Chapter 69: The Monumental Barrier (III)

Li Kuo stood on the platform in front of the hut, gazing at the dense crowd below, feeling his nose grow sore. According to the detailed count by the soldiers of the Tongwu Camp, there were exactly 2,137 of these Tang people—neither more nor less.
Their expressions were utterly blank as they timidly eyed him from all angles. Li Kuo, aiming to awaken the pride inherent in these Tang people, ordered their dead Tubo enemies to be dragged in front of the hut.
The heads of over a dozen Tubo leaders had already been pinned to spear shafts and planted beside a ditch next to the hut. Li Kuo had expected these Tang people to bravely step forward, shattering those corpses or at least spitting at them in defiance. But to his surprise, upon seeing the once domineering Tubo leaders’ severed heads, they showed not a trace of joy. They stood on tiptoe like weasels, carefully observing their surroundings, fearing that saying the wrong word might lead to the same fate as the Tubo people.
Although the Tang bandits were brutal, didn’t they still need people to herd their horses and do chores? The Tubo people needed meat to eat; didn’t the Tang bandits also have to scavenge for food? Who manages these grasslands without helpers?
They didn’t seek glory but only avoided mistakes—this was a tradition passed down through generations, proven effective time and again.
To be honest, from their fathers, mothers, and even their grandparents, they had always acted this way. As long as they stayed careful and avoided any missteps, the herd masters wouldn’t bother troubling a mere herdsman.
Looking at these Tang people, Li Kuo felt as though his heart was constantly pierced by spear points. He tried to communicate with them through eye contact but found that no matter how hard he tried, these so-called Tang people stood there like stones, staring at him blankly.
“Fellow villagers, the Tubo people who oppressed you have been executed. You are free!” Li Kuo shouted, clenching his fists.
To his surprise, these Tang people neither cheered nor clapped in celebration—not even a sound was made!
Silence, deathly silence.
Weren’t they Tang people captured by the Tubo? Why had they changed so much in just a few decades?
The young man kept asking himself this question but received no answer.

These Tang people, having spent years herding horses and sheep, had skin turned dark from sun exposure, yet a yellow undertone could be faintly seen through their wrinkled skin. Their cloudy eyes, clouded by long-term oppression, still held an indomitable blackness deep within their yellow hue. Even their hair, thin like withered grass and yellowish from malnutrition, still carried the essence of the Han people.
That was a resolute black—a symbol of unyielding spirit, the color of darkness! That was a simple yellow—a symbol of diligence, the color of the earth!
But why did it seem distorted when it came to them? Through these body-like shells, Li Kuo saw not the slightest sign of a soul’s vitality.
Thud! The young man suddenly felt this feeling was eerily familiar, as if he had encountered it somewhere before. It was on Zhongnan Mountain! In the valleys of Zhongnan Mountain, the expressions of those believers were so similar to theirs! Yet those believers were clearly under the influence of drugs, bewitched, and delirious, while these Tang people were merely timid by nature!
Such timidity and silence were even more hurtful!
Li Kuo jumped down from the platform and approached a relatively sturdy Tang man, reaching out to hand him his sword.
Seeing Li Kuo draw his sword and approach, the Tang man’s legs gave way, and he instinctively knelt down: “Sir, please, don’t come closer. Sir, I can herd horses and cut grass. Please don’t kill me. I don’t eat much food—just some highland barley bread will be enough, one dish of porridge and one of solid food a day. Please don’t kill me.”
Thud, thud, thud!
Three muffled sounds echoed in the air. The soldiers of the Copper Army felt as if a thick lump of phlegm was blocking their throats, making them feel suffocated.
“Take this sword and slash one of those corpses!”
Li Kuo raised his voice and pointed at the dozen or so Tibetan corpses. “Slay them, and you’ll be my brother!”
The Tang man trembled slightly before finally realizing Li Kuo didn’t intend to kill him. The Tibetans had a tradition of killing extra slaves to save food—so why were these so-called brutal Tang raiders much more civilized than them?
“Sir Tang? How many highland barley breads can I get by killing that Tibetan lord?”
The Tang man asked tentatively, his eyes filled with hope.
Li Kuo felt a surge of anger rise in his chest and shouted, “Don’t call me sir. There are no masters or servants here—only brothers and comrades!”
“Then, then…”
Fearing that he had angered the Tang lord, the Tang man was terrified, but he couldn’t think of any other title to use, pacing anxiously.

“This is our lieutenant; we all call him general!”
Dou Qing, frustrated by his lack of progress, snapped out in anger.
“Gen-er-al?”
Tang Min tentatively pronounced those two syllables. Huh? Though he had never used this word before, why did it sound so inspiring?
“Mm!”
Li Kuo let out a long sigh. Although Tang Min was still some distance from his expectations, at least he had taken the hardest first step. As long as he persisted, there was hope of awakening that long-dormant mind!
The young man’s throat tightened as he said, “If you kill him, you’ll be my brother, Li Kuo. Whatever I eat, you can eat too.”
Li Kuo thought for a moment before making the promise. Such a commitment seemed far more practical at the moment.
“Then, um, Lord Tang—no, General, how many green barley buns can you eat in one meal?”
“Haha, hahaha… hahaha…”
Laughter erupted among the Tang soldiers, and the soldiers of the Copper Weapons Camp were amused to the point of tears by his words.
“He, um, General Li can eat a lot of green barley buns. As many as he wants—enough to fill him up! Not only that, but there’s also fresh milk wine available in plenty!”
Zhang Yanji wiped the tears from his eyes and encouraged him loudly.
“Then, I’ll do it! Damn it, isn’t it just cutting him a few times? It’s probably no different from slaughtering sheep or cattle.”
Tang Min grabbed his sword and rushed toward the body of the Tibetan soldier.