Chapter 111: The Rising Wind (Part Eight)

Xu Le and Han Yue, both covered in dust and mud, gazed southward from the mountaintop. The terrain here gradually leveled out. From this vantage point atop Mount Lì Mǎ, they could see the winding Sanggan River valley below, along with vast stretches of dense riverine forest.

Xu Family Hamlet lay not far away, within a few dozen miles. Yet even Xu Le, who had ridden day and night without rest, no longer carried his usual carefree air. His expression was weary, tinged with a hint of anxiety. As they approached this point, his nervousness grew more pronounced.

Han Yue, by contrast, visibly relaxed upon reaching the mountain’s edge. Both had pushed themselves to their limits during this journey. Thankfully, Xu Le’s steed, the divine dragon Swallower, and Han Yue’s mount—carefully selected from the Liang Hai special cavalry—had endured the grueling pace.

Seeing that Xu Family Hamlet was within a day’s ride, and observing the serene, peaceful landscape ahead, Han Yue’s taut nerves eased. It was midday; once night fell, they would enter the hamlet, pay respects to the old patriarch, reunite with Xu Le’s mother and younger brother, and finally rest before deciding their next move.

Yet Xu Le’s face remained tightly drawn. His divine horse Swallower seemed to sense his rider’s unease and neighed softly.

Han Yue turned to him. “Le, what’s wrong?”

An inexplicable feeling gnawed at Xu Le’s heart, tightening his emotions until he could hardly breathe.

Such anxiety and tension had never accompanied him—even when he and Bu Li had stealthily infiltrated the vast camp of the Qianyu Yue.

Faced with Han Yue’s question, Xu Le only shook his head faintly and forced out, “Let’s hurry. The sooner we return to Xu Family Hamlet, the better.”

No sooner had he spoken than he pulled the reins taut. Swallower let out a long, sharp neigh and swiftly descended the mountain trail toward the south.

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On a bed, now little more than bones, Xu Gan listened quietly to Du Chong’s incoherent report.

His eyes, long closed, slowly opened.

Ah Le was in Yunzhong, truly undertaking a great enterprise—so much so that Wang Rengong had dispatched troops!

His grandson was no longer a child confined to a small pond but a dragon released into the vast sea, destined to carve out a heroic legacy.

Xu Gan bore no resentment over being implicated by Xu Le. He trusted his grandson had reasons for suddenly pledging allegiance to Liu Wuzhou. Once his grandson had made a decision, as his grandfather, he would offer unconditional support.

Xu Le must have anticipated Wang Rengong’s vengeful nature and was hastening here. Xu Gan resolved to hold on until his grandson arrived; there were still many things he wished to impart.

Imagining his grandson’s commanding presence in Yunzhong, having provoked the county magistrate’s wrath, a faint smile curved Xu Gan’s lips.

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Xu Gan softly instructed, “Du family’s Ada, go strike the bell.”

Du Chong nodded blankly, then hurried outside to an ancient tree in front of Xu Gan’s residence, beneath which hung a rusted iron bell. He picked up a stick and struck it vigorously, producing a loud clanging.

The bell’s sound echoed into the bedroom. Xu Gan smiled as he looked upon the Han family mother and son who had come to visit, then spoke to Han Xiaoliu: “Xiaoliu, are you afraid?”

Han Xiaoliu’s nostrils flared with excitement as he patted his chest. “What’s there to fear? I’m going with Lord Le to make a great name for ourselves!”

Xu Gan chuckled and said, “Then carry me out.”

The bell’s peal roused the villagers of Xu Family Hamlet.

The hamlet, home to just over thirty families, mostly consisted of migrants who had settled here over the years.

Among these migrants, the strong and able-bodied were few; many were elderly or children, with only a handful having started families in the past decade. Life was harsh on this frontier, repeatedly ravaged by war; survival was a struggle, and to prosper was even harder.

During the winter lull, the able-bodied had often trained under Xu Gan’s guidance. In times of bandit raids or threats of Turkic invasions, the bell’s toll was a summons for all villagers to arm themselves and prepare to defend their home.

This was the enduring legacy of centuries of turmoil: every village and hamlet on the Central Plains had become a fortified unit capable of fighting.

Dozens of able-bodied villagers, previously idle at home during winter, hastened to the ancient tree upon hearing the bell. Each carried bows and arrows; some had brought their wives along. They found Du Chong standing dumbly beneath the tree, while the crowd bombarded him with questions.

“Du Ada, what’s going on?”

“Where is the old patriarch?”

“I heard someone call at the gate. You were guarding the wall—has something happened outside?”

Du Chong, never eloquent, was so stunned by the sudden bad news that he could barely respond. The crowd’s pressing inquiries flushed his face red, yet no words came.

Suddenly, someone shouted, “The old patriarch is coming out!”

The armed men immediately ceased questioning Du Chong and bowed respectfully. “Old Patriarch!”

At the entrance to Xu Gan’s residence, Han Xiaoliu carried a sturdy bow on his back, two quivers of arrows at his sides, and a straight sword at his waist. He supported the emaciated Xu Gan as he emerged.

Han Da Niang led out a horse from the stable, and together they helped Xu Gan mount it.

Though his legs were weak and muscles wasted, once astride the horse, the white-haired, heavily freckled Xu Gan straightened his back. His eyes regained their luster, reminiscent of the fierce Northern Zhou general he had once been.

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Xu Gan scanned the villagers who bowed before him, taking in the familiar sights of Xu Family Hamlet. A faint wave of emotion stirred within him, but it was quickly suppressed.

Having lain low here for over a decade and raised a grandson like Xu Le was enough. His own journey was nearly complete; the path ahead belonged to Ah Le.

He hoped he might live to see his grandson one last time.

Finally, Xu Gan spoke: “Ah Le set out as a merchant. In Yunzhong, he must have angered Magistrate Wang. Wang has sent troops to seize Xu Family Hamlet.”

The murmuring crowd fell silent, stunned.

Xu Gan smiled faintly. “I wish to see Ah Le once more. I will not wait here to die. We will depart at once. Join us or not, that is your choice. But prepare yourselves swiftly. When soldiers pass through, the village will be swept clean. This is no idle threat.”

Silence persisted.

At that moment, Han Xiaoliu returned to the stable, bringing out two more horses and helping his mother mount one. Han Da Niang, now neatly dressed, slung a bow over her shoulder with two quivers at her side. Women on the frontier must also take up arms when needed, defending the walls with their arrows.

Xu Gan smiled at the crowd. “For over a decade, I have done my best to maintain this village. Now, unable to hold it any longer, perhaps our time together has come to an end...”

Before he could finish, he nodded to Han Xiaoliu, who had already prepared to lead the way, holding Xu Gan’s reins.

A general’s resolve must be swift and decisive. Though Xu Gan was reluctant to leave the hamlet and the fruits of his labor, now was no time for hesitation.

Despite his age, when duty called, Xu Gan still carried the bearing of a seasoned commander.

Standing stunned beneath the tree, Du Chong suddenly shouted, “Old Patriarch, I will go with you!”

Then he turned and ran to fetch his horse.

The crowd stirred in confusion, exchanging glances.

Though life here had been hard, it had been peaceful enough. Could the Xu Family Hamlet truly be breaking apart like this? What was happening?