The cavalry moved cautiously, and since the road was narrow, they advanced in pairs, side by side, stretching the formation quite long.
Mu Ning curled her lips—fortunately, her ambush line was also drawn out; otherwise, she might not have been able to wipe them all out, for even on mountain paths, cavalry could pick up speed.
It wasn’t until the cavalry had fully entered the kill zone that Mu Ning gave the order: “Kill!”
Before her voice faded, the arrow from her bow shot forth, aiming for the leading general of the Jiao Army.
The general was startled, but he reacted swiftly, twisting his waist slightly to dodge the fatal arrow.
Before he could relax, another arrow flew toward him, too fast for him to draw his sword—he could only raise it to block.
Clang.
The immense impact numbed his hand slightly, and before he could ponder where this devastating arrow came from or which faction it belonged to—
Thwip. An arrow had already pierced his neck.
His pupils abruptly dilated; his body remained frozen in the pose of raising his sword to parry, but his life had already ceased.
Thud.
His body hit the ground, and his horse neighed.
Screams rose one after another, shaking countless withered leaves from the trees, echoing throughout the forest.
Hua Ruo stared wide-eyed at the scene before her. Just moments ago, she had been speculating about the power of Mu Ning’s crossbow and how accurate it could be from such a distance.
How could they overcome a larger force with a smaller one? The Jiao Army had about a hundred and fifty men, while Mu Ning’s side numbered only a few dozen, and the Jiao cavalry were all elite soldiers.
Then she heard the whizzing sounds of arrows firing—no need to reload, no need to draw a bow; the speed was so fast that she didn’t even have time to react.
Rapid fire!
A repeating crossbow!
She had braced herself for a fierce battle, yet Mu Ning and her people emerged unstained by blood, their swords not even drawn. In the blink of an eye, the Jiao cavalry was more than half dead!
She was still stunned when the battle had already ended.
Mu Ning put away the Dragon Feather Crossbow: “Clean up the battlefield. Recover all arrows, good or bad.”
“Yes, commander.”
The Dragon Shadow Guards scurried to the battlefield like a swarm—some delivering finishing blows, some searching bodies, some collecting arrows, as if they had coordinated countless times before.
Meanwhile, Jingzhe led her people to calm the bewildered horses that had lost their masters.
The Dragon Shadow Guards responsible for flanking even shot down the panicked, running horses—just in time for an extra meal.
Hua Ruo’s eyes gradually burned with excitement. This was a way of fighting she had never even imagined before, and she felt her blood begin to boil.
Looking down at Mu Ning’s repeating crossbow, she asked, “This… was this developed by your sovereign? A repeating crossbow? What’s the exact range? Does everyone carry one? Can I… have one too if I go there?”
Mu Ning shook her head. “Such a weapon costs a lot to produce, requires complex craftsmanship, and uses rare materials. It can’t possibly be issued to everyone.”
“As for whether you can have one, you’ll have to find out after you enter the military.”
“So only the elite get one?” Hua Ruo had also noticed that not all soldiers had this repeating crossbow—many of those guarding the common folk lacked it.
Mu Ning nodded: “That’s right.”
She pointed at the exuberantly scavenging Dragon Shadow Guards: “Like them—they’re the elite of the elite in our military, all fully equipped with the Dragon Feather Crossbow.”
“As for other soldiers, it depends on the mission. Sometimes they are issued the crossbow for operations; when not needed, it must be returned to the military. However, those at the rank of regiment commander or above can also be equipped with it permanently.”
Hua Ruo listened as if hearing a foreign language: “What is a ‘regiment commander’?” The commoners had been divided into “camps,” with ‘camp leaders’ all taking orders from Mu Ning—she truly didn’t know what rank a regiment commander was.
Mu Ning: “…”
Back in Ze-ah Commandery, after a negotiation where both sides showed plenty of ‘sincerity,’ Dong Si clinched a deal: three types of seeds—“chicken-feather greens” (a type of fast-growing leafy green), white radish, and napa cabbage—in exchange for three large ships, three medium ships, and ten small ships.
The potato seeds Jiang Jin had prepared for him weren’t even needed.
Ze-ah Commandery naturally felt they were at a disadvantage. After all, they had only traded three vegetable seed types, and they wouldn’t know if high yields were real until they planted them.
Meanwhile, their ships were built with real gold and silver—life-saving assets at a critical moment.
The Sheng family, Zhang family, and other major clans collectively owned only a little over sixty ships. Giving away sixteen was not something they accepted lightly.
Dong Si disagreed: “Ships are lifeless objects. If you have no food, what good are even more ships?”
“You got high-yield crop seeds from me, each enough for a thousand acres!”
“Take these ‘chicken-feather greens’ alone: planted now, they can be harvested before winter sets in.”
“So it’s getting cold now, but even conservatively, using a thousand acres, an acre could yield a thousand catties—that’s a million catties of food!”
“And this is just the beginning. These vegetables can produce their own seeds for next spring. So by next year, you can plant ten thousand or even a hundred thousand acres with the seeds you save. How much food is that?”
“Plus there are the white radishes and napa cabbage, claimed to yield ten thousand catties an acre! A thousand acres gives you ten million catties—and then with self-saved seeds, you can plant ten thousand or a hundred thousand acres. How much food will that be?”
The more he spoke, the more Dong Si felt he was shortchanging himself, looking deeply aggrieved: “If you count it this way, we’re the ones who lost out. No, you’ll not only have to teach us how to sail but also give us a hundred sailors to bring along.”
Sheng Chi and the others were dizzy from his “chicken-and-egg” logic and utterly stunned by the crop output he calculated.
A thousand acres, in a month, could yield a million catties!
If they planted ten thousand or a hundred thousand acres and kept planting year-round?
They couldn’t even do the math!
In total, sixteen ships—exchanged for this much food—completely solved their food crisis. It was indeed a very good deal, an excellent one.
Sixteen ships might sound like a lot, big ships counted more; the ten small ones were minor ones in comparison.
Still, if they could harvest a million catties of “chicken-feather greens” before winter, they might have no one starving to death this winter.
Kong Yi couldn’t help asking: “Could you supply more of those… chicken feather greens seeds? We’ll plant them right away.”
If they truly yielded a thousand catties an acre and could be harvested in just twenty-odd days, they had room to plant more—after all, Ze-ah Commandery had plenty of people and land.
Though drought was ongoing, some areas did have water; they could even channel water from the nearest sizeable rivers.
Since Qu Zhao had withdrawn his troops in the meantime, they could go all out to recoup this year’s crop losses somewhat.
Dong Si raised a finger: “Then you’ll have to add another hundred sailors to my pay.”
Kong Yi: “…” He had entirely forgotten about the earlier discussion on crew transfers.
Sheng Chi narrowed his eyes: “No. We agreed only to teach your people how to sail.”
Dong Si shrugged: “If you won’t add sailors, then fine. You still need to give me the hundred sailors as agreed.”
Sheng Chi and the others: “…”
Wait—that hadn’t been discussed earlier at all!
Sheng Chi rubbed his temples: “Absolutely not. Our sailors aren’t plentiful—we can’t give them away.”
Dong Si clicked his tongue twice: “I’d planned to throw in an extra five hundred acres of ‘chicken feather green’ seeds—and that’s at least half a million catties of food!”
“Do the math: a sailor is worth five thousand catties of food to you—can’t say I’m not losing out. If you won’t trade, then fine.”
Sheng Chi: “…”
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. After a moment's thought, it seemed nothing was wrong at all—after all, one sailor could be exchanged for five thousand jin of grain!
After some back-and-forth haggling, Sheng Chi agreed to give Dong Si thirty sailors, along with their families.
