Chapter 16: Justice on Heaven’s Behalf
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A cornered dog still leaps over the wall; even in the face of death, it wants to bite its enemy hard. Yet human hearts differ—when confronted with life-or-death crises, their responses vary. Some draw their blades to fight for their lives, some kneel to beg for mercy, while others, cleverer, turn and dart into the forest. Mercy toward the enemy is cruelty to oneself. Li Gui showed no mercy, sparing none—whether desperate fighters or those surrendering. Of the dozens of constables, he slew at least half; the rest fell to the spearmen.
Though these new recruits had witnessed bloodshed when swearing allegiance before, actual combat was a different matter. There was no great chaos on the battlefield; it was simply that the opposing constables were too weak, their resistance feeble. Still, more than a dozen were wounded, including some who were accidentally shot by their own men. After this battle, these ruffians could truly be called soldiers. Having slain government officers, their rebellion was undeniable, greatly reducing any chance of betrayal.
Li Gui called over Old Li Seven to clear the battlefield, sent men to pursue those constables who had fled into the woods, while he slowly moved his body to adapt to his newly enhanced strength. These constables had some martial training and carried official duties; although their aura was only a faint gray, combined in dozens of strands, it was considerable, further strengthening his body. Though he had not compared carefully, Li Gui felt that in martial skill he now surpassed his Second Uncle Li Liye, and boasting as “the top fighter in Yishui County” was not out of place.
When he swung the fine steel blade he had swindled from the Qin family’s blacksmith shop, it felt surprisingly light and unfamiliar in his hand. Yet he wondered if the pair of battle axes he once could not lift now suited him better. Would this strength allow him to kill a fierce tiger with three punches? Li Gui silently compared and reasoned that with the steel blade in hand, fighting a tiger was no problem; but bare-handed, he likely lacked the power. By that measure, he probably still fell short of Wu Er.
After cleaning the battlefield, Li Gui ordered the constables buried wherever possible, had his guards organize the weapons and haul them, and confiscated all looted valuables for the village to distribute honors and rewards later. Then the troops reformed ranks and marched back to the stronghold. Their first battle was a resounding victory, filling everyone with excitement. On the way back, whispers and chatter never ceased. If Li Gui had not kept them in check, they might have boasted all the way to the heavens.
These lowly outlaws, who spent their days in the stronghold, had never considered themselves superior to others. Yet today’s fighting made them realize they possessed the power to take lives—they were not worthless. Having fought on the battlefield and witnessed bloodshed, their entire being underwent a transformation.
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Looking upon the constables fallen in pools of blood—once lofty officials who commanded respect and forced people to bow by the roadside—they now lay as fragile as chicks, harvested at will. The beasts once shackled by law were slowly breaking free from their cages. The nervous excitement and fear that followed the killings caused the chatter; Li Gui refrained from scolding. It was better to let them vent their emotions through speech than to bottle it up and risk madness within the stronghold.
Next time they faced enemies, they would no longer panic as they did this time. They would become accustomed to killing.
Back at the stronghold, Li Gui held a grand feast to celebrate the victory. During the banquet, he awarded honors and rewards, distributing not only all the spoils of war but also some of the gold and silver seized earlier. Every participant was recognized, though rewards were modest except for those who personally slew enemies—their shares were so generous they stirred envy among the others.
In this era, reasoning was futile. Soldiers earned their pay; it was only natural. Only money could motivate these men. Without money, who would become bandits?
After the rewards, a lavish feast was prepared, with ample meat and wine—but only the spearmen, whether they fought or not, received full rations; auxiliary soldiers not selected as official troops had limited supplies. Li Gui hoped this would foster a sense of identity and pride among the chosen. Indeed, seeing the once-suffering poor greedily devour meat and drink wine, boasting loudly, awakened envy in the others’ eyes.
Yet those chosen as auxiliaries were often weak or old, unable to fight. No matter how much they envied, there was no changing their fate. Their expressions of envy were unmistakable, however, making some formerly timid bandits suddenly feel that battlefield combat might not be so bad after all.
This, truly, was the life of a bandit!
Under Zhao Blackhead’s command, life had been tight and joyless. Half a lifetime wasted!
Men die and birds fly to the sky, but the living endure forever. Life is but a rotten thread—one must enjoy it before death, or else what a waste.
Bowls of cheap wine poured down their throats ignited the wild fire in their hearts, reddening their eyes and blackening their souls.
Seizing the moment, Li Gui stood and raised his arm, calling out:
“Brothers, the government is corrupt, officials are rampant, the people suffer—let us uphold Heaven’s will and enact justice on its behalf!”
The bandits, like fervent disciples, raised their arms and shouted in unison:
“Uphold Heaven’s justice!”
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“Uphold Heaven’s justice!”
“Uphold Heaven’s justice!”
…
Riding this wave of fervor, Li Gui summoned Old Li Seven to erect a great banner that had long been prepared.
A tree trunk as thick as a bowl and twenty feet tall held a large rectangular banner, five feet long and three feet wide, embroidered with golden patterns along the edges. Four characters—“Uphold Heaven’s justice”—in black on a red background fluttered in the wind.
Li Gui had the banner raised before the plaza, so it would be visible at every training session.
Since ancient times, the Chinese valued legitimacy and righteousness; no matter the truth, one must first occupy the moral high ground. If the heroes of Liangshan could raise such a banner, so could Li Gui.
With this banner, the killers suddenly felt as if they had a rallying point; no matter how heinous their deeds, they could deceive themselves into believing they were serving Heaven’s justice. Even when they faced judgment in the underworld, they could plead that they acted under orders, not out of malice.
Standing beneath the banner, Li Gui delivered an impassioned speech:
“Brothers, bandits gather across the land, the people’s grievances boil over. We shall uphold Heaven’s justice, wipe out these foes one by one, conquer all mountains, unify Yishui, and rebuild a just and clear world!”
The crowd fell briefly silent, then erupted with enthusiasm, raising their arms and shouting:
“Uphold Heaven’s justice!”
“Conquer all mountains!”
“Unify Yishui!”
At first, their cries were proper, but soon the tone shifted.
“Seize the silver!”
“Take the grain!”
“Grab the women!”
…