At just past four in the morning, Changping Station was still deep in slumber when Xu Hai and Ma Ye arrived with over a hundred pirates disguised as Jiaxing soldiers, accompanied by the turncoat Zhao Dezhu.
About three li away, in a dried-up river ditch, over a hundred shivering, stripped Jiaxing captives huddled with dry grass for warmth—their uniforms “borrowed” by Xu Hai and Ma Ye’s crew.
Changping Station was built atop a Wei-Jin era fortified compound. Its walls were a mix of earth and wood—three-meter-high earthen barriers, one section collapsed and patched with a wooden fence. The station’s gate was also a simple wooden barricade. The compound wasn’t large—barely bigger than a three-courtyard siheyuan.
When Xu Hai’s group banged on the gate, the station was dead asleep. Even the two guards at the entrance dozed in a crude side room.
At their feet lay two small wine jars, and on the table sat a plate of salted boiled soybeans, reduced to a scant few.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!* “Open the gate! Open it quick! Delay the magistrate’s orders, and you’ll be sorry!”
Two disguised pirates pounded on the gate, shouting arrogantly.
“Who’s that? Who’s hollering in the middle of the night like a damn ghost? Let Grandpa see which bastard’s messing with me at this hour!”
One guard jolted awake, hungover and reeking of liquor, grumbling as he hauled himself off a filthy bed.
“Old Two, get up! Let’s go see who’s banging around out there like a lost soul!”
The guard grabbed a tattered uniform, threw it on, and kicked the other guard awake on the next bed.
“Who the hell kicked me?! Oh, Big Brother—it’s you! No wonder it felt so solid!”
Old Two woke cursing, but seeing it was his senior, he quickly grinned and groveled.
“Cut the chatter. Someone’s smashing the gate—let’s check it out,” Big Brother snapped.
Old Two nodded eagerly, yanked on his uniform, and followed. Big Brother lit a lantern with a flint as they stepped out, carrying it casually.
The moment they emerged with their paper lantern, the disguised pirates outside laid into them.
“You two drunkards again, huh? Open the damn gate already! Delay the magistrate’s business, and I’ll have your hides!”
The pirates swaggered with arrogance.
“Who’re you lot?” The guards shrank back under the tirade, sensing big trouble, their tone softening.
“I’m Hu the Third from Jiaxing City! Earlier tonight, pirates showed up in a village in our territory. The magistrate’s taking it dead serious—sent our General Zhao to Yangcheng Garrison for reinforcements. He also ordered General Zhao to swing by your station with his writ, telling your hundred-man chief to pack up every soldier here and hightail it to Jiaxing for defense duty!”
One pirate bellowed with unshakable confidence.
As he finished, torches flared behind him, illuminating Zhao Dezhu’s haughty face.
The firelight revealed over a hundred troops at his back.
The guards knew Zhao Dezhu—Jiaxing’s General Zhao, a top-five martial officer in the city. Just last month, he’d visited their station when their chief, Wang Baihu, had rustled up some village chickens, ducks, geese, and a dog, stewed them into a feast, and wined and dined Zhao to grease his promotion to Jiaxing.
Wang Baihu had even staged a mock inspection of the station’s troops for Zhao, so the guards recognized him.
Pirates in the territory? They hadn’t heard, but the magistrate was famously timid. Sending for Yangcheng aid at the first whiff of trouble was par for the course.
And dragging their tiny station into Jiaxing’s defense? Made sense—every little bit counted, even mosquito legs.
It all added up, given the magistrate’s cowardice.
“General Zhao’s here! Forgive us for not greeting you sooner, General—please pardon us! We’ll open the gate and fetch our chief to welcome you!”
The guards scurried to unlock the gate. Wang Baihu groveled like a grandson before Zhao—how could they dare slight him?
Wang’s promotion still hinged on Zhao’s good word. Offend him, ruin the chief’s plans, and Wang Baihu would skin them alive!
“You guys, hard work,” the pirates said, clapping the guards’ shoulders as the gate swung open.
The accent sounded off—something weird in their tone. The guards started to look up.
Next second—
The pirates gripped their heads and twisted hard. *Crack!* A sharp snap, and their necks spun 180 degrees. Their final sight was the feral grins of the “Jiaxing soldiers,” like demons from hell.
The pirates tossed the guards’ bodies aside like trash.
Xu Hai waved a hand, and his men slipped into the station like phantoms, splitting into teams and infiltrating each building.
Inside, the station’s soldiers slept soundly. The pirates moved with precision—one hand clamped over mouths to stifle screams, the other plunging daggers into chests, piercing hearts.
Infiltration, execution—smooth as silk.
In no time, every breathing soul in the station lay dead in their rooms.
Even Wang Baihu wasn’t spared.
He’d drunk heavily last night, spent half the night with a local prostitute in his arms, and now slept like a log. Two pirates dispatched him like slaughtering a chick—one swift stab, and he was gone.
The woman, nestled against him, her head on his arm facing his chest, woke as warm blood splashed her face. Her eyes flew open to the horror, and a piercing scream split the air.
“Damn, she’s got spirit—such a waste.”
Time was tight. The pirates, with regretful looks, seized her neck and snapped it.
Another body joined the bed.
“Quick, forget the corpses—bunch of broke bastards won’t have more than a few taels of silver. Grab every uniform you can find—dirty, torn, new, old, thick, thin, whatever! We’re taking them all. I’m leading you to Jiaxing for a big score—gold, silver, jewels, women, everything!”
Xu Hai barked orders, directing his men to ransack the station for uniforms and bundle them up to go.
