Chapter Eight: The Revolution of Materials

Among all this information, apart from the demons and ghosts, what intrigued Du Huaishan most was the red marrow. No wonder the army’s sabers were so sharp, and the cloth armor, though lined with only the thinnest sheet of iron, could withstand the terrifying claws of those creatures. The appearance of red marrow had sparked a revolution in materials, rescuing cold weapons from the brink of obsolescence and returning them to the throne of the battlefield.

Yet what puzzled Du Huaishan was this: if the metal used in blades and armor could be infused with red marrow, why not bullets? Was it because the material was too hard, lacking the malleability of lead or copper, and therefore couldn't create an airtight seal? But couldn’t they use a process with a copper core and a red marrow steel shell? After all, that was how steel-jacketed bullets were made in China. The more he learned, the deeper his questions became.

He tried to draw out Tan Hai on a few other topics and roughly concluded that the technological level of this world was equivalent to that of Earth during World War I: steam locomotives, biplanes, crank telephones. However, advanced technology was mostly in the hands of foreign powers—names like Nipan and Ameli, places he had never heard of. From this, it was clear that red marrow was of even greater strategic value to the governments of the world than oil. Whoever controlled red marrow wielded stronger materials, commanded more demons, and, indirectly, possessed greater military strength.

They talked late into the night, until those praying and pleading by the campfire finally retired to their tents. Sorrowful as they were, even they needed sleep.

Tan Hai yawned. “Aren’t you tired, Brother Huaishan?”

“I really should get some rest.” Du Huaishan had been on the move all afternoon; denying his exhaustion would have been a lie. “But before I turn in, could I trouble you for one more thing?”

“Books, right?” Tan Hai was quick to guess what he wanted.

“Yes. Geography, history—anything on red marrow or demons would be best. And you like sweet potatoes, right? I’ll give you mine tomorrow!”

“Really? It’s a deal!” Tan Hai, excited, held out his pinky. Still a boy at heart.

With a smile, Du Huaishan hooked his own finger with Tan Hai’s. He couldn’t fathom how this skinny fellow could eat even more than he did.

After saying goodbye to Tan Hai, he turned and headed for the rest tent the sentry had assigned him earlier. At a time like this, there was no hope of a room to oneself.

Even before entering, a thunderous chorus of snores reached his ears through the tent flap. Bracing himself, he lifted the flap and was greeted by a stifling cocktail of odors—blood, sweaty feet, body odor—all gathered for a communal revel. Thankfully, his college dorm days had honed his ability to filter out such assaults on his senses.

A charcoal brazier in the center kept the tent from feeling cold. He found a patch of ground at the edge, lay down, and closed his eyes. His body was weary, yet his mind refused to rest, churning with new questions. In the end, he could only count snores as if they were sheep. It was only in the deep hours of the night that he finally drifted into a shallow sleep.

Du Huaishan was woken by a tumult of voices. “Dreamt I had to pay back my credit line. Thank heavens, I crossed over…” he muttered to himself with a wry smile, turning to the uncle beside him who was grumbling under his breath, as if something momentous was happening outside.

Squeezing out of the tent, he found the sky still dark and overcast—and even more people outside. Drawing on the strength he’d gained from his demonic enhancement, Du Huaishan forced his way through the throng to the front of the crowd.

He first heard the measured clop of hooves. At the head of the column was an officer in shining, blood-splattered armor, his face grim. Behind him, the soldiers’ faces were dark and somber. The procession was short, and soon the second squad came into view, led by Chang Sui’an, whose white cloak was now soaked through with gore.

Du Huaishan considered greeting him, but Chang Sui’an seemed shut off from the world, his gaze fixed on the horse’s mane, oblivious to all around him. Instead, a single-lidded female soldier met Du Huaishan’s eyes—Yan Xiaoman. Du Huaishan was about to offer a polite smile, when he saw the blood-soaked bandage at her right elbow. The sight was shocking—the arm below the elbow was gone.

Meeting Du Huaishan’s gaze, Yan Xiaoman’s eyelid fluttered, but she quickly looked away, imitating Chang Sui’an by staring down at her horse’s mane. The soldiers following her fared little better: all were wrapped in bandages, some with heads cracked open, others missing hands or feet. Old Liu, who had fired the signal flare, lay in a cart, eyes wide, coughing blood.

Who could have imagined, when Du Huaishan first met them in the woods, that these people were so full of spirit? How had it come to this? Clearly, the red flare fired by the third squad last night signaled a grave incident.

Before the cavalry had even passed, the townsfolk surged toward the transport trucks, shouting names—no doubt searching for loved ones. Some called out until their voices broke and tears flowed.

But only three people emerged from the troop carriers. The rest were corpses.

“San’er! Are you in there? San’er, answer your mother! I’ll never hit you again, never again!”

“Xiaosong, we promised to meet in Fenghou!”

“I pay all those taxes every year, and for what? These useless soldiers can’t save a single life!”

“Damn it! I finally see it now—whether it’s the new town or the old, every one of these settlements exists to be bait for Fenghou City, to lure those demons away!”

“That’s right! We should go demand an explanation from Commander Zhang!”

In the crowd were old women wailing for lost children, young ladies waiting for husbands, merchants quietly cursing the soldiers, and ruffians openly railing against injustice.

The cavalry and transport crews offered no rebuttal, no response, not even acknowledgment. Only the guards from the tents came out to drag away the troublemaking ruffians.

From this, Du Huaishan gleaned another insight: there were many such settlements, likely arranged as satellite towns around a main city. No wonder the main force from Fenghou had arrived so swiftly after the incident yesterday.

Alas, the power of the demons was simply too overwhelming.

Still, he had to admit, if those two ruffians weren’t lying, their words might hold a kernel of truth. Demons craved human flesh; the more people gathered in one place, the more monsters would be drawn to it. In a city with such dense population, a surge of demons nearby would not only overwhelm the defenders, but also sever the city’s links to the outside world—transport, trade, communication.

In such chaotic times, he wondered, was there even such a thing as travel and tourism?