The Death of Little Bai

As Luan Yi had foreseen, Xiao Bai died a terrible and heroic death.

Alongside fifteen followers, he fought fiercely to cover Luan Yi’s retreat, buying precious time for his brothers and sisters in the Church to escape. Facing thousands of government soldiers, they wagered their lives in a desperate battle. In this doomed struggle, the sixteen men slew fifty-seven enemies and wounded thirty-four more; Xiao Bai alone killed fourteen, with uncountable wounded by his hand.

One by one, the brothers of the Church fell. Xiao Bai, gravely wounded, could no longer hold the line. Five wounds marked his body: two on his shoulders, one on his abdomen, two on his thighs. A gaping wound in his belly spilled blood and even his intestines. Gripping half his intestines in one hand, clutching his spear with the other, his bloodshot eyes glared fiercely as he stood, resolute, before the city gate.

He was already dead—his body unyielding, his soul at peace. He had calculated that he and his brothers had bought the Church Master nearly the time it took to burn two sticks of incense. Though brief, at such a crucial moment, these two sticks of incense were invaluable for his brothers. His task was fulfilled; now he could rest in heaven, and on the way, he would surely meet the careless Xiao Wu again. In life, they were brothers; in heaven, perhaps they’d be neighbors.

The thought of Xiao Wu as his eternal friend made Xiao Bai want to smile.

Thus, before the city gate, his corpse lay with eyes wide open in rage, lips curved in a faint smile—a look of both anger and joy.

The government soldiers did not realize Xiao Bai was dead. Terrified by him, they dared not advance—not only because of his fearsome expression, but more so due to his ferocity and fearlessness.

For a moment, they felt the mutilated figure before them was a wall, forever barring them from leaving the city. Some even considered fleeing, secretly vowing never to cross paths with him again.

This stalemate lasted almost half a stick of incense. Yang Mou, the Church enforcer, arrived to reinforce and barked, “Why aren’t you chasing the thieves? What are you doing here?”

A junior officer rushed forward, pointing at Xiao Bai beneath the city gate. “Reporting... Master Yang, that brute at the gate is too fierce. No one dares face him.”

“Useless!” Yang Mou raised his whip and lashed the officer’s face, drawing blood and cries of pain. He snorted, “So many of you, and you fear one man?” He glanced at Xiao Bai, saw his battered body—whether dead or barely alive, he was no threat. Weighing his options, Yang Mou drew a great bow from his horse, nocked an arrow, and fired. The arrow soared like a rainbow—the motion elegant, fluid, but the aim was off. The arrow whistled past, landing eight paces from Xiao Bai, striking the drawbridge with a mocking ring.

Behind him, soldiers who witnessed Yang Mou’s archery snickered, some laughing outright. Yang Mou glared at them fiercely. “What are you looking at? Shoot him for me!”

“Sir!” Over fifty archers drew their bows, released simultaneously.

Arrows rained down like locusts, riddling Xiao Bai’s corpse and sending it crashing to the ground.

The government soldiers surged forward. Whether from fear or a need for vengeance, dozens stabbed and hacked at Xiao Bai’s body, reducing it to pulp before finally relaxing. The “wall” blocking their chests had finally collapsed.

After leaving the city, Luan Yi led the Church guards south. They soon reached the base of Mount Li, where, from afar, clusters of torchlight—over a thousand strong—were seen besieging the factory, church, and manor.

Behind them, toward Licheng County, torchlight and the sound of horses marked the approach of pursuers from the city.

Dian Wei grew anxious. “Master! The pursuers are upon us. Let’s hurry back to the church!” He raised his halberd, ready to fight.

Luan Yi stopped him. “No. I’ll return to the church. Brother, you go to Wu Family Fortress and call for reinforcements.”

“Absolutely not!” Dian Wei’s veins bulged in alarm. “You wouldn’t let me mount the walls earlier, nor cover the rear—now, the duty of returning to aid the church should fall to me!”

“Brother, don’t panic, hear me out.” Luan Yi gripped Dian Wei’s shoulders, speaking earnestly. “As Xiao Bai said, your wife—my sister-in-law—and your son Xiao Man are waiting for you in Yingchuan. That’s one. My parents and two fiancées are trapped in the manor. If I leave, I can’t rest easy—that’s two. Lastly, though the situation seems perilous, I prepared for this. The church, manor, and factory have high, thick walls; the army can’t breach them quickly. I sent a large batch of weapons to Wu Tian and his wife at Wu Family Fortress—once they’re notified, they’ll rally local believers to rescue us. So, with these points, it’s best that I go back to aid the church.”

“Then let me go with you.”

“No!” Luan Yi shook his head again. “Seeking help is vital—I can’t trust just anyone. Besides, you’re familiar with Wu Tian and his wife; it’ll be easier for you to coordinate.”

“But—”

“No more buts. The pursuers are close—go now.”

“But—!”

“But nothing. This is an order. Go to Wu Family Fortress!”

Since meeting Luan Yi, Dian Wei had never seen him lose his temper so fiercely—this was the first time. Knowing the gravity of the situation, Dian Wei stopped arguing, saluted, “Master, may the Holy Mother bless you!” He called two guards, turned his horse, and sped northeast.

“May the Holy Mother bless you!”

In truth, Luan Yi’s anger was not directed at Dian Wei, but at himself. Since entering the Eastern Han, Luan Yi’s studies and business had been smooth—never meeting real setbacks. It made him proud, even arrogant, believing the ancients were no match for him. Even famous figures like Guo Jia and Xun Yu had been easily deceived, let alone unknowns like Zhu Ying and Sun Ru of Jinan. This arrogance led to disaster—dozens of lives lost tonight, including his close friends Xiao Wu and Xiao Bai.

How could he not blame himself? How could he not regret?

His eyes burned red in the firelight. He looked back at the Church guards, once bold and proud, now sweat-soaked and exhausted.

He raised the lotus-headed war hammer, crying, “Brothers, follow me—fight back, defend the church, defend the sacred icon!”

At the mention of the church—and the thought of the Holy Mother’s statue being destroyed by the government soldiers—the guards’ spirits surged. They shouted, “Defend the church, defend the sacred icon!”

Luan Yi spurred his horse fiercely; the steed reared and charged toward the army besieging the church’s main gate.

Twelve mounted guards followed, then the remaining fifty foot soldiers.

The government soldiers at the church gate had already attempted an assault, but arrows from within forced them to retreat, stopping two hundred paces from the church to regroup and prepare for another attack.

At this moment, Luan Yi and his men struck from behind. The government soldiers were caught off guard—they hadn’t expected reinforcements, nor that Luan Yi had survived the slaughter in Licheng.

Thus, when Luan Yi’s force suddenly attacked from the rear, chaos ensued. Luan Yi fought boldly, scattering men and horses, blood and flesh flying.

However, the government forces were numerous, several times his own. Initially, the battle went well, but as time dragged on, the enemy regrouped and organized a blockade. “First squad, second squad to the left wing; third, fourth squad to the right wing. Block them!”

Breaking through became harder. Luan Yi, quick-witted, shouted, “Corrupt official Zhu Ying is dead—why haven’t you surrendered? What are you waiting for? Must you choose destruction and damnation?”

The soldiers hesitated at Luan Yi’s words. All were natives of Jinan, and after months of exposure to the Church, they understood what damnation meant. Some had even been inside the church and knew the consequences. They had no desire to oppose the Holy Mother’s Church, but the Jinan nation’s chief insisted they attack. Disobedience meant losing their rank at best, offending the local tyrant at worse.

For them, damnation was a concern for after death; their priority was survival.

Thus, under Zhu Ying’s coercion, they attacked the church. But now Luan Yi claimed Zhu Ying was dead.

If the local tyrant was gone, there was no need to risk their lives or anger the gods.

The soldiers lowered their weapons, letting Luan Yi and his guards rush past.

Church defenders on the walls saw Luan Yi and his men returning and quickly opened the gates, drawing them into the courtyard.

Luan Yi and his brothers flooded in, exhausted from their night-long raids, collapsing to the ground, gasping for breath.

Li Zhuang, seeing his men safe in the Holy Mother’s church, quickly shut the gates and asked Luan Yi, “Master! Did you really kill that dog Zhu Ying?”

Luan Yi shook his head regretfully, “No.”

“Then—?” Li Zhuang scanned the returning guards, his eyes suddenly widening in alarm. “Where are Xiao Wu and Xiao Bai?”

Luan Yi’s face darkened with sorrow, his expression fallen, saying little. “We fell for Sun Ru’s treacherous scheme.”

Yet Li Zhuang, reading his face, understood at once what had happened to Xiao Wu and Xiao Bai. “They—?” Li Zhuang choked up, closed his eyes, crossed his hands over his chest, and murmured, “Holy Mother, bless them!”

“How are my father and mother? Miss Cai and Lady Diao Chan—are they safe?” Luan Yi could not help but ask after his family.