Record of Mortals Slaying Heaven

Chapter 3 An Ignorant Child Refuses the Imperial Edict; All the Generals Say He's Deluding

The ravine wasn't far, just behind the dilapidated temple, only about a hundred feet away as the crow flies, but the road was very difficult to travel.

Shi Tou helped Shen Moqi as they trudged down a rugged path overgrown with weeds. Shen Moqi felt waves of stinging pain in his left arm, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. But what alarmed him even more was what he saw along the way—the closer they got to the ravine, the stranger the vegetation became. What should have been the withered yellow of deep winter was instead interspersed with large patches of unnaturally charred black, as if repeatedly burned. The pungent, asphalt-like odor in the air grew stronger and stronger.

"It's just ahead." Stone pointed to a low entrance where vines were tangled and the light was dim.

The scene inside the ditch was even more shocking than Shen Moqi had imagined. It wasn't a clear stream or an ordinary ditch, but a dark, shiny, slowly writhing swamp. Black, viscous liquid seeped continuously from the ditch walls and the ground, pooling into small "oil pools" in the low-lying areas, their surfaces shimmering with an eerie rainbow-like sheen. Several dead or half-dead shrubs lay crookedly stuck in the black mud, their trunks and exposed roots covered in a thick layer of oil, looking slippery and unsettling. The entire ditch was silent, not even the chirping of insects, except for the pungent, chilling stench of oil.

Shen Moqi stood by the ditch, holding his breath, his heart pounding. He quickly scanned his surroundings, confirming that the stone was intently watching the bottom of the ditch and hadn't noticed him. He turned to the side, blocking most of the view with his body, and his right hand moved swiftly in his sleeve—pulling out his phone, adjusting the angle, and from a few steps away, aimed at the eerie black oil swamp and the oil-soaked trees, and pressed the virtual shutter repeatedly.

"This place...it looks eerie." Stone lowered his voice, his voice filled with fear. "Let's go back quickly, this smell is making us dizzy."

Shen Moqi nodded, taking one last look at the black seepage that resembled a scar on the earth, before silently sliding her phone back into her inner pocket. On the way back, neither of them spoke much. Shi Tou was gripped by a natural fear of the place, while Shen Moqi was completely immersed in the shock and subtle excitement of what she had just witnessed.

Back in the dilapidated temple, the three children immediately surrounded him. Shen Moqi sat down against the wall, only then feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him, and the pain in his wounds intensified. Ignoring this, he immediately pulled out his phone to check. The battery icon was a glaring red—only 4% remaining.

He nervously brought up the AI ​​and selected the photos he had just taken to upload. The screen flickered, and the processing speed noticeably slowed down. A few seconds later, just as the battery level dropped to 3%, the analysis results finally appeared:

[Field reconnaissance data supplementation complete. The target area has been confirmed as a shallow crude oil (natural petroleum) seepage point. Its reserves and coverage area possess tactical value. The simulation plan has been optimized based on previous battlefield data models.]

[Under current conditions, the estimated success rate of the pre-set fire attack plan is 60%.]

[Warning: Device battery is running low. Please recharge.]

60%!

This represents a ten percentage point increase from previous speculation. It's no longer a pipe dream, but a more than 50% chance of success based on real-world evidence!

Shen Moqi stared at the number, his chest heaving violently. A chilling despair and a burning hope clashed and intertwined within him. Wait to die, or take a gamble? Go home… the only prerequisite for going home is to survive!

He abruptly raised his head, his eyes filled with confusion and weakness, replaced by an almost burning determination. He looked at Stone, who was carefully poking at the fire, his voice hoarse with excitement: "Stone, if I... have a way to make the Black Stone Kingdom's troops retreat and save Yan Jing, how should I tell the officials guarding the city?"

Stone's hand trembled, nearly dropping the fire poker into the fire. He turned around in astonishment, staring at Shen Moqi as if she were a madman: "You... what did you say? Repel the enemy? You?"

"Yes, it's me." Shen Moqi said decisively, "Never mind where I got this idea. Tell me, how can I get an audience with the general in charge to offer my advice?"

Shi Tou opened his mouth, looking into Shen Moqi's unusually bright eyes, and after a long while, he found his voice: "No, there's no need to go see her specifically... Several important places in the city have imperial edicts posted, offering rewards for good strategies to repel the enemy. Whoever has a solution can answer the call, and the officer guarding the post will naturally take you to the general's mansion. But..." Fear showed on his face, "A few days ago, someone went to answer the call and offered a solution, but when they tried it, many brothers were lost, and the general chopped off their heads on the spot and hung them on the city gate tower... Shen Moqi, this is no joke!"

Issuing a challenge? Offering a reward? Or beheading?

Shen Moqi's heart skipped a beat, and a chill rose from the soles of her feet. But immediately, the 60% success rate, the endless guilt towards her parents, and the obsession with "going back" burned away the chill like a raging fire.

"A head lost leaves a scar the size of a bowl." Shen Moqi heard herself say in a strange, ruthless tone, "It's better than hiding here, waiting for the city to fall and being slaughtered. Stone, take me to see the imperial edict."

The imperial edict was posted not far from the ruined temple, next to a dilapidated drum tower. The large characters, written in vermilion ink, on a yellow silk background, rustled in the chilly wind. A few sparsely gathered, pale-faced commoners surrounded the edict, most shaking their heads and sighing, their eyes numb.

The guards were two soldiers wearing worn-out leather armor and looking exhausted. They leaned against the wall with their spears, seemingly indifferent to the surrounding discussions.

When Shi Tou helped the ragged, pale-faced Shen Moqi to the front of the list, a soldier merely raised his eyelids lazily and waved his hand as if shooing away flies: "Go away! Where did this little beggar come from? Go play somewhere else, don't block the way!"

Shen Moqi stopped, took a deep breath, pointed at the imperial edict, and said clearly, "Sir, I am here to accept the challenge and offer my advice."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a stone thrown into a stagnant pool. The surroundings fell silent instantly, and all eyes—numb, surprised, pitying, mocking—fell on Shen Moqi.

"Huh?" The soldier picked at his ear, as if he hadn't heard clearly.

"I said, I'll take on the challenge; I have a plan to repel the enemy," Shen Moqi repeated, her back ramrod straight.

After a brief silence, the crowd erupted in a cacophony of noise.

"Has this child gone mad?"

"Look at him, he's practically starving himself, and he's offering advice?"

"Sigh, another one going to their death, what a pity..."

"Young man, listen to my advice, hurry up and leave. Those general's swords aren't for cutting vegetables!"

Even the stone turned pale with fright and secretly tugged at Shen Moqi's sleeve.

Shen Moqi ignored the surrounding noise and stared intently at the soldier. The soldier's face showed a mixture of amusement and exasperation as he sized him up: "Kid, you're young, but you've got guts. Do you know what happens if you fail to take the exam?"

"I know." Shen Moqi nodded, "But my plan might work."

The sergeant and his comrade exchanged a glance, shook their heads, and sighed resignedly: "Fine, rules are rules. You asked for it, so you can't blame anyone else. Come with us."

Under countless gazes, some sighing, some mocking, Shen Moqi followed the soldiers through streets filled with rubble and an atmosphere of despair, heading towards the general's mansion in the city center. Shi Tou, worried, followed at a distance.

The so-called general's mansion was nothing more than a large, somewhat intact courtyard house that had been temporarily requisitioned, with peeling paint on the lintel. Just as I reached the door, I heard a fierce argument coming from inside, like a powder keg about to explode.

"Defend? What are we going to use to defend! We have less than three thousand arrows, and we've almost run out of logs and stones!"

"That still doesn't mean we can go out into the open world to fight! Can two legs outrun four? That's suicide!"

"It's better to die a humiliating death than a cowardly one! Are we supposed to wait for them to break down the city gates and slaughter the entire city?!"

"Shut up, all of you! How much grain is left in the granary? How many more days can it last?" A hoarse and weary voice roared, drowning out all the arguments.

The soldier leading the way told Shen Moqi to wait in the courtyard while he steeled himself and went into the main hall. A moment later, he came out, his expression strange, and beckoned to Shen Moqi: "Go in. The general wants to speak with you."

Shen Moqi composed herself and stepped across the threshold. The main hall was dimly lit, filled with a mixture of sweat, rust, and anxiety. A rudimentary map lay spread out on a large wooden table, surrounded by seven or eight heavily armored generals, each with sunken eyes and a fierce expression. When their gazes fell upon Shen Moqi as she entered, all the arguing ceased abruptly.

silence.Deathly silence.

Immediately, someone let out a short, mocking laugh, followed by a hail of contempt, anger, and disbelief as gazes rained down on Shen Moqi. A burly general with a full beard and eyes like copper bells slammed his fist on the table, making the map jump: "Nonsense! Where did this beggar come from, daring to mock us! What are the people guarding the post station good for?!"

Shen Moqi felt his calves trembling slightly, but he forced himself to stand firm and met the gaze of the general—a man in his forties sitting in the main seat, with a thin and resolute face and bloodshot eyes—and bowed respectfully: "This humble subject, Shen Moqi, has indeed come to offer advice and would not dare to slight the general."

"Offering advice?" General Zhang Cheng, seated at the head of the table, spoke, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger, but carrying a heavy burden of pressure. "Do you know that there is no room for frivolous talk in the army? The last person who made a reckless offer that resulted in the loss of my soldiers still has his head hanging at the city gate."

"This humble subject understands." Shen Moqi raised his head. "It is precisely because I know this is no child's play that I dare to accept the challenge. Please grant me one night, General. By this time tomorrow, I will surely provide you with a feasible plan to repel the enemy."

"One night? A method?" The bearded lieutenant, Li Hu, laughed angrily. "Boy, you don't even understand the current battle situation, yet you dare to boast that you can come up with a method in one night? I think you're a spy from the enemy country, sent to sow discord among our troops! Men, drag him away and behead him!"

Immediately, the sound of armor clashing came from outside the door. Stone, who was outside the courtyard, heard it and was so frightened that he almost collapsed.

"Wait." General Zhang Cheng raised his hand to stop the guards. He carefully examined Shen Moqi. Although the boy was ragged and pale, his eyes were unusually clear and firm, lacking the murky or cunning look of an ordinary beggar. Instead, there was something... indescribably strange about him. "You want one night? Fine. But you must tell me now what you need? And what direction have you come up with?"

Shen Moqi's mind raced. Based on the previous communication, she said in a deep voice, "This humble subject needs the most detailed battlefield map, marking the current troop deployments and camp locations of both sides. In addition, I need to know the enemy general's troop usage habits, and the details of all kinds of supplies currently in our army, especially... the quantities of kerosene, hay, cloth, etc."

He paused, and amidst the increasingly suspicious gazes of his generals, added, "As for the direction, I have a vague idea, but it needs detailed intelligence to refine and confirm its feasibility. To speak empty words now would only mislead the generals and become a laughingstock. If by this time tomorrow I cannot come up with a concrete and feasible plan, or if the plan is unfeasible, I am willing to be punished according to military law!"

This statement was perfectly watertight, both stating the specific needs (which is exactly what AI analysis requires) and maintaining an air of mystery, while also putting his own life on the line.

Zhang Cheng pondered for a long time. Given the current state of the battle, he couldn't afford to let go of even the slightest possibility. Besides, what the young man wanted, while somewhat specific, wasn't overly secretive.

"Alright." Zhang Cheng finally spoke, his voice carrying a weary resolve. "I'll give you one night. Li, make a copy of what he asked for and send it to the west wing. Also, get him some food."

"General!" Li Hu and several other generals exclaimed, feeling that this was far too frivolous.

Zhang Cheng waved his hand to stop the crowd, his gaze once again sweeping over Shen Moqi's calm and resolute eyes, which were incongruous with her age. This kid didn't seem like a madman, but rather... a gambler who had staked everything. And this dilapidated Yanjing, and himself, wasn't he just like that? Fine, let's just consider it one last gamble with this reckless kid before the city falls.

His gaze swept over Shen Moqi's slender body, a faint, almost imperceptible, complex emotion flashing in his eyes: "A full meal, a quiet room, in exchange for a possible hope—it's worth it. If it's just wishful thinking… we can cut it off tomorrow."

Shen Moqi was led to a secluded little room in the west wing. The room was simple, with only a bed, a table, and a chair, but once the door was closed, there was finally a rare quiet and privacy. After a while, an old servant brought in a bowl of still-warm millet rice and pickled vegetables, along with a densely drawn cowhide map and several sheets of hemp paper recording supplies.

Shen Moqi wolfed down his first proper meal in days, regaining some strength. He carefully bolted the door, listened for any further sounds outside, and then took out his phone and hand-cranked charger from his pocket.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, plugged the charger handle into the phone's port, and began to shake it slowly and steadily. In the quiet room, only the rhythmic "creak...creak..." of mechanical friction could be heard. The red battery icon on the screen began to rise extremely slowly, bit by bit, with each shake.

This was a long and patient process. Shen Moqi's arms ached from shaking, but he dared not stop. Until the night outside the window deepened, the battery finally climbed to 25% with difficulty. He stopped, shook his sore arms, but his eyes shone.

He picked up the rough but detailed map and used his phone to clearly photograph every detail. Then he entered the data on the hemp paper—the number and distribution of the garrison, the amount of arrows and oil (which was pitifully small), as well as the approximate location of the enemy camp and the range of cavalry activity reported by the scouts—into the system one by one.

After completing all this, he whispered into his phone, "All battlefield intelligence has been entered. Combined with the crude oil data from the ravine, conduct the final tactical simulation."

The phone screen lit up, its pale blue light illuminating Shen Moqi's tense yet expectant face. The progress bar moved slowly, as if conducting a silent, life-or-death calculation.

A few minutes later, the results appeared:

[Full data integration and analysis complete...]

[Estimated success rate of the current plan: 80%]

[Key winning variables supplement: Accurate forecasting of wind direction, wind force, and weather for the next three days is required. The success rate can be further improved if the operation can be carried out under suitable wind conditions (such as sustained southeasterly winds). It is recommended to begin collecting meteorological observation data immediately.]

80%! There's still room for improvement!

Shen Moqi gripped her phone tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force. The cold body of the phone seemed to radiate boundless power. Hope had never felt so real.

He looked out the window at the dark night sky, where the stars were hidden and the clouds were thick.