Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

The last trace of color drained from the faces of the couriers.

Li Zicheng's voice remained calm: "Wu, the clerk, please understand that the post stations are in dire straits, and the postal service fees have been overdue for a long time. We are truly unable to raise such a large sum of money. Could you grant us some more time? Or, allow us to sell some of the post station's public property..."

"Sell them off?" Wu, the clerk, scoffed, interrupting Li Zicheng. "What's the value of these broken carts and horses? Besides, can you even haggle over the imperial taxes?"

His face darkened, and he pulled a scroll from his robes, unfurling it with a swift motion. "The prefecture has already sent a document to the county, ordering the reduction of redundant post stations and staff in order to cut costs and alleviate financial difficulties. Your Yinchuan Post Station, long neglected and plagued by frequent errors in its communications, is among those to be closed! Today, I am here to read out the closure order, inspect the post station's assets, and dismiss all personnel!"

Announce! The document!

These two words struck like thunder, leaving all the couriers dumbfounded. Immediately, a desperate anger ignited like wildfire!

"Layoffs? What will we eat then? Starve?"

"Corrupt official! This is trying to drive us to our deaths!"

"Let's fight! We're going to die anyway!"

The crowd became agitated, and some surged forward, their eyes blazing with anger.

The yamen runners and servants immediately dismounted and drew their swords, while the horses behind them trotted uneasily.

"Silence!" Wu, the clerk, shouted sharply, raising his voice. "Disobeying orders is tantamount to treason! Do you all intend to rebel?"

He pointed at Li Zicheng and shouted sternly, "How dare you! If you dare to cause trouble today, you will be treated as rioters! Guards, lock him up!"

Two burly yamen runners immediately stepped forward, their iron chains clanging, intending to arrest Li Zicheng on the spot!

Li Zicheng did not back down; his back was ramrod straight, and the last trace of color had faded from his face, leaving only a grimace.

His hand slowly moved toward the hilt of the knife at his waist.

The atmosphere instantly became extremely tense, sparks flew, and it was about to explode!

At this critical moment, a sudden change occurred!

A loud "boom" suddenly came from a secluded corner behind the post station, where miscellaneous items and firewood were piled up!

Immediately afterwards, a thick plume of smoke, carrying the pungent smell of sulfur and saltpeter, drifted over on the wind!

Everyone was stunned, including Wu, the clerk, and the constable who was about to take action.

Their movements involuntarily halted, and they looked in surprise and uncertainty in the direction from which the thick smoke was rising.

A glint flashed in Li Zicheng's eyes, and almost simultaneously, he drew his old knife from his waist. The gleaming blade flashed in the dim light, pointing directly at Wu Shuban, his voice like thunder:

"These corrupt officials are going too far! They've cut off our food and clothing, and now they want to lock us up! Today, you won't take a single thing from this post station! Brothers, we're all going to die anyway, might as well fight!"

His roar was like lighting the final fuse of a powder keg!

The post station workers, already blinded by despair and rage, roared and brandished everything they could find—guillotines, wooden sticks, shovels, even stones—as they charged toward the yamen runners and servants at the gate!

The sudden explosion and Li Zicheng's resolute stance became the last spark that ignited the despair of this group of people.

The yamen runners and servants were startled by the noise and thick smoke, and were thrown into a panic by the sudden attack.

Although they were carrying knives, they were not a proper army after all. Faced with a group of men who were blinded by rage and charged at them recklessly, they were forced to retreat repeatedly.

"Rebellion! Rebellion! Seize them! Kill them without mercy!" Wu, the clerk, was both shocked and furious. He shouted sternly from his horse, but instinctively reined in his horse and shrank back.

In the chaos, no one noticed that Lin Fan quietly retreated to a place near the stable.

His heart was pounding, and his palms were covered in cold sweat.

The sound and thick smoke were produced by him following Li Zicheng's instructions from the previous night, using a small packet of rough gunpowder and a fuse in that secluded corner where miscellaneous items and firewood were piled up.

The goal was to create chaos and deterrence, and it seems to have achieved its effect, but the situation has completely spiraled out of control!

He saw Li Zicheng wield his sword and cut down a servant who was charging forward, blood splattering everywhere!

Screams, curses, the clash of weapons, and wailing filled the air.

The front yard of the post station was instantly transformed into a bloody battleground.

We can't stay here any longer!

Lin Fan had only this thought left in his mind.

He turned abruptly, rushed into the stable, and hurriedly untied a normally docile post horse—a chestnut horse, thin but still with its skeleton intact.

He didn't have time to put on the saddle, so he just grabbed a rein and put it on, then turned around and started climbing.

The original owner of this body seemed to have some experience riding horses, and with the strength he unleashed in the face of life and death, he managed to climb onto the horse's back in a wobbly manner.

"Lin Fan!"

A low growl sounded behind him.

It's Li Zicheng!

He had somehow broken free from the entanglement and rushed to the vicinity of the stable, his face splattered with blood, but his eyes were unusually clear and sharp.

He was holding a waist knife that he had snatched from some constable, and the tip of the knife was still dripping blood.

Li Zicheng glanced at Lin Fan, whose horse was not even saddled, and then quickly scanned the chaotic battlefield.

The couriers, fueled by sheer courage, temporarily gained the upper hand, but their opponents were armed with horses and swords, and once they recovered...

Without hesitation, he threw the scabbard of the waist knife he had snatched to Lin Fan, and then quickly pulled out a small leather pouch containing gunpowder and a few pieces of hard, chewy mixed flour cakes from his own pocket, stuffing them into Lin Fan's hand.

"North! into the mountains! Don't look back!" Li Zicheng's voice was fast and urgent, carrying an unquestionable command, "Live!"

Having said that, he stopped looking at Lin Fan, turned around and charged back into the chaotic crowd, his roar drowning out the clamor:

"Hold them off! Cover the retreat for the brothers!"

Lin Fan gripped the blood-stained knife and the hardened biscuit tightly in his hand, the gunpowder in his pouch feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds.

He took one last look at the tall figure fighting fiercely in the crowd, gritted his teeth, and slammed his sword sheath hard against the horse's rump!

The chestnut horse, in pain, let out a long neigh and, carrying Lin Fan, crashed through a section of the already loose fence behind the stable, galloping wildly towards the desolate mountain plateau behind the post station!

The cold wind felt like a knife against my face, and the shouts and screams behind me quickly faded into the distance, becoming indistinct.

Lin Fan lay on the horse's back, gripping the reins tightly, his heart pounding in his chest.

He could feel the horse's panting and the jolting of its galloping beneath him, and he could also smell the fading scent of blood and sulfur in the wind.

He escaped.

They escaped from that post station that was about to become a slaughterhouse or a prison, and from that short and oppressive life of horse breeding.

But what lies ahead?

The desolate mountains and wilderness to the north?

Hunger? Bitter cold? Pursuers?

Or is it some other, more terrifying, unknown fate?

he does not know.

All he knew was that Li Zicheng's words "live" burned into his heart like a branding iron.

The crude gunpowder in his arms and the bloodstained knife were the heavy and bloody gifts that this cold and desperate world had given him, and also his only means of survival.

The chestnut horse galloped forward with all its might, the dust it kicked up obscuring the path it had come from.

Yinchuan Station, along with everything that happened there, gradually disappeared below the leaden gray horizon behind us.

The world is vast and boundless, and the road ahead is uncertain.