[Nightfall, 15 Days Before the Full Moon]
Medicine Hut, Lujing Village
The adrenaline that had sustained Long Wei evaporated like morning fog, and the pain returned, hitting him with full force. His newly healed ribs felt like they were being stabbed with hot needles. He leaned heavily on his crutch, gasping, cold sweat plastering the borrowed cotton robe to his back.
He had made a statement. He had drawn a line in the sand.
I... will... kill you.
Now, he had to make good on that promise.
Behind him, Lujing Village had shifted from paralyzing terror to a quiet despair. The bandits were gone, but they had taken something far more precious than grain—they had taken hope.
Healer Chen was the first to enter the medicine hut, guiding a still-trembling Chen Yue and Chen Fu, who was clutching his stomach, his face pale with pain and shame.
"Son," Healer Chen said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You... you shouldn't have. You risked your life..."
"And you've endangered all of us!" Chen Fu interrupted, his voice raspy with anger. He glared at Long Wei in disbelief. "Who do you think you are?! A hero from a story?! Ma Gou doesn't play games! He'll come back, and he'll bring his whole pack! He won't just take the grain—he'll burn this village to the ground!"
"Brother!" Chen Yue admonished. "He saved me!"
"He saved you today!" Chen Fu shot back, pointing a trembling finger at Long Wei. "In fifteen days, when we are all dead, you tell me if it was worth it!"
Long Wei ignored the emotional outburst. It was irrelevant data. He limped to the corner of the hut, where a pile of dry straw was set aside. He knelt with difficulty, the pain screaming through his body.
"Healer Chen," Long Wei said, his voice calm. So calm, it was chilling. It was the quiet at the center of a hurricane.
Healer Chen fell silent.
"Where... is... my gear?"
Silence filled the hut. Only the sound of Chen Fu's heavy breathing could be heard.
"Those... things..." Healer Chen hesitated. "They are... evil. They smell of death."
Long Wei turned his head slowly. The eyes that had stared down Ma Gou now fixed on the healer. There was no anger. No pleading. Just cold fact.
"The world... outside... this hut," Long Wei said, his articulation careful, "is also... evil. And smells... of death. Ma Gou... is the proof."
He looked into the old healer's eyes. "You... are a healer. You... saved... my life. Now, let me... save... yours."
He held out his uninjured hand. "Give... me... my weapons."
It was a test. A gamble. If Healer Chen refused, Long Wei knew he would have to take them by force. And that would shatter the only alliance he had.
Healer Chen looked at the outstretched hand. He looked at his daughter, who was staring at Long Wei with a strange mixture of fear and faith. He looked at his son, who was glaring in desperation.
He had spent his life healing. He hated weapons. He hated violence.
But he hated the thought of his daughter being dragged off by bandits more.
With a sigh that felt like it tore the soul from his body, Healer Chen walked to the other corner of the hut. He moved a heavy herbal cabinet, revealing several loose floorboards. He lifted them.
Inside, wrapped in oilcloth, lay Long Wei's gear.
His M4 rifle. His tactical vest. His cracked helmet. His sidearm in its thigh holster. His combat knives.
Long Wei reached for them.
The moment his gloved fingers (which he had put back on) touched the cold polymer of the M4, something changed in him. His posture, though still injured, straightened. The pain didn't vanish, but it was now pushed to the background, locked in a mental box labeled "irrelevant."
He checked the rifle. Magazine still seated. Chamber clear. He checked his sidearm. He strapped his combat knife back to his boot.
He stood. He was no longer "Long-dage," the funny patient.
He was Lieutenant Colonel Long Wei. And he was on duty.
"Chen Fu," he said.
Chen Fu, still clutching his stomach, flinched at the command in his tone.
"Gather... all... men. Age... sixteen... to... fifty. In... the village... square." Long Wei stared at him. "Five minutes."
"You... you think you can order me?!" Chen Fu growled.
"I... don't... think," Long Wei said, slinging the M4 over his good shoulder. The familiar weight felt... comforting. "I... know. Ma Gou... will... kill... you. I... will... not." He pointed outside. "Your choice. Five minutes."
Chen Fu stared into those cold eyes. He wanted to argue. He wanted to hit this arrogant man. But he couldn't. He saw death in those eyes—but it was a controlled death. It was death that was on his side.
With a frustrated growl, Chen Fu stormed out of the hut, shouting for the village men.
"Yue-meimei," Long Wei said, his tone softening fractionally.
Chen Yue started.
"Make... torches. Many. We... work... tonight."
"Work on what?" she asked, her voice small.
"Building," he said. He looked at her father. "Healer Chen. I need... everyone... to trust... me. You... are... the first."
Healer Chen nodded slowly. "The village... will... listen to me. What is your plan, son?"
"Plan?" Long Wei limped to the door, crutch in one hand, rifle on the other shoulder. "The plan... is... we... do not... die."
[Five Minutes Later]
Lujing Village Square
Thirty-four men stood in the torch-lit village square. They held their hoes, axes, and bamboo spears. Their faces were a mixture of fear, despair, and anger.
Long Wei stood before them, Healer Chen at his side.
"They'll slaughter us!" shouted one farmer.
"We have to run!" shouted another. "Take our families into the mountains!"
"Run... where?" Long Wei's voice cut through the panic. "The forest? With no... food? No... homes? Winter... is... coming. You... will... die. Slower."
"Then what?!" shouted Chen Fu. "Fight?! We're farmers! They're soldiers!"
"Good," Long Wei said. "You... understand... the problem."
He took his crutch and began to draw in the damp earth. Simple lines. A square for the village. A winding line for the river.
"Now... listen... to the plan."
For ten minutes, Long Wei spoke.
And for the first time, his genius brain was unleashed on this world.
He did not speak of heroic battles. He spoke of mathematics.
"Ma Gou... has... fifteen... men," he said. "Maybe... he... brings... thirty... when he... returns. They... are strong. We... are weak."
He pointed to the drawing of the village. "Your... village... is wrong."
He drew a circle around the village square. "Too... many... entrances. The enemy... can... attack... from... anywhere."
He erased several lines. "Starting... tomorrow. We... close... all... paths. Leave... one."
"One entrance?" said a man. "That's madness! We'll be trapped!"
"We... are not... trapped," Long Wei said. "We... are... making... a funnel. We... are making... a kill zone."
The term sent a shiver through them.
"We... don't... build... walls," Long Wei continued, ignoring their fear. "No... time. We... dig... ditches. Here... here... and... here." He drew lines outside the new village perimeter. "Deep. Wide."
"What for?" asked Chen Fu, now reluctantly intrigued.
"To... slow... the horses," Long Wei said. "And... for... traps."
He then pointed to the forest surrounding the fields. "The forest... is... our friend. We... will... fill it... with teeth."
"Teeth?"
"Pit... traps. Sharpened... sticks (Punji traps). Snare... traps. Rock... falls. You... are hunters," he said, pointing to a few men he knew were trackers. "You... know... how to trap... a boar. Bandits... are boars. Just... smarter."
For an hour, he explained.
He spoke of moving watch posts to the tallest trees. He spoke of creating an alarm system using cowbells. He spoke of training the women and older children to boil water and oil, not for cooking, but to throw.
He was transforming a peaceful farming village, on a blueprint in the dirt, into a deadly fortress.
The men listened. The despair in their eyes slowly... very slowly... was replaced by something else. Something sharper.
This was not the plan of a hero. This was the plan of an intelligent demon. It was ruthless, cunning, and defensive.
"This is... insane," Chen Fu said, but there was no anger in his voice this time. Only a terrified awe. "It... might... work."
Long Wei stabbed his crutch into the center of the drawing.
"It... will... work," he said. "Because... Ma Gou... thinks... you are sheep. We... will... show him... that... sheep... can bite."
He looked around, from one face to another. He needed to lock in their loyalty.
"You... have... fifteen... days... to decide," he said, his voice flat. "Be... the hunter... or... the hunted. Be... Ma Gou's... slaves... or... be... free men."
He turned to Chen Fu. "First... job. Take... the axes. We... need... wood. Hundreds... of wooden... spears. Ends... burned... and sharpened. Not... for throwing. But... for... a wall."
He looked at Chen Yue, who stood in the hut's doorway, her eyes wide, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.
"Yue-meimei. Gather... the women. I need... every... rope... in this village. Every... single... piece."
No one moved for a second.
"NOW!"
The Lieutenant Colonel's voice cracked through the night air. It wasn't a yell. It was a command.
Thirty-four men, who had only ever known how to plow, suddenly stood straighter.
Chen Fu was the first to move. He grabbed his axe. "You heard him! Move!"
Lujing Village, the Village of the Serene Deer, awoke from its slumber. The sound of axes biting into trees under the torchlight split the night, signaling the start of a fifteen-day war.