bookbashuk Chapter 5: The Burning of the Camps
Chapter 5: The Burning of the Camps
The city has fully awakened.
It wasn't the numb, lifeless awakening of usual days, but an awakening enveloped by a silent restlessness. Shen Moqi had never seen a city transform like this overnight—
Inside the abandoned ancestral hall on East Street, more than thirty women sat cross-legged on prayer cushions, their rough needles moving incessantly. They were sewing coarse linen, two zhang long and one zhang wide, which, spread out on the ground, resembled patches of grayish-white lakes. No one told them what the cloth was for, nor did anyone ask. An old woman squinted as she threaded the needle, muttering, "Two meals a day, where else can you find such a good thing?" A young woman beside her, head bowed, whispered, "I heard it's a young man leading the way, but I wonder where he comes from." The old woman shook her head: "Who cares where he comes from, as long as there's food to eat."
In the dilapidated courtyard of West Alley, seven or eight shirtless men were pouring buckets of a dark, viscous substance into a large vat. The stuff stank relentlessly and wouldn't wash off your hands, but no one stopped. An old man with a missing front tooth was tearing up from the stench, muttering, "What is this rubbish? It stinks worse than a latrine." The burly man in the lead dipped an entire bolt of cloth into the vat, the black liquid bubbling and gurgling: "Enough nonsense, finish this bolt and get your cakes."
In the craftsmen's workshop south of the city, the clanging and hammering of tools echoed all night long. Wang Canjun, his eyes red, stared intently at the modifications being made to each catapult, his throat hoarse from shouting, still gesturing: "Counterweight! Add two more stones of counterweight! Insufficient range makes it all useless!" Several old craftsmen lay on the ground, sketching on wooden boards with charcoal pencils. Someone whispered, "What's the point of modifying so many catapults?" Wang Canjun glared at him: "Get back to your work."
On the city wall, scouts came and went in waves. Li Hu personally oversaw the operation, his eyes fixed on the lights of the Black Stone Kingdom's camp in the distance. Every hour, a scout would crouch down and run up, reporting in a low voice: "The forward camp hasn't moved, but the central command tent is brightly lit, as if there's a banquet going on."
Li Hu sneered and remained silent.
---
Shen Moqi entered a busy period.
He was in Xishangou at that time.
On the first night after leaving the general's mansion, he led a dozen or so strong laborers into the dark ravine. Collecting the petrolatum was more difficult than he had imagined—it was incredibly viscous; scooping it with a wooden bucket took forever to fill even a small half-bucket; dipping a cloth in it resulted in it seeping everywhere. Finally, he came up with a solution: smashing broken pottery jars and scraping with the shards. Though slow, at least it was scraped up.
The next day, he ran back and forth between the dyeing workshops. A batch was dyed in the ancestral hall on East Street, another in the courtyard on West Alley, and even a dilapidated temple in the north of the city was used. He squatted by the vat, watching the cloth slowly soak into the black liquid, reaching out to touch it to confirm the viscosity was sufficient. A woman beside him looked at him curiously, but he didn't explain, only nodded, and got up to move on to the next spot.
On the third day, he went to check on the catapult testing. Wang Canjun, with dark circles under his eyes, was directing the craftsmen in the final round of adjustments. When he saw him arrive, he merely raised his chin. A modified catapult suddenly sprang up, hurling a nearly 100-pound counterweight into the distance—the landing point was exactly seven hundred paces from the pre-set location. Shen Moqi silently counted the usable machines in her mind: over twenty. That was enough.
When they returned to the dilapidated temple that evening, Stone brought over a bowl of hot water and sat down beside him.
"Aren't you... nervous?" Stone asked softly.
Shen Moqi took the bowl, the steam blurring his face.
Is being nervous helpful?
Stone thought for a moment and shook his head.
"Then don't be nervous."
In the distance, the last rays of the setting sun sank behind the city walls.
---
The guards rode up on horseback.
When the sound of hooves stopped outside the dilapidated temple, Shen Moqi's heart skipped a beat. He stood up and watched as the dust-covered soldier dismounted, knelt on one knee, and presented a letter sealed with wax with both hands.
"The Imperial Preceptor's oral message has been presented to the General. The General ordered me to send it here for copying."
Shen Moqi opened the envelope; inside was only a thin piece of paper with a few words:
At the third quarter of the hour of Yin (3:45 AM), a southeast wind rises, strong enough to fuel the fire without causing chaos, and lasts for an hour.
——Observatory
A small vermilion seal was affixed at the end of the signature, the inscription of which was simple and unrecognizable to Shen Moqi.
He held the paper, his fingers trembling slightly. Stone leaned closer: "What does it say?"
"Wind." Shen Moqi folded the paper and tucked it away close to her body. "At the hour of Yin (3-5 AM), there will be wind."
Stone blinked. "How do you know it's definitely with the wind?"
Shen Moqi did not answer. He looked up towards the direction of the palace. Just who was this "Imperial Advisor" whom he had never seen before?
---
Yin hour (3-5 AM).
The deepest part of the night.
Shen Moqi stood on the city wall, surrounded by Zhang Cheng, Li Hu, and a group of generals. No one spoke. A wind blew from the southeast, carrying the damp chill characteristic of an early spring night, brushing against everyone's faces.
"The wind is coming," Zhang Cheng said softly.
Shen Moqi nodded. His palms were sweaty.
Below the city, more than twenty modified catapults were ready. Beside each one, there were piles of "fire cloud banners"—huge sheets of linen soaked in grease, which now gleamed darkly in the night, like a group of lurking beasts.
Li Hu walked to the city wall and lowered his voice to give the order: "All machines, prepare—"
A slight commotion arose below the city walls; the soldiers were making final adjustments. No one lit a fire, no one made a sound. The entire city held its breath.
In the distance, the Blackstone army camp was sparsely lit. After more than two months of siege, they had long since become complacent. No one believed that this city on the verge of collapse could still cause any trouble. At this moment, the camp was quiet, the soldiers were all asleep, and only occasionally could one see the figures of patrolling soldiers.
Zhang Cheng stared at the campsite, then suddenly asked Shen Moqi, "Are you scared?"
Shen Moqi was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm afraid. But I'm even more afraid of dying."
Zhang Cheng glanced at him sideways, his expression obscured by the darkness, but a low chuckle could be heard: "A good soldier."
He straightened up and raised his right hand.
Everyone saw that gesture.
Beneath the city wall, the mechanisms of more than twenty catapults simultaneously emitted a low creaking sound, the groan of winches stretched to their limit. In the leather pouches of every two catapults lay folded "fire cloud banners," the ten-pound stones at the two front corners gleaming coldly in the moonlight.
"put."
The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a needle piercing the frozen night sky.
"Bang--!"
The long arms of the catapults sprang up suddenly, and the "Fire Cloud Banner" in the leather pouches soared into the air! More than twenty catapults roared in unison in just a few breaths, and the huge burlap cloths soaked in grease water flew like black giant birds released into the darkness towards the enemy camp.
Shen Moqi stared intently at the flight paths. Heavy stones lay ahead, and bolts of cloth slowly unfurled in the air—one zhang, two zhang, five zhang… The wide linen fluttered in the wind, truly resembling dark clouds, pressing down on the Black Stone Kingdom's camp.
"It's in!" Li Hu roared.
The first "Fire Cloud Banner" struck the enemy camp's tent with pinpoint accuracy. The ten-pound stone pierced the tent, and the black cloth, like a giant shroud, covered the entire tent. Then, the second, the third... more and more "dark clouds" descended from the sky, some hitting the tents, some falling into the open ground, and some getting tangled in the hitching posts.
Then came the second round, the third round...
The Blackrock Kingdom's camp suddenly erupted into chaos.
Someone rushed out of the tent, but before they could even see what was happening, a black cloth fell from the sky and covered them, causing them to fall while struggling. In the stables, warhorses were startled, neighing and charging wildly. Soldiers raised torches to see what was going on—
"Don't light it!"
Someone let out a heart-wrenching scream, but it was too late.
The torch fell to the ground and touched the linen cloth soaked in grease.
"boom--!"
Blue and yellow flames suddenly erupted, spreading wildly along the fabric as if they had come alive! In just a few breaths, the first tent had transformed into a giant torch. The firelight illuminated the night sky and the terrified faces of the still-stunned soldiers.
"Fire! Fire!"
"It's from the sky! Fire fell from the sky!"
"Run—!"
But this is only the beginning.
The flames spread along the fabric, igniting the second tent, the third... Those "fire cloud curtains" were made for burning; the flammable resin ignited instantly upon contact with fire, and burned ever more fiercely. Thick smoke billowed up, carrying a pungent, acrid smell that stung people's eyes and made it hard to breathe.
Even more terrifying was that the cloths soaked in plaster would spew sparks when they burned. The sparks landed on the nearby tents, on the hay on the ground, and on the soldiers' clothes—once they got on, they couldn't be shaken off, and the more you tried to swat them, the more intense the fire became.
The entire camp was engulfed in flames.
Some men were engulfed in flames, screaming and rolling on the ground, spreading the fire wherever they went. Others desperately tried to run away, but tripped over the black cloth beneath their feet, falling into the fire and never rising again. Warhorses broke free of their reins, charging and neighing wildly, their manes and tails ablaze, like moving fireballs, knocking down and setting more tents ablaze.
Thick smoke obscured the moon. Firelight illuminated half the sky.
On the city wall, everyone was stunned.
Li Hu stared, mouth agape, before finally managing to utter, "This...this is fucking..."
Zhang Cheng remained silent. His hands pressed against the city wall, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. The firelight reflected in his bloodshot eyes, making them appear like two burning flames.
Shen Moqi stood motionless, staring intently at the sea of fire. The pungent, acrid smell of burning flesh drifted on the wind, making him want to vomit, but he didn't move. His ears were filled with those screams—he could hear them clearly even from this distance. They weren't human voices, but something... something he couldn't describe, something that sent chills down his spine.
Stone was behind him, his face pale and his lips trembling. The three little ones were held in his arms with their eyes covered, but they could still hear, they could all hear.
The wind is still blowing.
The southeast wind fanned the flames, carried the thick smoke further and further away, and brought the screams closer and closer.
The Blackrock Kingdom camp is no longer visible. Only fire, only smoke, and countless twisted shadows struggling, running, and falling within it.
After an unknown amount of time—perhaps half an hour, perhaps an hour—the fire finally began to subside.
When the first rays of dawn pierced the eastern horizon, the camp that once housed tens of thousands of troops had been reduced to charred ruins.
Occasionally, a few unburnt wooden pillars still emitted wisps of smoke. The ground was littered with curled, charred remains, indistinguishable as human or horse carcasses. A nauseating, acrid smell permeated the air, thick and pungent.
The scout cautiously approached, then rushed back, collapsing at Zhang Cheng's feet, his voice trembling:
"General Qi Ning... the Black Stone Army... is finished."
He looked up, his face showing an expression that was hard to tell whether it was shock or fear: "The vanguard, the main army, the supplies... everything was burned down. Fewer than a thousand people managed to escape. They had no horses, no weapons, some didn't even have clothes, and they ran towards the eastern wilderness."
On the city wall, there was a deathly silence.
Then, someone let out a suppressed sob.
Then, cries, laughter, screams, and cheers erupted like a flood bursting its banks.
Some knelt on the ground, kowtowing towards the charred ruins, murmuring the names of their fallen comrades. Others embraced their companions and wept bitterly, releasing all the fear and repression of the past two months. Still others brandished knives and guns, roaring at the distant scorched earth until their voices were hoarse, yet they continued to roar.
Li Hu plopped down on the ground and didn't move for a long time. Then he suddenly turned his head and looked at Shen Moqi with a complex look he had never seen before.
Zhang Cheng remained standing, motionless. His shoulders were trembling slightly.
Much later, he turned to Shen Moqi.
The morning light shone on the boy's pale face. He didn't look like a victor, but rather like someone who had just woken up from a nightmare—his eyes were vacant, his lips were dry, and he seemed completely drained.
Zhang Cheng opened his mouth, as if to say something.
Just then—
A distant and strange bell sound came from the direction of the palace.
That's the morning bell from the observatory.
Zhang Cheng looked up, then back at Shen Moqi, and finally said only one sentence:
"Let's go. His Majesty wishes to see you."
Shen Moqi didn't move. He was still staring at the charred ruins.
Stone gently tugged at his sleeve.
He snapped out of his daze, turned around blankly, and followed Zhang Cheng down the city wall. Behind him, the firelight gradually died down, and the morning light shone on the scorched earth, on the people and horses who remained there forever, and on a city that had come back to life from the brink of despair.
The wind stopped.