From Mazong Ridge in the Dabie Mountains, the Eight Great Kings led his army westward.
Their destination was Macheng.
He had taken this road many times before. In fact, he knew it better than most county magistrates knew the streets of their own towns. Years ago, when Lu Xiangsheng had driven him deep into the Dabie Mountains, he had escaped by slipping along this very mountain path. The ridges, the ravines, the hidden gullies where fog gathered at dawn, all of them were etched into his memory.
The rebel army pushed forward with difficulty, climbing slopes, descending narrow tracks, dragging carts, hauling the wounded, cursing the rocks beneath their feet.
Several days passed.
Cheng Xu's musket troops had been left far behind.
Sun Kewang wiped sweat from his brow and said, "Adoptive Father, once we cross a few more ridges and travel several more li through the mountain road, we will reach Macheng."
The Eight Great Kings nodded slowly.
"If Macheng does not have their men stationed there, we will break out cleanly. From there we can circle back toward the outskirts of Wuchang and start again."
He had barely finished speaking when Pan D'ao pointed toward the western sky.
"Look. That thing again. The oversized Kongming lantern."
All the rebel leaders raised their heads.
Sure enough, above the peak ahead floated a massive sphere.
It was one of those peculiar hot air balloons used by the strange musket troops for reconnaissance.
But this one was different.
Painted boldly across its surface was a gigantic rabbit head. Even from a great distance, the smiling rabbit could be seen clearly.
"What does the rabbit mean?" someone muttered.
"No idea."
The Eight Great Kings cursed under his breath.
"So they have blocked the west as well. They truly mean to leave me no road of survival."
Sun Kewang hesitated.
"Adoptive Father, what should we do? Change direction?"
"No need."
A smug smile slowly spread across the Eight Great Kings' face.
"These strange musket soldiers have made a grave mistake. Their reconnaissance balloon."
Sun Kewang blinked.
"The balloon lets them look down from high altitude and track my movements. But because it floats in the open sky, it is equally conspicuous. It exposes their own position."
He gestured around them.
"I know this terrain well. Once I know where their musket troops are stationed, I can easily go around them."
Sun Kewang's eyes lit up.
"So that is it."
The Eight Great Kings waved his arm decisively.
"Turn the army. Take the gully to the left. Advance half a li, then turn right."
The rebel army shifted direction and plunged into the left-hand ravine. The path twisted and curved through dense forest. The more they walked, the farther they moved from the direction of that balloon.
The Eight Great Kings finally exhaled.
Then he looked up.
Ahead, above another peak, floated yet another balloon.
"Adoptive Father, another one!" Sun Kewang cried.
The Eight Great Kings snorted.
"I know that peak. The ground below is steep and defensible. It would indeed be an excellent place to block me. But they have revealed themselves. Do they think I will foolishly walk into them? Hah. Turn left again. Enter this ravine."
The rebels continued weaving through the mountains like a swarm of confused locusts.
"Another balloon over there!"
"That does not trouble me. Follow me. There is a hidden path here."
"Rabbit on this one too. And it is smiling. I hate that smile."
"Ignore it. This way."
They walked and walked.
Finally, a concealed valley appeared before them. Once inside, the terrain dipped inward in such a way that balloons floating overhead would be unable to see within. It was a perfect place to evade surveillance, to rest, to gather strength before striking back.
When they reached the valley floor, the Eight Great Kings burst into laughter.
"Now we need not worry. No matter how many troops they send to encircle me, I can grow strong again here."
He had just finished speaking when a head popped out from the rocky cliff beside him.
The man laughed twice.
"Even if you are cunning as a ghost, Eight Great Kings, you must still drink this Rabbit Lord's foot-washing water."
Before the Eight Great Kings could react, another man appeared and yanked the first one backward.
"Rabbit Lord, the battle has started. Stop posturing."
"Hey, Gouzi, let me finish showing off."
"Show off your head. You have ruined the ambush effect."
He turned and shouted, "Do not wait for the rabbit's order. He has a problem. Open fire."
The Eight Great Kings froze.
A thunderous boom split the valley.
Ambush.
Cannons roared from both sides.
Flat Rabbit did not command an enormous force. He and Zheng Gouzi each led one thousand veteran Gao Family Village militia, two thousand in total. In addition, several thousand newly recruited militia from Sichuan had joined them, but these recruits were still undergoing ideological and political training. They could not yet be entrusted with advanced weapons.
Thus the primary firepower came from the two thousand veteran militia.
Light howitzers.
Grenades.
Explosions rained down from both sides of the valley.
Within moments the valley became a cauldron of fire and smoke. The sound of blasts rose and fell like waves crashing against stone.
The Eight Great Kings' face drained of color.
Trapped in a valley and bombarded from above.
This was disaster.
Large numbers of rebels lost all will to flee. They collapsed to the ground, trembling, hands over their heads.
Those who lay down and did not move would inevitably be captured alive.
The Eight Great Kings refused such an ending.
With a furious roar, he gathered his closest and most ferocious bandits and turned back toward the way they had come.
The valley floor was chaos. His own men lay everywhere, some wounded, some simply paralyzed by fear.
He did not care.
He stepped on their backs as he ran. Once his foot slipped and there was a sharp crack beneath him. He had crushed one man's neck.
He did not even glance down.
Dead was dead. Survival came first.
As he ran, a cluster of his own subordinates blocked the narrow exit path.
"Move!" he roared.
They were too terrified by the explosions to respond, running in circles like headless flies.
The Eight Great Kings drew his blade and began cutting.
He slashed through his own men, carving a path forward in blood.
His savagery stunned even his loyalists.
Those non-core followers who witnessed the scene felt a chill creep into their hearts.
His second adopted son, Zhang Dingguo, could not help shouting, "Adoptive Father, you cannot treat our own men like this."
The Eight Great Kings barked back, "Anyone who blocks my path is not my own man."
Zhang Dingguo fell silent.
The Eight Great Kings continued hacking forward.
Suddenly, a dull thud sounded nearby.
He turned his head.
A grenade had landed close by, its fuse hissing.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a terrified subordinate from beside him and pulled him in front as a shield.
The grenade exploded.
Fragments tore into the subordinate's body.
The Eight Great Kings, sheltered behind him, remained completely unharmed.
He tossed the corpse aside and continued running.
Zhang Dingguo inhaled sharply.
In that instant, for the first time in his life, a faint thought rose within him.
Perhaps he had mistaken a thief for a father.
Perhaps this adoptive father was not worth having.
Perhaps he should reclaim his original name.
Li Dingguo.
The thought had barely formed when a deafening explosion erupted behind him. A wave of heat struck his back and hurled him forward through the air.
He hit the ground heavily.
Darkness swallowed his vision.
And he knew nothing more.