Chapter Fifty-Six: It Has Begun to Snow

The Russians had actually suffered heavy casualties as well. General Akberil had now tallied the numbers: in this battle, over three hundred and forty Russian soldiers had fallen, and the wounded—both light and severe—were nearly equal to the losses of the bandits. His gaze lingered on the cheering bandits atop the mountain, his eyes betraying a complex emotion, lost in thoughts unknown.

Yang Xiaolin, with his only uninjured arm, waved it fiercely. “From today on, you can hold your heads high and tell others you’re the bandits of Gulu Mountain! You’re the men under my command, the men of Yang the Demon-Slayer!”

He was visibly moved, a wild, contorted smile blossoming on his face. “So what if we’re bandits? From now on, whoever mentions us will have to give a thumbs-up! Because we’re real men, true men! Even those brothers who fell on the road—they’re just the same. If you’re a real man, you either fall on the path of the charge or stand here, watching the Russians! Ask them—do they dare come over? They don’t. They’re afraid. They’re afraid of us!”

The bandits were roused to a fevered pitch by his words. Yang Xiaolin moved among them, patting the shoulders of those still standing, saying nothing at all. Each bandit stood straighter, meeting his gaze with burning eyes. Even the gravely wounded tried to straighten themselves as Yang Xiaolin passed by.

Ting Hui’s eyes glimmered with fanaticism. He had followed Yang Xiaolin because he had nowhere else to go, but after this battle, he truly felt a deep, cathartic release of the stifled rage within his heart.

Foreigners bullying the Chinese—how many Chinese hadn’t suffered at their hands? Yet they’d always been powerless, or too timid, to vent their anger. The deep-rooted fear of foreign masters had all but smothered any thought of resistance. Even Ma Liuzi’s men, when confronted by Russians, scattered at once.

The Russians had merely fired a few shells and then, in neat formation, ended the fight with ease. Now Ting Hui thought: if only Ma Liuzi had the same spirit as Yang the Demon-Slayer, if he’d had the courage to charge the Russians, perhaps he would still be alive, and Ting Hui wouldn’t have been captured and forced into the mines.

This thought echoed among the other miners as well. Though Yang Xiaolin’s men had suffered heavier casualties than the Russians, those bandits who had charged out from under the Russian artillery had, in their hearts, shed their fear of the foreign masters.

This was crucial for them. Their confidence had been forged in this very battle. When the Russians pointed guns and cannons at them, they’d rushed forward with courage, throwing the enemy into chaos, and now stood here, looking down from above at the reassembling Russian troops—not far off—with the proud bearing of true men. To charge forward was manly; to stand one’s ground, just the same.

Just as Yang Xiaolin was still flushed with excitement, suddenly the forest seemed to darken. He looked up: the sky had turned gray and somber. Gu Tianming came up beside them and said, “Looks like it’s about to snow.”

A smile crept onto Yang Xiaolin’s face. Heaven itself was offering aid—the snow was coming at just the right time.

He knew that the Russian troops below would surely attack again once they reformed, so he had to leave at once. In the Northeast, the snow came heavy and thick; once it started, it would easily cover their tracks, making it nearly impossible for the Russians to pursue. And the snow would mean the Qing troops besieging Gulu Mountain would have to withdraw immediately—perhaps they’d already left. His first counter-encirclement would succeed, thanks to Heaven’s help. He just didn’t know if the Russian troops surrounding Feng Delin would retreat as well. Even if they didn’t, their offensive would surely weaken, their movements be restricted, and he’d have a better chance to rescue Feng Delin.

“Heaven itself is helping us,” Yang Xiaolin murmured. Down below, the Russians were slowly reforming their lines. He dared not linger; they were nearly out of grenades, and all the small cannons had been destroyed. If the Russians charged again, they’d be left with nothing but a desperate fight over guns—hardly a wise move.

“Bring the wounded brothers—we’re leaving!”

The bandits, spirits soaring, made ready to set out. Yang Xiaolin himself had no clear idea where to go; he felt he should first shake off the tailing forces, then gradually make his way toward Gao’s village, to see if he could find a way to rescue Feng Delin’s men.

As for a concrete battle plan, Yang Xiaolin hadn’t yet devised one.

Right now, he was like a thief, trying to steal Feng Delin out from the Russians’ encirclement. He didn’t know Feng Delin’s situation, nor the current state of the Russian troops. All he could do was tread carefully, step lightly, and keep his intentions hidden.

As Yang Xiaolin pondered the safest route, Gu Tianming suddenly ran up from behind. “Commander! One of my men found a bag on a Russian corpse—take a look, see if it’s useful.”

He handed over the secretary’s bag. Yang Xiaolin took it, opened it, and first saw several letters written in Russian. He couldn’t read them, so he paid them no mind, setting them aside to rummage further.

Suddenly his eyes brightened—he’d found a Russian-drawn military map of the Northeast! Hurriedly, he took it out and spread it on a smooth boulder nearby. “Master Kong! Brother Jin, Brother Tang—come over here!”

Kong Luodi and the others rushed over. Jin the Broadsword and Tang Yulin had never seen a map before; when they saw the large sheet covered with Russian circles and dots, they both asked at once, “What’s this?”

Kong Luodi, at least, had some schooling. “It’s a map—should be drawn by the Russians.”

Yang Xiaolin was excited. “That’s right, a Russian military map! Brother Gu, go praise that man of yours—he’s solved a huge problem for us!”

All he could offer as reward was a few words of praise, encouragement in spirit only. Luckily, these brothers were all easily roused—none had yet quibbled with him over such things.

Yang Xiaolin looked at the map with renewed confidence, bringing his fist down on the spot marked for Gao’s village. “Now we’re in luck—look here, the Russian mines and supply bases, and the placement of all their troops are marked out clearly! This time, we’ll surely get Brother Feng out!”

Tang Yulin was overjoyed. “Really? That’s wonderful!”

Yang Xiaolin laughed. “We’ll follow the marks on this map and sweep out all their mines along the way. I’m sure the Russians will be in a panic—they’ll have to redeploy troops to hunt us down, and Brother Feng’s predicament will be resolved!”

Yang Xiaolin and Tang Yulin did not realize, in their naivety, that they were embarking on a completely futile endeavor. Attacking the mines would indeed cause the Russians to redeploy their troops to hunt them down, but it had nothing to do with Feng Delin’s situation.