The Rise of a Humble Family!
Clop, clop, clop… The hoofbeats of the Zhejiang Army thundered like the drums of a soul-reaping specter from hell, growing closer and louder by the moment. The sound shook the pirates on the bridge, below it, and even those on the far side, filling them with dread, terror, and gut-wrenching fear.
The Zhejiang troops were now just over a mile from the bridgehead. Rank after rank of cavalry galloped forward, their overwhelming, avalanche-like pressure crashing down with every passing second.
The window of opportunity for escape was slamming shut! In a frantic bid to seize their last chance at survival, the pirates on and below the bridge fought even more fiercely to secure a path. Any trace of camaraderie vanished—blades flashed red in an instant, and every moment saw pirates beaten to a bloody pulp, their brains splattered on the ground.
Chen Dong, abandoned and disheveled in the wind, turned with a limp to face the Zhejiang troops charging closer by the second.
He closed his eyes. This morning, he’d been a powerful pirate leader commanding a mighty force. In the blink of an eye, he’d become a forsaken, betrayed loner.
A crippled loner at that! So be it, so be it—better to preserve his last shred of dignity! Though Chen Dong wasn’t a legendary hero dominating the world, he was still a formidable pirate who’d stirred up storms. How could he let himself fall into the Ming Army’s hands in such a pathetic state?
Resolved, Chen Dong opened his eyes and reached for the blade at his waist. He groped left, then right, fumbling for a while—but found nothing. Looking down, he saw no trace of his prized sword at his waist—not even a hair.
What the hell? That was no ordinary blade—it was a top-tier pirate sword from Japan, one he’d schemed and strong-armed from an old Japanese warrior. It could slice through hair with a breath and, while it didn’t cut iron like mud, he’d used it to snap three Ming Army blades in battle.
Since acquiring it, Chen Dong had treasured it like a gem, never letting it leave his side. Even when his leg was crushed in the forest fire, that sword had stayed with him. So why wasn’t it at his waist now?
Chen Dong looked up, bewildered, scanning his surroundings. Then he spotted one of his guards at the bridgehead, hacking through the crowd with all his might to carve a bloody path.
Huh?! Son of a—! That guard—the one who’d sworn to gut Wang Er in a fit of rage, grabbed a blade, and then vanished into the crowd—was holding *his* precious sword!
Damn it! So when you said you’d “grab a blade and go,” you meant *my* blade! You bastard! You sneaky rat—taking my sword, how am I supposed to slit my throat and end it honorably?!
Cursing under his breath, Chen Dong patted himself down again. Nothing—no weapons anywhere on his body. No dagger, no hidden blade, not even a belt to hang himself with—the damn belt had burned away in the fire!
Damn it, what a disaster! Not a single thing to end himself with—how was he supposed to keep his dignity?!
“Ahem, you little punks up ahead, spare me a weapon!” Chen Dong coughed and shouted at the pirates ahead, who were beating each other’s brains out to secure a path.
The pirates kept fighting as if they hadn’t heard him. Only the bleak wind whistled past.
Was his voice too quiet?!
“Hey, you little brats up there! Didn’t you hear me?! Spare me a damn weapon!” Chen Dong roared, his voice hoarse with fury.
This time, a few turned to glance at him—just a fleeting look—before going right back to their bloody brawl.
At this life-or-death moment, who cared who he was? Especially now—a crippled, betrayed, disheveled wreck with no weapon in hand.
Seeing this, Chen Dong froze for a few seconds, then tugged at the corner of his mouth. A laugh—or maybe a sob—escaped as he shook his head.
“Hahaha…” At first, it was barely audible.
“Hahahaha…” Then it grew louder, his expression twisting into something wild. Finally, leaning on his waist with his crippled leg, he threw his head back and laughed hysterically at the sky.
“He’s gone mad, totally mad…” The pirates ahead, bloodied and battered, glanced back at him mid-fight, muttering in pity before resuming their savage struggle.
As the Zhejiang troops thundered closer without pause, as the pirates bashed each other’s heads in for a way out, and as Chen Dong laughed maniacally, a sharp-eyed pirate suddenly noticed something across the river: the pirates on the other side were frantically chopping at the bridge’s support beams.
“What the hell?! What are you doing over there?! You’re cutting the bridge—how are we supposed to cross?!” Seeing this, the pirate’s face went pale as he shouted in panic.
At his cry, the pirates—mid-brawl, blood and brains everywhere—jerked to a halt, startled, and looked across the river.
Holy crap—they saw it too: a group of pirates on the far side, swarming the support beams, hacking at them like madmen.
The beams were already half-severed, leaving the bridge teetering on the brink of collapse.
“Stop it, stop! Are you animals?! If you cut the bridge, what—are we supposed to sprout wings and fly over?!”
“Beasts! Be human for once! You just crossed, and now you’re tearing it down—are you even people?!”
“Damn it, burning bridges after crossing?! Stop, stop it! I’m almost there—wait till I cross, at least! If I make it, I’ll split all my looted gold, silver, and jewels with you!”
“Brothers, please, stop! We’re from the same village—I saved you from that fire, remember? For old times’ sake, for brotherhood, stop chopping…” The pirates on this side, seeing the disaster unfold, turned pale. Some cursed furiously, necks red with rage, demanding their comrades stop. Others tried bargaining or played the emotional card—hometown ties, life-saving debts—begging them to cease.
But whether they screamed, threatened, bribed, or pleaded, it was useless.
The pirates across the river showed no mercy. If anything, they hacked even harder, blades swinging relentlessly, wood chips flying everywhere.
The bridge shook more violently. Their reasoning was simple: if they didn’t destroy it, the Zhejiang troops would finish off the stragglers, then cross to hunt them down next!
Chopping the bridge was the easiest, most effective way to stop the pursuit. This was the only bridge for dozens of miles—without it, the Zhejiang troops would either have to detour for miles or rebuild, buying the pirates at least an hour to escape.
So, the bridge *had* to go. It was a direct order from Xu Hai and Ma Ye! But for the pirates still on this side, it was absolutely unacceptable.
The Zhejiang troops were less than a mile away, about to charge in, and you’re cutting off our last lifeline?!
No way! You block my escape, you’re my enemy! The pirates still waiting to cross, united in their fury, stopped cursing just long enough to grab their weapons and hurl them at the bridge-choppers across the river!
In an instant, a hailstorm of pirate blades, spears, longswords, pheasant knives, short blades, axes, and hidden weapons rained down on the other side.
Several of the bridge-choppers screamed and fell in the barrage… but their comrades weren’t fools waiting to be skewered. They quickly raised shields and planks for cover.
And kept chopping like mad.
The clop, clop, clop of the Zhejiang troops’ hooves, the thwack, thwack of wood being cut, the pirates’ frenzied curses, and Chen Dong’s skyward laughter wove together, playing the pirates’ requiem for the damned…
