The sky had yet to lighten, and a thick fog cloaked Gudong Village, as if the heavens had drawn a curtain for the bloodshed to come. The quiet morning shattered under the thud of urgent hooves, alerting the sentries at the village entrance.
"Who goes there?" Young Along raised his hand cannon, poised for action.
"Friendly! Li Shan!" a familiar voice called from the mist.
Along lowered his weapon but remained vigilant. A gaunt horse emerged, carrying Li Shan, the scout Zijian had sent to town. His clothes were tattered, his face haggard.
"Quick, take me to the boss!" Li Shan gasped, barely coherent.
Sensing his panic, Along rushed him to Zijian's hut.
Zijian, just risen from bed, sensed trouble at the frantic knocking. He threw on his clothes, Peishi swiftly helping him dress.
"Enter."
Li Shan stumbled in, nearly collapsing. "Boss, disaster! The Yuan plan to burn Gudong Village!"
"When?" Zijian's eyes sharpened like blades.
"Three days from now!" Li Shan pulled a crumpled paper from his chest. "I saw Yuan soldiers passing messages in a tavern and risked my life to steal this!"
Zijian unfolded the note. The scrawled words were clear: *"Burn Gudong, surround but don't kill, wait for reinforcements, then slaughter and raze."*
"Fire attack—a brutal Yuan tactic," Zijian thought, his heart sinking. "This strategy razed countless villages in the late Yuan uprisings."
In the chaotic late Yuan, the Mongol army often used scorched-earth tactics to crush rebellions. They'd burn villages to destroy defenses and supplies, trap survivors, and slaughter them when reinforcements arrived. It conserved troops while terrorizing regions, but its cruelty was monstrous.
"Sound the gong, gather everyone in the square—life or death hangs in the balance!" Zijian ordered.
The gong rang urgently, and within moments, over three hundred villagers assembled in the central square. Their faces showed anxiety or resolve, gripping weapons. Since repelling the last Yuan squad, Gudong had become a beacon of resistance, its people evolving from timid farmers into defiant fighters.
Zijian stood on a platform, his gaze piercing the crowd. Peishi stood by his side, clutching the jade pendant at her chest, eyes full of worry. Old Li, frail but resolute, stood at the front, trembling as he asked, "Chongba, what do we do?"
Zijian scanned the crowd and declared, "Three days from now, the Yuan army will descend, planning to burn our village, trap us, and slaughter us when reinforcements arrive!"
Gasps and clenched fists rippled through the crowd.
"But," his voice cut through the murmurs, "they will fail!"
Silence fell, all eyes locked on him.
"I have a plan," Zijian said confidently. "Though their numbers are great, every tree has dead branches. Our youth squad will infiltrate their camp and behead their general. Then, with the village's full strength, we'll counter-encircle and crush the remnants!"
"A decapitation strike?" someone asked, uncertain.
"Exactly!" Zijian's tone was ironclad. "The Yuan rely on numbers, but only a tenth are truly skilled. Without their leader, the rest are a rabble."
This was a lesson from modern military history. In the age of cold weapons, a commander's loss could unravel an army, leaving soldiers directionless.
"But… it's too dangerous," Peishi stepped forward, whispering, her eyes brimming with concern.
Zijian squeezed her hand, whispering back, "I know it's risky, but without this, the village is doomed. I'll lead the team and return safely."
Peishi, understanding the stakes, turned to the crowd and shouted, "With one bold strike, we'll break the enemy! We fight to the death!"
"Fight to the death!" the villagers roared, morale soaring.
"We trust you, Chongba!" a voice called, sparking more cheers.
Zijian's heart warmed, but the weight of responsibility pressed harder. He felt the burden Emperor Hongwu must have borne—carrying a people's hopes, with no choice but to forge ahead.
---
The selection was swift: ten elite youths, the best from daily training, stood ready. In the village's training field, they held their heads high, though tension flickered in their eyes.
Zijian faced them, his gaze stern. "You are the finest of the fine. This battle's success rests on you."
"We won't fail you, Brother Chongba!" they replied, voices trembling slightly.
His eyes settled on Tiger, the boldest youth, now looking down, a flicker of fear in his gaze. Zijian clapped his shoulder. "Fear is human. Conquer it, and you'll be a hero."
Training began in the forest. First was blindfolded stealth—night raids demanded reliance on senses other than sight. Tiger, blindfolded, stumbled through the woods, tripping over branches. Gritting his teeth, he rose each time, gradually dodging obstacles.
"Good!" Zijian nodded. "Stealth relies on ears, not eyes. Listen to the wind to navigate."
Next was rapid-fire training with hand cannons. Aniu, steady-handed, hit ten targets in a row. Tiger struggled, but Zijian coached patiently, "Eyes on the target, mind clear—three parts skill, seven parts focus."
By dawn, Tiger hit three consecutive shots, his progress striking.
The final training was close-quarters combat—the harshest but most vital. Zijian demonstrated Jeet Kune Do, shattering a wooden target with a fierce elbow strike, splinters flying.
"Remember," he told the pale-faced youths, "if the enemy lives, you die!"
Tiger hesitated in sparring, and Zijian's face hardened. "Assassination is merciless. Hesitation kills you and your brothers."
The rebuke hit hard. Shame and resolve flashed in Tiger's eyes. In the next drill, he drove his knife through the target's center, the handle embedding in the wood.
"That's the Tiger I need!" Zijian grinned, clapping his shoulder.
Three days passed in a blur, and the night of battle arrived.
---
The night was ink-black, the moon hidden, as if unwilling to witness the bloodshed. The Yuan army camped outside the village, their torches like stars lighting half the sky.
Per the plan, villagers staged a skirmish on the west side, luring the Yuan's main force away and leaving the rear camp vulnerable.
Zijian led the ten youths, clad in black, faces smeared with charcoal, slipping silently from the eastern woods into the enemy camp. The wind howled, torches flickered, and tents stretched like a sea, banners flapping.
"Remember," Zijian whispered before they set out, "one goal: behead the general, then retreat. No lingering, no splitting up."
The youths nodded, eyes blazing with resolve.
The infiltration went smoothly, Tiger's blindfold training proving its worth as he led them past most sentries. But near the main tent, two guards blocked their path, eyes sharp.
Tiger and Aniu exchanged a glance, raised their hand cannons, and fired. Two muffled shots dropped the guards silently. But the noise drew the attention of the general's elite guard, and several Yuan soldiers charged with blades drawn.
Zijian's eyes turned cold. He flashed forward, smashing a fist into the first soldier's throat, a crack silencing him instantly. A sweeping kick shattered the second's knee, felling him.
"Who dares?!" a roar bellowed from the tent. A towering general in armor, wielding a long spear, stormed out.
"Your doom!" Zijian sneered, facing him head-on.
The general's spear thrust like a dragon toward Zijian's face. He dodged, closing in to land an elbow strike to the general's jaw. The general staggered but recovered, swinging his spear at Zijian's waist.
As Zijian evaded, Tiger lunged, wrapping his arms around the general's legs. Furious, the general redirected his spear, piercing Tiger's shoulder. Blood sprayed, and Tiger cried out but held fast.
"Tiger!" Zijian roared. Seizing the moment, he drove his dagger into the general's abdomen. As the general doubled over, Zijian slashed upward, severing his head. It soared and rolled into the dust.
The bloody scene froze the youths, but the elite guard's counterattack snapped them back. Dozens of Yuan soldiers surged forward, murder in their eyes.
"Retreat!" Zijian yanked the wounded Tiger, racing back the way they came.
Aniu and Aleopard covered the rear, their cannons felling several pursuers. But the enemy's numbers overwhelmed, and danger closed in.
"My savior, go! I'll hold them!" Aniu shouted, eyes resolute.
Before Zijian could respond, Aleopard shoved Aniu aside, charging the enemy. "Aniu, your cannon's more use. I'll do this!"
Aleopard, wielding a short blade, danced like an ape, cutting down several foes. But soon, dozens surrounded him, wounds multiplying on his body.
"My savior, live!" Aleopard shouted back, his eyes fierce with defiance. "Let me rest proud in the grave!"
He was engulfed by the enemy tide. Zijian's eyes burned with rage, wanting to turn back, but Along and Aniu pulled him away.
"My savior, Aleopard gave his life for our escape. Don't waste it!" Along choked, tears streaming.
Zijian clenched his jaw, leading the team to safety. Behind them, Aleopard's screams mixed with Yuan roars, fading into the distance.
Meanwhile, the village's signal pyre blazed. Seeing the general's head raised by the returning youths, the main force's morale surged. Hand cannons roared, and villagers poured forth, overwhelming the disorganized Yuan ranks.
Without their commander, the Yuan collapsed, scattering by dawn. The battlefield fell silent, littered with ruins and corpses. Gudong Village had won a crushing victory.
---
Zijian stood at the village entrance, holding the general's head, his face devoid of triumph, heavy with grief. Aleopard's sacrifice, Tiger's wounds, and the villagers' losses weighed like stones on his heart.
Peishi rushed from the crowd, embracing him, tears soaking his tunic. "You're back… really back…" Her voice trembled, as if fearing it was a dream.
Zijian stroked her hair, his voice hoarse. "Aleopard and Tiger paid with their lives. Though we won, the Yuan stands. I'll topple this rotten dynasty for a peaceful world—for you."
In that moment, he was no longer just a time-traveler but a part of this era. He understood why Emperor Hongwu rose from a humble monk to a founding emperor—not just ambition and strategy, but duty and purpose.
They held each other as dawn broke, illuminating the bloodstained ground. Villagers gathered, some weeping for the fallen, others cheering the victory.
Amid the cries of triumph, Zijian's resolve hardened. This was only the beginning. The road ahead was long, but he was ready. In the late Yuan's chaos, he would rise from this village to a grander stage.
Beyond Gudong, the enemy's banners lay trampled, replaced by a simple red flag, fluttering as a symbol of resistance and hope.
Zijian gazed at the flag, a grander vision forming. This wasn't just survival—it was about reshaping an era. History might shift because of him, but so what? Fate had brought him here, and he would make this journey matter.
"The late Yuan's chaos stirs anew," he thought. "I've gained a foothold. Now, it's time to expand."