Chen Ping's Sword

"Eat slowly, there’s enough for everyone, no need to fight over it. There’s enough food, and meat soup too."

Zhuo Yunfei shouted until his throat was hoarse, occasionally laughing and cursing as he playfully kicked someone on the buttocks. The person kicked initially wore an expression of despair, body tensed up, fearing they wouldn’t get any food. They jumped up, covering their backside, and laughed, saying, "Chief Constable Zhuo, you’re a well-fed man who doesn’t know the hunger of the starving. I heard you’ve been living it up with King Ping in Xingqing Prefecture, dining like kings. You have no idea how much we’ve suffered."

As he laughed, he began to cry again.

"I was doing relatively well in Ling Mountain Prefecture, just being hunted by the Hu People. Fleeing east and west, I went three days without food or water. I’ve heard about Wenyuan and Wuyan Prefectures... sigh..."

"Brother Iron, it’s all in the past. King Ping treats people differently here. As long as everyone follows the rules, life will be good, and you don’t need to worry about being bullied."

Zhuo Yunfei waved his arm, noticing the crowd of ragged folks looking over. He immediately raised a wooden bowl and tapped it loudly.

"I can’t promise anything else, but I can at least guarantee that you’re alive today, and as long as we have food, you won’t go hungry. Even though we’re still at war, and the times are dangerous, although grains are somewhat scarce, it won’t be a problem to provide for you. If worst comes to worst, don’t we have wolf meat? The Beizhou Barbarians are quite adept at raising wolves and horses until they’re fat and strong. Once everyone is fed, we don’t ask for much—just that when it’s time to flee for your lives, you can run faster and not hinder our army’s retreat."

He raised his right arm and waved, "Eat the wolves. Yesterday they were eating us; today we eat them. There are two to three thousand wolves—can you eat them or not?"

"Eat the wolves."

"As King Ping instructed, and as Chief Constable Zhuo said, everyone should eat the wolves. While we may not excel at killing Hu People, we can certainly handle eating a couple of wolves."

All around, there was a burst of noise, immediately followed by roaring laughter.

The makeshift camp was filled with laughter everywhere.

A large number of people, having deliberately prepared steaming hot wolf meat, didn’t eat it immediately; instead, they ran to Chen Ping’s tent, knelt and bowed, and only then did they finally eat to their heart’s content.

Even eating a meal felt like devouring the remnants of a storm.

As if there was a deep-seated enmity with the meat in the bowl.

Sadness, confusion, and uncertainty about the future quietly dissipated in the span of one meal.

After a long while, another group of literary scholars, about forty in number, dressed with some elegance, led by Zhuo Meng, came to pay their respects.

These people represented the last of the dignity of the Three Prefectures.

Other literary figures and officials were either dead or had surrendered, and some may have followed King Jinghai’s dark forces to retreat and join the Jinghai Army.

Zhuo Meng had been training under Yuo Qiu for a long time, and although he couldn’t yet handle governmental affairs with ease, he made few mistakes overall.

His greatest realization was noticing that within Xingqing Prefecture, there was a dire shortage of scholars who could read and do the work at hand.

Later, Chen Ping had to encourage some barely literate soldiers to take on management roles in basic affairs, highlighting the enormous gap in talent.

Finding more than forty well-read scholars with practical experience was a significant find, so he immediately brought them to Chen Ping for review.

"Greetings to King Ping. I come from a poor background, supported by my uncle to study at Bailu Academy. I returned home three years ago to mourn for my father, planning to head to the Capital this spring for the imperial exams. However, with the Beizhou invasion and the Capital’s unrest, my journey was delayed, and I hadn’t expected the Southwest to be in such disarray, with warfires everywhere..."

The scholar, Lin Yuncheng, spoke through tears and sniffles, clearly describing his background and origins.

He had escaped through a dog hole in the city wall, and as a child, he often followed the neighboring kid out of town to fish in the river, so he knew a hidden waterway to escape.

He escaped the city’s massacre but couldn’t escape the hunt.

If it weren’t for Chen Ping leading an army to fight off the Beizhou Hu Cavalry and saving him, he would’ve likely died by now.

Most of the dozens of scholars before him had similar experiences.

Some, by sheer coincidence, hid when the Beizhou Hu Cavalry approached.

Others gathered a few village braves to play cat and mouse with the Beizhou Hu Cavalry in the city alleys, occasionally killing a wolf rider or two while taking losses themselves, struggling to survive.

Just when they were about to be entirely wiped out by the Beizhou People, help finally arrived in their moment of desperation.

When Chen Ping’s army entered the city, they cleared out the Beizhou people, shouting through every street and alley, and these people followed them out.

Zhuo Meng laughed, "In addition to Brother Lin and Brother Wang and these scholars, there are some brave warriors waiting to join our Xingqing Army. King Ping can select the best; I have personally vetted them, and they are all valiant men who can kill Hu People and possess a spirit of bravery."

Little Table referred to King Ping without any hesitation.

Chen Ping recalled the scene from before, huddled with a few people in the Earth God Temple, hiding on Qilin Street.

Back then, Little Table was so sincere and naive, while his younger brother, Little Stool, was particularly clever and cunning, much more suited to this harsh world than his older brother.

Unfortunately, Little Stool had bad luck and died early at the hands of the Beizhou Barbarians.

Little Table, despite appearing simple and honest, turned out to have profound luck and strength, surviving against the odds.