Chapter 821: The Hostages Arrive
Sun Chuanting watched with curiosity as Cheng Xu's men meticulously counted the hundred carts of supplies. Each tarpaulin cover was carefully pulled back, and every item was thoroughly inspected and tallied. Only when the count was confirmed correct did they sign the papers and affix their fingerprints.
Sun Chuanting couldn't help but ask, "Instructor He, do your supplies always have such a solemn handover ceremony? Is it to report to someone?"
Instructor He chuckled, "Of course, it's to report to our Shanxi merchant benefactors. They fund our military campaigns, so every coin must be spent wisely, not haphazardly. That's why every cart of supplies must be clearly recorded and properly accounted for, to prevent any pilfering along the way."
Sun Chuanting's face flushed slightly at these words. He thought to himself: *This ad-hoc militia manages its logistics more scrupulously than the imperial army. The government troops truly have something to learn.*
With this thought, a sudden idea sparked in Sun Chuanting's mind. "Bring me writing implements!"
His attendant promptly brought the items. Sun Chuanting pondered for a moment, then picked up his brush and began writing with swift strokes: "A Proposal for Standardized Logistics and Transport."
The formal report was underway!
As Sun Chuanting hunched over, penning his proposal on the city wall, other wealthy merchants and prominent families milled around Gao Family Village's transport convoy, observing the spectacle.
The tarpaulin of the first cart was pulled back, revealing a cargo of flintlock rifles.
Li Laoliu, whose name was called, scurried over, a bandage wrapped around his hand, stained with blood—evidently, he had been injured when his old rifle exploded. He took the new flintlock with a beaming face. "Ha! Now I have a rifle again!"
Cheng Xu smiled. "You were hurt by a backfire, which is truly regrettable. So this time, your rifle is a forged flintlock, with a lower chance of backfire. Take good care of it."
Li Laoliu was overjoyed. "A forged rifle? Wow, a premium model!"
He cradled the rifle, happily found a spot by the city wall, and squatted down, repeatedly stroking the barrel. He loved it so much he almost adopted it as his son.
Watching this scene, the wealthy merchants thought to themselves: *With our resources, we truly couldn't afford to support a militia like this. At most, we could only supply a common village defense corps armed with bamboo spears, wooden shields, rusty blades, and light bows. Compared to a militia equipped with such firearms, what good is our wealth?*
Soon, all soldiers whose flintlock rifles had backfired or were damaged received replacements. The broken rifles were tossed onto the carts, to be returned to the logistics captain, Zhuge Wangchan.
Next, the tarpaulins on the following carts were lifted, revealing paper cartridges. The captains of each unit came forward to collect their share, which they then distributed to their subordinates.
After that came gunpowder and explosive shells, which the artillery battalion eagerly replenished.
Once the military supplies were replenished, it was time for provisions.
Wagon after wagon of grain had their tarpaulins removed, with each soldier receiving several days' rations.
Even after distribution, dozens of carts remained.
Cheng Xu turned his head, glancing at the Third-Generation Heavenly Lord Avatar, who subtly nodded.
Cheng Xu immediately raised his voice and called out, "Mr. Sun!"
Sun Chuanting, who was still bent over writing his "Proposal on Standardized Logistics and Transport," looked up, bewildered. "What is it?"
Cheng Xu replied, "There are quite a few refugees in Daizhou city, aren't there?"
Sun Chuanting sighed. "Indeed!"
Cheng Xu offered, "Here are twenty carts of grain. Would you be willing to use them to aid the refugees, Mr. Sun?"
At these words, Sun Chuanting was stunned, and the wealthy merchants nearby were equally astonished.
They had only ever seen armies seize grain from the common people, never one that distributed its own military rations to them. This... this... had the sun risen in the west?
Sun Chuanting was too shocked to speak, remaining speechless for a long moment.
Cheng Xu prompted, "Mr. Sun?"
"Ah!" Sun Chuanting suddenly snapped awake. "Rest assured, I will handle this matter."
Cheng Xu squinted at him. "As Mr. Sun just witnessed, every single catty of our army's supplies is meticulously recorded. When aiding the refugees, please ensure there are no mysterious disappearances of provisions."
Hearing this, Sun Chuanting's spirit rallied. "Have no fear! I, Sun, would never embezzle these supplies."
Cheng Xu clarified, "It's not that I fear you would embezzle them, but rather your subordinates..."
Sun Chuanting understood. He held up his half-written "Proposal on Standardized Logistics and Transport" and said solemnly, "I shall use this as a perfect opportunity to put these principles into practice."
Cheng Xu smiled and clasped his hands, wasting no more words.
With supplies in place, the various units began to divide and act.
According to Sun Chuanting's plan, Cheng Xu would remain in Daizhou, serving as central support. Gao Chuwu would guard Yanmen Pass, preventing bandits from entering and harming the people of the Central Plains. Bai Mao and Wang Er's detachment would move to Wanqian Left Guard, while Lao Nanfeng would lead his forces to Shangfang Fortress.
The Gao Family Village Militia fanned out from Daizhou city like several arrows, rapidly dispersing.
As for Zijing Pass, which Sun Chuanting had suggested guarding, it was too far away for the Gao Family Village Militia to cover. They could only leave its arrangements to Zhang Zongheng, the Supreme Commander of Xuan-Da.
Just as the Gao Family Village Militia deployed in Daizhou...
A mother and son, dressed in animal hides, were escorted by Gao Family Village cavalry to the main village.
These were An Jile, the chief wife of the Wushen tribe leader, and her eldest son, Zhebu.
They had been captured as hostages by the "fierce and cruel," "ruthless and unforgiving" Centurion Chen.
The terrifying expression Centurion Chen had worn when he seized them still haunted the mother and son, making them tremble uncontrollably whenever they recalled it.
An Jile, whose name means "angel" in Mongolian, had been a renowned beauty in her youth. Though now over thirty, traces of her former radiance were still evident on her face.
By the customs of the steppe, a woman captured as a hostage would typically be expected to share the captor's bed and bear several children for him. Such things were common.
As for the customs of the Han people, she didn't quite understand them. In any case, she was mentally prepared for whatever came, ready to accept her fate with resignation. All she wanted was to protect her child.
"Zhebu," An Jile admonished her son earnestly, "Once we are in enemy territory, you must be obedient and not cause trouble. Even if you are humiliated, never talk back or argue. We must endure; we must survive."
Zhebu, whose name means "arrow" in Mongolian, was only ten years old. Yet, he already possessed a touch of steppe ferocity, appearing much taller and hardier than an average Han child. It was no exaggeration to say that given a horse and a bow, he could already charge into battle.
After hearing his mother's words, a somber expression crossed Zhebu's face. "I understand. I will live well and not cause trouble."
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