"This Black Teeth Changzhi should really thank you, Saburo. If it weren't for you, he might have been killed in confusion one day! It's a pity that I don't know who the letter writer is!"
"We don't know, but Black Teeth Changzhi should be able to guess it."
"Yes, he should know who wants him to die the most!"
"Since we saved him this time, let's be good and do it to the end. Find a few prisoners and ask them to send the box back to Hei Te Changzhi!" Wang Wenzuo folded the letter and handed it back to He Bayong.
"Wonderful!" He Bayong gave a high-five: "It's best if they fight to the death among themselves, so we can save our worries!"
"Yes!" Wang Wenzuo nodded: "If the Tang Dynasty wants to gain a foothold here, it must conquer Baekje. Otherwise, even if it wins temporarily, it will eventually lose!"
Many years later, Liu Pingji could still recall the scene at that time: the earth was torn apart by the iron hooves of the war horses, and the remaining wheat straw and shrubs were trampled into the soil. The spears and arrows stuck in the ground became new after being watered with blood. Horrible crops, corpses everywhere, like evil fruits waiting to be harvested, crows hovering over the battlefield, making ominous cries, the exhausted Baekje prisoners were driven by the Tang people, like tame sheep, all expressionless and lifeless , staggering. Fear was like an invisible hand, strangling his throat and making him unable to breathe. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if he were among them. Maybe he would be more likely to be reduced to a corpse on the ground - his hands were used to polishing, carving, and shaping, rather than drawing bows, stabbing spears, and wielding knives.
"Did you see everything?"
Liu Pingji turned around, saw his father's solemn face, and nodded: "I've seen it all, Grandpa!"
"This is the people of the Tang Dynasty! They are first-class painters, monks, craftsmen, poets, and the cruelest warriors!" Liu Chongguang sighed: "So many people were strong and good men yesterday, but now... "At this point, his lips trembled slightly, his eyes filled with tears, and he couldn't speak any more.
"Grandpa!" Liu Pingji grabbed his father's arm and whispered, "At least we're not inside. Maybe it will make you feel better if I miss you like this!"
"Yes!" Liu Chongguang nodded: "It's better to pity others than to be pitied by others. No matter what, our father and son are still fine. We are really blessed by Bodhisattva!"
"Yes!" Liu Pingji sighed, and suddenly a thought came to his mind. He hesitated and whispered: "Master, can we ask the general of the Tang Dynasty to allow us to build a pagoda here?"
"pagoda?"
"Yes! Build a pagoda to save the souls of the dead!"
"This -" Liu Chongguang was stunned for a moment: "But these are rebels, right? The Tang people must hate them to the core, so how can they allow us to build pagodas for them? Besides, we can only build pagodas, but we can't Chant sutras and consecrate the light!"
"There may be monks among the prisoners. How would we know without asking!" Liu Pingji said with a smile: "I think the Tang general would agree. The corpses of those who died in Chaichuanzha were also buried. He also There’s no stopping you!”
"Forget it, let's give it a try!" Liu Chongguang was finally persuaded by his son: "If so many people are exposed to the wilderness, they will definitely turn into resentful spirits and wander between heaven and earth forever without being reincarnated. That would be too pitiful. !”
"You want to build a pagoda for the war dead?" Wang Wenzuo's tone subconsciously rose.
"Yes!" Sancho was startled and quickly defended: "But this was the idea of the two Baekje craftsmen. My subordinates were temporarily soft-hearted, so-"
"No, no, no, that's a good idea!"
"What a good idea?" Sancho was stunned and asked tentatively: "Mr. Lang, you agree!"
"Of course, why don't you agree to such a good thing?" Wang Wenzuo said with a smile.
"But most of those who died were traitors and enemies!"
"It's true when you're alive, but it's not true when you're dead! We've already won the battle, there's no need to show off your authority over corpses and make people angry! Use force to be powerful and morality to embrace. This is the style of a king. Go and tell that Two craftsmen, they have done a good job in this matter. They must do it well. After the work is completed, I will reward them with ten pieces of silk." At this point, Wang Wenzuo took off his waistband: "Give this to him and tell them if they need labor, You can go and pick someone among the prisoners, we will wait here for a day, I don’t know if the time is enough!”
"Enough, enough!" Liu Chongguang looked excited: "I have already seen it. There are many stones near the battlefield. We only need to pile up the stones, temporarily mix some mortar to stick them, and then carve Bodhisattva on the big stone. That’s it!”
"Okay!" Sancho took out a waist card and handed it to Liu Chongguang: "Take this, and just pick the manpower among the prisoners. Two hundred or three hundred is enough. If the job is done well, there will be a reward! Hey, the general is really a good man. Kind-hearted people, you and your son are so lucky!”
Watching Sanqiu's leaving figure, Liu Chongguang touched the delicate and intricate patterns on his waistband and sighed to his son: "Maybe you are right. In the eyes of a Bodhisattva, all living beings are equal. There is no difference between people from the Tang Dynasty and Baekje!"
Groaning, pain, stench, despair, this is the prison camp.
Huicong curled up and wrapped his bare feet in his robe as much as possible to avoid frostbite. In panic, he strayed into the mire and lost his shoes, and then became a prisoner of the Tang people. Fortunately, he was not injured. At this time, he was injured. It means death, and no one will waste medicine on prisoners.
"Aniang, Aniang!"
Huicong turned his head and looked towards where the moaning came from. He saw a man lying on the ground, his face was red, and he was mumbling to himself. He was obviously hysterical. He hesitated for a moment, then crawled over, reached out and touched the man's forehead. It was frighteningly hot.
"Who can get some water? Snow will do!"
There was deathly silence around. After a few minutes, someone answered: "Where's the water? There's only blood!"
Huicong raised his head and was surrounded by blank faces. He sighed, sat cross-legged next to the man, clasped his hands together, and recited the Purana Sutra.
“Whoever is willing to work, a piece of cake and a bowl of hot soup; whoever is willing to work, a piece of cake and a bowl of hot soup!”
Huicong stood up and saw two men standing at Yingkou. The older one was shouting loudly in this direction, but his accent was Sixian accent.
"Can you give me hot soup? Someone here has a fever!" Huicong said loudly.
"Have a fever? Okay, okay, bring it right away!" Liu Zhongguang responded, quickly took a pottery bowl, made a bowl of hot soup and sent it over. Huicong pinched the man's philtrum on the ground and opened it. After feeding a few mouthfuls of hot soup into his mouth, the man made a sound in his throat, spit out a mouthful of thick phlegm, and gradually regained consciousness.
