Chapter 10: Different Tracks

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On the mountain bay, at a relatively high elevation, old and new graves lay connected, with many dug-up tombs revealing scattered bones within sight. Zhao Ji took matters into his own hands, gripping an iron spade to dig the earth.

With the “Cutting Through Thorns and Brambles” skill activated, even the act of digging became more precise, granting a 24% boost in efficiency. He feared that a single punch might not have ended things, and he was also wary that local mountain villagers might come to rob the grave for clothing, damaging the corpse.

The grave pit was dug five feet deep. Zhao Ji personally placed Rui Dan into the pit, carefully adjusting his robes and attire. Yang Ji reached out and pulled Zhao Ji from the pit. Brushing off the dirt from his clothes, Zhao Ji squatted beside the grave, noticing several companions gasping for breath from the exertion.

He said, “He can still be buried properly. We guard the Son of Heaven; if we had fought the troops from Guanzhong, the bodies would be mangled, let alone receive burial. By that reckoning, this boy hasn’t suffered too much.”

Yang Ji grinned, “That’s true. If I die, Aji will dig a pit this deep for me too, and no need for burial companions. It’s just that I fear being dug up again after death, left exposed to the sun and picked at by wild dogs and crows like these bones.”

“Who can say what the future holds? Perhaps you and I will one day return home in glory, riding fine horses and wearing embroidered robes.”

Zhao Ji scooped a handful of dirt and tossed it into the pit before standing, “You all fill the earth now.”

Two youths with iron spades, ignoring their fatigue, stood and began shoveling soil into the grave. Yang Ji followed Zhao Ji to the upwind side, casting a lingering glance at the grave, “Aji, when I dug Grandpa’s grave, it wasn’t this deep. This kid’s got it easy.”

“Why don’t you lie down in it then?”

“Don’t joke, Aji. I haven’t lived my fill yet. If I die, I want to make a name for myself first!”

Yang Ji gave himself a pep talk and asked Zhao Ji, “Aji, what if I took your boots?”

Zhao Ji was silent for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t feel sorry—I have new boots. You can take these, but I wouldn’t want you to take things without telling me. The army isn’t like the countryside; some matters don’t tolerate sentiment. The more sentiment, the worse things get.”

He paused, then added, “For example, if you and Lü Chun made the same mistake, since you’re an old friend, I would still punish you severely.”

As for what ill thoughts Rui Dan’s death might cause—those worries were largely unfounded.

It’s not as if the countryside was a brotherhood without disputes; Zhao Ji recalled how youths of similar age often died prematurely or violently. The so-called local community only seemed close and trustworthy when competing against outsiders.

Once outside, everyone had no one to rely on but each other, forming tight bonds and pulling one another along to seek better opportunities.

If Rui Dan hadn’t died in this draft, he would have died in some other brawl or incident eventually.

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As a minor clan member without brothers, Rui Dan would not have been spared in a melee. Gang fights and brawls were privileges of the major clans and noble sons; if the fighting got fierce, the county would even send officials to offer condolences.

Such matters were out of place for someone like Rui Dan.

Zhao Ji also disliked participating in these group fights. Even if he was targeted, seriously injuring the opponent made it hard to cover his tracks.

His fearsome reputation allowed him to seemingly defeat Shen Tu Lan with ease; otherwise, in Pei Xiu’s eyes, Zhao Ji was barely a squad leader or a mere attendant.

Yang Ji looked sullen. Seeing one comrade exhausted, he stepped forward to take the iron spade and shoveled soil with renewed vigor.

After the grave mound was built, as Yang Ji patted down the dirt, Zhao Ji picked up a decayed wooden plaque inscribed faintly with the original writing.

Zhao Ji squatted and took out a short dagger to carve anew on the back.

After some time, he cleared away the wood shavings and gave Rui Dan this last dignity.

The inscription was rough but legible: “Tomb of Master Rui from Nanxiang, Wenxi” — eight characters in total.

After securing this simple tombstone, the five men said no more and rode three horses back to camp.

As they returned, another conscription group arrived, carrying hay and setting up shelter.

Yang Ji led the horses to the stable while Zhao Ji, holding the pass token, went to meet Hu Ban.

Inside the shelter, Guan Shangzheng was organizing a bundle of coins. He stood and said to Zhao Ji, “Aji, the team has raised eleven thousand six hundred coins.”

“Hmm, who contributed the most?”

“The quartermaster gave a thousand, Seventh Brother also a thousand, Wei Zi’ang five hundred, the rest gave three or two hundred each.”

Hu Ban handed over a neatly tied bundle of bamboo slips listing the contributors.

Zhao Ji glanced over it and said, “I’ll give five hundred. Yang Ji and the others will pitch in. You come with me to collect it shortly.”

Nearby, Hu Ban, putting down his brush, rubbed his right wrist, “Aji, do you think this is worth it?”

“Sooner or later, it had to happen. Asking if it’s worth it now is too late.”

Zhao Ji stepped forward to hand over the token, sighing.

There was no need for explanation. Stealing his boots and getting killed for it—no explanation could change that.

The seventh squad leader in charge of transport and provisions, Guan Qiu Xing, spoke up, “Quartermaster Hu, Zhao Aji is right. It’s too late to pursue this further. But next time, if something like this happens, wait for Quartermaster Hu to return so we can decide together.”

“I’d rather not know.”

Hu Ban said this, but still looked at Zhao Ji, “After all, he’s from the same village. Out here, if forgiveness is possible, it’s better to give way. You’re straightforward, but I have to write reports to the county explaining everything. If the county asks, I’ll have to write again. Rui Dan’s mother is a well-known widow in the county; don’t let this slip or you’ll cause her pain.”

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Dying in the service of the king, kicked to death by a startled horse while feeding it, was humiliating but better than execution for a crime or some other violent death.

Although there was no explicit death quota nowadays, a certain level of accidental loss was tolerable and understandable.

“Yes, I’ll warn the men.”

Zhao Ji fell silent briefly, then quietly asked, “Big brother, this time the Tiger Guard only takes five hundred men, or is more better?”

Hu Ban’s expression darkened as he asked seriously, “Aji, do you want to recommend someone?”

It was natural to suspect Zhao Ji’s ties with the bandits of Jishan.

If he could recruit some capable men from there, Hu Ban wouldn’t refuse.

Seeing no reply, Hu Ban said casually, “The realm is in turmoil, the Son of Heaven is shrouded in dust. The more loyal men, the better. The initial limit of five hundred was because the commandery could only provide arms and provisions for that number. That’s the figure given by the court... details I cannot disclose, but the opportunity is right before us. Once we’re there, who can drive us away?”

Zhao Ji roughly understood—they intended to sneak in more men to the Son of Heaven’s side, making it an established fact.

The more people they brought, the less the various warlords guarding the Son of Heaven would dare to break ties easily.

The Son of Heaven—truly a priceless treasure of the world.

Hu Ban noticed the change in Zhao Ji’s expression and advised, “Don’t discuss this in camp. Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, Commander Wang will select two company leaders through martial competition. Aji, you must strive to bring honor to the county.”

Hearing this, Zhao Ji’s smile brightened, “Yes! Big brother, rest assured.”

Guan Qiu Xing leaned closer, lowering his voice, “Don’t hold back during the competition. The Wang family is an outsider. What belongs to us must not be given up easily.”

To gain renown as the bravest in the army, one could do so by beheading enemies or by winning martial contests.

Like Pei Xiu, Guan Qiu Xing was uninterested in military ranks.

Once in Henei, many like Pei Xiu and Guan Qiu Xing would take the fast track.

Holding a high temporary military rank now would only hinder future prospects.

It was like a curse—once tainted, it was hard to reclaim a good name.

Even legitimate official positions like Tiger Guard Lieutenant or Imperial Guard Lieutenant were not esteemed by them.

They preferred titles such as Yellow Gate Gentleman, Yellow Gate Attendant Gentleman, Wuguan Gentleman, Left Central Gentleman, or Right Central Gentleman—those close attendant ranks to the Son of Heaven.