The centurion's mood had entered a strange state of forced bravery.
Whether he actually felt courageous no longer mattered. He had to act courageous.
After all, several hundred muskets were pointed straight at him.
He knew very well that if he so much as stuttered, let alone showed hesitation, he would instantly be perforated into a human sieve. So he made his decision on the spot—
Fine. I'll play the hero.
Defending Xinma Fort was his assigned duty to begin with. And now, with over two thousand reinforcements at his back, it wasn't as hopeless as he'd first imagined.
Yes, the Manchu army numbered thirty thousand.
But they wouldn't all come charging at some tiny backwater fort like Xinma.
At most, this would be a small raiding detachment.
With that thought, courage—borrowed, stitched together, and slightly fraudulent—slowly crept back into the centurion's chest.
No more running.
Time to go back.
Just then—
From both sides of Kouqian Gorge, large numbers of soldiers suddenly emerged from concealment, their ranks spreading wide like a tide released from behind the mountains.
The sight was overwhelming.
Their uniforms were spotless.
Their armor gleamed.
Their equipment was identical down to the smallest detail.
Every step was orderly. Every formation precise.
They were elite troops—there was no mistaking it.
Even the border army of Datong Prefecture didn't possess gear this impressive.
The centurion's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Unable to restrain himself, he edged closer to Wang Er and whispered carefully, "Esteemed… General… may I ask your honorable name?"
Wang Er flicked him a sideways glance, then looked away, clearly uninterested.
He had always disliked official soldiers.
Bai Mao stepped out from beside him instead and replied in a low voice, "Where we're from, we can't tell you. You understand."
The centurion studied Bai Mao and immediately sensed that familiar aura—someone who had navigated the system before. This man was definitely an officer from the imperial military.
He leaned closer and whispered, "I get it. You left your garrison without authorization to fight the Manchus, didn't you?"
Bai Mao chuckled. "Sharp eyes."
The centurion cursed softly. "Damn it. The higher-ups put too many shackles on us soldiers. Don't go here, don't go there—always afraid we'll rebel."
Bai Mao nodded. "Soldiers still have to follow rules. If the army stopped obeying them, the country would fall into chaos. It's just that the rules made by those above are a bit… rigid. And the people who make them aren't always good ones. That's why we're tied hand and foot."
The centurion nodded furiously. "Yes, yes! Exactly! You say it far better than I ever could."
Arrangements were quickly made.
The soldiers' families were hidden away in a secluded corner of Kouqian Gorge, while the centurion himself led sixty of his men to follow behind Bai Mao's force.
On the surface, Bai Mao was the commander.
But everyone knew the truth.
The real one giving orders was Wang Er.
Wang Er said nothing. He simply led the army forward in silence.
Watching his back, the centurion whispered to Bai Mao, "Your chief… he's really hard to get along with."
Bai Mao instantly raised a fist. "Watch your mouth. My elder brother's righteousness is as vast as the sky, and he's respected by all. Speak ill of him again and I'll hit you."
The centurion flinched, shut up immediately, then hurriedly changed the topic.
"Your army is terrifyingly strong. So many men, all fully equipped—and everyone's carrying a musket! What kind of newly rich army is this? I'm just curious—where did you get the money?"
Bai Mao narrowed his eyes. "You're the first border centurion I've met with this many questions. The last one I knew was cold and ruthless—his smile alone made people feel like he was about to kill them."
"Ah—choo!"
Far away, in the Gao Family Business District, Chen Qianhu—who had just bought an arm-length white radish—let out a thunderous sneeze.
It was so violent it nearly dislocated his jaw.
He immediately began rubbing his chin, his face twisting through a rapid succession of expressions:
I'll hack you to death.
I'll eat you alive.
I'll slaughter your entire family and feed them to the dogs.
The vegetable hawker, watching Chen Qianhu knead his own face with terrifying intensity, nearly fainted on the spot.
"Don't take my money!" the hawker screamed. "All the vegetables are yours!"
Chen Qianhu froze. "???"
The hawker turned and ran for his life.
Chen Qianhu panicked. Why was he running? He hadn't even paid yet! The Gao Family Village's Three Disciplines and Eight Points of Attention clearly stated that not even a needle or thread could be taken from the common people. Taking free vegetables was a serious military violation!
"Don't run! Come back!" Chen Qianhu shouted.
The hawker ran even faster. "Don't you dare—come closer!"
"Don't run!" Chen Qianhu chased after him.
Thus began a ridiculous scene.
One chased. One fled.
They sprinted through the busiest section of the Gao Family Business District.
To onlookers, it looked like Chen Qianhu was rubbing his chin with one hand while gripping an arm-length white radish in the other—like a blade—furiously pursuing a helpless hawker.
The crowd gasped in horror.
"Oh no!"
"Commander Chen Qianhu is chasing a hawker with a white radish!"
"The legendary Radish Blade Technique?!"
The hawker ran through two streets but was no match for a soldier who trained daily. Chen Qianhu caught up in a few strides, reached out, and grabbed his arm.
The hawker, terrified out of his mind, spun around. "I was wrong! I was wrong! I'll do anything—just don't kill me!"
Chen Qianhu sighed. "Why are you wailing like a ghost? I'm not buying this radish. I'm just returning it to you, alright?"
He shoved the white radish back into the hawker's arms.
Already weak-kneed from running, the hawker staggered and collapsed to the ground.
To the horrified spectators, it looked like Chen Qianhu had just stabbed the hawker in the chest with the radish. The hawker clutched the "blade" and fell dramatically.
Chen Qianhu clapped his hands, turned around, and walked away, shaking his head. "Strange. What was that all about?"
Seeing the entire street staring at him in silence, he frowned. "What are you all looking at me for?"
The crowd whispered in terror, "Don't make eye contact—he'll kill you! Run!"
Everyone scattered like startled birds.
Meanwhile—
Wang Er, Bai Mao, the centurion, and over two thousand soldiers arrived at Xinma Fort.
The small earthen fort stood quietly, its crumbling walls seeming to whisper stories of the Ming Dynasty's early Hongwu glory.
Not every border fort had been built carelessly. Each one occupied a location of strategic importance.
Xinma Fort was no exception.
It guarded a vast stretch of villages southwest of Yingzhou. If it held, dozens of villages behind it would be spared. If it fell, countless common people would be slaughtered.
Wang Er glanced at the pitiful fort and shook his head. "Too small. It's useless. It can't accommodate two thousand men."
Bai Mao immediately barked, "Engineer Battalion!"
A soldier stepped forward and saluted. "Engineer Battalion present!"
"Construct defensive positions immediately."
"Understood!"
The engineers got to work at once, tools flashing.
Ordinary soldiers joined in as well.
They dug relentlessly around Xinma Fort.
Foxholes.
Trenches.
One after another.
In no time, the defensive perimeter expanded outward, transforming the surrounding area into a full Gao Family Village-style defensive position.
Two thousand musketeers leapt into their trenches and foxholes, quickly taking up their assigned positions.
Xinma Fort—
Was no longer standing alone.