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Although shouting those words to vent his frustration while leaving Hangu Pass might have felt satisfying in the moment, the truth was, Fei Qian had suffered a major setback this time.
Originally, the second planned transport only required Huang Xu to lead thirty soldiers, along with the Cui family's guards, to escort the shipment. However, after encountering Li Ru's checkpoint blockade, they had no choice but to adjust their plans.
Thus, the second transport ended up consisting of forty soldiers and thirty of the Cui family's guards—over seventy men in total. Yet now, after escaping Hangu Pass, only thirty-four people remained, including Fei Qian himself.
More of his own soldiers had survived, but out of the Cui family's thirty guards, only ten had made it out alive.
As for minor injuries—bumps, scrapes, cuts from blades or spears, or burns from the fire—almost everyone had some.
Even Huang Cheng, whom Fei Qian had always regarded as exceptionally brave and highly skilled in martial arts, had suffered a minor injury during the final charge toward the observation platform. His arm had been grazed by a spear tip, as the narrow stairway leading up to the platform left little room for maneuvering.
Fei Qian himself had been well-protected by Huang Cheng, Huang Xu, and the others, but between the smoke, the flames, and the desperate escape, he hadn't fared much better. A large section of his hair had been singed by the fire, turning to blackened ash at the slightest touch. His palms and arms were scraped from scaling the pass walls, and his face and body bore bruises from losing control while descending and slamming into the stone.
Still, despite everything, Fei Qian, Huang Cheng, Huang Xu, and the others had survived.
Their supplies, however, had been left behind in the pass—most critically, the second batch of books from the Cai estate.
Fei Qian frowned, wondering whether the fire at the courier station had spread to those bamboo scrolls. Whether paper or bamboo, neither was fire-resistant. If they had been damaged, nearly half of the Cai family's collection would be lost.
Damn that Zheng Jian!
By now, Fei Qian fully understood Zheng Jian's scheme. Unfortunately, even knowing the truth was useless at this point. With only thirty-some men left, how could they possibly fight their way back in and cut through enemy lines?
Zheng Jian had set the first fire last night, and Fei Qian had started another while escaping Hangu Pass. But Hangu Pass had been built for war—its defenses were solid, and two fires wouldn't be enough to destroy it.
The gates might have suffered some damage, but they were constructed from thick wood reinforced with large copper rivets and iron bars. Even after dousing them with oil, the flames had only served to delay pursuers. The gates wouldn't be completely destroyed, and by daylight, a few repairs by craftsmen would restore them to working order.
At most, they had dealt a slight blow to Zheng Jian's morale…
Fei Qian scoffed at himself. Lately, things had been going too smoothly, making him complacent. He had either failed to notice the signs of Zheng Jian's treachery or had noticed but dismissed them.
Zheng Jian's plan was simple: use Hangu Pass's strategic position to choke off Dong Zhuo's relocated capital. The so-called "Yellow Turban remnants" west of the pass were likely private soldiers from the Hongnong gentry, allowing them to bypass the Mianchi camp's surveillance and gather in secret.
After some thought, Fei Qian couldn't help but admire the mastermind behind this scheme. But for now, survival came first.
Having escaped Hangu Pass, Zheng Jian wouldn't waste resources on a long pursuit—he had bigger plans. So Fei Qian wasn't too worried about being chased. The real problem now was food and water.
Huang Cheng had already taken a few men to search for provisions, but they had no cooking utensils, no fire—the torches they had carried had burned out before dawn—and worst of all, no dry rations. The journey from Hangu Pass to Gucheng would take at least two to three days, and even at a forced march, two days was the minimum.
Skipping one meal was manageable, but going a full day without food or water would be disastrous, especially while traveling. Without sustenance, people could die.
Fei Qian knew that a person could survive three days without water, but only at the cost of organ failure. And with everyone needing to walk, dehydration would set in after just one day, possibly leading to collapse or even coma.
Fortunately, while the mountains north of Hangu Pass's official road were too steep to cross, the terrain leveled out beyond the pass's entrance. If necessary, they could draw water from the Yellow River—which, in this era, wasn't yet heavily silted.
But food…
That was a much bigger problem.
Thirty-plus mouths to feed, all grown men. If they ate their fill, they could easily consume over a dan of grain in one meal. Two meals a day for two days meant at least four dan of provisions—yet right now, they didn't even have four dou, let alone four dan.
Before long, Huang Cheng returned with a few men, their clothes bundled around something. When they unfolded the fabric in front of Fei Qian, it revealed only a handful of mushrooms and some bird eggs.
Huang Cheng looked embarrassed. "We searched everywhere but didn't find any game. Just these."
Fei Qian picked up a mushroom and examined it. Though no survival expert, he knew mushrooms were risky—half were non-toxic, but the other half could be deadly. And poisonous varieties weren't always brightly colored; even plain white ones could be lethal.
The bird eggs were a decent source of nutrition, but the quantity was pitiful.
As for the lack of game or wild fruits, it made sense. This was an official road, frequented by travelers and carts—no sensible animal would linger here.
Besides, it was still early spring. Few plants had even bloomed, let alone bore fruit. Finding these eggs was already lucky.
Fei Qian selected a smaller egg and wiped it on his sleeve—not that his clothes were clean, but the gesture offered some psychological comfort. "Shuye, forget the mushrooms. We can't cook them now, and it's too hard to tell which are safe. Just distribute the eggs among everyone."
"Understood!" Huang Cheng didn't argue. He called the men over, grabbed an egg for himself, and—without even cleaning it—tossed it into his mouth, shell and all, crunching it down with a few loud bites.
Fei Qian's eye twitched. Did he really just eat it like that?