The people of Baoding did not really understand the song.
What they understood, however, was something far more important, something that did not require education, literacy, or political awareness, only experience, and unfortunately, they had plenty of that.
Any ordinary army, upon arriving at a city with no defenders, would not even bother pretending to behave; if they did not immediately start looting, burning, and smashing things for sport, they would at the very least swagger through the streets like they owned the place, eating, taking, and demanding whatever they pleased.
A bowl of noodles without payment was not a crime in such situations, it was tradition.
And yet, this army did none of that.
They did not rush in.
They did not posture.
They did not even cross the gates.
Instead, they stood outside and sang.
That single detail was enough to tell the people everything they needed to know, because whatever these men were, they were clearly not the same breed as the armies that had come before.
Chen Qianhu raised his tin megaphone again, his already rough voice pushed even further as he roared with full force, "I, Chen Qianhu, hate evil people the most, and I say this clearly today, every last one of them should die."
The declaration rang out with such raw conviction that the common folk did not question it for even a second.
"Did you hear that, he means it."
"I can feel it in his voice."
"If he curses the wicked, then he must be a good man."
It was simple logic, the kind born from desperation, but in times like these, simple logic was often the only kind that worked.
After finishing his performance, Chen Qianhu steadied himself and spoke again, his tone shifting from theatrical to earnest, though not losing that peculiar intensity that made people want to listen.
"People of Baoding, the Shared Governance faction makes this promise to you, we will improve your lives, and we will make this nation prosper again, though no system is perfect and there will always be flaws, what we offer is something the old court never dared to give."
He paused briefly, not for drama, but to let the idea settle, like a merchant placing goods on display and allowing the customer to take a proper look.
"We open a path for the common people to speak, we allow you to choose your own representatives, and those representatives will fight for your interests."
He tapped his chest.
"I stand here today as the representative of the people of Shanxi, and I look forward to the day when you, the people of Baoding, choose your own voice, so that together, we may govern this land properly."
And then, just like that, he turned his horse.
No threats followed.
No demand for surrender was made.
No symbolic march through the open gates occurred.
The army simply moved around the city and continued onward toward the capital, as if Baoding were merely a waypoint rather than a prize.
Only then did the people of Baoding collectively release the breath they did not realize they had been holding, their bodies relaxing all at once as the tension drained away.
So this was what it looked like.
An army that did not enter.
A force that did not prove itself through taking.
Strange, unsettling, and yet, somehow reassuring in a way none of them could properly explain.
---
The same scene unfolded across the northern territories.
Multiple armies of the Shared Governance faction advanced toward the capital, each deliberately choosing different routes, carefully avoiding one another, as if following an invisible map drawn by a hand far above them.
Those who had been eagerly waiting for internal conflict, including Emperor Chongzhen, court officials, wealthy gentry, and every conservative force clinging to the old order, could only watch in stunned disbelief.
No clashes occurred.
No competition for position emerged.
No accidental friction sparked between advancing forces.
There was only coordination, quiet, efficient, and deeply unsettling to anyone who had assumed chaos would tear these rebels apart.
Of course, not every army followed the same script.
One, in particular, carried its own flavor of absurdity.
The Sichuan army.
They were poor.
Painfully poor.
Even though Gao Family Village had done its best to support Sichuan, once these troops stepped out of their home region and entered the northern territories, the comparison became brutally clear.
They were still the poorest among all the forces.
A soldier approached Flat Rabbit and saluted, though his expression carried more frustration than respect.
"Reporting, with my military pay, I actually eat better than these northern peasants, but my relatives back home, my seventh aunt, second aunt, and third grandaunt, they eat worse than the people here, and if I help these locals, my sixth aunt, third aunt, and fourth grandaunt will beat me to death when I return."
Flat Rabbit blinked, then tilted his head slightly.
"Hold on, the numbers in your list just changed halfway through."
The soldier sighed with the exhaustion of a man burdened by excessive family structure.
"I have too many aunts, I cannot list them all in one sentence, so I rotate them."
Flat Rabbit fell silent.
This was not a problem he had ever anticipated.
After a moment of consideration that was far more serious than the situation deserved, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of silver, holding it up with obvious pride.
"In that case, I will personally contribute and send some relief to your second aunt, sixth aunt, and seventh grandaunt, see, your Rabbit Lord is not stingy."
The soldier took one look and inhaled sharply.
"Rabbit Lord… is that all you have?"
Flat Rabbit frowned immediately, his dignity clearly offended.
"What do you mean 'all,' this is a substantial amount."
Without another word, the soldier pulled out a silver ingot that was at least three times larger and pressed it into Flat Rabbit's hand.
"Rabbit Lord, please use this to buy yourself something decent, I cannot bear to watch this."
Flat Rabbit stared at the silver in his palm, momentarily speechless.
And just like that, the story spread.
"Rabbit Lord is poor."
"Not just poor, disastrously poor."
"Forget helping the northern people, we should help Rabbit Lord first."
"Save the impoverished rabbit."
What followed was a wave of enthusiastic donations.
Within moments, Flat Rabbit found himself buried under a pile of silver, his expression somewhere between disbelief and existential crisis.
"I swear we came here to help the people, why are you all helping me, I already receive food and clothing from the village council, money is useless to me."
The soldiers grinned.
"You need it to get married."
Flat Rabbit snorted.
"Women only slow down my sword."
The soldiers laughed even harder.
"Rabbit Lord, your sword speed is already useless, it cannot get any slower."
Flat Rabbit's face darkened.
"You little brats."
The laughter only grew louder.
"Rabbit Lord, without a woman, you cannot even produce little brats."
Flat Rabbit said nothing more.
There are defeats in life that cannot be countered with logic.
---
Meanwhile, on the eastern route from Shanhai Pass, Wu Sangui's army advanced toward the capital in a manner far more traditional.
A scout returned and reported, "There is a village ahead, but the people have all fled."
Wu Sangui let out a cold snort.
"They fled, then who will supply my army, search the surrounding hills, drag them out, put a blade to their necks, they will produce grain soon enough."
The scouts dispersed quickly, moving into the nearby terrain with practiced efficiency, their skills honed on the frontier where survival depended on seeing what others could not.
It did not take long.
The villagers were found.
Blades were placed against their throats.
And the hidden grain was surrendered.
Wu Sangui did not kill them.
To him, these people were not individuals, they were resources, a kind of living mine that could be harvested repeatedly as long as it was not destroyed.
Leave them alive, and after some time, they would produce again.
Much like monsters in a game that respawned, waiting patiently to be cleared for rewards.
"Drive them off, we continue."
The army moved on, leaving behind a group of people stripped of everything, standing in stunned silence, their minds blank as they tried to comprehend what came next.
How does one live after losing everything.
Before they could even begin to answer that question, the sound of hooves thundered in the distance.
A heavily armored cavalry unit approached at speed, dust rising behind them like a rolling wave, and at their head rode Ma Shouying.
The villagers did not run.
There was nothing left to protect, nothing left to lose, and fear, when stretched too far, simply broke.
Ma Shouying reined in his horse and looked them over before asking in a low voice, "You were robbed just now."
One of the villagers stepped forward, his tone hollow.
"Yes, just robbed, there is nothing left for you to take, if you want to kill us, then do it."
Ma Shouying's gaze hardened slightly.
"Who did it."
"Wu Sangui, they say he is part of the Shared Governance faction, marching on the capital."
Ma Shouying let out a quiet scoff.
"He is not one of us, just a pretender wearing the name."
Then he turned to his men without hesitation.
"Distribute supplies."