Chapter 80: The Rushing Current

Roars erupted with fury.
The county magistrate hurled his official seal from the yamen, stamping the nine-fold script in vermilion onto the faces of the patrol archers.
The pig butcher from Ansai city hoisted the desk from the public hall, smashing the symbol of imperial authority in Fushi County into the crowd.
This manifestation of official power, crafted from solid wood and weighing eighty pounds, was unstoppable.
It crashed into the mass of bodies, breaking bones and crushing sinews.
From behind the public desk, one figure after another emerged, clutching sharp weapons and charging forth.
Liu Chengzong pressed forward with valor, leaping atop the desk and landing heavily on a shield, springing into the throng, driving the shield-bearing yamen officer to his knees.
He was like a cannonball, vaulting over the line of yamen officers and landing beside the patrol archers in the rear, kicking one over with ease.
In these times, even the patrol archers were fierce.
One on the left, unable to draw his blade in time, tried to strike at him with his bow; the one on the right stabbed directly with an arrow.
Faced with two dangers, Liu Chengzong chose to take the blow, swinging his blade to fell the one with the arrow, then turned to cut down the archer, bow and all.
But the enemies surrounding him were too many. Suddenly, he sensed the rush of air behind his ear and dared not look back.
He hastily wrapped his head to block the weapon behind, never expecting it to be a ruthless chain.
The Yanwing blade failed to entangle it securely; the iron head of the chain conveniently smashed open the skull of the archer he'd just kicked over, who had barely regained his footing.
Liu Chengzong hadn't seen such a good comrade in years. Even more astonishing, after killing a teammate with the chain, the man threw it aside and fled.
That suited Liu Chengzong perfectly.
He was trained in handling the yamen's chains!
Wielding his blade to keep his distance from the patrol and yamen officers, Liu Chengzong seized the chain in one hand and the blade in the other, swinging the chain to guard one side and, with the Yanwing blade, swiftly leaping out of the fray.
Those patrol and yamen officers he'd entangled, upon turning back, found the battle had become nothing like the easy skirmish from before.
The prisoners were charging madly for the exit, with Gao Xian, Guo Zhashi, and others leading the vanguard, and both sides were fighting with remarkable ferocity.
The prisoners' weapons were pitifully inadequate; three or five of them struggled to restrain a single yamen officer, some even wielding the judge's gavel to strike faces.
Liu Chengzong, helpless, could only brandish his blade and rejoin the fray.
This time, the feeling of being trapped was gone; it was much easier. Many yamen officers were held up by the prisoners and paid him no mind.
The others, focused on Gao Xian, ignored Liu Chengzong, dragging him along so no one could confront Gao Xian directly.
He darted like a ghost through the crowd—tripping one here, slashing a thigh there, setting a snare for this one, finishing another with a quick stab.
In the blink of an eye, the surviving yamen officers dared not fight anymore, frantically seeking ways to flee.
Liu Chengzong did not pursue them. He paused to catch his breath and saw Chengyun emerging from a shop across the street.
It was extremely bizarre.
While everyone else fought for their lives, Chengyun seemed untouched, not a speck of dust on him, holding a stewed lamb trotter, munching as he walked.
“Where were you just now?”
“Second Uncle, I’m so glad you’re safe.” Liu Chengyun respectfully put away the lamb trotter and greeted Liu Xiangyu first.

Afterward, he pointed back at the shop, looking innocent. “I was just sitting there. Brother Cao told me to notify you, but suddenly a group of yamen officers showed up.
I don’t know any martial arts, and I didn’t dare to go over. There was food in the shop, and the shopkeeper had run away, so I just sat and ate.”
His foolish younger brother was utterly matter-of-fact, and Liu Chengzong replied irritably, “You call that not daring? Even the shopkeeper knew to run, but you didn’t. You have some nerve!”
Chengyun rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to respond.
The well-fed never know the hunger of the starving.
With his martial prowess, armed with weapons, not even seven or eight strong men could approach Liu Chengzong; he nearly single-handedly dominated the field.
Not only did he dare to run, he even longed to leap into the fray.
Chengyun looked at his own frail figure; even scaring a shop assistant made him anxious, fearing the assistant would retaliate with a club and beat him. He broke into a cold sweat just thinking about it.
Dozens of yamen officers and militiamen—who could joke about such things?
Even wanting to run, his legs would have to cooperate. With legs as limp as noodles, what running was possible?
Besides, sitting quietly in the shop, nobody paid him any attention.
If he’d suddenly stood up and run outside, before the yamen officers started fighting, he would have been caught by them.
After the fighting began, the ground was littered with corpses and blood, guns and arrows were fired—he dared not flee even more.
Even now, had he not rested for a while, Chengyun wouldn’t be able to walk straight across the street.
“Brother, Brother Cao asked me to tell you he saw Commander Zhang. He’s not in the city, but camped with his troops outside the South Gate.”
“Camped? What do you mean by camped?”
“Just sitting there. Maybe four li away. The cannons can’t reach them; he's just sitting there with his soldiers.”
Chengyun didn’t know how else to describe it, so he said, “I don’t think we can leave through the South Gate. We should go through the North Gate. He’s probably trying to seize the grain.”
“Seize the grain? He wants my grain, but I want his life. Is he trying to shoot down the sky?”
Liu Chengzong had originally planned to leave through the North Gate to join his brother waiting with ambush troops outside, then have Li Wanqing lead the starving masses to feign an escape through the South Gate.
Best would be to trap Zhang Xiong on the drawbridge, leaving him no way out.
But as Liu Chengyun pointed south, Liu Chengzong’s gaze followed, and his thoughts shifted.
“We’ll do as you say. We leave through the North Gate, circle around, then strike Zhang Xiong.”
The starving masses had suffered enough; they could no longer be used as bait.
At the end of his gaze, the surging tide of starving people flooded the streets of Yan’an Prefecture.
At every roof and street corner, some stood atop buildings, others at intersections, shouting directions.
No one knew where these roads led, nor did anyone care.
They only knew that, after the city defenses were seized and the gate tower bathed in blood, a scar-faced man lifted a torch.
He asked, “Are you hungry?”
They replied, “Follow me.”
They walked among the crowd, saying the grain was just ahead.

It was here in the city.
Enter the city.
Take the grain.
Grain possessed a primordial, world-shaking power.
Like a flash of lightning in the night, it reawakened minds dulled by hunger and chaos.
Swollen legs moved once more, as if heading for the porridge factory.
Then, step by step, they quickened, shoulder to shoulder—the porridge factory never gave so much.
They crossed the drawbridge, passed through the walled enclosure, broke into a run, ready to take as much as they wanted.
No need to hold back.
Run with all their strength, charging through the streets.
Even if—especially if—the government troops were right before their eyes.
Like a rushing river striking floating stones, the tide of people surged and paused for a moment.
But the waves behind crashed into the waves ahead; the yamen officers sent from Dongsheng Gate were fierce in appearance but weak in spirit.
Even they could not believe that their thin waist knives and iron rulers would stop hundreds or thousands of starving people.
The crowd was dense and endless.
No one knew if the first to charge the yamen officers was pushed out or resolved to die against the blades.
All they saw was the tip of a blade piercing through bodies, blood staining the eyes.
One after another, ragged, hard-bellied, swollen-legged, disheveled figures burst forth.
With unparalleled terror of death, with unmatched desire to survive, with boundless resentment toward disaster and misfortune, with overwhelming rage for families torn apart.
Charging forward.
Rushing against the blades.
Today, in Yan’an Prefecture, steel could not defeat flesh and blood.
Shields could not defend, waist knives could not pierce, iron rulers could not stop, chains could not restrain.
The yamen officers were drowned by the surging river, torn apart, ground into mud, their livers and brains scattered.
They were like feeble house dogs.
The others were fierce tigers and wolves.
Grain...the grain was just ahead.