“To answer the hero, it was always my second-in-command handling this. I truly don’t know who his backer was,” the leader said, his face full of distress.
“You’re the boss and you don’t know? Fooling a ghost?” Iron Hammer kicked the leader, sending him tumbling. “Play tricks again, and I’ll drag you to death!”
When first captured, the leader had some defiance, refusing to yield. But being dragged by horse from Xihewan to here had broken him completely. If not for the medic slowing the warhorse, he’d have been dragged to death.
“Spare me, hero, I really don’t know,” the leader said, grovelling on the ground, not daring to rise. “I’m just a rough man. I did whatever the second-in-command told me, only handling the fighting, never the other stuff.”
“If you don’t get a taste of pain, you won’t know my strength,” Iron Hammer said, clenching his fist, ready to punish.
“Iron Hammer, enough,” Jin Feng said, shaking his head to stop him. “Put him with the other bandits and send them to the county for the reward.”
“Yes!” Iron Hammer, though puzzled by Jin Feng’s decision, was used to following orders. He grabbed the leader’s collar and hauled him to the captives.
Once Iron Hammer and the leader left, Zheng Fang asked, “Sir, I don’t believe he doesn’t know the backer. Why stop Iron Hammer from questioning?”
Qing Mulian, standing nearby, also looked at Jin Feng, confused.
“What’s the point of finding out?” Jin Feng asked, smiling. “Are we going to storm the county and kill the big shot?”
Killing Master Zhou was different; he’d come to them, and Jin Feng had solid evidence, so no one dared object. But now, Jin Feng had no proof. After the Master Zhou incident, the Jiuligou’s backer would be extra cautious, leaving no evidence, and wouldn’t foolishly visit Xihewan again.
Killing Master Zhou was to scare the county officials, showing Jin Feng as a madman who’d flip the table. But killing without evidence would make him a true lunatic, and even Qing Huai couldn’t protect him.
“Sometimes, ignorance is bliss,” Jin Feng said, patting Zheng Fang’s shoulder. “Later, send someone to the county to get the coroner to inspect the bodies and collect the reward.”
Jiuligou bandits had little fame, their reward far less than Iron Can Mountain’s. But even small gains mattered, and Jin Feng wanted to annoy their backer.
Leaving Wild Dog Slope to Zheng Fang, Jin Feng and Qing Mulian took the wounded and female soldiers back to Xihewan.
On the way, Jin Feng glanced at Qing Mulian riding beside him and asked, smiling, “What’s wrong, still shaken?”
Since meeting, Qing Mulian had been mostly silent, except for a few words at the start, which wasn’t like her. Jin Feng noticed her arms still trembling slightly, a common reaction for soldiers after their first battle, from both physical exhaustion and post-battle fear.
“I’m fine,” Qing Mulian said, turning to force a smile at Jin Feng.
Before tonight, she’d craved war, believing she’d outshine Qing Huai, certain she’d be the first female general to conquer the world. But tonight’s battle shattered much of her confidence. If Jin Feng hadn’t sent Zheng Fang in advance, she couldn’t imagine the consequences.
“Sir, how did you know we’d be ambushed?” Qing Mulian asked. “Did you get word beforehand?”
“No,” Jin Feng said, shaking his head. “But I knew the Wild Dog Slope bandits, aware we crushed hundreds from Iron Can Mountain, still dared to demand tribute. They had something to rely on, more than the thirty men they showed. What was it? Either more men or sharper weapons. I doubted many could outdo our weapons, so we had to watch for more men. How would they deploy them to hit us hardest?”
“An ambush to wipe out our forces, or a diversion to raid Xihewan while we’re gone,” Qing Mulian answered quickly. “So, you had Zheng Fang lie in wait and organised the village guard to meet them, right?”
“Exactly,” Jin Feng said, nodding with a smile.
“I’m so stupid. How did I miss something so simple?” Qing Mulian said, hitting her head in frustration. “If I’d figured it out sooner, we wouldn’t have been tricked, and A-Juan and the others wouldn’t have died.”
“Mulian, I’m glad you’re thinking this way,” Jin Feng said, patting her shoulder. “But don’t blame yourself. War is brutal, and deaths are inevitable. The female soldiers need the trial of blood and fire to gain true strength, or they’ll never grow.”
This comforted both Qing Mulian and himself. He could’ve planned better to avoid close combat, reducing casualties. But to toughen the female soldiers for battle, he didn’t. His heart ached, but he had no regrets. Like a child learning to walk, falling is unavoidable. The female soldiers, who’d escort caravans and face complex situations, had to learn to fight.
Seeing Qing Mulian’s low spirits, Jin Feng asked, smiling, “Now that it’s over, what do you think?”
“From tonight’s battle, I saw the gap between female and male soldiers,” Qing Mulian said. “The men coordinated well. If someone was injured, comrades covered them, letting the wounded retreat to treat injuries. Those still able used crossbows to shoot bandits, working perfectly. But our female soldiers panicked when the bandits came. If the men hadn’t held most of them off, and if A-Lan and A-Ju hadn’t worn armour, more would’ve died.”
“Yes, teamwork and armour are crucial,” Jin Feng agreed.
Veterans’ coordination minimised deaths, and armour was vital in cold-weapon combat. Qing Mulian, leading the charge, killed four bandits but took five or six cuts. Without armour, she’d be dead. Her armour, crafted by Bianjing’s best for her brother, was costly, sturdy, and light, worth more than Jin Feng’s entire wealth. A-Ju and A-Lan’s armour was lesser, just better than Zhong Wu’s standard issue, but still cost nearly a hundred taels of silver. Even in Qing Huai’s Iron Forest Army, only elites had such armour; most wore leather or bamboo.
“I need to find a way to get more armour,” Jin Feng decided silently, pondering ways to cut costs.
Travelling with the wounded was slow. By the time they reached Xihewan, dawn was breaking.
Before entering the village, another group appeared in the morning mist, slowly approaching the entrance.
