Chapter 1111: Reinforcements
With everything laid out so plainly, Wu Shen found it impossible to argue. He could only clasp his hands and say, “I hope the situation in Sichuan can be resolved soon.”
San Shier let out a long sigh. “Sichuan is no easy task. There are countless small factions, and the complex terrain makes transportation and logistics incredibly difficult. We can only proceed slowly. It is called... 'gradual progress.'”
Wu Shen blinked. “That's not an idiom, is it?”
San Shier paused. “Huh? Isn't it? Well then, this is called... 'misplaced attribution.'”
Wu Shen chuckled. “Get out! Just go, now.”
Thus, what should have been a poignant farewell—"Though Peach Blossom Pool is a thousand feet deep, it cannot compare to Wang Lun's parting love for me"—mysteriously transformed into a scene of Wu Shen kicking San Shier out.
San Shier could only sigh, thinking, In the end, my devotion was misplaced.
And so, he embarked on his journey to Sichuan.
By this time, the railway line from Taiyuan, Shanxi, to Gao Family Village was fully operational.
The moment the train came to a smooth halt in Pingyang Prefecture, a large contingent of militia soldiers, lined up in neat rows, boarded the train.
Wang Er also stepped into the carriage and sat opposite San Shier.
San Shier was slightly surprised but quickly understood. “Are you leading troops to suppress the bandits?”
Wang Er nodded. “We've returned from serving the emperor in the capital and have rested for a few days—enough rest, I think. So, I volunteered to join the pacification efforts. Bai Mao, however, now holds an official court position, so he can't just wander off. Serving the emperor in the capital made sense, but aimlessly traveling wouldn't. So, he's staying in Pingyang Prefecture, and I'll lead the militia in battle.”
This time, Wang Er brought five hundred militia soldiers, and this was just one train. Over the next few days, several more trains would depart, transporting a total of two thousand five hundred soldiers—an entire Shanxi Independent Regiment.
San Shier inquired, “Are you headed for Sichuan, or Henan?”
“Henan,” Wang Er replied.
It turned out that on their way to Sichuan, the Gao Family Village logistics team had encountered the devastation wrought by Zhang Xianzhong's forces in Wuchang. Li Daoxuan himself had intervened in that incident, even scaring a Prince of Chu to death. After that, Li Daoxuan had shifted his perspective, looking for additional troops that could be sent to aid Henan.
Gao Family Village had already committed a significant military presence to Henan.
Bai Yuan commanded a formidable main regiment defending the area around Luoyang, with several thousand veteran soldiers and over ten thousand newly recruited Henan troops, making for a powerful force. Generals Cao Wenzhao and Gao Jie, though not officially part of Gao Family Village, were also assisting in the fight.
Yet, even with such a large number of troops, they couldn't fully control the situation in Henan.
The rebels would gather and disperse, crisscrossing the Henan countryside, making it impossible to pin them down.
Therefore, Gao Family Village had to send more reinforcements to Henan.
This time, Wang Er intended to provide aid to Wuchang, and he would also escort San Shier for part of the journey.
Riding the train, the two quickly passed through Shanxi and returned to Gao Family Village itself.
The train paused briefly here, and soon a large quantity of goods was loaded aboard.
San Shier and Wang Er observed that not only were soldiers moving cargo, but even the Heavenly Lord was assisting. A colossal golden hand descended from the sky, gently picking up the packaged goods that the logistics soldiers had prepared. It was as if it were plucking sesame seeds, placing them softly at the nearest point beside the train.
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The logistics team quickly loaded them onto the train, saving the effort of transporting them from a distant warehouse.
Wang Er couldn't help but exclaim, “When it comes to developing technology or fighting wars, the Heavenly Lord rarely intervenes directly. But when it's about helping the common people, the Heavenly Lord is always willing to lend a hand.”
San Shier nodded. “On one hand, the Heavenly Lord wants us to solve all problems ourselves, to avoid relying on divine power. But on the other hand, he cannot bear to see refugees suffer, always wanting to save more people. It is called... 'boundless compassion.'”
With the train fully loaded—five hundred of Wang Er’s soldiers and a wealth of supplies—it departed from Gao Family Village for Xi'an. There, they transferred to the West Han Railway line, which whistled as it sped towards Hanzhong.
San Shier couldn't help but marvel, “Even though Zhu Cunji seems like a wastrel, the two railway lines he chose are incredibly important. The West Yan line helps us quickly deploy troops to the northern frontier, and the West Han line helps us swiftly transport supplies into Sichuan. It is called... 'a fortunate accident.'”
Wang Er mused, “Perhaps it wasn't accidental. Maybe he simply possesses enough knowledge from his upbringing and has good foresight. So even if he didn't consider strategy, the routes he chose were the most crucial ones.”
After a brief moment of mutual admiration, they arrived in Hanzhong.
On the Hanzhong platform, Prince Rui, Zhu Changhao, was once again stationed in front of the ticket booth. “Hey, hey, how many train tickets have been sold today?”
The staff at the ticket station were accustomed to the Prince Rui. A prince of such high rank, coming to the train station every day to ask about ticket sales—it truly showed a lack of princely demeanor. However, since it was their boss asking, they couldn't refuse to answer. “Seventy-eight taels of silver in tickets have been sold today,” the staff honestly replied.
“What? Only seventy-eight taels?” Prince Rui grumbled, annoyed. “At this time yesterday, wasn't it eighty-two taels? Business today is worse than yesterday.”
The staff member gave a wry smile. Was it not normal for daily ticket sales to fluctuate? This prince...
As they were speaking, the train pulled into the station.
Amidst the whistling of the steam whistle, the large train slowly came to a halt.
Zhu Changhao leaped onto the side of the locomotive in three swift strides. Before the driver could even disembark, Zhu Changhao eagerly asked, “How many tickets did Xi'an sell today?”
The driver, used to his daily interrogation, replied, “Xi'an sold two hundred and ninety taels today.”
Zhu Changhao was overjoyed. “More than two hundred taels? Hahaha, much more than usual...”
As he finished speaking, he suddenly realized something was amiss.
The last time Xi'an had such a surge in ticket sales was due to a large volume of cargo tickets being bought. Today, the numbers were high again, which meant those strange Sichuan-bound relief supplies were here once more?
He quickly turned to look at the carriages behind him. Sure enough, it was that group of logistics soldiers in their uniform attire, once again unloading goods from the train.
Basket after basket, the supplies poured from the train as if they were free, piling up on the platform. Then, others came to load them onto wagons, ready to be transported to the dock.
Zhu Changhao's gaze immediately fell upon Zhuge Wangchan, who was directing a group of subordinates in moving the cargo.
Soldiers generally had keener senses than ordinary people. Zhuge Wangchan sensed someone watching him, turned his head, and looked in Zhu Changhao's direction. Their eyes met in mid-air.
With a sharp crack, sparks seemed to fly between their gazes.
Zhu Changhao loudly protested, “What do you want? I'm not collecting your taxes today, so why are you staring at me? Don't come any closer, don't you dare come any closer!”
As he spoke, he stepped backward. Suddenly, with a "thump," his back hit something. He turned around to find he had bumped into a man with a full beard, a strong fellow like an iron tower, who was looking down at him.
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