Zhou Fu was an honest man deserving of Yang Ge’s good intentions.
After Yang Ge pointed out that the samurai’s turmoil in the Danma vassal army was insignificant and tasked him with coordinating the samurai at all levels and suppressing the tumultuous camp to hone his true nature,
Zhou Fu did not relax his vigilance due to the insignificance of the commotion in the Danma vassal army’s camp, nor did he sit back and watch the chaos unfold; instead, he became even more diligent than before. He spent two to three days straight, night and day, with an interpreter touring the camp, appeasing samurai at all levels, and actively consulting Yang Ge on strategies of offering incentives, compromise, opposition, and undermining to stabilize the camp.
However, even the most skilled art of enticing with promises couldn’t overcome the terror of a great ape’s survival instinct!
The camp of the Danma vassal army finally collapsed on the fifth night of encampment in Danma Province, just before the rations were distributed...
A ninth-rank samurai, who had all his food plundered by his immediate superior, led ten slaves in attacking another ninth-rank samurai, seizing all their food...
He thought he had acted stealthily, but as the aroma of food being cooked wafted from their tents, the samurai of all ranks in the Danma vassal army, who had watched and waited in vain for Huaxia first-rank samurai to intervene, could no longer restrain the starving beast within. They drew their gleaming steel blades and turned them against the comrades they had fought shoulder to shoulder with only days before.
When the killing shout started, it swept through the entire camp.
There were hysterical screams and wails everywhere.
There were thuds of blades slicing through flesh everywhere.
Everywhere were Danma soldiers, dashing frantically like wild boars and wolves.
Weapons clashed.
Banners toppled.
Tents caught fire.
Some Danma who had snatched bloody rations dared not cook them and swallowed them with snow instead.
Some had just swallowed their rations with snow when they were gutted by other Danma, dying without even the luxury of a full belly.
And there were Danma who not only failed to steal another’s food, but became food for others...
That night, the previously oppressive ninth-rank samurai system, rather than falling apart under the cruel rule, became even more unshakeable, invulnerable.
Because the lowest-ranking Danma could only protect himself from becoming food in the pot of others by thoroughly following the stronger and more numerous samurai.
When the snowball effect took hold, no Danma could remain aloof...
Uncontrollable!
Totally uncontrollable!
Zhou Fu, with the twelve zodiac warriors at his side, disbanded three groups of samurai who seized the opportunity to cause trouble, but this did not control the chaos. Rather, it pushed them into a very dangerous situation. Wherever they went, the rebellious Danma looked at them with a very dangerous gaze, as if calculating whether they had the strength to take down this powerful Huaxia official...
The Danma vassal army was not without reverence.
Unfortunately, their reverence was never for Zhou Fu and the like who directly managed them.
Even more unfortunate was that the Danma vassal soldiers were not face-blind; they recognized the face that, whenever it acted, was enveloped by thousands of golden lights, as handsome as a god descending from heaven.
As a seasoned veteran in the military, Zhou Fu keenly sensed this dangerous atmosphere and decisively abandoned the futile attempt to suppress the riotous camp. With the protection of the twelve zodiac warriors, he retreated to the surroundings of Yang Ge’s tent.
However, when he lifted the curtain of Yang Ge’s tent, he was shocked to find that the brothers from the Western Factory and the Imperial Guard had long been sitting in the warm tent, holding steaming bowls of meat porridge and sipping lightly. Upon seeing him enter, Liu Tang even raised his porridge bowl with a laugh, asking why he had taken so long to arrive...
When Zhou Fu looked again at the bubbling cauldron in the center of the tent, larger than a cistern, emitting white steam, he felt an even stronger sense of surrealism, as if he had stepped from one world into another.
As the heat and savory aroma of meat porridge hit Zhou Fu’s face, it was as if he had been jolted from a long nightmare, the anxiety and torment in his heart dissipating instantly. Then he realized how foolish he had been, truly...
"Tired of shouting?"
Yang Ge personally filled a steaming bowl of meat porridge and stuffed it into Zhou Fu’s hands, "Find a spot to sit. Just wait until dawn... Relax a bit, you’ve done your best."
He gently patted Zhou Fu’s shoulder and turned to beckon the twelve zodiac warriors and the pirate interpreters behind him, "What are you standing around for? Come in and sit!"
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The twelve zodiac warriors and the pirate interpreters bowed and filed into the tent, each of them haunted by the same sense of absurdity and surrealism as Zhou Fu.
The tent curtain dropped again, insulating the warmth and bustle of a lively celebration from the continuous screams and cries in the bitterly cold world outside.
All night long, Zhou Fu was dazed, not even knowing what he was thinking...
When the curtain was lifted again and a bleak light with a hint of crimson seeped into the tent, he suddenly said to Yang Ge, "Second Master, isn’t what we’re doing... a bit too much?"
God as my witness, he didn’t know why he asked that.
But he asked it, forthrightly.
As his words fell, the tent fell utterly silent for a moment; everyone turned their gaze towards Yang Ge, as if hoping he would offer an explanation.
They truly all needed an explanation.
Even if the explanation wasn’t quite reasonable.
But as long as there was one...
They would muster their spirits and continue on.
Yang Ge raised his gaze from the antique tome in his hand, looked at Zhou Fu, and then swept his eyes over everyone in the tent, over each cracked and dirty face, each pair of murky yet clear eyes.