Chapter 19: The Righteous Execution of the Traitorous General

Lord Wang staggered back from afar, swaying as he walked. The sun was about to set, and without its warmth, the wind had turned cold, so he hunched his shoulders, arms crossed against the chill. Opening the door, he found the second lackey sleeping soundly, snoring like a pig. But the first lackey, who had gone to fetch wine, was nowhere to be seen—a disappointment.

He sat heavily on the wooden chair. The room was thick with insects; he wondered how anyone could fall asleep in such a place. Even the barracks were better—there, one could rest with a sword at their side and at least feel a measure of safety in exhaustion.

No longer was he beset by the vast armies of the battlefield, but now every enemy was close at hand. Nowhere under heaven was safe; all Lord Wang wished was to flee to some nameless place, to conceal his identity and begin anew.

At last, the first lackey returned, carrying a water skin, his face drawn tight with worry. Lord Wang’s suspicion flared immediately.

“Well? Is this wine a tribute from the Celestial Empire?” he demanded.

“No, no, just bought at the market,” the lackey stammered.

Lord Wang slapped his thigh. “Then what took you so long?”

This lackey was never the brightest, his careless manner always grated on Lord Wang’s nerves. Yet, for reasons he could not fathom, the fellow still followed at his side—one more pair of hands, at least.

The second lackey startled awake. Lord Wang regarded him with a kindly smile.

“Rested well?”

The lackey, flustered, bowed low. “Apologies, my lord, I slept too long.”

“It’s nothing,” Lord Wang replied. “Consider our next move. We must head south.”

The first lackey looked astonished. “Not north?”

Both Lord Wang and the second lackey grew alert at this reaction.

The first lackey quickly explained, “Oh, I just thought maybe heading towards the Turks would be safer?”

Lord Wang’s voice was thunderous with indignation. “Though I, Wang, am fallen in these days, I would never betray my country! I cannot disgrace my ancestors!”

His words rang with righteousness, brooking no argument, and the lackey fell silent.

“I walked through the village just now,” Lord Wang went on. “We can’t stay here.”

The first lackey grew anxious again. “My lord… you’re not yet recovered, and now we must travel again?”

The second lackey immediately chimed in, “Yes…the villagers here are kind enough. Perhaps you’d be safe here, my lord.”

Lord Wang shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

“It’s not safe. The wanted notice is already posted on the village board. How long do you think our heads will stay on our shoulders?”

The two lackeys fell silent.

In the fields, Farmer Jia toiled diligently. Seeing Luo Gan looking bleary-eyed, he approached to inquire.

“What’s wrong, Master Luo?”

Luo Gan looked up with a forced chuckle. “What master? There’s no such thing.”

“Since you came to the village, strange things have happened,” Farmer Jia said. “There was that odd rain, people claim to have seen dragonfolk—what will happen next? Why don’t you divine our fortunes?”

Shouldering his hoe, Luo Gan replied, “How would I know what’s coming? I just take things as they come.”

Farmer Jia glanced around, then leaned in closer. “You really trust that Lord Wang? The village is in an uproar.”

“In an uproar over what?” Luo Gan asked, puzzled.

“You don’t know?” Farmer Jia exclaimed in disbelief. “They say you’re sheltering criminals.”

Luo Gan laughed. “They’re just unfortunate souls. Calling them criminals is going too far…”

Farmer Jia, dissatisfied with his casual attitude, said, “Luo, we’re all brothers here, but let me tell you: one must look out for oneself. You’re an honest man—we all know that—but you never know with outsiders.”

Seeing the farmer’s earnestness, Luo Gan sobered. Perhaps it really wasn’t wise to let Lord Wang and his men stay in the village any longer.

“Don’t worry. I understand your good intentions,” Luo Gan said.

“Hurry and deal with it,” Farmer Jia urged. “Someone saw the wanted notice earlier, then a group of villagers gathered together, looking fierce—I don’t know what they’re up to.”

Luo Gan nodded and kept working the land. After a few moments, realization struck him. He tossed aside his hoe and sprinted home.

Running all the way, Luo Gan saw from afar that his door was wide open. Entering, he found the place ransacked and his three guests gone.

Meanwhile, Lord Wang and the second lackey hurried down the path, glancing nervously about, wary of being discovered.

“This road is awfully quiet, my lord. You don’t think anything’s amiss?” the lackey whispered.

“Let that fool go on ahead to scout the way. There shouldn’t be any trouble,” Lord Wang replied.

They entered the forest, pressing deeper and deeper into its shadowy heart. The woods were ominous and deserted; had it not still been daylight, no one would dare set foot within.

“Quickly now,” Lord Wang urged. “Once it’s dark, you won’t find your way out of here.”

Suddenly, Lord Wang slipped and nearly fell. The second lackey helped him up, but then someone seized the lackey’s right hand from behind, filling him with terror.

It was Dao who had grabbed him. In an instant, seven or eight villagers leapt out from the undergrowth, brandishing clubs and hatchets, their eyes cold and hostile. The tension was suffocating.

Recognizing Dao and the other villagers, the second lackey hastily tried to ingratiate himself.

“Brother Dao, this is my lord. We stayed in the village too long and it’s time we left.”

Dao’s face was expressionless, as cold and merciless as midwinter. “Leaving without a word? That’s not right.”

Lord Wang gave a cold laugh. “No need for pleasantries. Since you’ve come, you must know what my head is worth.”

“Slay the traitor Wang Junkuo—reward, one hundred taels,” Dao announced. “The crimes you’ve committed are unforgivable. You deserve a thousand deaths.”

Lord Wang sneered. “Crimes? What crimes have I committed? I defeated the rebel King of Lujiang and served the emperor with distinction, yet now I am hunted and condemned. Who, then, is truly guilty?”

Dao retorted, “If you are innocent, why did you kill the post officer? Are the lives of commoners so worthless to you?”

The second lackey fell to his knees. “Brother Dao! It was a misunderstanding. The post officer thought we were horse thieves. He chased us, fell, and was trampled by his own mount. My lord is innocent!”

Dao’s grip tightened on his club, his hands trembling, sweat beading on his brow. “Whatever your reasons, a life for a life! We are instruments of heaven’s justice.”

Lord Wang, resolute and unyielding, did not argue further. He went to help the lackey to his feet.

“How did I teach you on the battlefield?” he asked.

Tears streamed down the lackey’s face. “Fearless before death in battle, unafraid of life afterward.”

“A soldier stands tall and proud. To kneel before these countryfolk is to die in disgrace,” Lord Wang declared.

His gaze was fierce; though his clothes were tattered, his fine beard was still neatly kept, and his expression never wavered. He glanced about for anything that might serve as a weapon, snatched up a dead branch from the ground, and handed one to the lackey.

“You prate of justice and heaven’s will, but you’re after the hundred taels and nothing more. Hypocrites,” he spat.

With that, the lackey dried his tears, took the branch, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Lord Wang, ready to face death.

The next day, Luo Gan found the house empty, at last quiet without the troublesome Lord Wang. Yet he still puzzled over the letter he’d received.

Fetching a bucket of water to wash his face, Luo Gan went into the village and saw that a government official was tearing down a notice from the public board. He wondered why it was being removed so soon after being posted—how fickle officials could be.

Two strong young men from the village had vanished as well; no one knew where they’d gone. Dao, who was close to them, hadn’t come to work either. They said a relative was getting married in the county, and he’d hurried off with a gift to attend the wedding.