Chapter 77 — The Last Seed Keeper

The diversionary plan collapsed faster than Bach Lam expected — not because of errors in execution, but because Kich Ba Hoanh, with his extensive battle experience, recognized an anomaly in the noise after only a few minutes, ordering half of his force to turn back to pursue the source of the sound instead of continuing to rush toward Vom Soi.

"They discovered we were fake," Ngan The Binh said, observing through a crevice in the rocks as dozens of soldiers began spreading out to search in an organized formation, his eyes sharp, calculating each of the enemy's moves. "We need to retreat now, before they close the siege."

In the few short minutes before being forced to retreat, the diversionary group tried their best to maintain the illusion of a large force — throwing rocks from high ledges to make the noise echo throughout the rocky valley, burning oil-soaked hay bales to create fake smoke columns that appeared to signal an army approaching from many directions, and shouting fictional commands in different voices to deceive the enemy's hearing. For a moment, the plan seemed to work — Bach Lam saw part of the force surrounding Vom Soi waver, and some soldiers began to turn their heads toward the fake noises with obvious confusion. But that hope only lasted for a moment.

Bach Lam signaled the entire group to retreat in the predetermined direction, a route around the rocks leading towards the gathering point, but as soon as they started to move, a loud shout rang out behind them — they had been discovered.

"Run!" Bach Lam shouted, and the group rushed among the jagged rocks, the sound of bullets and arrows whizzing past their ears as the Salt Dome soldiers began to pursue at a terrifying speed.

Kien, running close to Ngan The Binh as he promised, tripped on a loose rock and fell down, his previously twisted ankle now making it impossible for him to get up immediately. Ngan The Binh turned back immediately, pulling him up with a strong arm.

"Go ahead, now," he ordered, pushing Kien forward while he turned back to watch the gap with the pursuing team close rapidly.

They approached a narrow ravine — the entrance to one of the old mining tunnels that Xa Binh Nguyen had shown them, a natural rock corridor narrow enough for only one or two people to pass through at a time, leading through a steep cliff before opening out on the other side, where the meeting point awaited.

Ngan The Binh stopped suddenly at the mouth of the ravine, his eyes quickly scanned the rock structure above, and for a moment, Bach Lam realized that his long-time companion's eyes held something different - a cold, decisive calculation, of someone who saw a solution that no one else could see.

"I'll go first, lead everyone through the ravine," Ngan The Binh said, his voice suddenly strangely calm amid the surrounding chaos. "I'll go last."

"What are you going to do?" Bach Lam asked, an uneasy feeling rising in his heart.

"The cliff above this ravine is unstable," Ngan The Binh replied quickly, pointing to a large rock protruding above the narrow path. "I've been paying attention since we first passed through here. A well-placed blow to the bedrock below will cause the entire thing to collapse, completely blocking the passage."

The truth of that plan hit Bach Lam like a punch in the chest. "No," he said, his voice choked. "We find another way. We run together, faster."

"There's no time, Bach Lam," Ngan The Binh said, his voice still maintaining that terrifying calmness, placing a hand on his former student's shoulder in a brief but powerful gesture. "You know I'm right. If we all run, they'll catch up before we get to the meeting point, and everyone, including that kid standing there, won't survive. If I stay and block this way, at least you guys have a chance."

"I'm not going without you," Kien said, his voice shaking with both fear and determination, his eyes filled with tears.

Ngan The Binh turned to look at him, and in that moment, a rare gentleness replaced the usual serious look on his seasoned face. "Do you remember what I told you," he said, his voice slow as if he wanted to engrave each word into the teenager's mind forever. "Experience is more important than advice. Today, I give you the greatest experience I can give — that sometimes, leading the way is not about going ahead, but about standing back, so that those behind have a way to continue."

"No," Kien said, tears rolling down his face. "Please don't do that."

"Take him away," Ngan The Binh said to Bach Lam, his voice now carrying an urgency that left no room for argument, when the sound of pursuing footsteps was so close that the soldiers' panting could be clearly heard. "Right now."

Bach Lam looked at his friend, teacher, and companion who had accompanied him through countless dangers on Dong Tro over the long years, and in their eyes, a wordless conversation took place - an admission that this was the only choice, even though it tore both of their hearts.

“I won't forget you,” Bach Lam said, his voice breaking, and he held Ngan The Binh's hand tightly for one last moment before forcing himself to turn away, pulling Kien who was crying in protest with him, pushing him through the narrow ravine with the rest of the group.

Ngan The Binh turned back to face the entrance to the ravine, his hand tightly grasping the short crowbar he always carried in his toolkit, his eyes looking at the silhouettes of the Salt Dome soldiers appearing from behind the bend, only a few dozen steps away.

From the other side of the ravine, when the group had run far enough to look back, Bach Lam turned his head for a moment, and he saw — forever etched in his mind — the figure of Ngan The Binh standing firmly at the narrow mouth of the ravine, crowbar raised high, and as soon as the first soldiers appeared, he struck hard at the weak point of the bedrock that only his eyes, through decades of experience reading the terrain, could recognize.

There was a rumbling sound, shaking the ground beneath their feet, and the entire mass of rock above the ravine collapsed in a cloud of dust and gravel, completely burying the path—along with the man who had stood there, without backing down, to buy the lives of those behind him.

The silence after that collapse was heavier than any sound, and Kien, kneeling on the ground, cried uncontrollably, his sobs echoing among the rocks around him. Bach Lam stood frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, a feeling of loss tearing through his chest in a way he had never experienced since the day he lost the first caravan under the guidance of Tan Dinh Vu, many years ago.

“We must move on,” one of the Sand Dome warriors said softly, his voice also choked, but the grim reality of the situation had to be told. "He gave us this opportunity. We can't let it go to waste."

Bach Lam nodded, even though every movement seemed to tear a part of him, and he bent down, lifting Kien to his feet with his trembling hands. "He chose this," he said, his voice hoarse, speaking both to Kien and to himself as a way to accept the irreversible truth. "So that we can live. We will not let that sacrifice be meaningless."

The group continued to move toward the meeting point, carrying a silence heavier than any they had ever endured together on their long journey, and behind them, the collapsed rock still raised thin clouds of dust in the morning sunlight, an unmarked grave for a man who had spent his life guiding others, and had chosen, in the last moment, to make his own stand a path for those he loved.

Kien took the final steps to the gathering point in an almost unconscious state, his body moved instinctively while his mind was still stuck in the moment of seeing the rock block collapse, and every time he closed his eyes, even for just a split second, he saw that image repeated - Ngan The Binh's hand on Mr. Bach Lam's shoulder, his eyes looking at him one last time, the crowbar raised high in the sunlight. He wondered, with a torment that would stay with him for a long time to come, if he could have done something else, could have found some way for both of them to survive, even though deep down, he knew the answer was no — that it was the helpless acceptance of an unchangeable truth that was the most painful thing of all he had just experienced.