Darkness enveloped the stone tower like an oppressive cloak. Xu Anping watched from a safe distance, his eyes fixed on the structure as the first traces of smoke began to rise into the air. The smell of burning wood soon filled the battlefield, a sign that the plan he had devised was being executed perfectly. The thick, dark smoke rose like a twisting serpent toward the heights, seeking the men entrenched inside the tower.
At first, the imperial defenders were unfazed. From the battlements, they continued to shoot arrows at the rebels, though with less accuracy due to the smoke that was starting to invade their lungs. Shouts of warnings and orders echoed from above, but soon the words turned into strangled moans. The smoke ascended mercilessly, infiltrating every crack and crevice, forcing the defenders to retreat deeper into the tower, which was becoming an increasingly suffocating space.
"More wood!" shouted Xu Anping, making sure the flames didn't die out. Liang, sweaty but determined, continued to give orders to the recruits to keep the fire alive. Both knew that time was crucial. If the smoke didn't work soon, the imperials could organize a counterattack or, worse, receive reinforcements.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they began to hear the first signs of collapse within the tower. The arrows ceased, and the sound of metal clashing against stone was replaced by coughing and the cries of men trapped in the smoke. An imperial soldier emerged first, his face covered in soot, his eyes filled with despair. He stumbled out, only to be met by the swords of the rebels, who waited with their weapons ready.
The chaos continued. One by one, the imperial soldiers emerged from the tower, pushed by the thick smoke that prevented them from breathing. Some tried to fight, while others surrendered as soon as they touched the ground, but all who emerged were quickly neutralized. Xu Anping observed the scene with a mixture of relief and bitterness. He knew this was not a glorious victory; the men they killed were not much different from those he led—soldiers forced to fight in a war that wasn't theirs, caught in the midst of a corrupt and decaying empire.
"Surrender, and your lives will be spared!" Xu shouted, hoping that some of those still inside would hear his offer. His voice rang out over the crackling flames, filling the battlefield with an authority that couldn't be ignored.
The last of the imperial defenders staggered out, and behind him, there was no more movement. The smoke had done its job, and those who couldn't escape had fallen inside the tower, suffocated by the gray cloud of poison. The surviving rebels began to surround the tower, ensuring that no enemy was hiding in the shadows.
Liang approached Xu, panting, his face smeared with ash but a smile on his face. "We did it," he said, lightly tapping Xu on the shoulder. Xu nodded but didn't smile. He looked at the bodies scattered on the ground, both imperial and rebel. The victory was theirs, but at a high price. Of the 50 men who had started the assault, only 38 remained standing. Twelve of their comrades lay dead or dying on the ground—men who had been peasants, artisans, simple civilians before being dragged into this war.
"Count the dead," Xu ordered one of the men who had stayed in the rear. "And bring the prisoners."
As his orders were carried out, Xu climbed a small mound to speak to those who remained. The smoke still floated in the air, mingling with the scent of blood and gunpowder. The faces of the men who looked up at him reflected exhaustion and uncertainty, but also hope—the spark of having survived one more day.
"Today we achieved a victory," Xu began, his voice clear and firm. "But we must not deceive ourselves. This victory has been costly, and many of our comrades have fallen on the battlefield. Brave men, who fought not for wealth or glory, but for a better future."
He paused, looking into the faces of those who followed him closely. Liang stood at his side, listening with the same intensity as the others.
"This is not just a war between soldiers," Xu continued. "We are peasants, artisans, ordinary people who were pushed into this fight. We didn't start this war; it was started by a corrupt empire that has exploited its people to the brink of despair. We are not the ones to blame for this war!" he exclaimed, with a fervor that resonated in the hearts of everyone present. "It is those in power, those who have ignored the suffering of their people, who have caused this rebellion!"
Xu paused for a moment to glance at the imperial soldiers who had been captured. The two who had survived the battle looked at him cautiously, unsure of what their fate would be.
"You who survived today," Xu said, addressing the prisoners, "you have seen the truth. We are no different from you. We fight because we have no other choice. If you choose to join us, if you choose to fight for a better future, you will be welcome in our ranks. If you prefer to return to your lands, you will be free to do so. This war does not need any more unnecessary bloodshed."
The prisoners exchanged glances. One of them, a young man with a face full of scars, raised his head and spoke with a trembling voice. "I want to go home... I don't want to keep fighting. I just want to see my family again."
The request silenced everyone present. Xu Anping observed him for a moment, assessing the sincerity in his words. He knew this decision would be crucial—not only to win the trust of his men but to build his reputation as a just and astute leader.
"If that is your wish," Xu said finally, his voice surprisingly calm, "I will let you go. There's no point in forcing a man to fight in a war he doesn't want."
Xu gestured to Liang, who quickly prepared a small bag of provisions: some hard bread, water, and a bit of dried meat. "Take this," Xu continued, handing the bag to the soldier. "It's a long journey back to your home, and you'll need to stay well-fed to survive. Go back to your family and tell them what you've seen here. Tell them we fight for justice, not for power. That we are not the monsters the Empire says we are."
The soldier, surprised and visibly moved, took the bag with both hands and bowed deeply, showing respect. The other rebels looked on with a mix of approval and curiosity. They knew the release of this man would send a powerful message.
"Go in peace," Xu said, and with one last grateful look, the soldier departed.
When the soldier disappeared into the distance, Xu turned to the rest of the men, including the remaining prisoners. "Do both of you want to join our cause?" he asked firmly. The two remaining prisoners nodded without hesitation, choosing to join the rebel ranks. With their addition, the rebel army now numbered 40 men.
Victory was assured, but for Xu Anping, this was only a small step in his ambitious journey.
Liang, impressed, approached once again. "You never cease to surprise me, Xu. Not only did you defeat the imperials today, but you earned their respect. If you keep this up, you might become one of the great rebel leaders. Maybe even the one who leads the rebellion to its final victory."
Xu Anping looked at him in silence for a moment. His gaze, calculating and cold, conveyed something more than simple ambition. "No, Liang," he replied, with a barely perceptible smile. "I won't settle for being just one of the rebel leaders. I want much more."
Liang looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. He knew Xu Anping had grand plans, but now he was beginning to understand the true magnitude of his ambitions.
And so, under a sky full of smoke and stars, Xu Anping took another step toward his destiny—a destiny that would take him far beyond what any man could have imagined.