He pondered for a long time.
So long that everyone in the tent felt as if they had endured three long winters.
"I’m quite pleased that you could ask that question,"
he said slowly and softly. His tone was gentle yet carried a powerful presence, "It proves that the books you’ve read were not in vain, that the education you’ve received was worthwhile, you have a conscience, you have morals, you understand what tolerance means..."
He paused, then continued slowly, "I actually wanted to tell you all about the atrocities the samurai once committed in my hometown, inform you how despicable and cruel these people are, but I cannot speak of it, I cannot tell anyone, in this world, it seems I’m the only one who knows those things..."
"But no matter, even if I’m the only one who knows, the only one who remembers, the only one I still exist... those atrocities will not just vanish into thin air!"
"All I can tell you is those atrocities have convinced me, that the only good samurai is a dead samurai."
"All the samurai who are still alive, no matter how kind, innocent, or submissive they seem... I always feel it’s a strategy, a scheme to deceive us, to numb us, to get close to us, so they can once again take up arms against our hometown, to commit the atrocities they once did, to do the evil they still intend to do to our families!"
"You may think I want to wipe them out to prevent future dangers, or I simply want to vent the fury in my heart, but it doesn’t matter!"
"Dongying... I have resolved to annihilate it!"
"All of you are here at my invitation, following my orders, to carry out this act!"
"If there really is a hell with eighteen levels, let all the sins fall on me, Yang Erlang!"
"It has nothing to do with you!"
"Additionally, I’d like to add one more thing for all present here..."
"Kindness can be shown to our own people, and to strangers we meet by chance."
"But it should never be extended to enemies, to adversaries!"
"They don’t deserve it!"
"And you... might not deserve to give it either!"
"That’s all I have to say, ahead lies Heian-kyō."
"Brothers willing to join me on this journey, let’s arm ourselves and see how much the samurai’s Heian-kyō, modeled after our Chang’an and Luoyang, resembles our cities."
"Those who cannot betray their conscience, I still thank you for accompanying me this far, this journey has been complete, we’ve gained both virtue and fame, you may return home now, we shall meet again some day."
Having said this, he stood up, walked through the tent, grabbed the cold moon blade and tied it to his waist, then turned around and strode out of the tent.
The Twelve Zodiac Guards immediately followed Yang Ge’s pace, moving as one.
Embroidery Guard Liu Tang kicked over the table in front of him, stood up, spat a thick phlegm, and shouted loudly, "Old Liu here doesn’t understand grand principles, but one should help their own people, that’s clear to Old Liu!"
Saying this, he took the gold-handled saber and gestured towards Yang Ge’s departing figure, "Brothers, if you’re a real man, follow along!"
He strode out of the tent, and the six men of Embroidery Guard closely followed.
Western Factory’s Nangong Feiying sprang up and chased after, cursing as he went, "Liu Tang, who the hell are you cursing? Men of Western Factory, follow me!"
The six men of Western Factory hastily got up and hurried after him.
Minutes earlier, the tent, which had been so crowded that people were squeezed together, was now empty enough to play basketball in, leaving only a few pirate translators and Zhou Fu behind.
The pirate translators exchanged glances, then looked at Zhou Fu, swiftly turned around, and swarmed out after the others.
Seeing this, Zhou Fu vigorously rubbed his face, then grabbing the saber, quickly followed them.
Yang Ge said some things that he didn’t quite understand.
But he felt Liu Tang’s words made sense, one ought to help their own!
Thinking from another perspective...
"To make a gentle person like Yang Erlang become like this, what atrocities did those Dongying pirates commit in Yang Erlang’s home initially!"
This reason... is already enough!
Outside the military tent.
Yang Ge expressionlessly swept his gaze across the campsite strewn with corpses; everywhere his eyes landed, pairs of malevolently brutal, greenish eyes involuntarily lowered, with none of the Dongying slaves daring to meet his gaze.
After scanning the area, he bent down to scoop up a handful of snow stained red with fresh blood, stood up holding it in his hand, and gently crushed it, letting it blow away with the wind...
"The heat is just enough..."
He muttered to himself, releasing the suppression of his own Evil Qi.
A fiercely violent sound of a sword blast rang out, a black and red halo burst forth towards the heavens, resembling a dark banner linking heaven and earth, his own aura also climbing higher and higher. The long-repressed Five Elements True Qi surged like the overflowing Yellow River, each type of True Qi vehemently making its presence known, yet powerless to overturn the control of his mental strength.
He raised his left hand, smashing a side of the military tent that held drum racks with a palm strike.
The giant military drum, as tall as a man, flew up; he struck it palm by palm through the air, producing a muffled but powerful drum sound, resoundingly echoing throughout the entire camp.
"Third-class Samurai, Mouri Saburou, at your service!"
"Third-class Samurai, Hokkaido Asaichi, at your service!"
"Third-class Samurai, Murakami Yuusei, at your service..."
One after another, fierce figures filled with Evil Qi responded to the drum sound, flying in from all directions of the camp, and kneeling on the ground, they loudly greeted him in broken Chinese.
Zhou Fu, who had just arrived behind Yang Ge, swept his gaze in surprise across these fierce figures... He would stake his own life on it, these men were not part of the ranks of seventh-class Dongying military officers before last night.
Where did these tough guys spring from? Who promoted them to Samurai? Who gave them the courage to gather and pay their respects to Yang Erlang?
"Could it be..."
His heart pounding, he looked towards the tall figure in the front, feeling as though he was gazing up at a towering, majestic mountain!
Without stepping out of his tent, he managed to establish this unspoken understanding with these Dongying heroes...
This method is far more terrifying than his martial prowess!
...
Tanigawa.
A hundred thousand troops of the Shogunate were arrayed on the plains, with tents stretching across the land like a dense cloud.
Two figures, similar in age and dressed in hemp garments, stood atop the military encampment, hands behind their backs, gazing northwest.
After a long silence, the slightly older, gaunt middle-aged man with a goatee softly opened his mouth, speaking in a measured tone, "Shangquan, do you sense it?"
The sideburned, burly middle-aged man, with a worried look, whispered, "Master, I have sensed it... such strong Evil Qi, truly befitting the chief of eighty-four thousand demons!"
The gaunt middle-aged man closed his eyes, sighing softly, "Such a disaster for Fusang."
The burly middle-aged man fell silent for a long time, then also sighed softly, "I have long said that each protectorate lord in Fusang underestimated China, and allowing their retainers and Samurai to invade the sovereign country repeatedly would inevitably lead to war, and now my words have come true."
The gaunt middle-aged man shook his head, "It’s too late for regrets now; we can only dedicate our lives to slaying the demon in golden armor, to help our Fusang through this calamity."
The burly middle-aged man fell silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his treasured sword at his waist, gently caressing the familiar patterns; however, the markings, which usually brought him peace, now failed to give him any confidence.
The gaunt middle-aged man glanced at him, "Your heart, it’s unsettled!"
This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.
The burly middle-aged man tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his voice strained, "Master, I do not dare to deceive you, I have just begun to grasp the essence of the ’Swordless Strike’ technique; facing such ferocious demonic might, I fear only a single stroke may suffice."
After a long silence, the gaunt middle-aged man said softly, "Success or disgrace, a single stroke is enough!"
The burly middle-aged man pondered for a moment, then nodded, "I will heed the lesson, Master."