Transmigrating to the Chongzhen era, I started by confiscating the Donglin Party.

Chapter 43 Bloodfire Sword Sect

February 22nd, Kuizhou.

Zuo Menggeng sat in the main hall of the prefectural government office, legs crossed, cracking sunflower seeds. The sunflower seeds were a local specialty, small but fragrant, and he was enjoying them immensely.

Below the hall, Qin Yiming knelt.

He was covered in wounds—an arrow had struck his left shoulder, the shaft broken, the arrowhead still embedded in his flesh; a deep knife wound on his right leg, visible to the bone, was haphazardly wrapped in rags, the blood already congealed into a dark brown; and three abrasions on his face, scraped by tree branches while traversing the mountains.

But he knelt upright, holding the blood-written letter in both hands, raising it high above his head.

"General Zuo," a voice hoarse as a broken gong cried, "Jianmen Pass is in imminent danger! Please send reinforcements immediately!"

After Zuo Menggeng finished eating a sunflower seed, he spat out the shell, which landed on the floor tiles in front of Qin Yiming.

"Qin Yiming, is it?" he said lazily. "Your aunt, Qin Liangyu, wasn't she known as the 'Peerless White-Spear Soldier'? What, she couldn't hold out?"

"The army has been without food for ten days, and the soldiers..."

"No food supplies?" Zuo Menggeng interrupted. "Whose fault is it that we're running out of food supplies? It's your own incompetence! I, the general, have ample provisions and a strong army in Kuizhou—but what makes me think I can go and rescue them?"

Qin Yiming looked up, his eyes bloodshot: "General Zuo! If Jianmen Pass falls, Zhang Xianzhong can advance unimpeded into Sichuan! At that time, even Kuizhou will be difficult to defend!"

"Hard to guarantee?" Zuo Menggeng laughed. "If Zhang Xianzhong really attacks, this general will retreat to Wushan, retreat to Yiling, retreat to Wuchang! The world is so big, where can't I go?"

He stood up, walked to Qin Yiming, bent down, and stared into his eyes: "Tell your aunt: This isn't how a loyal minister acts. When it's time to run, you have to run; when it's time to surrender... you have to surrender."

Qin Yiming trembled all over, not from fear, but from rage. He wanted to draw his sword, but it had been disarmed when he entered the yamen.

"I'll take the blood-written letter." Zuo Menggeng snatched the letter from his hand, glanced at it casually, and tossed it onto the table. "Go back and tell your aunt: after she martyrs for her country, this general will definitely petition the court to grant her the posthumous title of 'Loyal and Valiant.' As for reinforcements—"

He drawled, "Wait a minute. Let's talk when I'm in a better mood."

Qin Yiming was dragged out by two guards and thrown onto the stone steps outside the yamen.

The rain started again, the cold raindrops hitting his face. Qin Yiming struggled to get up and looked west—the direction of Jianmen Pass, two hundred miles away.

"Aunt..." he murmured, tears mingling with the rain.

He knew there were no reinforcements.

February 24th, Jianmen Pass.

The earthen mound reached a height of four zhang (approximately 10 meters).

Looking down from the fortress wall, the earthen mound resembled a crouching giant beast, growing taller every day. Wooden scaffolding had already been erected on the mound, and the bandits were working on it, compacting the earth layer by layer. At this rate, the mound would be level with the fortress wall by the day after tomorrow at the latest.

Inside the pass, the last bit of horse meat was eaten.

Qin Liangyu ordered: Boil bowstrings, boil leather armor, boil anything that can be boiled.

The soldiers began to develop edema—a result of prolonged hunger. Some collapsed while walking; others fell asleep at night and never woke up again.

Qin Liangyu herself was also swollen, her ankles were swollen like steamed buns, and every step she took was excruciatingly painful. But she still patrolled the pass every day, still stood on the gate tower, so that all the soldiers could see her.

That evening, she summoned the entire army.

Of the original 5,000 people, more than 4,700 remain—more than 200 have died of starvation or serious injuries.

Qin Liangyu stood before the gate tower, with the tattered "Qin" flag behind her. Without speaking, she knelt down and kowtowed three times to the entire army.

"I am Qin Liangyu," she looked up, her voice piercing through the twilight, "I apologize to all my brothers."

The entire army stood at attention.

"I guarded the pass for forty-six days without receiving any reinforcements; it is my own incompetence that has caused this."

"It is my incompetence to let my brothers go hungry."

"Today may be the last battle."

She stood up and took the spear from Ma Xianglin. The spearhead gleamed coldly in the twilight.

"Those who wish to leave, retreat now via the Golden Ox Path on the back mountain. That path is treacherous, but it offers the chance to survive."

No one moved.

"Those who wish to stay," Qin Liangyu gripped the spear shaft, "will fight to the death with me!"

"Fight to the death!" The four thousand seven hundred men roared in unison, their voices shaking the mountains.

No sooner had the roar subsided than a horn sounded from below the pass.

It's not a horn for attacking the city, it's... a horn for rallying the troops?

Qin Liangyu strode to the wall and looked down. She saw that in Sun Kewang's camp, troops were being mobilized, but not towards the pass; instead… towards the rear?

"Madam!" General Luo pointed to the west, "Look! There's no one on the hill anymore!"

Sure enough, the earthen mound that had been piled up for ten days was now deserted. The bandits who had been working on the mountain were now hastily retreating.

"What's going on?" Ma Xianglin asked in surprise.

Qin Liangyu squinted. She saw Sun Kewang's large banner moving, but not forward, but to the flank—towards Zhang Xianzhong's central army camp.

"Issue the order," she suddenly said, "all troops on alert, but... do not engage the enemy for now."

"Madam?"

"Sun Kewang is making a move." Qin Liangyu's voice was low. "He's choosing a position—a position where he can fight both us and Zhang Xianzhong."

Night was falling.

Bonfires were lit inside the pass, but only a few, to conserve firewood. The soldiers gathered around the fires, silently sharpening their swords and checking their bowstrings. No one spoke; only the soft scraping of the whetstone against the blades filled the air.

Qin Liangyu sat in the gate tower, writing her final memorial to the court by the light of an oil lamp.

"Your Majesty, I, Qin Liangyu, tearfully submit this memorial: We have defended Jianmen Pass for forty-six days, killing over thirty thousand enemy soldiers. Now, our supplies are exhausted and reinforcements are cut off. Many of our soldiers have starved to death, and the pass is on the verge of collapse. I am determined to fight a decisive battle tomorrow and die for my country. I only hope that Your Majesty will recover our lost territories as soon as possible, then I will have no regrets even in death..."

As I write this, my pen pauses.

She thought of her husband, Ma Qiancheng, and his dying words: "Yu'er, the Qin family's military flag must not fall."

She thought of her son, Ma Xianglin (who shared the same name as her daughter-in-law), who died in battle in Liaodong during the Tianqi era, and whose remains were never found.

She thought of her hometown in Shizhu, and the rows of memorial tablets in the Qin family ancestral hall.

The pen tip falls, and I continue writing:

"If your subject Qin Yiming survives, I beg Your Majesty to remember his loyalty and bravery and grant him an official position so that the Qin family line may continue. In the netherworld, I will express my gratitude for Your Majesty's grace."

After she finished writing the report, she folded it up, stuffed it into a bamboo tube, and sealed it with sealing wax.

"Xiang Lin."

"exist."

"Take this report with you." Qin Liangyu handed her the bamboo tube. "If the pass falls, take the route through the back mountain. Make sure it reaches Nanjing."

Ma Xianglin knelt down: "Madam! I won't leave!"

"This is a military order." Qin Liangyu helped her up, tears welling up in her eyes for the first time. "Xianglin, you are my daughter-in-law, a member of the Ma family, and the future commander of the White-Spear Army. You must live, lead the troops out, and wait for the day the court launches its counterattack."

Ma Xianglin burst into tears.

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves suddenly came from outside the pass.

It's urgent, and it's coming from far away.

Qin Liangyu grabbed her spear and charged out of the gate tower. On the gate wall, soldiers had already drawn their bows and nocked their arrows.

In the darkness, a rider galloped up and reached the pass. The rider held a torch, the light illuminating a young face—it was Sun Kewang's messenger.