Chapter 6: The Uprising

Li Po lay quietly in the grass, watching the scene not far ahead.

It was a valley where piles of campfires emitted a warm glow, carrying the scent of food far into the distance.

Li Po was certain he had reached the edge of the forest, not far from the outside world.

Since his encounter with the Turkic tribes, he had not tasted a single hot meal or sipped warm water.

The weather deep in the mountains grew colder by the day, and the sky gradually filled with crimson clouds. A heavy snowfall seemed imminent, urging Li Po to quicken his pace to leave the woods.

The direction was clear: west would likely lead him to the Yellow River’s banks; east would bring him to the northern frontier garrisons of the Sui dynasty—either Mayi or Yanmen counties.

He chose east, as it seemed the shorter distance.

Everything in the valley suggested he might soon exit this forested land.

Those gathered around the campfires wore tidier clothes, clearly newcomers to the mountains.

There were many of them, yet the hardships of forest life had not yet left deep marks on their appearances.

Undoubtedly, they were a group of refugees.

Not unlike the others who had ventured deeper into the mountains, their hushed conversations soon revealed that they too were fleeing harsh labor and had no choice but to hide in the wilds.

Li Po silently studied their accents, preparing for his own departure from the forest.

He had initially planned to blend in, to inquire more about the outside world. These refugees were not particularly dangerous, having only recently entered the mountains and still bound by some moral and social constraints.

But soon, he abandoned that thought.

Under the flickering firelight, a tense atmosphere revealed a lurking danger.

Among the dozens gathered—likely from the same place—distinct differences in clothing, behavior, and even food divided them into two clear groups.

Some sat closer to the central, larger fire, attended by servants bustling about. Their dinner was finer, even accompanied by the scent of wine.

Those on the outskirts wore tattered clothes, silently gnawing on dry rations. The cries of women and children mixed with the harsh shouts and beatings from men, an endless, painful cacophony.

So close, yet they inhabited two entirely different worlds.

This stark injustice was the source of danger.

A few northern Han men huddled near Li Po, muttering occasionally by their own fire. They frequently glanced toward the others, their eyes burning with a mixture of envy and hatred.

Li Po was certain it wouldn’t be long—perhaps even the next moment—before he would witness a riot erupt.

Such turmoil was common among refugees.

They too had wealth disparities and differences in appearance; many tragedies thus unfolded.

Li Po cared little for grand political tides or the root causes driving the people to flee to the mountains. He simply deduced the process from its outcomes.

Though he had only recently entered the forest, encountering so many refugees meant that the once mighty Sui dynasty was already teetering on the brink of collapse.

These refugees would likely become bandits roaming the mountains, so the world beyond was far from peaceful.

Yet, like any mere bystander, Li Po watched coldly, neither intending nor capable of changing anything.

Late at night, he curled up, bracing against the mountain chill.

He planned to stay here for several days. He needed a guide and would carefully select one fortunate soul from these refugees in the coming days...

His gaze did not rest on the impoverished on the outskirts but fixed on the central group.

They seemed better off, and surely more knowledgeable.

He needed to know if the household registration checks outside were strict, whether one would be seized as a laborer upon leaving, if the chaos outside was truly unbearable, where people gathered, and so forth.

But evidently, some were growing impatient.

Suddenly awakened, Li Po noticed the campfires still smoldering as a commotion arose.

The northern men close by shouted wildly.

Their voices revealed a burning fury within, eager to explode and reduce others—or themselves—to ashes.

Helpless, Li Po sat up slowly, stretching his limbs and considering whether to leave this chaotic place.

As expected, in harsh conditions, people did not think to unite and overcome hardship but first fought to claim as many resources as possible.

Such is human nature, especially where many gather.

What surprised him was that a leader quickly emerged from these restless refugees.

A burly man with an open chest shouted fervently; his followers echoed him. Soon, he commanded the support of the majority.

Grassroots heroes arise in times of turmoil—this is a timeless truth, needing no further explanation.

Li Po did not know if similar scenes played out elsewhere in the mountains, but what he witnessed was the very birth of a bandit group, essentially a peasant uprising.

Soon, the next phase unfolded.

Killings came as expected; the victims were another group of people.

The cries of battle plunged the once peaceful valley into chaos. Women and children wailed helplessly, fleeing. Men grabbed whatever they could to fight.

The scent of blood soon filled the air.

Motionless, Li Po observed everything. People ran past him, no longer noticing the figure hidden in the grass.

The riot ended by dawn, with the larger faction clearly victorious.

Now, it was time for them to enjoy their spoils.

This would fuel Li Po’s deep loathing for so-called peasant uprisings in the years to come.

A twisted group, wearing twisted expressions, committing twisted deeds.

Initially, their slaughter was for survival or justice, which Li Po could understand.

But afterward, all their actions were unrelated to those causes.

They became greedy and savage. Though restrained by their temporary leader, distribution of goods—and women—was inevitable.

They squandered everything recklessly, heedless of the coming winter and the need for manpower and resources to survive.

When the burly man grabbed two screaming women, beating and cursing as he dragged them into the woods, his followers eagerly prepared to enjoy their spoils.

Li Po frowned in disgust and quietly departed.

Plunderers—mad beasts. Perhaps they would eventually calm, but Li Po had no interest in wasting more time here.

He chose to continue southeastward, but soon realized he had a tail—a follower—behind him.