The Iron Hut sharpshooters were quick to kill with arrows, yet before Xu Fengnian and Yuan Zuozong could act, a tall figure rushed forward, standing between them and the others, back facing the two. With one hand, he caught an arrow mid-flight and glared at the armored riders, roaring, “This is Duan Chun’an from Huainan! How dare you villains harm others?!”
Ding Ce reined in his horse, turned it around, and glared with a sinister expression. He held the archers and martial artists in contempt, regarding them as no better than beasts. His men had fired arrows merely as a warning, to keep onlookers at bay. Those who dodged were left alone; those who couldn’t were simply unfortunate. But this Duan fellow had broken the rules by challenging the Iron Hut directly. Ding Ce, with keen hearing, had already detected another cavalry unit approaching the crest of the slope, cutting off escape. Huang Chang and the others were doomed to be trapped like fish in a pot. He was more than happy to toy with this group first. He lifted his bow, drew a special eagle-feathered arrow from his whale-skin quiver, and sneered from above, “Which eye of yours saw us harming anyone? It was you who disturbed the Iron Hut’s military operation against bandits. Were you commoners, you’d be exiled or executed on the spot!”
The eight-foot-tall man flushed red with fury, exclaiming, “You scoundrel, how dare you lie so brazenly! Today I, Duan…”
Before he could finish his defiant declaration, Ding Ce, impatient of his ranting, loosed an arrow straight at him. The martial artist from Huainan had intended to catch the arrow barehanded, but upon gauging its speed and force, realized it came like thunder, too swift to intercept. He barely dodged, heart pounding. Before he could steady himself, Ding Ce, clad in a superior paper armor salvaged from the old Southern Tang treasury, displayed his skill with a double-shot. The two arrows flew one after the other, their paths wobbling like living things, striking with uncanny precision. The famed man from Huai groaned inwardly. Just as he considered stooping to roll away, he saw a flash before him. The pale-faced young man had somehow stepped forward, using a mysterious technique. Four broken arrow shafts now lay on the ground. The mighty man stomped his foot, and the four pieces leapt into the air. Ding Ce’s face paled. He drew four eagle-feathered arrows and fired, but the broken shafts still pierced the chests of four archers on horseback, killing them instantly. The riders fell lifelessly from their saddles.
Silence fell on the crest of the slope like a pin dropping.
Ding Ce’s face darkened, each word forced through clenched teeth, “Killing armored soldiers—your entire clan shall be executed!”
Xu Fengnian, hands tucked in his sleeves, smiled cheerfully, “I’m from the capital, a man named Xu Qi. I’ve met with both Deputy Ministers of War, Lu Baijie and Lu Shengxiang. Whether your men’s deaths warrant such punishment isn’t for you, a mere officer, to decide. I’ll have to ask the Ministry of War themselves.”
Ding Ce furrowed his brow, mind racing. The Xu family from the capital? There were countless Xu households in Taian City, many with the rank to attend court. If this Xu truly had ties—however slight—with the two powerful deputy ministers, then Ding Ce, a minor officer, could not afford to provoke him. Though capital officials might bow and scrape in the city, they always considered themselves superior elsewhere. In the Guangling Circuit, with its many military strongholds, few dared defy them. Unfortunately, Ding Ce was one of those few.
Upon hearing Xu was a capital noble, Duan Chun’an’s gratitude for their rescue cooled. His mission was to secretly guard Huang on his journey north, a duty entrusted by Master Liang, the leader of the Huai martial world. He was not to reveal himself unless absolutely necessary. The Liang family’s intentions were clear to any martial artist. The old aristocracy had crumbled, and the martial world was in disarray. The real powers now were the military commanders. It was one thing to offend the government, but quite another to anger the military lords who used “bandit suppression” as an excuse to wreak havoc. It was like having a pile of dung shoved into your trousers—worse than actual excrement, and impossible to shake off.
Now, Xu Fengnian and Yuan Zuozong stood with Duan Chun’an before the Thatched hut, while Ding Ce and nearly thirty riders formed a line like a white serpent across the slope. At the inn’s entrance, Lu Song and Wang Lin watched with folded arms. Behind Ding Ce, a woman and Xu Zhan stood anxiously, unsure how to proceed, hoping only to delay the inevitable.
The two riders fleeing for their lives were driven back. The woman, still reeling from battle, sighed inwardly. At the tail of the slope, a larger cavalry unit of no fewer than forty riders was ascending, followed by swift-moving infantry. The Young Wu set down the red Jujube Horse he had been carrying. On its back, Hu Chunya and Li Huai’er, the ill-fated lovers, were trembling with fear. The Youth’s arms circled the girl’s slender waist. Normally, she would have beaten him senseless, but today, she was too terrified to react. With wolves ahead and tigers behind, was this truly the end?
Xu Fengnian turned to the elderly official riding with Ning Zong and called out with a smile, “Minister Huang, Deputy Minister Lu asked me to meet you here. How about we share a few cups before heading to the capital? Lu has already set the table to welcome you.”
Ding Ce’s heart lurched. If this “Lu” was the famed swordsman Lu Baijie, there might be room for negotiation. But if it was indeed Lu Shengxiang, Guangling’s top general, then Ding Ce’s fate was sealed. Lu Shengxiang, though no longer under Prince Zhao Yi, still commanded loyalty throughout Guangling. Even one of his subordinates could shake an entire province with a sneeze. Ding Ce, like an ant on a hot pan, could no longer feign calm.
Huang smiled serenely, “I’ve met Deputy Minister Lu a few times, always in literary gatherings. I’ll be sure to drink three cups in apology once I reach the capital.”
Ding Ce remained skeptical. Huang’s rank was low, but his connections were vast. Though there was no public evidence of ties to Lu Shengxiang, officials often had hidden alliances. With the Emperor’s recent moves to curb Chancellor Zhang’s unchecked power, promoting figures like Jin Lanting, and reshaping the political landscape with Lu Shengxiang and Huang as key pieces, any alliance between them would send tremors through the court. If this Xu was truly from the capital, and if Lu and Huang had indeed been secretly coordinating, then Ding Ce’s fate was grim. His mind raced—should he attack and risk provoking Lu Shengxiang, or retreat and suffer consequences later? Either way, he was trapped between a rock and a hard place.
Xu Fengnian, sensing Ding Ce’s hesitation, offered a way out, “You can discuss it among yourselves. I’ll go with Minister Huang to the inn for a drink. When you’ve decided, either escort him out politely, and I’ll remember your kindness. Or, if you insist on violence, prepare for bloodshed. We’ll take it to the Ministry of War and see whose patron holds the highest rank. But I think, aside from Prince Zhao Yi, no one in Guangling outranks Deputy Minister Lu.”
At the mention of Zhao Yi’s name, Ding Ce’s eyelid twitched. This young man dared speak the name of a prince so casually—was he truly one of those arrogant capital nobles who bowed only to the Emperor?
Protected by Ning Zong’s cautious vigilance, Huang entered the inn. Xu Fengnian left Young Wu and Lu Song behind, entering with Yuan Zuozong and Wang Lin to sit with Huang. After settling in, he spoke plainly, “I am indeed Xu Qi, but I have no real ties to Lu Shengxiang. I’ve only seen him from afar in Taian. Everything else was bluffing. If that doesn’t scare them off, we’ll have to fight again. Before, the old master left in a hurry, leaving half a jar of wine. Might as well have a drink now to steady our nerves.”
Huang was known for his rigid, almost pedantic ways, yet he had written many bold and spirited poems. Now in mortal danger, he showed unexpected boldness. He grabbed the jar, shook it, closed his eyes to inhale its aroma, then opened them with a grin, “Better to drink and die happy. At least in the underworld, I’ll still savor the taste.”
Ning Zong, Duan Chun’an, and the others looked somber. Huang was a rare upright official, and to see him in such a plight moved even the hardest hearts. When wolves rule the road, the virtuous find no path.
Huang poured wine into several bowls, not forgetting Ning Zong and Duan Chun’an, who had accompanied him. He looked up at the tall man who had broken the arrows but had not sat down. “Hero, won’t you join us for a bowl?”
Yuan Zuozong smiled and shook his head.
Hu Chunya whispered, “Minister Huang, be careful. These people might be in cahoots with the officials. What if the wine is drugged?”
Ning Zong immediately withdrew his hand.
Duan Chun’an had already raised his bowl to his lips, but now he hesitated. He pretended to sniff the aroma, looking rather comically awkward.
Xu Fengnian remained calm, gently tracing the rim of his bowl.
Huang laughed heartily, “In my youth, I studied physiognomy. Xu Young Master, you are a man of fortune and many connections. Though a northerner, your southern features mark you as one of wealth and virtue. And your humility makes you all the more admirable.”
Xu Fengnian raised his bowl and clinked it with Huang’s.
Xu Zhan and the woman Zhou remained at the inn’s entrance, warily watching the Iron Hut soldiers. She had barely glanced at the pale-haired young man before, but now, seeing him drink so openly with Huang, she stole a few more glances, curious about his refined phoenix eyes.
Lu Song stood proudly at the door, arms crossed, eyes closed in meditation. The Huge and Mighty Youth who had surprised everyone earlier now sat idly on the threshold, bored and wishing the timid soldiers would fight him properly. Outside Shenwu City, his double-shot had gone to waste. He had been frustrated by the commander’s weak arrows on the slope, considering them as delicate as a girl’s embroidery.
The half-jar of wine was not enough to go around. Xu Fengnian turned to the innkeeper crouching by the curtain and asked with a smile, “Innkeeper, do you have any good wine? Don’t hide it. We’ll pay.”
The burly man, caught in a disaster that terrified ordinary folk, reluctantly stood up, habitually bowing and muttering. Xu Fengnian teased, “At this point, one more jar won’t bring more trouble. Better to take the silver now and warm your hands.”
Hu Chunya glanced at the innkeeper. Though he had a fierce face, he was clearly a coward, barely scraping by in this remote place. Xu Fengnian reached into his sleeve, pulled out a heavy silver ingot, and tossed it. The innkeeper fumbled to catch it, wiped it with his sleeve, turned away to bite it, confirmed it was real, and grumbled off to fetch more wine.
Hu Chunya rolled her eyes at his stinginess. Li Huai’er, who had only seen ruthless soldiers and mighty officials like Huang and Xu Zhan, finally found someone more like himself. He smiled secretly, only to be kicked hard by Hu Chunya, who remembered his earlier liberties. He gasped in pain, crouching and clutching his leg, too afraid to cry out.
The girl kept watching the mysterious pale-haired young man from the corner of her eye. He must be up to no good, she thought—like a fox spirit scheming mischief.
Duan Chun’an rose to take the jar from the innkeeper, tore off the seal, and poured the Jiangnan Rice Wine, a soft and fragrant brew. He refilled everyone’s bowls. Huang, still composed, joked, “Dying is no fun, but at least I can drink a few bowls, and someone else is paying. That’s a rare joy in life.”
Wang Lin dared not sit at the same table as Xu Fengnian, but the smell of the wine made him giddy. He shamelessly begged for a bowl and retreated to another table.
Xu Fengnian took a sip, raised his bowl, frowned, and called out, “Innkeeper!”
The man by the curtain stood up, nervous but defiant, “Sir, I didn’t water the wine! No refunds!”
Xu Fengnian’s face turned serious, “This wine is wrong.”
Huang was puzzled. Ning Zong and Duan Chun’an thought it might be poisoned and prepared to fight. Xu Zhan gripped his staff tightly.
But Xu Fengnian grinned, “I tasted blood in the wine. I paid too little.”
The burly innkeeper, who had run this inn for years, looked bewildered.
Xu Fengnian tossed another silver ingot, “Xu Xiao said there was a general from the Southern Tang who was fearless but blind. He deserves a reward!”
Only Yuan Zuozong understood, while everyone else was stunned.
Huang, the first to recover, took a sip and mused, “Indeed, this wine carries the wrath of the dead. After all, it holds the souls of the Southern Tang’s drowned fleet.”
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