Before long, the air around the dock was filled with the satisfying crunch of fried dough twists being devoured. Each bite was a sweet little victory against the long, tiring days of drought and hunger.
To modern eyes, fried dough twists—mahua—might seem like a simple, even unremarkable snack, but to those who had lived through years of famine, every crispy twist was a small piece of heaven. Lao Nanfeng, eyes gleaming with tears of gratitude, munched happily, his face lit up by the simplest pleasure.
"Ah, my glorious Central Plains!" he sighed dramatically, his hands pressed to his chest as if he were lamenting the loss of a long-lost lover. "How many good things you possess! How could I ever leave you?"
With the three large cargo ships fully unloaded, the captain, also holding a fried dough twist in hand, waved at Lao Nanfeng, giving him a meaningful glance before bellowing, "Set sail! We're heading home!"
As the ships began to head upstream, Lao Nanfeng's mood lifted. He shoved the last bite of his fried dough twist into his mouth, crunching it with joy. Without missing a beat, he swiftly climbed up to the tallest watchtower, his hands still sticky with oil.
Two sentries, peering into the distance with binoculars, glanced up as he approached.
Lao Nanfeng, wiping crumbs from his mouth, whispered, "Did you see anything?"
"Yes, sir," one sentry muttered, lowering the binoculars. "As soon as the ships left the shore, a person darted out of the woods and galloped off north."
A sly, almost devilish grin spread across Lao Nanfeng's face. "Excellent, excellent!" He turned to the others, exuding an air of supreme confidence. "Get the firearm soldiers ready. Everyone to the firing slits!"
The sentries quickly scrambled to follow orders. Lao Nanfeng descended the watchtower, grabbed a random soldier from the Gao Family Village Militia, and patted him on the shoulder. "Get ready for battle, my friend. The wooden stockade is only one layer thick, and there's no room at the top to defend like a city wall. No rolling logs or falling stones this time. We'll need to use different tactics."
His eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, "But we can dig firing slits, and that will help us make sure these bandits don't get too comfortable."
The cavalrymen—two hundred-plus of them—stood ready, waiting for their orders. Lao Nanfeng raised a hand and grinned. "You all stay here. Don't move unless I give the word."
The soldiers, ever obedient, nodded in unison. "As you command, sir!"
A tense atmosphere spread across the stockade. Villagers, noticing the increased activity, began whispering among themselves.
"Did you see that? They're gearing up for battle!" one villager muttered.
"Are we fighting now?" another asked, eyes wide.
"It's gotta be the rebels, right?" a third voice trembled.
The murmurs swelled into panic. "Oh no! Our cannon ships just left! Are the rebels waiting for us to be defenseless?" someone shouted.
A wave of fear rippled through the villagers. How could a few hundred salt smugglers possibly hold off thousands of rebels?
In the midst of the chaos, Zhan Seng calmly surveyed the situation, his deep sigh a signal that he had already grasped what needed to be done.
"Everyone, grab your tools!" he commanded with a firm voice. "Hoedowns, rakes, pot lids, dung scoops—take whatever you can get your hands on! You've all eaten your fill these last few days, and now you've got the strength to fight. Don't let the rebels intimidate you. They're no stronger than you!"
One villager, confused, hesitated. "Master, we've got everything, but we don't have any dung scoops!"
Zhan Seng's face twisted in exasperation, and his bald head practically started to steam. "Do you really think this humble monk's point was about dung scoops?! Can you not grasp the true essence of my words?!"
Meanwhile, in the approaching rebel army led by the infamous Old Zhang Fei, the atmosphere was one of brutal determination.
Old Zhang Fei—looking remarkably like the bandit chieftain he was—howled, "Those salt smugglers killed my adopted son, Little Zhang Bao! I want them to suffer a fate worse than death!"
But then his tone shifted, growing more animated. "But before that, there's something much more important!" He spread his arms wide and shouted, "Three cargo ships filled with grain! That's what we need! You know what that means, right? Wealth! Freedom from hunger!"
The rebels, hungry and desperate, roared in unison. Forget vengeance—the real prize was the food.
Their morale surged. Old Zhang Fei grinned inwardly, watching his men get worked into a frenzy. If they could break through the stockade and seize those ships, they'd have all the grain they could ever want.
As the bandits stormed forward, they carried thick wooden planks to shield themselves from gunfire. These planks, thick as an arm and heavy as guilt, were perfect for absorbing bullets.
"Bring those planks!" Zhang Fei barked. "We don't need to be afraid of their guns—our hunger's more dangerous than their bullets!"
Back inside the stockade, Lao Nanfeng, eyes narrowed, surveyed the situation from a distance. "General Gao," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "this means the rebels have wiped out the villages around Puzhou. Those who survived have either fled into the city or ended up here."
Gao Chuwu, always the pragmatist, scratched his head. "So, they're down to looting grain. Got it. But we can't let them escape with it."
Lao Nanfeng flashed a grin. "Well, if they don't attack Puzhou City, they'll be forced to leave the area, and we can finally stop them."
Gao Chuwu's eyes lit up. "So… we kill Old Zhang Fei, right? We finish this once and for all?"
Lao Nanfeng clapped him on the shoulder. "Exactly! Kill him, kill them all!"
"Good! Let's go kill 'em!" Gao Chuwu roared, cracking his knuckles.
Outside the stockade, Old Zhang Fei rallied his troops, his voice carrying through the night air. "All of you, remember what we're fighting for! This isn't just about vengeance—it's about survival. We're taking those ships, and when we do, we eat like kings!"
The rebels cheered, their enthusiasm reaching fever pitch.
But as they prepared to breach the stockade, they had no idea what awaited them.