Chapter 25: The Poisoned Chicken Soup

Because the Flying Bear troops were few in number, it took until dawn the following day to finish tallying the spoils of war.

The battle was over.

The yields included twenty boxes of gold, one box of jade, and ten large carts of utensils used by nobility.

Since the Xiongnu had evacuated Meiji in a relatively orderly fashion, taking many valuables with them, the items recovered by the Flying Bear in the city were merely what had been left behind, mostly originating from the royal court.

They acquired two hundred thousand *hu* of grain and fodder, over forty-seven thousand sheep, more than three thousand cattle, over five thousand packhorses, more than six hundred fine warhorses, and over five thousand poultry.

This was not because Meiji lacked horses, but rather that immediately after the chaos erupted, most of the superior Xiongnu horses were either ridden or led away by the Xiongnu. Many had even specifically slaughtered the livestock they could not carry away before leaving.

The captured Han civilians totaled twenty-four thousand two hundred, among whom fourteen thousand six hundred and sixty-eight were male, and nine thousand five hundred and thirty-two were female.

A small fraction wore the joy of surviving a catastrophe on their faces; most of these were border residents who had been captured here by the Xiongnu, and having escaped the clutches of demons, they naturally rekindled the hope of survival.

However, the gazes of the vast majority had turned completely ash-gray, devoid of even a shred of human emotion, making them look like walking corpses.

They, too, had once been someone's husband, someone's wife, someone's parents, someone's children...

War had destroyed their homes and taken away everything they cherished. What kept them alive was merely the animal instinct to survive...

Their bodies were still alive, but their souls had long since perished.

Such ruined people would send a shudder even through the veteran soldiers of the Flying Bear who had once roamed across the various commanderies of Liangzhou.

Upon the city wall.

Chu Qing looked down at the people outside the city, worry written across his face, and spoke to Chen Cong beside him, "General, such exhausted people can hardly serve as laborers; we will even have to drive them with soldiers if we want them to move south. If we are to keep them alive, it will consume a vast amount of grain from the provincial governor's estate."

Chen Cong had also discovered the crux of the problem.

Previously, he had oversimplified the matter.

These Han people beneath the city were fundamentally different from refugees fleeing south; their desire to survive had grown exceedingly faint, and one could not even see much lingering, bone-deep hatred toward the Xiongnu in their eyes.

People often say that "one cannot live in hatred forever," but hatred at least counts as a driving force to stay alive.

Once even hatred ceased to exist...

"Old Chu, based on your past experience, how is such a situation usually handled?"

Chu Qing was stunned for a moment, and seeing that Chen Cong's face bore no sign of anger, he gritted his teeth and said, "Grant three days' worth of grain, and scatter them entirely."

"Hmm..."

Chen Cong believed half of it—the latter half.

He understood the tyrant Dong Zhuo, or rather, the warlords of the late Han era were fundamentally no different from one another. Warlords were no saints; how could they possibly waste food on worthless things?

The reason Chu Qing suggested giving three days' worth of grain was actually to spare his feelings.

After all, Chen Cong was too young and had not yet had his innate human conscience eroded by repeated choices of interest.

Of course, Chen Cong was no saint either.

As the saying goes, benevolence does not command an army.

He would not use the grain meant to rebuild the military defenses of Bingzhou to feed worthless walking corpses.

Yet, he was not truly a descendant of Qu Ni.

Having likewise risen from the lowest strata of society, he ultimately could not ignore the lives of others the way lofty noble clans did.

Moreover.

Coming from a later era, he truly had a method that, while unorthodox, was still a method...

"Old Chu, do you know why I am always drinking chicken soup?"

Chu Qing had no idea what he was driving at and answered honestly, "This general does not know."

"Although chicken soup is toxic, sometimes it can illuminate the road ahead. Never mind whether the path is crooked or not, at least it is bright enough."

Chen Cong waved his hand as he spoke, "Enough, you wouldn't understand even if I told you. Pass down the order: slaughter all the captured poultry, boil chicken soup, and reward the common people. In addition, erect a high platform outside the east gate and gather the people together. I will address them shortly."

"Understood!"

...

With the military order given, the Flying Bear troops sprang into action immediately.

They dismantled felt tents in the city, gathered the wooden pillars to erect a high platform outside the east gate, and herded the common people into one place.

Meanwhile, they slaughtered poultry near the riverbanks in the distance.

Over five thousand poultry in total—slaughtered and scalded to remove feathers—took a full two hours just to finish.

Then, nearly two hundred large cauldrons were set up near the high platform outside the east gate to boil soup...

Using whatever resources were locally available meant they could not afford to be picky about the flavor.

Lacking even salt, they simply poured several large barrels of mare's milk wine searched from the city into the cauldrons to remove gamey odors and season the broth.

After all this commotion, nearly another half-hour had passed.

Accompanied by wisps of rising cooking smoke, the desolate earth finally regained a semblance of human vitality.

The heavy, meaty stench wafting from the rolling, thick soup was rather unpleasant, yet it caused the slave-commoners—who had long been starved of meat—to unconsciously swallow hard.

Numb though they were, eating was an animal instinct buried deep within their genes, just like the will to survive.

No one who had suffered severe hunger could remain indifferent when facing food.

Soon, bowls of piping-hot chicken soup were distributed by the Flying Bear to every person.

The flavor was poor, but made up for by the generous ingredients; almost every bowl had more meat than broth.

No one refused, nor did many express profound gratitude or bow in thanks.

Yet, everyone was devouring their food voraciously and frantically. Even when scalded to the point of hissing and blowing on the food, it did not slow their eating pace in the slightest.

Until the meat chunks at the bottom of the bowls were gone, and they were blowing on the hot broth and sipping it while hissing, Chen Cong carried a bowl of chicken soup in one hand, while hanging the captive Fuluo from the small prong of the Flying Tiger Halberd with the other, and slowly ascended the high platform.

Chen Cong glanced around and found that practically no one beneath the stage was looking at him.

Undeterred, he hoisted Fuluo higher, mustered all his inner breath, and shouted in a booming voice:

"My name is Chen Cong, and some also call me Chen Wudi. I am the Imperial Architect conferred by the Han court, the Marquis of Xanshui Pavilion and General Who Establishes Might appointed by the alliance leader Yuan Shao to suppress Dong Zhuo, and also the newly appointed Governor of Bingzhou recommended by the General Who Conquers the West."

Upon hearing the words "Governor of Bingzhou," Chen Cong finally drew the gaze of a portion of the crowd.

Some showed yearning and reminiscence, some had moist eyes, and others glared with fierce hostility.

Chen Cong did not care in the least and said loudly, "Just like you, I originally had a happy family..."

Chen Cong carefully pondered the opening speech that the treacherous Cao Cao had once fabricated for him, polished it slightly, and continued:

"Little did I expect that when the Yellow Turban rebellion broke out, my parents and brothers all perished among the rebel bandits, and a clan of over three hundred souls was lost entirely at the hands of the mutinous army. When I returned home, there were only corpses strewn across the ground! My father! My mother! My grandfather! My brothers and sisters! Not a single one survived!

"Everywhere there was blood and corpses, lying there lifelessly right before my eyes! I hated it! From that day on, the only meaning left for me to live was a bone-deep, unforgettable hatred! I cut my hair to show my resolve, swearing to repay blood with blood!"

Finally, some eyes turned red, some teeth were clenched in fury, and those who had previously glared with hostility toward Chen Cong all lowered their heads in shame.

Normal human beings possess the capacity for empathy.

Especially living in the present era where societal customs were simpler, and sharing the same tragic past, Chen Cong effortlessly resonated with everyone.

Did they not hate?

Dared they not hate?

They had merely wept their tears dry, hated for far too long, seen vengeance as an impossibility, and grown numb.

Yet in Chen Cong, they saw a glimmer of hope.

It turned out that in this world, there really were people as tragic as themselves who, bearing monstrous blood feuds, had climbed to high positions and become the Governor of Bingzhou!

Chen Cong paused for a breath, allowing the people's emotions to ferment for a moment.

He continued, "Seeing you today, I was reminded of myself yesterday. Therefore, as the Governor of Bingzhou, I am willing to share my spoils of war to boil soup for you.

"I am willing to lead you to survive, to avenge the past blood debts! But the premise is that you yourselves are willing to live, and to complete the vengeance alongside me!"

Fuluo's eyes widened in terror; he had no idea what this friend of his intended to do, and an intense wave of unease instantly swept over his entire body.

He wanted to say something, but his mouth was stuffed with a rag, and he could only emit a continuous stream of muffled whimpers and pleas for mercy...