The Great Ming in the Box

Chapter 416: Pujiao Temple

Xing Honglang and Zao Ying spurred their horses east with fifty cavalry riders.

To recruit workers for the dock construction project, returning to her hometown was the best option. She had solid popular support there and could easily gather helpers to build the dock stronghold.

Her hometown wasn’t far either, merely ten li east of the ancient ferry dock. Riding at full speed, they arrived in moments.

“Cross the Su River ahead,” Xing Honglang pointed, “and there lies Sun Family Village.” She smiled wryly. “Though my surname is Xing, I grew up in Sun Family Village. My own relatives are gone, only old neighbors remain.”

Zao Ying was puzzled. “Why?”

“Because I’m the daughter of a salt smuggler,” Xing Honglang explained. “My father roamed everywhere dealing smuggled salt. He met my mother in Sun Family Village but didn’t stay for her. He kept traveling until I grew up. It was only after my mother died of illness that he took me in, teaching me to sell smuggled salt.”

Zao Ying chuckled. “Ah, so even we’re alike! Ha! My family legacy is banditry too.”

Both women laughed together.

The roofs of Sun Family Village came into view. Xing Honglang’s face instantly darkened. The village had clearly suffered an attack. Its fence walls were collapsed, several thatched huts burned, and blade marks scarred the remaining buildings.

She dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, charging into the village at breakneck speed.Several bodies lay sprawled inside, the blood not yet dry. The attackers couldn’t have left long ago.

Sensing Xing Honglang’s distress, Zao Ying lowered her voice. “Boss Xing… we share your grief.”

“Don’t worry,” Xing Honglang said, her expression grim but voice steady. Years of hardship had hardened her; she’d seen much death, losing many salt smuggler comrades. A few neighbor deaths, however tragic, wouldn’t break her. “This is nothing unusual for me. I can handle it.”

Instead, her mind grew sharper. Speeding through the settlement, she assessed quickly. “Over a hundred people lived here, yet barely ten bodies. Most villagers must have escaped…”

Zao Ying immediately signaled her riders. “Spread out. Search for clues.”

Skilled trackers, the bandits swiftly found signs. One reported, “They fled north. The bandits chased them north too.”

Xing Honglang frowned slightly. “North? I know! Pujiao Temple! They headed for Pujiao Temple!”

Zao Ying called a rider forward. “Ride hard for the dock. Bring our main force directly to Pujiao Temple.” The man clasped his fist in acknowledgment and galloped off toward the dock.

Xing Honglang and Zao Ying led the remaining forty-nine cavalry riders toward Pujiao Temple…

Pujiao Temple stood not far west of Yongji, its red walls and black tiles solemn and imposing. Founded during the Tang Dynasty, it occupied high ground—open, expansive, facing south, commanding a wide view downward.

Truly an easily defended position.

Now, the temple overflowed with refugees, villagers from settlements within a ten-li radius.

The elderly and weak, women and children huddled trembling in corners. Able-bodied men grabbed weapons, guarding every section of the temple walls. The monks themselves were formidable; gripping their staves, they stood alongside the villagers defending the perimeter.

Outside, a bandit army over a thousand strong swarmed up the temple slope. Villagers shot down with hunting bows. Arrows thudded against the pot lids and shields the bandits raised defensively.

But clearly, the villagers’ hunting bows were feeble against the bandits.

These bandit forces now included former border army soldiers, garrison troops, and couriers, making them far more formidable. Though still unable to threaten the Ming army, they overwhelmed ordinary villagers effortlessly.

The scattered, puny arrows barely slowed them. Easily scaling the slope, they reached the base of the temple walls.

Bamboo spears thrust down from above. Bandits parried fiercely with their own bamboo spears. The defenders gained no advantage; instead, several villagers were stabbed, tumbling back inside the temple.

One fierce bandit effortlessly vaulted the red wall. But before he could find his footing, a staff-wielding monk charged him. The bandit slashed with his blade. The monk spun his staff with startling skill—a flurry of impacts slammed into the bandit.

The bandit screamed and collapsed.

Villagers rushed forward. A swing of a hoe cracked the bandit’s skull, spattering brain matter.

The monk shook his head. “Amitabha! Kindly manage this! Kindly manage this! This poor monk uses a staff instead of blades precisely to avoid killing,” he lamented. “Yet you kill on my behalf without blinking. Surely this cannot count against my precepts?”

However skilled he was, one monk made little difference. The temple walls were crumbling everywhere, bandits breaching point after point.

All seemed lost…

The monk sighed deeply. “Amitabha! Kindly manage this! Kindly manage this! This tribulation… I fear we shall not overcome it.”

Suddenly, a hunter on the temple roof shouted. “Riders! Riders are coming! They’re on our side—they’re attacking the bandits! Hold on! Help is coming!”

Others rushed to positions overlooking the plain…

True enough!

Charging into the bandits’ rear was a cavalry unit—small, fifty riders strong—yet ferociously slashing through the horde of a thousand, their momentum awe-inspiring.

Inside the temple, morale soared. “Hold steady, everyone!”

Xing Honglang and Zao Ying had arrived!

Without a word, they plunged straight into the bandit masses.

But this was no blind charge.

The bandits attacking the temple had committed their toughest fighters to the base of its walls. Straggling behind was the bandit chief, guarded only by a core group of fierce warriors—a small, vulnerable group. The perfect target for a cavalry assault.

So Zao Ying wasted no time ordering, “Cavalry—charge!”

Her sudden attack caught the bandit chief utterly unprepared.

This chief, named Xiao Zhang Bao, was the adoptive son of Old Zhang Fei, captain of the fifth squad under Bu Zhan Ni. Since his retreat with his adoptive father under Xing Honglang’s cannon fire at the ancient ferry dock, he had been pillaging nearby villages.

Xiao Zhang Bao had been gleefully watching his men assault the temple when horses erupted behind him.

He grabbed his spear, turning hastily with a few dozen men to face this new threat.

The horses closed the distance incredibly fast. In a flash, they were upon him. Zao Ying thrust her spear—a lethal strike ran one fierce bandit clean through. Whipping the spear back and swirling it expertly, she aimed her next thrust straight at Xiao Zhang Bao’s forehead.

Stunned by the charging warhorse, panic seized him. He rolled desperately to the side, narrowly dodging the deadly point.