Chapter Thirty-Nine: Born to Be a General

The vanguard was dead, the Coin Assassin was dead. The majority of the Flame Army had been wiped out by Phoenix alone. When they had been an organized force, they could mount a coordinated resistance; even Phoenix dared not take risks lightly under a barrage of disciplined volleys. But once Phoenix had shattered their formation, the soldiers scattered, and without unity, they were reduced to nothing more than ordinary gunmen. Phoenix lashed out, each whip strike felling one, sometimes a group, her ferocity both savage and cathartic.

It was members of the Marauder Organization who first realized things had gone awry. They were ruthless in killing, but even quicker to run when needed. Seeing Tang Fei kill the vanguard and the Flame Army suffering heavy losses, they immediately turned to flee the battlefield.

“Run, run! The Flame Army is finished, the White Robe is dead…”

“Brothers, retreat! Don’t throw your lives away here…”

“Men of the Tiger Society, follow me to the mountains…”

With their shouts, those gray-robed men, who had little will to resist to begin with, also started to flee. When the vanguard and the Flame Army had still been alive, they dared not run, fearing retribution from the Flame Shrine—fates worse than death awaited them. But now that both were finished, survival became paramount.

“No one gets away,” Tang Fei roared hoarsely. The master was dead, so many innocent villagers were dead. Every one of these men was a murderer.

Leading the charge, Tang Fei gripped his machete and gave chase, determined to cut down every last one. Little Fatty, ever loyal to Tang Fei, followed close behind—if his big brother said none should escape, he would pursue them to the ends of the earth.

In moments, the battle was utterly one-sided. The Flame Shrine, which had arrived in force with the vanguard and Coin Assassin—two powerful cultivators—an armed Flame Army, hundreds of gray robes, and over a thousand Marauders, had all but filled and trampled the village with their might. No one had imagined they would fall so quickly, or so completely.

Kill.

Kill.

Kill.

The slaughter raged until the sky was dark and rivers of blood flowed. Phoenix and the old man also heard Tang Fei’s anguished cry—“no one gets away.” The old man offered no objection; if the kid demanded none escape, then all would be sent to accompany the dead. Phoenix, who had been taught to “value harmony” and “never kill prisoners,” set those teachings aside. This had all been brought about because of her; these people came for her. When she saw the vanguard order the Flame Army to fire on unarmed civilians, a conviction grew within her: these were not men, but beasts, monsters.

If they were beasts, then all should be slaughtered. Nothing healed deeper than killing; nothing warmed more than blood. Tang Fei was wounded, and she, too, required healing. In a world such as this, mercy and kindness meant death. One must be kinder to the good, and harsher to the wicked.

No one knew how long the massacre lasted. By the time it ended, the machete Tang Fei had so recently sharpened was already dulled and chipped. Only when Little Fatty crushed the last skull did the battle finally draw to a close.

The vanguard was dead, the Coin Assassin was dead. The Flame Army was annihilated, not a single gray robe left alive. Corpses were piled along the roads, at the mountain’s edge, throughout the woods. Severed limbs and remains hung from branches and walls. Tang Fei, drenched in blood, stood among the bodies, his clothes soaked red, a vision of death itself come to earth.

In the village, the rescued survivors stared in stunned silence, faces drained of color by terror. Some fell to their knees, retching violently. They had hunted, perhaps even killed before, but never had they witnessed such carnage. Was this Hell? If not, what else could it be?

Silence. An oppressive, deathly silence. Only the howling wind, the sounds of retching, and the heart-wrenching cries of those who had lost loved ones pierced the stillness.

The wicked die, but so do the good.

“I’m alive…” Skinny Monkey crawled from a muddy heap, feeling his head, then his chest, before leaping up, shouting with joy, “Little Fatty, I’m alive! I’m not dead!” He’d been shot in the shoulder, the pain knocking him out cold. He’d thought he was on his way to the underworld, but woke to find himself still among the living.

Little Fatty rushed over, checked his wound, and said, “You’ll be fine, you’re not going to die.”

“I’m alive, too!”

“I’m still here…”

“Dad… Mom…”

Tang Fei walked to his master’s side and dropped to his knees. “Master…” His eyes were red, his voice choked with grief. The master was always reasoning with others, always so reasonable. Tang Fei had told him many times not to do so—this world was unreasonable, after all. The master would just laugh and say, “But you’re reasonable, aren’t you?” Tang Fei replied, “I’m only reasonable with the good; with the bad, I’m not.” The master would smile and say, “That’s what it means to be a man.”

Master, I hope you’ve gone to a place where there are people willing to listen to reason.

“Big brother…” Master’s youngest son, Huang You’an, crawled from the pile of bodies, eyes brimming with tears. “Big brother, my father’s gone… my brother’s gone too…” In the first volley, his elder brother had thrown him to the ground, shielding him with his own body from the bullets.

“It’ll be alright,” Tang Fei said, embracing Huang You’an, “from now on, you’ll live with us.” Huang You’an was gentle by nature and slow to act—every hunting trip, he returned empty-handed. Since his brother Huang You Sheng injured his leg, life for their family had only gotten harder. If not for Tang Fei’s help, they might have starved long ago. Now that both his master and brother were gone, it would be hard for Huang You’an to survive alone in this harsh land.

And he was not alone; there were many widows, orphans, the sick and aged who would find life hard. They had stood up for Tang Fei, and now he owed them an answer. The burden was heavy.

Now was not the time for grief. Standing, Tang Fei called out loudly, “Neighbors, friends! The Flame Shrine is no more, the Marauders of Hate Mountain are gone! Our good days are finally coming…”

To save people, one must first save their hearts. They needed hope, something to look forward to. They needed to know that, despite all the suffering and sacrifices, there had been a great victory.

Sure enough, as Tang Fei spoke, the dazed and hopeless villagers began to show glimmers of hope in their eyes. Yes, after this war, the Flame Shrine was gone, those damned Marauders were gone—the two mountains crushing them had been lifted all at once by Tang Fei.

“Is the Flame Shrine really gone? No one’s going to come collect protection money anymore?”

“God, the Marauders are gone too! No one’s coming to steal our grain… No more killers lurking in the mountains…”

“My son was murdered by them while hunting… those damned beasts, good riddance! They deserved to be torn apart…”

Tang Fei, seeing the survivors regaining some spirit, called out again, “Now, there are three things we must do. First, we must bury our loved ones. Let them rest in peace, let them leave with dignity. Don’t you all agree?”

The second step was to set a goal, solve problems, but most importantly, unite everyone as one. The more people worked together, the more quickly problems could be resolved.

“Yes,” the crowd responded. Returning to one’s roots, finding peace in the earth—these were obsessions rooted deep in every heart. They believed in souls and the afterlife; only by building a proper “house” for the dead could they rest comfortably below.

“For this task…” Tang Fei looked around and said, “Huang You’an, you will lead all the women of the village to see it done. Will you do it?”

“Yes, yes! I promise to complete the task,” Huang You’an replied, surprised to be given responsibility.

“The second task is to deal with the bodies of the Flame Army and the gray robes,” Tang Fei said coldly. “What did their White Robe say before the battle?”

“He said, ‘One man roasts, a group roasts all the same…’” someone answered.

Indeed, everyone remembers grudges. When the chance comes, the hate pours out.

“Fine, they meant to roast us, now we’ll roast them,” Tang Fei declared. “Dig a big pit, pile their bodies in, and light it up… make the pit wide, and the fire hot.”

Looking around, he continued, “Little Fatty, you’re in charge of this.”

“Don’t worry, big brother, I’ll roast them till they’re crispy,” Little Fatty replied, grinning, his face and body smeared with blood.

Tang Fei felt a twinge of unease—this glutton…

He’d better keep himself in check.

“The third matter is grain.” Tang Fei continued, “The Flame Army is gone, the Flame Shrine is crippled, the Marauders are finished… There must be stores of grain and goods in their bases. We must find their lairs and bring all their supplies back…”

“I promise you all, no matter how much we recover, everyone will get a share, divided equally by headcount…”

“If anyone makes a significant contribution, or reveals the Marauders’ headquarters, there will be generous rewards…”

The old man watched Tang Fei in the midst of the crowd, passionate and methodical, assigning every task with clarity. Spitting rudely on the ground, he muttered, “That boy’s a born general.”

“(๑•.•๑!)” Phoenix glanced over in surprise, suspecting the old man knew her ambitions.

She wanted to be a general—the god of war for the Phoenix Empire.

(P.S.: Friends, I’ve seen your suggestions and comments. I added some content at the end of Chapter 15, ‘Seeds.’ If you’re interested, go check it out. Also, please give some encouragement and patience to this new lv5 author just starting out. Old Liu is confident the writing will only get better. And one more thing—double monthly tickets, please! If you don’t vote now, the magic will end soon, and one ticket won’t become two…)