Mi Qianhu was completely stunned by the sight of the "immortal giant chicken wing" before him, his mind blank and his tongue useless.
A group of local Xi'an Jinyiwei approached, escorted the tightly bound Mi Qianhu and his men downstairs, and rather unexpectedly placed them into the queue.
The local Jinyiwei Baihu spoke earnestly.
"Tianzun has said that you and your men have not truly committed any crime. You were restrained only to prevent news from reaching the capital. To be honest, that measure was somewhat improper, merely an expedient and not entirely just. Therefore you should not be treated as criminals. This Day of Pacifying the Wandering Bandits is a celebration for all. You should share in the joy and receive a portion."
Mi Qianhu's mouth opened and closed twice, but no words emerged.
When his turn finally came, the local Jinyiwei untied his ropes and nudged him lightly.
For reasons he could not explain, Mi Qianhu extended both hands as if accepting alms.
"I… I have a hearty appetite. A larger piece, please."
The yamen runner brought his blade down and cut a generous slab of chicken into Mi Qianhu's palms.
He bit down.
Fragrance exploded across his tongue. The Orleans roasted flavor was unlike anything he had tasted in his life.
He lifted his head slowly, gazing at the drifting clouds above.
"So there truly are immortals," he murmured. "No wonder everything I have seen in Shaanxi has felt unreal."
Zhu Cunji leaned closer. "Well? Will you still report everything here to the capital?"
Mi Qianhu swallowed.
"Even… even if immortals exist… my loyalty to His Majesty remains unwavering. The presence of immortals does not diminish my loyalty."
Zhu Cunji raised a brow. "And how will you write your report? That there is a god in Shaanxi teaching the emperor how to govern, and that His Majesty should kneel properly to receive instruction?"
Mi Qianhu froze.
He knew very well that such words, once spoken, would cost him his head.
After a long pause, he lowered his gaze in pain.
"Then… it is better not to report this matter."
Behind him, his twenty four subordinates nodded in unison. "Better not to report."
Mi Qianhu frowned. "Why are your voices so unclear?"
One of them replied thickly, "We are eating chicken."
He turned around.
All twenty four men stood there with mouths gleaming with oil. One still had a chunk of meat bulging in his cheek, chewing industriously.
Mi Qianhu suddenly felt that perhaps, just perhaps, silence was the wisest form of loyalty.
---
At the same time.
Yan'an. Baota Mountain Reform Through Labor Camp.
Li Dingguo sat before the television, watching the news broadcast to its conclusion. When the report declared that the Eight Great Kings had been shot dead in Red Stone Valley of the Dabie Mountains, tears slipped quietly down his face.
In the final moment before their separation, he had seen clearly the kind of man his adoptive father truly was. Now, hearing of his death, an indescribable complexity twisted within his chest.
After a long silence, he sighed softly.
"So this is what people mean by good rewarded and evil repaid."
---
While the mainland rejoiced in the destruction of the bandits, the sea roared with a different story.
Boom.
A cannon roared. A shell from a Dutch culverin slammed into the hull of Xiao Hei No.1 with a metallic crash. The aluminum alloy armor plate deflected it cleanly, but the impact transmitted a violent tremor through the ship's frame, causing sailors behind the plating to feel the shudder in their bones.
Ten year old E'zhe was thrown to the deck and rolled twice.
He still could not maintain balance like the veteran sailors. Any sudden vibration would send him sprawling.
Yet Mongol children were sturdy and uncomplaining.
He sprang back to his feet with a quick kip up and laughed.
"The enemy cannot penetrate our armor!"
Clang.
A second shot struck.
E'zhe hit the deck again.
From the deck not far away came the furious roar of Yao Xingjuan.
"Seven ships against one. We withdraw for today!"
E'zhe protested, "They cannot break our armor. Why retreat?"
Yao Xingjuan barked a laugh. "Child, what do you know? At this range we can at most punch holes in their hulls. Sinking them outright is nearly impossible. We are too few to board them. If we close in for hand to hand fighting, their numbers will overwhelm us. We fire a few rounds and leave. That is the proper course."
E'zhe paused, then nodded.
He understood now. A single ship against seven meant boarding was suicide. Once locked in close combat, artillery became useless, and manpower would decide the outcome.
"If only Mongol cavalry could ride across the sea," E'zhe muttered. "Send ten thousand men aboard and chop the Dutch to pieces."
Yao Xingjuan burst into laughter. "Then we would need a ship capable of carrying ten thousand men. Imagine the fleet required."
E'zhe fell silent.
"The strength of a navy lies in how many ships it possesses," Yao Xingjuan continued, "not in how many men stand on one deck. Helm, turn about. Withdraw."
Xiao Hei No.1 pivoted and disengaged.
Its speed far surpassed that of the Dutch sailing vessels. Once the steam paddle wheels spun to full power, it surged forward, leaving the wind driven ships cursing in its wake. Soon even their foamy trails vanished from sight.
Ahead, the shoreline came into view.
It was the same village Xiao Hei No.1 had previously aided with grain and weapons.
This time, the villagers did not flee in fear. Many ran to the shore, waving enthusiastically at the approaching vessel.
At Yao Xingjuan's order, Xiao Hei No.1 drew close.
A villager with darkened skin and features suggesting Southeast Asian heritage stepped forward, bowed deeply, and spoke in a rapid tongue none aboard could understand.
Soon several villagers carried a large wicker basket to the beach and set it down.
Clearly, they meant to offer a gift to their benefactors.
A sailor from Gaocun jumped ashore and examined the contents, looking baffled.
"Boss, it appears to be some sort of fruit. Strange shape. Like the clustered bumps atop a Buddha statue's head."
Yao Xingjuan laughed heartily. "A curious thing indeed. I have never seen its like."
He picked one up, turning it in his hands, uncertain how to eat it.
On shore, a villager demonstrated by splitting one open, revealing snow white flesh within, and taking a bite.
Understanding dawned.
Yao Xingjuan followed suit, cracked one apart, and bit down.
Sweetness burst across his tongue.
"Excellent!" he declared. "You bring us such a basket of rare fruit, and we must of course return the courtesy. Bring them another basket of grain."
The sailors promptly carried a basket of grain ashore and set it upon the sand.
The villagers' faces lit with joy. They waved vigorously at the ship, making expressive gestures that transcended language.
Though no words were shared, all understood the meaning.
Welcome back again.