Lu Xiangsheng did not answer immediately, yet the tightening of his expression revealed that he understood the implication all too well.
Before the silence could settle into something heavier, Gao Jie let out a low, mocking chuckle, his tone carrying that familiar edge of provocation that never quite crossed the line, yet always pressed against it.
"The reason is obvious if you think about it carefully. To these people, Ming soldiers are not much better than the Jianzhou ones. They must have suffered before, otherwise they would not run like that."
Gao Qiqian's face darkened instantly, as if the words themselves had offended the structure of authority he believed in.
"A former bandit remains a bandit in manners, even after accepting amnesty. Do you still think of yourself as an outlaw? What do you mean Ming troops are no better? You are Ming troops now, so watch your tongue."
Gao Jie merely smiled, the kind of smile that suggested he had no interest in arguing, not because he agreed, but because the argument itself was beneath his effort.
He said nothing more.
By then, the soldiers from the frontier fort had already approached, greeting Lu Xiangsheng with proper respect. One of them cast a quick glance at Gao Jie, a subtle acknowledgment passing between men who understood more than they said.
Then the soldier turned back and called toward the fort.
"Do not be afraid. These are the good Ming troops, not the bad ones."
Only then did the civilians slowly emerge, their movements cautious, their eyes still filled with hesitation as they returned to the fields.
Lu Xiangsheng watched them for a moment before speaking, his voice carrying both curiosity and concern.
"I was told that the civilians in Jinzhou had all been wiped out. Where did these people come from?"
A militia soldier stepped forward to answer.
"Most of the city's population was indeed destroyed, but some survived by hiding in the mountains for years, living like ghosts just to stay alive. Recently, we have been searching for them and bringing them back. We provide tools, seeds, and protection, and let them farm near the forts so they can rebuild their lives."
Lu Xiangsheng nodded slowly, the approval in his eyes genuine and unreserved.
"This is a righteous act."
Gao Qiqian, however, felt none of that sentiment.
In his mind, the people of Liaodong were nothing more than expendable debris scattered across a battlefield that had long lost its value in human terms. To invest effort into them felt like a waste of resources, a misallocation of power.
Yet he said nothing.
Not because he lacked the thought, but because he understood the consequences of speaking it aloud. Civil officials could destroy a man with words far more efficiently than soldiers could with blades, and he had no intention of becoming their next target.
So he remained silent, wearing the mask required of him.
The army continued forward, and soon the outline of Jinzhou appeared on the horizon.
The broken section of the city wall, once blasted apart, had already been repaired.
Lu Xiangsheng felt a flicker of surprise, though he kept it contained. Such speed usually came at the cost of quality, and hastily rebuilt walls often failed under real pressure.
But when he drew closer, that assumption collapsed.
The repaired section was solid, reinforced with a strange gray material that looked unremarkable at first glance, yet felt harder than stone itself. The structure held with an unnatural firmness, as if it had been designed to resist not just impact, but time.
The moat had also been restored. Thousands of sandbags that once clogged its flow had been removed, and the water now circled the city once again, completing the defensive system.
Jinzhou had returned.
Not as a ruin.
But as a fortress.
Inside the city, reconstruction was already underway.
Dilapidated houses were being repaired, fresh layers of paint spreading across surfaces that had long forgotten color. The air carried the thick scent of lacquer, sharp and almost intrusive, yet undeniably alive.
Civilians walked the streets again.
They were few, cautious, and still burdened by memory, yet they were there.
These were people who had lived through cycles of brutality, passed back and forth between Ming forces and Jianzhou troops, treated as resources rather than lives. Some had even witnessed Zu Dashou's forces resort to cannibalism under extreme conditions, turning civilians into sustenance.
Trust, once broken at that level, did not return easily.
And yet, somehow, Cao Wenzhao had managed to bring them back.
Gao Qiqian did not voice it, but a trace of surprise surfaced within him.
So the coastal commander is not merely a battlefield brute.
He can manage people as well.
Before that thought could settle, a surge of noise rose from the western side of the city.
A force was approaching.
At its head stood a general beneath a banner marked with the character "Xing."
What caught everyone's attention was not the banner.
It was the person beneath it.
A woman.
Her build was powerful, her presence commanding, her figure carrying a kind of raw strength that made comparison with ordinary men seem unnecessary.
Cao Wenzhao raised his hand in greeting, his tone relaxed.
"General Xing, you made it as well."
The woman laughed, her voice bold and unrestrained.
"How could I not come?"
That was Xing Honglang.
Before the moment could settle, another head popped out from behind her.
Old Nanfeng.
His previous troops had already gone ahead to the capital with Sun Chuanting, leaving him effectively without command. Instead of remaining idle, he had chosen to move with Xing Honglang's forces.
He waved toward the city, grinning broadly.
"I came too late. I heard there was a grand show here, something about Zu Dashou fighting another Zu Dashou. What a pity I missed it."
Laughter spread across the group.
Old Nanfeng scanned the surroundings again.
"Where is Chen Qianhu? Where are my people?"
Cao Wenzhao smiled.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun said Chen Qianhu would frighten the civilians, so he was told to remain in the capital."
Old Nanfeng snorted.
"What is so frightening about his face?"
That only made the laughter louder.
"You are the only one who does not fear him. He, on the other hand, is afraid of you. Everyone else finds him terrifying."
Gao Qiqian observed all of this with growing confusion.
He leaned slightly toward Lu Xiangsheng and spoke in a low voice.
"Is something wrong here? These people come from different regions, yet they behave as if they have known each other for years."
Lu Xiangsheng did not explain.
He simply spread his hands in a gesture that carried both resignation and meaning.
"You will soon realize that they have many 'fellow townsmen.'"
Gao Qiqian frowned.
He did not understand.
Not yet.
At that moment, another force arrived, almost overlapping with Xing Honglang's timing.
A banner bearing the character "Wang" came into view.
Cao Wenzhao laughed.
"Ah, Wang Xiaohua is here as well."
"Call me Bai Mao!"
The shout came immediately, sharp and full of urgency.
"Bai Mao!"
Xing Honglang raised her voice deliberately.
"Wang Xiaohua!"
Cao Bianjiao leaned out from the wall, joining in with open amusement.
"A warm welcome to Wang Xiaohua!"
Old Nanfeng could not resist.
"Xiaohua Wang!"
"Shut up!"
The man beneath the banner roared in frustration.
"My name is Bai Mao!"
Gao Qiqian blinked, then turned to Lu Xiangsheng.
"Who is that?"
"Pingyang garrison commander Wang Xiaohua. A very capable general. During the bandit suppression campaigns in Shanxi, he rarely lost a battle."
Gao Qiqian hesitated.
"A general of such ability… yet with a name like that?"
Lu Xiangsheng gave a faint, knowing look.
"Now you see why he is so agitated."
Wang Xiaohua clenched his fists, clearly on the verge of losing control.
"Do not call me that again. Call me Bai Mao."
"Wang Xiaohua."
Old Nanfeng said it again, as if inviting disaster.
The response came instantly.
Wang Xiaohua lunged forward with a punch, but Old Nan Feng moved faster, hooking his leg and sending him crashing to the ground. In the next moment, he sat directly on his back, grinning like a man who had just found a new source of entertainment.
"Wang Xiaohua. Wang Xiaohua."
Wang Xiaohua struggled, but the difference in strength was obvious.
He was completely suppressed.
Then a large hand reached in.
A bearded man stepped forward, grabbing Old Nan Feng's arm with firm control.
"That is enough."
Old Nan Feng reacted instinctively, pulling back with force, yet to his surprise, the other man did not budge at all.
Only then did he turn his head.
Wang Er.
Baishui Wang Er himself.
Recognition flashed, and Old Nan Feng immediately let go.
"Ah."
Wang Er laughed and gave him a light punch.
"Bai Mao is genuinely upset. You can joke, but do not push it too far."
Old Nan Feng waved his hand.
"Alright, alright, I understand."
Wang Er then turned to Wang Xiaohua, his tone shifting into something more measured.
"Listen carefully. The more you react, the more they will use it against you. If you stop caring about the name, if you treat it as nothing, then sooner or later no one will bother using it again."
Wang Xiaohua paused, still breathing heavily.
"Really?"
"Really. That is simply how people are. So be more at ease. Do not let something so small control you."