The fire in the forest hadn’t yet died down, with thick smoke still billowing and flames roaring skyward. However, the inferno on the raging river had already been extinguished.
The river’s surface was a chaotic mess, littered with broken ships, tattered sails, and countless pirate corpses bobbing up and down in the turbulent waters.
There were so many pirate bodies, combined with the charred remnants of ships and sails, that the river seemed partially clogged, the current struggling to flow.
Many pirate corpses had been pushed to the shore by the waves, their bloated, pale, and swollen forms grotesque and terrifying.
*Clop, clop, clop…*
A rapid burst of hoofbeats rang out. Soon, the Zhejiang Army, clad in neat cotton armor, appeared in view—a grand, imposing force galloping eastward along the riverbank.
“Seven miles east, there’s a bridge. Unless something unexpected happens, the pirates will have to cross it. Based on their pace, they might not have reached it yet. Brothers, push harder—let’s catch them before they cross and send them on their way!”
Zhu Pingan spurred his horse forward, turning to rally the Zhejiang soldiers behind him.
“Yes, sir! Chase them down and send them off!” The Zhejiang troops, their morale sky-high, shouted in unison as they urged their horses into a frenzied gallop.
Today’s string of victories had boosted the Zhejiang Army’s spirits to the heavens.
Galloping onward, the distant bridge came into sight—along with the pirates near it.
The pirates had just reached the bridge and were crossing.
It wasn’t a large bridge—just a wooden structure, about ten meters long and roughly two meters wide.
“Damn it, those Ming dogs are like ghosts that won’t leave us alone—they’re here again!”
“Hurry, hurry! You slow bastard up front, move it! The Zhejiang troops are coming—if you don’t speed up, they’ll keep us here for good!”
“Idiot, get out of the way, or you’re dead!”
“Brother, sorry about this—you cool off in the river for a bit first!”
“Damn it, who the hell lifted me up? Put me down! Hey, hey, I said put me down, not throw me down! Stop it, you bastard—I can’t swim! No, no, ahhh…”
As the pirates spotted the approaching Zhejiang troops from afar, chaos erupted. They shoved and jostled, fighting over the chance to cross the bridge first, even turning on their former comrades and pushing them into the river.
In this desperate moment, Xu Hai and Ma Ye, naturally under the protection of their personal guards, were among the first wave to cross.
The rest of the pirates scrambled and fought, refusing to yield. At this life-or-death juncture, it didn’t matter if you were a small-time leader or a big shot—crossing the bridge came down to strength and fists.
No pirate was in the mood for chivalry. Yielding even once might mean never crossing at all.
With the Zhejiang troops closing in like grim reapers, a single delay could mean being torn to shreds.
Some pirates were ruthless as hell, tossing three obstructing comrades into the river just to clear a path.
Others, lacking the strength to go it alone, banded together in groups of three or five, punching and kicking their way across the bridge in a bloody brawl.
The scene was pure pandemonium.
Screams rang out as pirates were shoved—or outright thrown—off the bridge into the river. More often, it was the latter.
The bridge was a mess, but the bridgehead was a hundred times worse. The bridge was only so wide and long—only a few could squeeze onto it at a time. Most pirates were still below, fighting to get up, making the bridgehead the epicenter of the struggle.
To reach the bridge and cross, the pirates below packed together, clashing furiously. Blades flashed far more often than on the bridge itself—brains were bashed out, and the ground beneath their feet turned into a muddy, blood-soaked mire.
Xu Hai, his leg broken, leaned on two guards for support, his face dark as he watched the chaos at the bridgehead.
Hobbling along with two guards, his pace was naturally slower than the average pirate’s, so falling behind was no surprise.
In their frantic escape, Xu Hai and Ma Ye had focused solely on getting ahead, not sparing a thought for Chen Dong.
Or rather, they’d thought of him but deliberately left him behind.
With Chen Dong’s leg broken, alliance decorum kept them from outright attacking an ally—that’d earn them a bad rap and hurt their control over the pirate coalition. But they were more than happy to let the Ming troops’ blades do the dirty work.
One less leader meant one less person to split power with. Xu Hai and Ma Ye could openly divvy up Chen Dong’s men, just as they’d done with Kitaoji Dosan’s pirates. From then on, the Taklimakan Pirate Alliance would be theirs to rule.
In truth, it wasn’t just Xu Hai and Ma Ye who abandoned Chen Dong. None of the fleeing pirates—not even those under Chen Dong’s command—bothered with him, save for the two guards still propping him up.
When Chen Dong escaped the fire, he’d had ten or so guards with him. But as they fled, one by one they deserted, leaving only these two.
Pirates were shameless, profit-driven scum, bound together by self-interest, with little loyalty to their leaders.
This was a matter of life and death. Dragging a crippled Chen Dong along would slow them down, and if the Zhejiang troops caught up, they’d be doomed.
Better a dead friend than a dead self.
So, Chen Dong’s men bolted without a care for his fate.
Only the two guards who’d pulled him from the fire stuck by him, supporting him as they struggled forward.
They were from Chen Dong’s hometown, distant kin even, and far more loyal than the average pirate.
By the time they reached the wooden bridge, Xu Hai and Ma Ye were already on the other side. The bridge and its approach were a warzone.
“You bastards up front, move! Get out of the way! Chen Dong’s still back here—clear a path, now!”
“You’re courting death! Don’t you see Chen Dong behind us? Move it, or are you trying to rebel?”
The two guards, supporting the limping Chen Dong, tried repeatedly to push forward onto the bridge. But each time, they were shoved back, battered and disheveled, cursing furiously from the rear.
No matter how loudly they yelled, it was useless. No one paid them any mind; the brawling continued unabated.
The Zhejiang troops were closing in. Falling behind now meant certain death—who cared about some leader?
As the Zhejiang cavalry drew nearer, the pirates grew even more frenzied, shoving desperately and drawing blades to clear their way.
“Sorry, boss. I’ve got a seventy-year-old mom and a three-year-old kid at home—I’m outta here.”
One of the guards holding Chen Dong, seeing the Zhejiang riders approach, broke down. He dropped Chen Dong and ran.
“You damn traitor, Wang Er! How dare you abandon the boss? You’re an orphan, unmarried—where’s this seventy-year-old mom and three-year-old kid coming from? Don’t run! Boss, wait here—I’ll gut that traitor Wang Er!”
The other guard exploded in rage, cursing as he chased after Wang Er with his blade drawn. The two vanished into the chaotic crowd, leaving Chen Dong, face black with fury, stranded in the turmoil.
