…Livay He's gang turned out to be the first gang of robbers on the path of Zicheng and old Luo. The travellers quickly found it, following the smell of fire and delicious cooking, and it turned out that it was not difficult for Li to neutralise the bandits. And now, having eaten around the campfire of the robbers, the travellers had to decide what to do next. To begin with, Zicheng dug a large hole with a Dao sword found in the bale of one of the robbers and dumped the bodies. "So that wild animals do not tear them to pieces," he explained to his companion, somehow embarrassed. Luo Yang nodded in approval. Slightly bewildered, he asked: "Do you feel pity for them?" Li shrugged. "Hardly… It is a pity that it was I who killed them." "This is not quite typical of a warrior. A warrior would have been proud of such an impressive victory." "I am a peasant who became a warrior by the will of fate. If I have the choice, I try not to shed too much blood. And they are also not to blame for the fact that I got in their way. Everyone has their own path. Our paths crossed here by chance." "A nobleman blames himself, a small man blames others," Luo muttered. Zicheng looked at him with interest. "Is that yours?" "It's a Confucius. I am not a source of wisdom, I only bring someone else's wisdom to the ears of those who have a desire to learn about it." Li nodded in understanding, put aside the robber's sword, and looked around. "Looks like that's it. We can go." "Well, then point the direction." Zicheng waved his hand north towards the distant mountains. "There, a couple of days away is the village where I was born. Be my guest, wise Man." "Thank you, valiant Li, that will be an honour for me. Shall we go?" "Yes. I'd like to leave this place as soon as possible," Li Zicheng nodded and grabbed his travel bag from the ground. The old man picked up his staff, and the travellers headed north to the distant village of Michzhi that the young warrior talked about all the time to the wandering philosopher. They didn't make it. Later, Luo Yang reproached himself more than once for making long stops, allowing himself and his companion to relax, admiring the picturesque views for a long time. But deep inside, the old man understood that they still could not have prevented the tragedy, the consequences of which they had witnessed. When the last ascent was overcome, a view of the Michzhi valley and the village opened in front of them. The young warrior wanted to say something sublime, something appropriate for the moment, but the words froze in his throat… The old man also froze at the top of the hill. What they saw in the valley was truly terrible! There was no village. That is, it was absolutely gone… Here and there, they saw scattered fragments of pitchforks and spears, jagged sickles, and arrowheads in the posts that had remained in the place of the fences. They could find whole arrows with white plumage in the grass, with excellent hardened tips. Li Zicheng, who had not said a single word during the entire time that they had been examining the ashes, dropped a short word – "army", and continued searching. Luo stood aside and tried to understand what was that unusual sweetish smell over the ashes, a smell so unpleasant and annoying. Tired of waiting for his young companion to finish his examination, he called him with a nod. "What do you think happened here? And where have all the villagers gone?" He looked up at Li and staggered back: there were so much pain and despair in him. The warrior closed his eyelids slightly and said hoarsely: "They all died…" "But where are the bodies then?" Zicheng shook his head to the side, and only then the old man saw something similar to the ashes of a huge fire, with a faint smoke still rising…Then the old man understood what that sweetish aroma over the village: it was the smell of burnt human flesh was… Li fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands… Old Luo Yang slowly walked up to him and sank down beside him… He put his hand on his shoulder, covered with rough leather armour. "Cry, warrior, weep, for your soul being purified, and your tears washing away their sins," the wise man shook his head towards the funeral pyre. Li looked up at the old man, his eyes dry and full of hidden pain. "I have long ceased to cry, wise Man. Even as a child when my mother was taken by the almighty Heaven. Or in my youth, when Heaven called my father. Can you explain to me why everyone was killed? They did not harm anyone! And they were attacked not by robbers, but by a detachment of the regular army!" "I don't know yet," Luo said dully.
He scanned the ashes once more. "And I don't even have any thoughts about this. But once you are able to assess the situation soberly, we will talk about everything. And we will take the only correct decision." Li Zicheng's eyes suddenly froze. "I'll take revenge," he muttered dully.
The philosopher shrugged his shoulders. "It's your right and your choice. Just remember that the one who is going to take revenge must dig two graves first…" "Why two?" "For your enemy and for yourself. Because everything that you do in this world comes back to you sooner or later." Luo rose from his knees and slowly walked away from the burned village. "Where are you going?" Li called him over his shoulder, without turning around. Yang stopped and said in a deliberately calm voice: "It's time to think about an overnight stay. Trust me, friend, the dead are not the best neighbours for this. Or am I wrong?" Nodding his head to some of his own thoughts, he walked towards the road. Li Zicheng gazed after him for a while, silent, then got up, grabbing a handful of earth mixed with ash in his glove, pulled out a piece of canvas from his bosom and wrapped the earth in it. He put the bag behind the lapel of his robe and looked once again around the burned village with a cold glance. His distracted attention was suddenly riveted by a hawk flying over the road. The bird of prey gave a shrill, sharp cry and rushed into the sky with lightning speed. Li Zicheng watched the predator carefully. What he saw instilled a vague premonition in the young man's heart: now his life will be somewhat similar to the life of a hawk, filled with the same tiresome stalking of prey.
第二章
Chapter 2
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