Chapter 359: Rewards

The training ground in Shengle City was packed with people.

More than a dozen tables had been arranged across the grounds. Two military clerks sat at each one. One remained seated with brush and register in hand, recording names and figures, while the other stood beside the table with a small scale, weighing silver.

An army marching to war could hardly bring its soldiers’ families along.

Throughout history, forces that carried their wives and children with them on campaign were usually no longer considered armies.

They were closer to roving bandits.

What was being distributed on the training ground today were the rewards from this campaign.

How many heads had a man taken?

What merits had he earned?

What confirmed contributions had been recorded under his name?

Each had its own corresponding calculation.

The system behind the payouts was extremely complicated.

Enemy heads remained the hardest currency of military merit, naturally, but there were plenty of battles where soldiers had no chance to leisurely cut off heads afterward. Certain types of troops also found it much harder than others to reach the front and compete for heads in the first place.

So, without weakening the soldiers’ motivation to fight, another reward structure had been created to compensate for those disadvantages.

Similar systems existed in most Yan armies.

But only the Shengle Army had refined the process to this degree while still leaving the overwhelming majority of its soldiers feeling the calculation was fair.

Naturally, much of the credit belonged to Siniang.

Creating a complete and detailed “performance evaluation standard” was hardly difficult for her.

Most of the people gathered on the training ground today were members of Shengle’s military households, here to collect reward money on behalf of their families.

Some also needed to collect disability compensation.

The amount depended on the severity of the injury.

A soldier who could still perform useful work afterward received a smaller subsidy.

Someone who had essentially lost the ability to care for himself received much more, and his household would continue receiving a fixed monthly allotment of grain and money to support daily life.

The compensation for soldiers killed in action, however, was not distributed here.

Making families who had just received news of a death come to the training ground, collect silver, and stand surrounded by the smiling relatives of surviving soldiers that would have been cruel.

So the General’s Residence sent people door to door to deliver the pensions of the dead.

Each household also received steamed buns, cured meat, yellow wine, spirit money, and white mourning cloth.

After hearing the terrible news, the family still had a funeral to arrange.

The people delivering these things from the General’s Residence were also required to record the household’s current circumstances again so further assistance could be arranged later.

At that moment, the Blind Man stood atop the city wall.

The training ground lay directly below him.

His eyes were closed.

He appeared to be listening.

A’Ming walked over carrying a wineskin.

“What are you listening to?”

“Splash... splash...”

The Blind Man held both hands in front of himself and made the motion of flowing waves.

“What?”

“Shh.

“Listen.

“That is the sound of silver flowing away like water.”

“Oh.

“So you came up here to grieve over the money.”

A’Ming had brought back the casualty and merit lists from the front.

Truthfully, those lists had been updated every day during the defense of Snow Sea Pass. By the time the campaign ended, most of the statistics were already complete.

Every night during the defense, dedicated men had been assigned to record casualties and contributions.

There had been no absolute need to do it that quickly.

But it was an excellent way to maintain morale.

The soldiers needed to know—not merely be told, but genuinely feel—that if they died, the General’s Residence would look after their old parents, their widows, and their children.

If they were wounded or crippled, compensation and future arrangements awaited them as well.

The Blind Man shook his head and sighed.

“How could my heart not hurt?

“That is a truly obscene amount of silver.”

Maintaining soldiers was expensive.

Maintaining full-time professional soldiers was catastrophically expensive.

“We looted plenty during the campaign too,” A’Ming said.

Fengxin City had been stripped clean.

Snow Sea Pass also contained a large quantity of wealth the savages had seized but never managed to transport north.

The amount was hardly small.

During the siege, everyone had cared only about grain, so little attention had been paid to the rest.

In A’Ming’s view, covering the expedition’s costs and the subsequent compensation would still leave them with plenty to spare.

Naturally, the court would also issue its own pensions and rewards.

But the court’s standards could not compare with Shengle’s.

“Still,” A’Ming said, “I’m curious about something.

“We have plenty of married soldiers, sure.

“But there are plenty of bachelors too.

“Do bachelors still receive death compensation?”

In chaotic times, “one man eats and the whole family is full” was practically a common way of life.

In A’Ming’s opinion if a soldier had no family at all, there did not seem much point issuing a pension after he died.

“Before every campaign, each soldier has to register one beneficiary so the General’s Residence knows where to send his compensation if he dies.

“Quite a few bachelors wrote down the names of girls from the Red Tents.”

“Well.

“That’s actually touching.”

“If a man has neither family nor sweetheart, then his compensation is deposited into the Charitable School to support an orphan.

“That child takes in the soldier’s memorial tablet— and changes his surname to the dead man’s.”

After repeated wars across the lands of the Three Jin, orphans were hardly difficult to find.

There were far too many.

A’Ming lifted the wineskin and took a drink.

“Siniang really put thought into this.”

No wonder, during Shengle’s own defense, one mortally wounded armored soldier had grinned at the end and said:

*What the fuck are you crying for? I’ve got descendants too.*

*Once I’m dead, there’ll still be some little bastard burning spirit money for me!*

The Blind Man stretched.

“If you want elites, you have to be willing to throw money at them.

“And money is only the first step.

“At the same time, you need to create your own military and political culture inside the army.

“You need cohesion.

“Every layer.

“Every system.

“None of it is easy.”

Other Yan commanders also invested heavily in their troops.

But none went as far as Shengle.

Because what the Demon Kings wanted was an army capable of placing a yellow imperial robe around General Zheng’s shoulders whenever necessary.

To maintain that degree of loyalty, every single detail had to be considered.

If all they wanted was to muddle along and raise another ordinary Yan army, what would be the point?

There would be no sense of achievement at all.

“By the way, Blind Man,” A’Ming said. “We still need to figure out how we’re moving.”

“I already have a plan.”

“Good.

“If you say that, I’m relieved.”

A’Ming hated this sort of mundane work.

The only reason he had previously been assigned to oversee workshop experimentation was because, when testing dangerous things, no one had to worry about him being disfigured or losing limbs in an explosion.

“No matter how you look at it,” the Blind Man said, “Snow Sea Pass is far better than this Shengle City under our feet.

“If we manage it properly, we’ll finally have a stable nest.”

No more carrying their belongings from place to place.

Since awakening in this world, they had first lived in Beifeng Commandery.

Then came Cuiliu Fort in Yinlang Commandery.

Then Shengle City.

After moving to Snow Sea Pass, they would effectively have traveled from the westernmost frontier all the way to the easternmost edge of the realm.

One complete migration across Great Yan.

After sighing over it, the Blind Man waved a hand.

“Time to start moving house.”

Then he stretched again and added:

“But before we move— we need to clean the house.”

...

A large number of the women working in Shengle City’s Red Tents had not hung their plaques today.

Inside the Red Tents stood a special wall covered with plaques bearing the women’s names.

If a woman’s plaque hung there, it meant customers could currently request her company.

The higher the plaque, the higher the price.

The lower it hung, the cheaper the woman.

The very bottom row mostly held the plaques of savage female slaves.

Their names were all wonderfully pleasant—

Spring Blossom.

Autumn Moon.

Begonia.

Peony.

Autumn Chrysanthemum.

Names could be misleading, however.

Most things in the world still obeyed one basic principle: you got what you paid for.

Today, though, nearly half the plaques were missing from the wall.

Sometimes a woman had personal business.

Sometimes she was having her monthly period and removed her plaque for two days.

But such a mass absence had never happened before.

Fewer than five thousand soldiers remained behind in Shengle, but merchant caravans passed through constantly, and many men living near the city made special trips into town for entertainment.

Business was hardly lacking.

So where had all the women gone if they were neither seeing customers nor earning money?

They were still inside Shengle City.

Only today, instead of their usual bright clothing, they wore white mourning robes and paper flowers in their hair.

Their hair had been pinned up in the style of married women.

And every one carried a memorial tablet whose ink had not yet fully dried.

They walked from South Street all the way toward North Street.

People often said:

*Whores have no hearts.*

*Actors have no loyalty.*

But the heartless were not necessarily truly without feeling.

These women had merely seen more betrayal and tasted more bitterness than ordinary people.

Naturally, they became harder to move.

But if a man had been willing to write one of their names down as the person who should receive the silver bought with his death then they did not mind walking through the city today as his widow.

Those men might have been crude.

Perhaps timid.

Perhaps foul-mouthed.

Perhaps demanding when it came to bedroom business.

Perhaps long.

Perhaps short.

Perhaps agonizingly slow.

Perhaps absurdly quick.

Perhaps, in the women’s lives, they had only ever been brief guests passing through.

But at the end of it all one man had chosen to hand her money purchased with his own life.

Later, whenever she quarreled with someone, she could hold that memory in her heart and stand a little straighter.

When she grew old, she would possess one more thing to remember while drinking hot tea and soaking her feet in vinegar.

*Back then, this old woman had a man too.*

*And he was willing to use his life to treat me well.*

Plenty of people along the street noticed the procession.

Some even recognized who the women were.

Normally, whether inside the Red Tents or out on the street, a man who recognized one might naturally walk over and tease her.

Perhaps even slap a palm against some raised, fleshy curve and laugh that he would visit her tomorrow night or the night after.

But today at this moment not one man dared run his mouth.

The women held memorial tablets in their arms.

The men named on those tablets were gone.

But what soldier lived in an army camp without a few comrades or brothers who had shared life and death with him?

Run your mouth for one moment today.

By evening, perhaps one of those brothers would appear at your door and show you the hilt of his saber.

Shengle City had no Prefect.

No county yamen.

There was only the General’s Residence.

The women walked without stopping.

At last they reached the school.

Shengle’s school functioned differently from ordinary schools outside.

The children learned characters in the morning.

Arithmetic in the afternoon.

There were no traditional sessions devoted to flowery essays or the classics.

But every day, once at noon and once before dismissal, the children were gathered together to study and recite certain principles.

An instructor asked.

The students answered.

“Who gives you food to eat?”

“Who gives you books to study?”

“When you grow up— whom will you serve?”

As for sour, impoverished scholars who loved lecturing children endlessly on moral essays—

Shengle had none.

Reality had already proven that if you paid scholars enough money and grain, they too were perfectly willing to become more direct and practical.

The women stopped outside the school gate.

They did not enter.

The commotion outside was large enough that the Deputy Headmaster soon came out.

He was an old man around fifty, with a long beard.

He had not originally been a teacher.

He had once worked as an accountant.

But he was sharp, socially capable, and good at administration, so he had been promoted to manage the school’s daily affairs.

As for who served as the school’s actual Headmaster or, in General Zheng’s preferred terminology, the “Principal” that required no explanation.

When Zheng Fan had still been living in Shengle, he occasionally visited the school to show his face.

Every time he came, the children crowded around General Zheng with bright smiles, extraordinarily excited to see him.

The only thing General Zheng disliked was the title “Headmaster.”

He still thought “Principal” sounded far more impressive.

The Deputy Headmaster came forward.

His eyes darted once.

A younger instructor leaned close and whispered an explanation before he finally understood exactly who these women were.

The Deputy Headmaster’s own wife was a famous tigress.

And at his age, even paying his “marital grain tax” at home had become increasingly difficult.

There was certainly no question of sneaking outside for additional meals.

Still, that did not make him feel especially warm toward the younger instructor who had just kindly explained things.

During their previous gathering, that fellow had asked several suspiciously detailed questions about the Deputy Headmaster’s youngest unmarried daughter.

The Deputy Headmaster had none of the sour pedantry common among scholars.

A man who had once done business knew best how to keep all sides comfortable.

“Ladies, why have you come?

“Come in.

“Come in and drink some tea.

“Whatever you have to say, we can speak slowly.”

He knew what was happening in Shengle City today.

Some households were celebrating, carrying military reward silver into the shops to buy pastries they normally could not bear to spend money on.

Other houses had already filled with crying.

Ashes from burned spirit paper had begun drifting and circling through the streets.

The woman leading the group was almost forty.

Her name was Sister Mei.

She was considered older by the standards of the Red Tents, but she remained full-bodied and understanding, and was extremely popular among younger customers.

The memorial tablet in her arms belonged to a nineteen-year-old soldier.

In her eyes, he had still been barely more than a child.

Yet he had already died on the battlefield.

He had no parents.

No wife.

No children.

On his military record the beneficiary of his death compensation had been Sister Mei.

She dipped into a slight bow before the Deputy Headmaster.

“The school is a clean place.

“We won’t go inside.

“We’re dirty.”

The Deputy Headmaster froze.

Then he watched Sister Mei place a bag of silver on the ground before him.

She stepped back.

The women behind her began doing the same.

Before long, a small pile of silver bags had formed on the ground.

Sister Mei said:

“Those damned grunts had no sons, no daughters, no family.

“They died in battle— yet somehow wrote our names down for the death money.

“But this silver was bought with their lives.

“We sisters live in the Red Tents under Mr. Feng’s care. We lack nothing in food or clothing, and we can save some private silver ourselves.

“So we absolutely cannot accept this money.

“We heard that some soldiers who truly had no family or woman left their compensation with the school so an orphan could take their surname and continue their line.

“We sisters cannot bear children for these bastard men on the tablets anymore.

“So we thought— perhaps we can do the same thing.

“Help those bastards leave a family line behind.

“We ask the Headmaster to grant this request.”

Holding the memorial tablet, Sister Mei knelt.

“Please grant our request.”

All the women behind her knelt together.

Sister Mei continued:

“After each child changes his surname, we sisters will contribute a little every month too.

“Not much.

“But enough so the child can have a few extra snacks in his hands.

“A couple of new outfits during festivals.

“Those brainless soldiers were willing to put our names down for their death silver.

“So the least we can do is buy a few more things for the children carrying their surnames.

“We sisters know our bodies are dirty.

“We do not expect those children to call us Mother.

“We only ask that they understand this much:

“Because they took that dead man’s surname, they can live a little better.

“And perhaps they’ll remember that dead man’s goodness a little more.”

The Deputy Headmaster’s face changed completely as he listened.

He had not been born a scholar and did not possess a poet’s habit of weeping over everything.

Yet at this moment, he still stepped backward.

Then he bent deeply at the waist before the women kneeling in front of him.

When he straightened again tears were already streaking his face.

“Ladies— your righteousness is profound.

“Profound!”

...

The workshops operated for only half a day.

First, because reward money was being distributed throughout the city and many workers had taken leave to collect it.

Second, because orders from above had specifically declared that after today, the workshops would close for the next two days.

Once the woman finished the work in her hands and sorted away her things, she returned to her home in the city.

She pushed open the courtyard gate and saw her mother-in-law sitting on a stool inside, face dark and heavy.

The woman’s legs immediately went weak.

She almost collapsed.

Only by grabbing the doorframe did she steady herself.

“Mother?

“Mother?”

She called twice.

The old woman looked up at her daughter-in-law.

Then both hands slapped heavily against her thighs as she began wailing.

“Cursed Heaven!

“Cursed, murderous Heaven!”

The woman felt the world spin.

At last, she sat down on the ground.

Tears poured from her eyes.

He he was gone?

In an instant, the man’s face and voice began surfacing inside her mind.

It felt as though only yesterday he had still been carrying water in the courtyard.

Making toys for her son.

Timing his visits so he could meet her briefly when she finished work, then hurrying away again afterward.

From the first day he appeared he had come every day.

She had originally thought the rest of her life would simply continue as it was.

Raise her child.

Serve her mother-in-law.

No matter how hard the days became, grit her teeth and endure.

Besides, after she began working in the workshops, the family had grown much better off.

At the very least, there was no longer any worry about food or clothing.

Her child could attend school and learn characters.

She had never intended to remarry.

She was afraid another man would dislike her son.

Afraid he would dislike her mother-in-law.

How many men were willing to raise another man’s child and support another man’s mother too?

It was not that such men did not exist.

But... rather than forcing herself to accept someone unsuitable, she had preferred living simply as she already did.

Then *he* appeared in her household.

And he happened to be honest.

And somehow the more she looked at him, the more comfortable he seemed.

On the road home from work, she often began looking forward to opening the gate just so she could see him a few more times.

Her mother-in-law cared about her and wanted her to find another man too.

So once this one appeared what was there left to pretend about?

She was already a widow.

A woman who had given birth.

Not some untouched maiden.

What reason did she have to act coy?

He came to her house every day.

She had never once driven him away.

Was her meaning not obvious enough?

She simply had no idea what the man kept hesitating over.

Perhaps he was hesitating because he thought himself unworthy of her?

But in the end, he had sat down and eaten with the whole family.

Then he handed over all the salary silver he had saved.

She had accepted it in front of him.

In her heart that meant the matter between them was settled.

Because of that, every night lately, lying on the kang, she had thought and thought and thought...

To say something shameless when she married her first husband, her heart had never pounded anywhere near as violently as it did this time.

She had heard storytellers speak of talented scholars and beautiful women.

She did not think herself any great beauty.

But perhaps was this what the storytellers meant by *love at first sight*?

Her mother-in-law had helped her sew a wedding outfit.

A widow remarrying could not hold some huge public celebration.

But her mother-in-law was a woman too.

She loved her daughter-in-law like her own daughter and wanted to prepare a proper set of things for her.

The old woman had said:

*We can’t make a spectacle outside. People will gossip.*

*But inside this household, whatever other girls get—*

*you should get too.*

She had been waiting for him to come back.

But...

The old woman was still wailing.

The younger woman, however, could no longer cry.

Her chest simply felt hollow.

She stood.

Walked over.

Then crouched before her mother-in-law.

She wanted to say perhaps she simply lacked that fate.

Perhaps she truly carried a husband-killing face.

Two men both dead because of her.

When her first husband died, people in the village had said exactly that.

Her mother-in-law had taken a broom and fought those gossiping women.

But this time she herself almost believed it.

If he had never met her if he had not sat down for that final meal would he perhaps still be alive?

The old woman wiped at her tears and choked out:

“People from the General’s Residence came earlier.

“They said... they said Brother Yu... he... he suffered terrible injuries.

“He’s paralyzed.”

The woman’s head snapped upward.

She stared at her mother-in-law.

He was not dead.

He was not dead.

He was not dead!

“Aiyo, murderous Heaven! Why does life have to be this bitter?

“You finally found another man.

“Finally found someone you could depend on.

“And now he’s paralyzed!

“How did he become paralyzed?

“How?!”

The younger woman’s heart remained completely flooded with joy.

She did not react.

The old woman looked at her daughter-in-law’s blank expression and misunderstood.

She lifted both withered hands and held the younger woman’s face.

“Girl.

“Before he left for war, he gave you every coin of salary he had.

“We sat down and ate together too.

“Girl— people need conscience.

“You can’t see that he’s paralyzed and abandon him now.

“We have to support him.

“We have to care for him.

“This is our fate.

“This is our fate!

“We can’t do something heartless.

“We can’t go back on our word.

“Understand?

“You remember this:

“Brother Yu is your man.

“Whether he can ever stand again or not— as long as your man is alive, you care for him.

“You care for him for the rest of his life!”

The old woman had believed in one principle all her life.

Marry a chicken, follow the chicken.

Marry a dog, follow the dog.

The younger woman smiled.

“Mother.

“I understand.”

As long as he had not died that was enough.

She truly was willing to care for him.

At that moment, above the courtyard wall two small heads slowly withdrew.

The Wolf Cub looked toward the Sword Maid.

“This family seems pretty good.

“Out on our desert, there aren’t many women willing to stay this devoted.”

Living conditions in the desert were brutal.

If a man became unable to stand and support his household, it was hardly unusual for his woman to take the children and crawl directly into another man’s tent.

The Sword Maid folded her arms like a little adult and nodded.

“What about the silver?” the Wolf Cub asked.

The military reward for more than a thousand heads converted into silver would be enough to terrify an ordinary household.

But the Sword Maid had stopped it from being delivered.

The Sword Saint had said he did not want to test anyone.

Zheng Fan had agreed.

Unfortunately, back in Shengle, the Sword Maid had taken it upon herself to run the test anyway.

Children saw the world mostly in black and white.

If someone wanted to become her master’s wife then naturally that person had to pass her test.

The Wolf Cub patted the dust from his backside.

“I heard we’re moving again.

“East.

“Really, really far east.”

“I know.”

“Haaah. Every time I finally get used to a place, we have to move somewhere else.”

“Heh.”

The Sword Maid laughed.

“What are you worried about?

“If we’re moving house, naturally anything we can bring gets brought.

“That goes for things.

“And people.”

“Oh?

“You mean everybody’s going too?”

“Obviously.”

“Then fine.

“I’ve already gathered myself a whole crowd of little brothers.

“If they stop following behind me, life will get boring.”

The Sword Maid rolled her eyes.

Then, using a new word she had learned from the Demon Kings, she said with complete disdain:

“Childish.”

...

Inside the General’s Residence, the Young Marquis clutched the rail of his little play enclosure with soft hands and walked around it endlessly.

Siniang sat in another corner with one leg crossed over the other, drinking tea while turning through account books.

Moving meant starting everything over again.

But Siniang did not feel especially discouraged.

Long ago, she had become accustomed to opening brothels in different eras.

Change location.

Rebuild the arrangement.

Develop again.

There was nothing wrong with that.

If anything, it brought novelty.

Besides—

Snow Sea Pass offered far more room for them to stretch their hands and feet than Shengle ever had.

Siniang stood and took a piece of peach shortbread from the plate before her.

She offered it to the Young Marquis inside his little enclosure.

The child reached out with one hand.

He tried several times but could not grip the pastry securely.

Left with no choice, he used both hands.

Without one hand holding the railing for balance, his body immediately tipped backward and landed on his bottom.

His face went blank with surprise.

Siniang laughed.

The Young Marquis did not cry.

When he saw Siniang laughing he laughed too.

Siniang had always thought she disliked children.

Only now did she realize that was not quite right.

She did not dislike children.

She disliked crying and screaming.

Speaking from the heart this Young Marquis truly was sensible.

Easy to like.

*Should I...*

*have a child with Master?*

Siniang hesitated.

Only briefly.

She still had far too much work to handle.

Snow Sea Pass lacked everything.

That meant, here in Shengle, whatever could be moved should ideally be moved.

Coordinating all of it required tremendous preparation.

She handed the peach shortbread to the Young Marquis.

He grabbed it with both hands.

Lowered his head.

Then worried at one edge with something between biting and sucking until a piece finally came loose into his mouth.

He closed his eyes and chewed patiently.

At that moment, a young maid came in from outside and stopped at the doorway.

“Madam, Mr. Bei sent someone asking you to go outside the city.

“He also said you should bring more people.”

Siniang nodded.

“Understood.

“Transfer half the guards from the residence and have them follow me outside.”

“Yes, Madam.”

The maid left.

Siniang picked up a fur cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

Then she reached down and pinched the Young Marquis’s plump, tender cheek.

“I know you eat a lot.

“Finish all of it.

“Don’t be polite.”

The Young Marquis seemed to understand.

He opened his mouth and grinned again.

Normally, sweets were rationed.

He was never allowed to eat without limit.

Siniang left the room.

The Young Marquis lifted the peach shortbread in both hands.

Then deliberately loosened his grip.

The pastry fell and broke into two pieces.

The Young Marquis picked up one piece.

Bottom in the air, he crawled toward one corner of the little fenced enclosure.

He carefully placed that piece there.

In truth, most children did remember things when they were very young.

They simply forgot later.

The Young Marquis remembered that he once had a little companion who stayed beside him all the time and played with him.

So whenever he received something good he wanted to leave some for his friend.

He himself did not understand the meaning behind what he was doing.

Perhaps before long, he would forget all of it.

But at this moment he remembered clearly.

Newborn children were naturally sensitive.

Their perception of certain things was often sharper than that of adults.

That was the origin of the saying that children could “see ghosts” more easily than grown people.

Of course, in the Young Marquis’s eyes, that companion had never been a “ghost.”

After placing the piece aside, the Young Marquis crawled back, picked up the other piece of pastry, and resumed his determined mixture of biting and sucking.

Normally, for safety, no one was permitted to remain beside him except his wet nurse while feeding him.

A child who had been raised by the Demon Child from infancy was different.

Even alone, he neither cried nor made trouble.

If something edible sat nearby and he could bite it, he ate.

Then he played by himself.

When tired, he slept by himself.

He was so obedient it was almost unnatural.

At that moment, two dark shapes appeared in the pond behind the inner residence.

They slowly rose from the water.

Water streamed from their bodies, yet not a single sound was made.

Two men in black silently stepped from the pond and exchanged one glance.

Then they began moving rapidly toward the inner rooms.

Their speed did not look especially fast.

Yet as they advanced, faint afterimages seemed to remain behind them.

More importantly despite having just emerged from the pond, not a trace of water marked the ground.

*Creak...*

The door opened softly.

One black-clad man leapt upward and landed on the roof.

He immediately flattened himself and swept his gaze vigilantly across the surroundings.

The other entered the room.

Inside the little fenced enclosure, the Young Marquis sat holding his peach shortbread and nibbling away.

He raised his head.

He looked at the black-clad stranger who had entered.

“Da... da... chi...”

The Young Marquis stretched the pastry toward him.

At the same time, the man on the roof lifted a tile and looked down.

His gaze was deep and venomous like that of a snake as he examined the child in detail.

The man inside looked upward.

They were confirming whether this child was truly *that* child.

The child’s identity was too valuable.

If half the guards had not been drawn away from the General’s Residence today, even these men would have found it extremely difficult to enter silently.

If this attempt failed they would never receive another chance.

So the most important thing was determining whether the child before them was merely a decoy.

After all, any normal person could imagine keeping an ordinary infant here as bait while secretly raising the real child elsewhere.

The Young Marquis did not cry.

Seeing that the black-clad man apparently had no interest in his pastry, he brought it back to his mouth and continued stubbornly worrying at the edge.

He had an excellent appetite.

He had also begun eating foods besides breast milk unusually early.

At first, Siniang had worried that introducing such food so soon might be harmful.

Later, she gradually stopped worrying.

Perhaps because he was Tian Wujing’s son, the inherited constitution was simply absurdly strong.

His body was far tougher than that of an ordinary infant.

That had even caused Siniang to entertain certain thoughts.

For example, perhaps she should wait until Master’s martial grade rose higher before having a child with him.

Would their baby then inherit an even stronger constitution?

If one was going to do something do it to the finest possible standard.

This was a principle shared by every Demon King.

It was also their minimum requirement for maintaining quality of life.

Having children was no exception.

After all a child born from herself and Master would also be the Young Master of the Seven Demon Kings.

And in a certain sense, that child would be even more intimately connected to them than Master himself.

It would be an extension of the Demon Kings’ lives.

The meaning would be extraordinary.

Poor General Zheng, far away at Snow Sea Pass, had no idea that because the Young Marquis’s constitution was so excellent, Siniang had just eliminated any hope of letting him “round the bases” with her in the short term.

The man on the roof continued observing.

The one below reached into his clothes and took out a small black snake.

It came from the Great Marsh of Chu.

The creature liked feeding upon spiritual qi.

Many people deliberately searched for these snakes and used them when hunting treasures or spiritual herbs, because the animals possessed extraordinarily sensitive perception toward such things.

The little snake examined its surroundings.

It coiled and twisted once around the black-clad man’s palm.

Then its head turned toward the Young Marquis inside the enclosure.

Its forked tongue flicked out.

“Hiss... hissss...”

Clearly, the child had attracted its attention.

That meant the boy’s innate qi was extraordinarily full, almost comparable to a spiritual herb.

Once he grew a little older, he would unquestionably become an exceptional seedling for martial training.

It resembled the Sword Maid’s natural talent for the sword path.

The explanation was simple enough.

General Zheng had privately sighed more than once that if one ignored the little matter of Tian Wujing exterminating his own entire clan the Marquis himself possessed a pure protagonist template.

He studied military strategy without delaying martial training.

Eventually, he became Great Yan’s God of War on the battlefield.

His Martial Artist cultivation reached the point where he could defeat the Sword Saint in direct combat.

At the same time he had even cultivated some Qi Refiner methods.

With talent that overwhelming, even if his child inherited only ten or twenty percent, the result would still be terrifying.

The two men in black exchanged another glance.

Both nodded slightly.

Each had reached the same conclusion.

This child should indeed be their target.

People of this age generally believed in the importance of bloodline.

And neither man believed the Shengle General’s Residence could casually find another child of exactly the same age who also possessed extraordinary cultivation potential merely to serve as a puppet for the Young Marquis.

So the one before them was real.

The black-clad man inside reached into his sleeve and withdrew something semi-transparent, resembling a piece of cloth made from water.

Then he began walking toward the Young Marquis.

The child watched him with two glossy black eyes while continuing to bite at the pastry in his hands.

The outside of the shortbread was soft.

The inside was harder.

The Young Marquis’s teeth had not fully grown in, so biting through the tougher center was difficult.

Still he kept trying.

Kept working.

At last, the black-clad man reached him.

*BOOM!*

The floor tiles beneath the man abruptly collapsed.

The change came with almost no warning.

Yet the infiltrator’s skill was genuinely impressive.

His body did not fall into the hole.

Instead, he twisted violently in midair and tried to escape the collapsing area.

*HUM!*

A coffin suddenly rose upright from below.

It blocked the space between the black-clad man and the Young Marquis’s enclosure.

“...”

The infiltrator froze.

These men had seen the world.

They had dared come here to steal a child of such extraordinary status.

Naturally, they had prepared for all kinds of accidents and unexpected defenses.

But who the fuck could have imagined that while stealing a baby, a goddamned coffin would suddenly charge out halfway and block the road?

The Young Marquis continued fighting with his peach shortbread.

A child’s stubbornness had taken hold.

Now that he had decided to bite through it he absolutely refused to stop until he succeeded.

*BANG!*

The coffin lid fell away.

Inside—

Sha Tuo Queshi stood with his eyes closed.

When General Zheng left on campaign, he had taken five Demon Kings with him.

Only Siniang and the Blind Man remained in Shengle.

Both were overloaded with daily affairs.

So before leaving, purely as an extra precaution—

Sha Tuo Queshi’s coffin had been moved from the rear courtyard and hidden directly beneath this room.

Which meant throughout all this time, the Young Marquis had been eating, sleeping, crawling, and playing on top of a coffin.

Now that the trap had been triggered, the two black-clad men still had no idea who or what stood inside that coffin.

But both made their decision instantly.

The man above smashed through the roof tiles and dropped inside.

The man below drew a dagger and charged forward.

“HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM—!”

Sha Tuo Queshi’s eyes snapped open.

Dark crimson light burned within them.

Almost simultaneously, both infiltrators felt an overwhelmingly terrifying force seize their bodies.

They could not resist it.

Could not escape it.

Sha Tuo Queshi spread both arms.

One man above.

One below.

Both were dragged toward him by force.

Their throats landed perfectly inside Sha Tuo Queshi’s hands.

In his current state, Sha Tuo Queshi no longer possessed the full magnificence of the former Left Guli King of the barbarian Royal Court.

But how could two “petty thieves” possibly resist him?

Besides both infiltrators could be considered first-rate when it came to movement arts and concealment.

In most other respects they were probably much more ordinary.

Sha Tuo Queshi held them by the throat.

Both struggled desperately.

“I know you eat a lot.

“Finish all of it.

“Don’t be polite.”

Those were the words Siniang had spoken before leaving.

*CRACK! CRACK!*

Sha Tuo Queshi snapped both men’s necks.

*CRACK!*

After an enormous amount of persistence, the Young Marquis finally bit through the harder piece of peach shortbread.

A satisfied smile spread across his face.

A child’s happiness was simply that easy to obtain.

“Geh geh geh...”

[End of Chapter 359]