak guards a major road, flanked by a winding river.
This road is one of three routes into Ningbo, the most commonly used due to its flat, wide path and proximity to water.
At this moment, deep within Luoxing Mountain, a pirate army lies in wait, split into two groups: a smaller vanguard and a larger main force.
The vanguard, about four thousand strong, hides in the wooded slopes beside the road. The main force, roughly ten thousand, lurks a mile deeper within the mountain.
In the wooded slopes, the four thousand pirates sit haphazardly on the ground, their bodies adorned with branches, shrubs, and patches of grass. They clutch cold rice balls in one hand and hard, dried fish in the other, washing them down with icy water from their pouches, grimacing as they chew.
Snowflakes still drift from the sky, and the occasional chilly gust makes the pirates, swallowing their cold meal, frown even deeper.
One pirate, unable to bear the cold, pulls out a fire starter, intending to light a fire to warm his rice ball, roast his dried fish, and thaw himself.
No sooner does the flame spark than a short, fierce pirate leader kicks him flying, drawing a Japanese sword and thrusting it into the ground near his neck. “Baka yaro! Are you trying to get us killed?! The boss ordered no fires, no exposing our position, or we’ll alert the Zhejiang scouts!”
“Hai! I was frozen stupid. I won’t do it again, I swear!” the kicked pirate kneels, begging for mercy.
“Next time, you’re dead!” the leader snarls, sheathing his sword.
“Hai! Thank you, Matsushita-sama!” the pirate grovels in gratitude.
“The boss orders everyone to eat quickly and finish within the time of one incense stick. After that, no eating or drinking, and no sound is to be made. Violators will be executed on the spot by team leaders!”
“All weapons must be placed on the ground and covered with dry grass to avoid reflections exposing us!”
“No preserved mutton or beef, and no drinking alcohol, to prevent the wind carrying scents to the Zhejiang army and ruining our plan!”
A pirate with a small flag on his back weaves through the group, whispering the orders repeatedly.
“Yes, sir!”
“Hai!”
The pirate leaders respond in low voices.
Deeper in Luoxing Mountain, the ten thousand-strong main force also avoids fires, choking down cold rice balls and dried fish with icy water.
“Brother Haifeng, together we’ll take Zhu Ping’an’s head and offer it to Prince Hui!” Otomo Sadagawa says, swallowing his last bite of rice ball and a gulp of water, smiling.
“Naturally. How many men does Zhu Ping’an have? Eight thousand, most of them new recruits from a month ago. We have fourteen thousand, all battle-hardened! He’s in the open, we’re in the shadows, and his every move is under our control. If he doesn’t die, heaven itself would object! If I can’t take his head for Godfather, I’ll offer my own in apology!” Mao Haifeng bites into an oily pancake, brimming with confidence.
“Haha, good. If I can’t take Zhu Ping’an’s head, I’ll use my ancestral blade and disembowel myself!” Otomo Sadagawa echoes.
“Hahaha, I’m afraid our lives are too tough for the King of Hell to take!” Mao Haifeng roars with laughter.
Otomo Sadagawa joins in.
“Brother Otomo, do you know the name of this mountain?” Mao Haifeng asks, chuckling.
“I don’t know,” Otomo Sadagawa shakes his head.
As a Japanese pirate from across the sea, only a few years in the Ming Dynasty, he barely knows the vast land. Without local guides, he’d get lost within a few dozen miles.
“Haha, let me tell you, Brother Otomo. This is Luoxing Mountain,” Mao Haifeng says, pointing to the sprawling peaks.
“Luoxing Mountain? Is there something special about it?” Otomo Sadagawa asks.
If there were no significance, why would Mao Haifeng bother mentioning the name?
“It’s a big deal,” Mao Haifeng says with a grin, pausing for effect.
“Please enlighten me, Brother Haifeng,” Otomo Sadagawa says humbly.
“Brother Otomo, do you know Zhu Ping’an is a top scholar?” Mao Haifeng asks.
“Yes, I’ve heard many say he’s the Ming Dynasty’s top scholar, first among his peers. It came up in yesterday’s meeting too,” Otomo Sadagawa replies.
“Do you know what the locals call a top scholar?” Mao Haifeng continues.
“That, I don’t know,” Otomo Sadagawa shakes his head.
“Haha, Brother Otomo, let me tell you. Locals call top scholars ‘Wenquxing,’ the star of literature, believed to govern scholarly success. Since the top scholar is the best in the exams, people think they’re the reincarnation of Wenquxing to achieve such a feat,” Mao Haifeng explains.
“Yoshi, the culture of the Central Plains is profound,” Otomo Sadagawa says, looking enlightened.
“Zhu Ping’an is Wenquxing reincarnated, and this place is called Luoxing Mountain—‘Falling Star Mountain.’ Isn’t it fitting? This mountain is destined to be where his star falls, where he meets his end. In our Three Kingdoms period, a legendary strategist named Pang Tong, called the Fledgling Phoenix, died at Luofeng Mountain. It’s fate. Today, Zhu Ping’an is doomed to die at Luoxing Mountain!” Mao Haifeng says, laughing.
“Yoshi, yoshi! Zhu Ping’an, Wenquxing, and Luoxing Mountain—Falling Star! Perfect name, perfect omen. He’s doomed!” Otomo Sadagawa exclaims, nodding enthusiastically.
“Where are the scouts? How far is Zhu Ping’an’s Zhejiang army from here?” Mao Haifeng calls out, waving.
“Boss, the Zhejiang army’s vanguard is less than five li away. Their scouts are less than one li out, about to enter our vanguard’s ambush range,” a pirate scout reports, kneeling on one knee.
“How good are their scouts?” Otomo Sadagawa asks.
“The Zhejiang scouts only check within a hundred meters of the road, superficially. Compared to ours, they’re far inferior,” the scout says dismissively, then adds confidently, “If you give the order, we can take them out in ten breaths.”
Mao Haifeng waves him off. “Don’t ruin the big plan for a small gain. We’re eating cold rice and drinking cold water to ambush them by surprise. Killing their scouts is easy, but it’d alert even a fool. And Zhu Ping’an’s no fool—he’s a cunning fox!”
