The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight touched the earth, the Zhejiang army camp and the pirate camp faced each other across the river, both shrouded in wisps of cooking smoke.
“One, one, one-two-one, one-two-three-four…”
The Zhejiang soldiers were up early, training with enthusiasm—marching, jogging, and drilling in formation, fully immersed in their routine.
In stark contrast, the pirate camp was a picture of laziness. Pirates stretched idly, pointing and mocking the Zhejiang camp. The pirates fell into two groups: Mao Haifeng and Otomo Sadagawa’s defeated troops, who looked at the Zhejiang camp with caution and fear, and Wang Zhi’s reinforcing pirates, who jeered at the drills as if watching a circus, dismissing the Zhejiang army as no different from the usual feeble government troops.
The defeated pirates had warned the reinforcements about the Zhejiang army’s strength, but the newcomers scoffed. You losers, beaten by Zhejiang, are just making excuses.
In the cutthroat pirate world, the reinforcements sneered at the defeated, who were content to watch them repeat their mistakes. Everyone would fall at the same starting line—no one laughing at anyone else.
This mix of attitudes led the reinforcements to underestimate the Zhejiang army, seeing them as slightly tougher garrison soldiers. To them, garrison troops were weaklings; the Zhejiang army was just a sturdier weakling, still easy prey. The only difference? A tougher weakling might be chewier, tastier.
During the Zhejiang army’s drills, their cooks hauled a steaming cauldron of ginger soup to the riverbank. Shackled pirate captives, carrying wood, were herded over. Each was forced to drink a bowl of hot ginger soup before being driven into the icy river.
“What are they doing?” the pirates across the river wondered.
“Building pontoon bridges,” came the quick answer.
“Are they planning to attack our camp?” some pirates fretted.
“Attack? Rubbish. Yesterday, General Xue challenged them. They agreed to send 1,000 men after breakfast to fight. The bridges are for crossing to battle,” an informed pirate explained.
Relieved, the others relaxed. It was Xue’s men fighting, not them. They’d get to watch the spectacle.
Word of the bridges reached the camp, informing Mao Haifeng, Otomo Sadagawa, and Wang Zhi.
“Hah, they’re scared they’ll lose and can’t retreat, so they’re building bridges to escape,” Xue Tao chuckled, unperturbed.
He was pleased, seeing the bridges as proof of Zhejiang’s lack of confidence, already half-defeated.
“They’re securing a fallback,” Mao Haifeng said casually. “Just some bridges, let them build. If talks collapse and a big fight starts, it saves us the trouble.”
Yesterday, Zhu Ping’an let them build their camp unhindered; now they were just building bridges—no issue.
Unlike Xue Tao, who saw the bridges as an escape route for a likely defeat, Mao believed they were a precaution against the pirates breaking the agreement by sending reinforcements to overwhelm them, ensuring a path back across the river.
“Hm,” Wang Zhi nodded, waving a hand. “Let them build. They dare cross to fight, so a retreat route makes sense.”
The Zhejiang army built their bridges unhindered.
Some captive pirates tried escaping early on, two bolting toward the pirate camp, shouting, “Help, help!”
But within steps, musket shots rang out—“bang, bang”—and they were gunned down in the water. Blood spread like dawn on the river.
Zhejiang soldiers ordered the captives to drag the bodies to the bank, where two soldiers deftly beheaded them.
After that, no captive dared flee. Could they outrun muskets? Better to live than die.
Grimacing in the freezing water, they obediently built the bridges.
The river wasn’t wide, and with pre-cut timber, the task was manageable. By breakfast time, the captives had completed six simple pontoon bridges.
Zhejiang soldiers inspected them, confirmed they were usable, and let the shivering captives ashore. Ordered to line up, they drank more ginger soup before being herded back to their crude camp shelters, where fires and watery rice porridge with wild greens awaited—enough to keep them alive.
The captives were valuable labour for grueling tasks; the Zhejiang army didn’t want them dying too soon.
Soon, the Zhejiang army finished breakfast, and 1,000 soldiers assembled.
“Young master, stay in camp. We won’t let you down,” Liu Dadao and Liu Daqiang assured Zhu Ping’an.
“Stay safe, bring everyone back unharmed if possible,” Zhu instructed.
“Don’t worry, young master. No tiger-crouching cannons, but everyone’s got two loaded muskets. In formation, they won’t get close,” Liu Dadao said confidently.
“If the pirates break the deal and send more than 1,000, retreat immediately. I’ll have men on the bank to cover you,” Zhu added.
“Got it,” Liu Dadao and Liu Daqiang nodded firmly.
