Chapter 19: Divine Retribution (Part Two)

The banner emblazoned with the character for "Righteousness" flapped loudly in the wind as the camp of the Brotherhood Bustle was busy slaughtering pigs and sheep. The entire stronghold bustled with activity, preparing for the wedding of the third chief, Han Wujiao.

Han Wujiao sat in the courtyard, basking in sunlight, listening to his concubine play the lute and sing soft melodies. His mood was extraordinarily good; he felt that such comfort and freedom in life made his existence worthwhile.

He recalled the previous months, when he led his men to attack a small county in Jiangling. By chance, he saw Madame Lu, the wife of Magistrate Lu, escaping under guard. Her beauty at first sight stirred wicked desires in his heart; he resolved to seize her as his bride, and now that dream had come true.

That day, he personally slew Magistrate Lu, discarding his corpse in the wilderness. Han Wujiao found Lu's fury and unwillingness at the moment of death amusing whenever he remembered it. Not only had he killed the man, but he had also taken his wife. What more could the dead do—become a ghost to haunt him? Even if so, Han Wujiao was not afraid. He forcibly embraced his concubine, popped a bean into his mouth, and began his reckless life.

Elsewhere, Yan Wolf, known across the martial world as the Little King of Hell, lay asleep on his tiger-skin throne, still unconscious from last night’s excessive drinking.

Many bandit soldiers in the stronghold had just awoken, fetching water to wash their faces, while those stationed atop wooden towers lazily kept watch, enjoying their leisure.

The battle that day had routed the Jingzhou army so thoroughly that none dared impede their pursuit. They captured over a thousand live horses, and those killed were dragged back and roasted for food. The third chief’s wedding feast tonight promised wild revelry. With the only real threat—the Jingzhou forces—vanquished, they could now live lawlessly, robbing and pillaging with impunity.

The bandit soldiers brimmed with arrogance.

At noon, the women who had been abducted earlier busied themselves in the kitchen. Resigned to their fates, they had long forgotten notions of purity and vengeance. Years spent enduring harassment and beatings, living out of sight, had trained them into docile lambs—here, the more they struggled, the deeper they sank.

They watched with cold eyes as new captives arrived, seeing in them their former selves—crying, resisting, until even the thought of rebellion faded, and they too became part of the group. Occasionally, some exceptional women bore humiliation and finally fought back, using poison, hairpins, or knives, only to end up as food for wild dogs. Here, death was no release; survival was the best option.

Around midday, several bandits carried two roasted horse legs to the third chief’s courtyard. Han Wujiao, no longer thin since the new year, his once sharp face now slightly rounder, stood up—his tall frame revealing his mixed Hu ancestry. He sliced off a steaming piece of horse meat, tasted it, and declared it excellent, rewarding one leg to his serving concubines. Drinking wine and eating meat, he felt supremely satisfied.

Soon, Han Wujiao, sated, cut off a piece of horse meat, placed it in a bowl, and walked toward a wooden house in the inner courtyard.

Inside that house was Madame Lu, tied to a chair. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes blazed with hatred. She refused to yield, determined to seek revenge, to struggle until death.

The heavy wooden door creaked open. Madame Lu’s body trembled, but she forced herself to remain calm, glaring fiercely at the man who entered.

Han Wujiao, chewing grass stalks, swaggered up to Madame Lu, clicking his tongue as he met her fiery gaze. He hooked her chin with a finger. “Come, beauty, time to eat. Fill your belly, and you’ll have strength for tonight’s work. Isn’t that right?”

He removed the hemp cloth from her mouth and fed her a fragrant piece of horse meat. Expecting her to rage, he was surprised to see her eat quietly, showing neither resistance nor tears. Her eyes, deep as a still pond, grew increasingly inscrutable—too calm, almost uncanny.

After feeding her, Han Wujiao left the room, puzzled. He couldn’t understand why, after suffering his torment, she neither cursed him nor rejected his food. Was this woman simply base by nature? No matter—he liked it. It saved him effort, making tonight’s task easier. With this thought, Han Wujiao laughed, pleased.

In truth, he did not realize that Madame Lu was undergoing a transformation. She no longer wept in weakness; she had prayed to gods and called out to the heavens, but now, faced with life and death, she was no longer afraid. Her husband was dead, murdered by the bandits. The Jingzhou army, in whom she placed her hopes, had failed. Now imprisoned and humiliated by her enemy, she had nothing left to lose except the sacred haven of her son in Jiangling. She understood clearly that without strength and resilience, she could not protect even that last sanctuary.

The pre-spring sunset was unimpressive, falling before the sky turned red. As darkness set in, red lanterns mingled with yellow ones, illuminating the stronghold. The bandits dismantled the tower sentries, eager for the third chief’s wedding feast.

In the main hall of the Brotherhood Bustle, all commanders gathered except for the second chief, Gu Liangyu. The great chief sat on a tiger-skin chair, enjoying wine and his mink cloak, awaiting the third chief’s entry.

These bandits honored heaven as their father, earth as their mother, bowing to the gods and ghosts, then to their brothers.

Soon, the third chief, Han Wujiao, escorted the widow Lu into the festive hall. After bowing to heaven and earth, he bowed to his elder brother. When the rites were complete, the hall rang with congratulations. Yan Wolf produced three gold ingots, two for Han Wujiao, one for Huang Yue, the second chief’s subordinate.

Huang Yue, delighted by the reward, offered repeated congratulations to Han Wujiao, ignoring the abducted widow Lu.

After a burst of firecrackers, the wild wolves fled the forest.

In the darkness, the lights at Sanli Ridge illuminated the wilderness, exposing their location to the vanguard cannons. In the rear stronghold, in a shabby room, Liu Wenfu cursed loudly, boasting of his father’s rank as Governor of Jingzhou, and complaining of hunger. Next door, Liu Chang’e wept incessantly. Soon, a servant girl brought warm food.

At midnight, Han Wujiao and Yan Wolf drank against each other, cup for cup. Other commanders were already drunk and unable to continue; Huang Yue sprawled on the table, watching the chiefs compete.

Yan Wolf felt he’d never been so happy since the three brothers became sworn siblings. Years ago, hunted by the authorities, he turned to banditry, wandering for over a decade before finally claiming his own mountain and seeing it grow strong. Satisfied, he poured more wine. “Third brother, for the future of Brotherhood Bustle, you must make your new wife…”

Boom! Boom-boom!

The earth shook as dazzling explosions blossomed over Sanli Ridge, spreading and devouring everything, roaring until the entire front stronghold was destroyed and the middle stronghold set aflame, pausing only for a moment.

Moments later, a second volley of twelve cannon blasts, like divine wrath, descended upon Brotherhood Bustle, obliterating the middle stronghold.

Chief Iron Escort could not find words to describe the spectacle—too shocking, too beautiful. The sudden eruption of fiery flowers in the darkness outshone even the bonfires.

Iron Lihua clearly saw the ruined, flaming walls of the front stronghold and the soaring flames that ignited the mountain ridge. She had never witnessed such a scene before. Lady Wu Yueling had called this weapon the Vanguard Cannon—once triggered here, it thundered over there, igniting a blazing inferno that surely killed all within. Was this magic, or some secret art? It was beyond comprehension.

Wu Yueling put away the Vanguard Cannon. Two volleys of twelve incendiary shells had pushed the weapon to its limit, yet even a single cannon had wielded tremendous force, far beyond her expectations. She had only commanded cannon arrays in battle songs, never used such a weapon in reality. Though the game simulated reality, reality was still reality, and this sensation was impossible to convey through the game.

Wu Yueling gazed at the burning Sanli Ridge, thinking of Mother Lu, her neighbors in Ten Mile Village, and the mischievous children. She brushed away the gloom in her heart, stepped forward with resolve. Here, let the hatred end.

“We begin the raid!” Wu Yueling turned to the three companions.

Arriving at the gate of Sanli Ridge, the flames had abated somewhat. Chief Iron Escort dismounted, took the black chest from his horse, and, facing the towering blaze, drew his broadsword.

“There’s no need to search here—let’s go straight to the rear stronghold!” Wu Yueling dismounted, drew two black Rose revolvers, and suggested.

Led by Chief Iron Escort, Wu Yueling proceeded to the rear stronghold. Chaos reigned; some bandits took advantage to rob their own camp, fighting for women and money, and many fell to the blades of former comrades.

Some ignorant bandits fled, spreading rumors of divine wrath and ghosts. Those with seniority guarded the rear gate, killing any panicked bandits who tried to escape.

When these bandits saw Wu Yueling’s group of four unfamiliar faces, they sent a minion to investigate, only for Chief Iron Escort to knock him aside with a single blow. Realizing these were outsiders, the bandits launched a group attack.

Yet, a hundred bandits were no match for a grandmaster and two top experts; within less than half an incense stick’s time, all were subdued.

Wu Yueling seized the opportunity, advancing deeper into the rear stronghold, killing a few bandits along the way. She reached a row of wooden houses and pressed forward, discovering that these huts held captive women. She found a bandit sword and, hacking at the iron locks, released the women.

Inside, Wu Yueling discovered Liu Wenfu, the eldest son of Governor Liu—a surprise. After freeing him and questioning him, she learned he’d been captured by bandits, and his sister, Liu Chang’e, was imprisoned next door, used as leverage against Governor Liu. Wu Yueling realized then that the ambush on the Jingzhou army had not been accidental, but inevitable.

Having rescued both, Wu Yueling intended to let them escape on their own, but they clung to her, as if she were their lifeline.

Resigned, she captured a bandit and asked after Madame Lu. She learned the lady was likely in the third chief’s courtyard, though after such earth-shattering explosions, the third chief had probably died with the great chief in the middle stronghold. Wu Yueling knocked the bandit unconscious and headed for the indicated residence, where she indeed found Madame Lu.

Madame Lu’s white dress was soaked in blood. Wu Yueling stood frozen, watching her swing a longsword at the corpse of a man whose legs had been blasted away, each stroke splashing blood in a gruesome scene.

Wu Yueling exhaled and bade Madame Lu stop. The dazed widow stood for a long time before dropping the sword and collapsing. Wu Yueling rushed to support her and glanced at the corpse—it was the murderer of Mother Lu, his legs shattered by the explosion, his body slashed repeatedly. The sight was unbearable.

The Liu siblings dared not approach, shrinking back and watching from afar. Wu Yueling helped Madame Lu toward the door, silently reflecting: though I did not kill the enemy with my own hands, Mother Lu’s vengeance is done, and my heart is at peace. The young lynx, sensing the blood, poked its head out and meowed at its master, as if narrating the misfortune of that night.