Chapter 2223 - Blooming on Both Ends
Several bandits brandished their weapons and tried to storm the guard chamber. A chaotic close-quarters melee erupted at the entrance—but in the end, the bandits were outmatched by the soldiers' bayonets and driven back. Amid the confusion, the soldiers inside the chamber opened fire. Smoke filled the gateway; the bandits screamed and scrambled out in disorder, huddling in the blind spots where rifles could not reach. The cramped space inside and the soldiers' small numbers meant they could not sally forth either. Both sides were deadlocked.
Zhang Tianbo was frantic. If the gate could not be taken, the reinforcements waiting outside could not enter. The "brilliant plan" to seize the county seat would collapse. He knew the strength inside the city: Luo Yiming had fewer than a hundred men. Add the civilian naturalized cadres and the "turncoat" retained personnel, and the total was only a hundred forty or fifty. They were scattered throughout the county seat—hardly a threat.
That had been precisely why he had agreed to serve as the "inside man" and "act according to plan."
According to Zhan Zhekun's plan, Zhang Tianbo and the twenty-odd hardened bandits posing as construction workers would act as the inside agents. They would start a fire to create chaos, seize the West Gate, and let the main force outside rush in to take the county seat in one stroke.
To achieve a lightning capture, two things were needed: surprise, and precise timing between the two sides. But now they were stalemated. Zhang Tianbo heard whistles echoing through the streets; he knew Luo Yiming would soon counterattack. The situation would reverse in an instant.
He jumped out and shouted: "Quick! Light a fire—smoke them out!"
Several bandits hastily ignited bundles of discarded firewood and tossed them into the guard chamber entrance, then threw on some ragged straw mats. Thick smoke billowed through the gateway; even the bandits could not stay near. Inside, the smoke-filled chamber became unbearable. The soldiers coughed and choked. The sergeant knew the situation was dire—stay any longer and they would die. He bellowed: "Don't panic! Back to back, one step at a time—don't run!"
They formed triangular three-man teams, fixed bayonets, and endured the acrid smoke, inching their way out of the guard chamber. Outside, the smoke was slightly thinner. Bandits howled and lunged at them—but the soldiers were ready. Their tight triangular formations left no openings. After skewering three or four attackers, no one else dared charge.
Seeing things going badly, Zhang Tianbo sprinted out of the gate and lit a smoke signal—the gate was still open and no reinforcements from the city had arrived. If the main force waiting outside reached them in time, there was still hope.
But though he fired off three smoke signals in succession, the road outside the city remained silent—not a soul in sight. Zhang Tianbo was beside himself: had the timing gone awry? This was a matter of life and death! Drenched in cold sweat, he was about to turn back and check the situation when a volley of gunfire erupted inside the city. Four or five bandits came running out of the gateway, faces pale with terror. The leader spotted him still standing there in a daze and shouted: "Master Zhang, run! The Hair-Clippers are coming!"
Zhang Tianbo knew the game was up. He turned and fled.
Dalang Market.
Sun Dabiao rose from his chair below the stage, cupped his hands in salute to the assembled guests, then gave a special bow to County Magistrate Wang Chuyi, seated in the place of honor on the stage. Only then did he mount the steps.
The guests and townspeople, having endured a long Australian speech in the sweltering heat, were thoroughly fed up—even under the shade shelters, there was no escaping the heat. Seeing the "main act" about to begin, the noisy square fell silent.
On the table at center stage, the brass basin was filled with water. Sun Dabiao stepped onto the stage, offered incense and prayers before the main hall, and inserted three sticks into the censer. After a brief pause, someone brought out another censer, bristling with lit incense sticks.
Sun Dabiao murmured under his breath—too far away for anyone to make out the words. But greenwood insiders knew: he was reciting the "Incense-Plucking Valediction." When a jianghu man wished to retire, with the consent of his chief and comrades, he had to perform this ritual—reciting one line and plucking one stick of incense. Fifty-six sticks in all, fifty-six lines, to be recited without error. Only when the last stick was pulled could he be said to have "washed his hands and gone ashore." Even a man of Sun Dabiao's stature was not exempt.
Sun Dabiao reached the fifty-sixth line and plucked the final stick. Instantly, gongs and drums thundered; lion and dragon dancers swarmed before the stage in a riot of color. Sun Dabiao smiled, walked slowly to the brass basin, dipped his hands in, and lifted them out. At once, blunderbusses and firecrackers roared—the din made Wang Chuyi's eardrums ache. He was about to ask how much longer the ritual would take when someone screamed: "Fire!"
In the deafening uproar of the square, even face-to-face conversation was difficult—yet this shriek was so shrill, so desperate, that it cut through everything. Wang Chuyi and the others started; following the cry, they saw a column of black smoke rising from the east end of the town.
The crowd surged into panic. Sun Dabiao called out loudly: "Your Honor! There's a fire! Please step down and take shelter—I'll go see what's happening..." Before anyone could respond, he darted off the stage and vanished into the throng.
You Ciren's instincts screamed: Wrong! He drew his pistol and shouted: "Quick—protect the County Magistrate!"
His warning came just in time. As the guards pushed Wang Chuyi to the ground, two or three blunderbuss shots rang out from the temple roof. On the stage, people—both Dalang Market "worthies" and Wang Chuyi's own men—dropped in a spray of blood. You Ciren himself was hit; iron pellets tore into his face and hands, blood streaming.
Wang Chuyi was badly wounded by something—blood poured from him.
"Quick—protect the County Magistrate—break out!" You Ciren now understood completely: this was a trap. No one had imagined Sun Dabiao would dare, in his own stronghold, to strike at the county government.
Staring at the bleeding County Magistrate, You Ciren's eyes blazed. He commanded the Yao squadron to hold the stage and prevent the enemy from scattering them in the chaos.
The square was now a seething maelstrom. The conscripted "muster" extras and the onlooking townspeople trampled one another in their panic; everywhere, people screamed and fled. The "guests" who had been posing as bandits now brandished swords and spears, closing in on the stage. Others clambered onto neighboring rooftops to shoot down with muskets and bows.
The Yao squadron had been standing guard around the stage. Though numerous, they had been caught off guard—over a dozen were killed or wounded in the first moments. Poorly trained and lacking discipline, those on the outer edge broke and scattered with the fleeing crowd. Only the core—a few dozen men—obeyed their orders and held tight around the stage. Some were already locked in hand-to-hand combat with charging bandits. Around the stage, blades flashed and the screams of the dying filled the air.
Pan Tianshun led the Yao in desperate battle. Many had not worn the armor they had brought—too hot—and suffered heavy early casualties. But the bandits had no armor either; they were evenly matched. The Yao bore a blood feud with Sun Dabiao's men and fought without hesitation, pressing forward fearlessly. For the moment, they held their own.
You Ciren had two guards carry Wang Chuyi down from the stage. The area below had become a battlefield—not only were bandits charging in, but archers on surrounding rooftops were raining arrows on the stage. Fires were being set. After more than half a month without rain, the air was bone-dry; the bamboo-and-wood buildings ignited like kindling, flames roaring, smoke billowing.
Looking around, You Ciren saw flames and smoke rising all over Dalang Market. He understood now: this was catastrophic. Sun Dabiao had set fire to his own stronghold—he was clearly resolved to fight the Council of Elders to the bitter end. With fires burning throughout the town, the deployments You Ciren had made in advance were useless. The Second Squadron, scattered at various points, could not quickly regroup and engage through this inferno. Their plan had been to control the four gates and key roads, enabling them to suppress any unrest. But Sun Dabiao's move was scorched-earth—mutual annihilation. He cared nothing for the Second Squadron soldiers dispersed throughout the town; instead, he was concentrating all his strength on storming the stage, bent on capturing or killing the Australian magistrate in one blow.
"County Magistrate Wang—we have no choice but to fight our way out!" You Ciren shouted.
The situation was unclear; there was no telling how much strength the enemy had or what other moves he had prepared. The only prudent course was to fall back to the county seat.
Wang Chuyi felt weak, dizzy, his head spinning—he knew his wounds were serious. But what consumed him was the collapse of his pacification plan, his betrayal of Elder Huang's trust, the comrades he had dragged into disaster. His heart felt as if it were being carved with a knife; for a long moment he could not speak. For an instant, he wished he were dead.
"County Magistrate! County Magistrate! County Magistrate?!"
Only after You Ciren called repeatedly did Wang Chuyi come back to himself. He managed: "We all go—but what about the Second Squadron?"
"Signal them to break out on their own!" You Ciren shouted. The Second Squadron was scattered at various points throughout the town; with fires everywhere and roads possibly blocked, ordering them to rally at the Dragon Mother Temple would only increase casualties and uncertainty. Better to have them withdraw independently.
The signalman immediately lit three green signal rockets—the sign for general withdrawal. You Ciren raised his saber and roared: "Follow me—break out!"
Pan Tianshun rallied his spirits, swinging his great saber and leading the Yao soldiers in a furious charge. You Ciren and a dozen guards followed close behind, firing in volleys to support Pan Tianshun.
(End of Chapter)