Outside the council hall, a dense crowd of soldiers surrounded a wide open space in the center.
Huo Dun’s long spear flashed in the torchlight, its tip weaving a cold arc of silver. A bright red tassel, tied where the spearhead met the shaft, fluttered wildly as he wielded it, creating an impenetrable defense.
Yang Family’s Pear Blossom Spear Technique, though widely practiced in both military and civilian circles, is no secret technique. However, in his hands, it manifested an effect akin to being as immovable as a mountain and as swift as thunder. The combination of feints and direct moves, the interplay of the unexpected and the straightforward, made his attacks unstoppable and his retreats uncatchable. The stronger the opponent, the more formidable he became.
The soldiers watching the duel were mesmerized, cheering enthusiastically from time to time. While the border regions had seen occasional skirmishes with small groups of Tatar cavalry in recent years, large-scale battles had been rare. Consequently, they seldom witnessed their commanding officer, Lord Huo Dun, showcase his spear techniques in full force. After all, there wasn’t anyone in the entire Qingshui Camp who could last more than twenty moves against him.
But today, among the group of Oirat men who had barged into the assembly hall, the leader, a towering man armed with a scimitar, had exchanged a hundred blows with Huo Dun without showing any sign of losing ground. In fact, he seemed to be gaining the upper hand.
It was common knowledge that “the longer the weapon, the stronger; the shorter, the riskier.” For someone with a short weapon to contend with a long one, they were naturally at a disadvantage. That this Oirat giant could even slightly outmatch Huo Dun demonstrated his exceptional prowess.
The two battled fiercely for half an hour, their inner strength radiating throughout the arena. The walls of the assembly hall, made of brick and mortar, collapsed in several places, and the floor tiles were shattered in many spots. Huo Dun was sweating profusely, his inner garments soaked under his armor, whereas the Oirat giant looked as if he had only just warmed up, not even a single drop of sweat visible.
Such inhuman stamina was truly terrifying!
Back in the rear, Yan Chengxue, unable to contain himself, returned to the second floor to watch the duel. His face was pale with anxiety, but his expression remained cold and disdainful. “Is your Lord Commander mentally ill? Wouldn’t it suffice to order a volley of arrows? Why must he insist on fighting in person? What is this, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, where generals duel one-on-one? I think he grew limbs but forgot his brain.”
Huo Dun’s personal guards, caught between laughter and tears, silently wondered: Is Lord Yan’s sharp tongue a sign of a deep friendship or a long-standing rivalry with Lord Huo?
One of the guards ventured cautiously, “Perhaps the Lord Commander is… enjoying himself. He’s been grumbling for years about not having a worthy opponent.”
Yan Chengxue scoffed, “Well, he’s got one now. Let’s see if he can keep his life. Go down there and intervene. Tell him I’m about to order a volley of arrows. If he doesn’t withdraw, he’ll be skewered along with the rest.”
His tone was icy and utterly serious.
The guards, intimidated by Yan Chengxue’s reputation, dared not argue. They hurried downstairs, grabbed a spear, and entered the fray.
Huo Dun, drenched in sweat but exhilarated, was so caught up in the duel that he snarled at the intruding guard, “Get lost! This isn’t your fight!”
The guard replied miserably, “Lord Yan said he’ll have us all shot full of arrows.”
Huo Dun froze, startled by the mention of Yan Chengxue’s ominous intentions. He instinctively glanced toward the second-floor balcony.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Aletan deflected his spear and pressed the scimitar against Huo Dun’s neck.
Yan Chengxue, true to his word, immediately ordered the archers hidden on the roof to fire. “Aim for the barbarian. Shoot!”
The archers, though nominally part of the Qingshui Camp, were personally trained by Yan Chengxue.
The Imperial Stud Minister, though a civil official responsible for Shaanxi’s horse affairs, had no interest in his actual duties. He had even less patience for the trivial issues of the breeding farms under his jurisdiction. Instead, he was fiercely ambitious when it came to military strategy and training soldiers.
On top of that, he was ruthless and skilled in deception, a man whose word was absolute. It was only thanks to Staff Officer Huo Dun’s repeated concessions—going so far as to entrust his own soldiers to the minister’s training—that things remained somewhat stable.
His first principle in training soldiers was: military orders are absolute. Even if the arrow was aimed at a superior officer, once the command was given, it had to be executed.
The archers he had trained were like machines. At his signal, they loosened their bowstrings, sending a rain of arrows straight into the battlefield. Their target was the Oirat warrior, but Huo Dun was too close—collateral damage was inevitable.
At the critical moment, Huo Dun grabbed a nearby soldier by the collar and rolled backward in a series of clumsy tumbles, barely avoiding several arrows that nearly skewered him.
From the ground, he yelled up to the second floor, “You’ve gone too far, Yan Chengxue! This is way too much!”
Yan Chengxue’s lips curled in satisfaction. He raised an eyebrow and said, “Didn’t I tell you to retreat? You didn’t listen. But look, you’re fine, aren’t you? I knew you’d dodge the arrows—just as I knew that if you fought another three to five rounds, you’d end up wounded by that Tatar’s blade.”
Huo Dun was torn between cursing and thanking him. In the end, he could only let out a dry laugh. “Lord Yan, your concern is truly… unique. Just don’t do it again—I might not survive next time.”
As the arrows rained down, Aletan let out a roar like a furious tiger and charged toward the council hall, slamming into one of the wooden support columns with his full strength.
The thick column, as wide as a copper basin, collapsed with a thunderous crash. The entire roof caved in, sending most of the arrows off target. The rest of the falling arrows were blocked by the avalanche of shattered tiles. Still unsatisfied, Aletan turned and charged at the opposite column, bringing it down as well.
With two load-bearing pillars destroyed, the outer section of the council hall’s roof collapsed entirely. From the higher ridges, tiles rained down like an avalanche. The archers on top tumbled like dumplings into boiling water, crashing to the ground and struggling to get back up.
Huo Dun was stunned. “Is that guy even human? Not even a bear spirit from the deepest forests could have that kind of strength!”
Yan Chengxue’s expression darkened. “That’s because you didn’t build the fortress properly! Stop standing there like an idiot—are you seriously thinking of taking him on alone? Use the weapons I poisoned for you last time. Just a tiny scratch, and even a bear would go down, let alone a man!”
Huo Dun heard the archaic “zhi hu zhe ye” spill from Yan Chengxue’s mouth and knew he was seething with rage. Even if he had only intended to kill the Oirat warrior before with a six-out-of-ten conviction, that resolve had now increased to twelve. There was no turning back.
He sighed inwardly. This guy looks like a refined, scholarly civil official, so why is he more ruthless than me, a battle-hardened general?
Leaping up to the second floor, Huo Dun asked, “What about the eight to ten thousand horses we’d get as ransom? Are you just going to give that up?”
Yan Chengxue’s lips twisted slightly, as if caught in a moment of hesitation. But his decision came quickly. “We desperately need warhorses, but if we can’t take him down and he turns the tables on us, we’ll lose more than just this council hall. Things have escalated too far—we’ve made an enemy of him, and whether he belongs to the Oirat tribe or not, leaving him alive will bring endless trouble.”
Huo Dun knew it was futile to argue with him, so he silently acquiesced.
“I don’t think this is the way to handle things,” a strange male voice said. Judging by the direction of the sound, it came from just two or three zhang away, around the corner of the outer corridor.
Huo Dun’s heart sank: someone had managed to infiltrate the camp unnoticed and get within three zhang of him without him realizing until they spoke.
He yanked Yan Chengxue behind him and shouted toward the corner, “Who’s skulking around? Show yourself!”
Yan Chengxue, pulled off balance, staggered slightly before steadying himself with a hand on Huo Dun’s shoulder. After adjusting his official cap to ensure his appearance was intact, he replied, “If this isn’t the way, then what is? Letting that Tartar tear the camp apart?”
Two figures emerged from the corner of the outer corridor on the second floor.
One was a strikingly handsome young scholar, around sixteen or seventeen, with a calm demeanor and a faint smile on his lips. The other, dressed as a bodyguard in his early twenties, appeared unremarkable at first glance but exuded an aura of deadly precision. The intensity in his eyes sent a chill down Huo Dun’s spine, making him feel this man was no less dangerous than the brute strength of the Tartar giant on the field below.
The young scholar cupped his hands and greeted them, “I pay my respects to Official Yan and Canjun Huo.”
Yan Chengxue, guessing the two were not friendly visitors, surmised at least one of them—likely the sharp-eyed bodyguard—was a martial arts master. Maintaining a stern expression, he said, “Since you know who we are, why don’t you bow like a commoner should when meeting an official?”
The young scholar replied with a smile, “Forgive me for the oversight, but that’s unnecessary. I’m a xiucai from Fuzhou Prefecture.”
“I’m not a county magistrate,” Yan Chengxue retorted mockingly, clearly implying the young man’s ignorance of rank and hierarchy.
The scholar maintained his smile and continued, “A scholar, but a successful candidate in the Gengyin imperial examination.”
Yan Chengxue’s expression shifted slightly. A juren held a rank that merited respect. Although not yet an official, they were local elites with the potential for office. Furthermore, this youth seemed only sixteen or seventeen; if he had passed the exam three years ago… a thirteen-year-old prodigy would surely already hold a position.
The scholar added, “And a jinshi in the Guisi imperial examination, personally appointed as a Hanlin scholar by the Emperor.”
This year was indeed the year of Guisi. Yan Chengxue exclaimed in surprise, “A jinshi of this year’s imperial exam? A second-tier appointee directly named as a Hanlin scholar? If I’m not mistaken, there’s only one….are you Su Twelve?”
The young man smiled ruefully. “I hadn’t realized even that nickname had made its way from the capital to the borderlands.”
Yan Chengxue sneered, “The infamous Minister Su of the Dali Temple, notorious for his ruthlessness, is hard to ignore. Though now demoted and reassigned as Censor Su, it seems you still aim to upend the status quo here in Lingzhou’s Qingshui camp. Whose head are you after this time?”
“Hold on!” Huo Dun interrupted. “You claim to be Su Yan, the Censor. Do you have proof? You can’t just expect us to believe you because you said so.”
Su Yan thought to himself, If I had official documents or an imperial edict, would I need to sneak in like this? You’d have opened the gates and welcomed me with respect.
Hearing the guards at the camp gate discussing the situation, he learned that Oirat spies had broken into a military restricted zone with weapons, attempting to assassinate a border officer. The garrison was currently hunting them down. He feared that Aletan had been framed because of the forced horse requisition issue—such a charge was enough to warrant immediate execution. Even though he had lost his identification papers, he had no choice but to brace himself and enter first to assess the situation.
Now, however, showing any hesitation was out of the question. Maintaining his composure, he said, “I have my appointment documents as proof, as well as an imperial decree, but of course, I wouldn’t carry them with me. If Officer Huo has any doubts, once this matter is settled, he is welcome to accompany me to the inn to verify them.”
Pointing at the half-collapsed council hall and Aletan, who was currently locked in a chaotic battle with the soldiers in the training yard, he asked with a half-smile, “Given the current situation, how do the two of you plan to end this?”
Yan Chengxue replied coldly, “Northern barbarian spies—seize them and behead them.”
“How do you prove they’re spies?”
“They broke into the council hall armed. If they’re not spies, then they’re assassins. Either way, they are to be seized and executed without delay.”
Su Yan said, “But what I heard from the guards at the camp gate was that it was the horse requisition officer who brought these Oirat men inside. Could it be that the horse requisition officer under your command is also a spy, Lord Yan?”
Yan Chengxue’s face turned pale, almost lifeless like a corpse returning from the dead. He responded, “These Oirat refused to comply with the horse requisition decree, so the adjutant planned to negotiate with them in person. Who would have thought they harbored ill intent and took the opportunity to storm the council hall? Censor Su, your aggressive questioning—are you implying that I, too, am a spy?”
Su Yan shook his head. “I don’t worry that Lord Yan is colluding with foreign enemies. What I worry about is that you’ve completely lost your way. The so-called ‘horse requisition decree’ is nothing more than a forced-buying-and-selling decree. Your officials have been openly embezzling state funds, demanding bribes, and taking kickbacks—are you aware of this?”
He hadn’t originally planned to be so blunt, but after observing Yan Chengxue’s behavior, he realized that despite his ruthless and unscrupulous methods, he was not the type to feign virtue. A direct confrontation might just provoke an unexpected reaction.
Sure enough, Yan Chengxue didn’t bother with excuses. Instead, he laid out his own reasoning: “Warhorses are in extreme shortage, and the cavalry cannot train properly. Without a horse requisition decree, how do we solve this issue? If we let the northern tribes dictate the price, they’d demand a hundred jin of tea for a single horse. And once tea, salt, and iron end up in their hands, who’s to say whether they’ll trade with the Tatars or some other enemy of our great Ming? Buying horses from the northern tribes is, in itself, aiding the enemy. The court resorted to this measure out of sheer necessity, so of course, we must drive the prices as low as possible.
“As for corruption and bribery—it’s not as bad as you make it sound. If the water is too clear, there’ll be no fish. The officials of the Horse Administration and the Imperial Stables rank low and earn a meager salary. If they don’t find some extra means to make a living, who would be willing to take on this job? Besides, kickbacks are partly the fault of the sellers. Some merchants are just shameless—rather than selling at a fair eighty percent of market price to the government, they’d rather skim off twenty percent as a bribe, thinking that bribing an official will get them special treatment. If they insist on playing dirty, who else should be punished if not them?”
Su Yan scrutinized the head of the Shaanxi Horse Administration and remarked, “Incredible. To twist logic so convincingly and act so decisively—putting you in charge of horse affairs is truly a waste of your talents.”
Yan Chengxue knew full well that Su Yan was mocking him, but given the latter’s status as an imperial censor, he had no choice but to grit his teeth in silence. However, the fingers tucked inside his sleeve trembled slightly with suppressed rage, as if he had countless rebuttals but no way to voice them.
Huo Dun, knowing well of Yan Chengxue’s irritable and vindictive temperament, anticipated that after sending off this troublesome figure, Su Yan, he might vent his frustrations on him. To deflect this, he quickly changed the subject and asked, “So, Lord Su, what do you think we should do now, given the situation?”
Su Yan replied, “On my way here, I encountered these Oirat people. They claimed to have come to the Qingshui Camp to sell horses. I observed them for several days without noticing anything suspicious, but that doesn’t mean I trust them entirely. If today’s incident was merely a conflict over pricing, I am willing to mediate and try to negotiate a price acceptable to both sides. As long as no one has died, it can all be resolved peacefully.”
Huo Dun, having a sense of justice, hesitated to reveal the truth: the situation wasn’t merely about pricing. Yan Chengxue had harbored malicious intentions, not only planning to seize these fine horses but also intending to extort ransom by detaining the Oirat traders. Such a move was aimed at alleviating the urgent needs of the cavalry stationed at the border.
—In Yan Chengxue’s eyes, anyone outside the Ming Dynasty was a “barbarian,” undeserving of fundamental human rights.
However, Su Yan, though aware of such sentiments, likely wouldn’t consider them entirely egregious. As a fellow Han, Su Yan believed that a narrow-minded nationalist might serve the country well in certain critical situations, even if their actions seemed extreme. At least Yan Chengxue remained loyal to the Ming Dynasty, which was far better than traitorous officials who sold out the country.
Yan Chengxue shot a glance at Huo Dun and said, “If not for your ancient sense of chivalry insisting on single combat, I would’ve already turned these Oirat people into pincushions with arrows, and we wouldn’t have this mess.”
Huo Dun thought bitterly: It was you who planned to detain them for ransom and ordered restraint initially. Then, when that plan failed, you suddenly insisted on killing them, and now you’re blaming me.
However, knowing better than to expose his lies publicly, Huo Dun silently took the blame, yet again shouldering the burden of loyalty.
Su Yan continued, “It’s fortunate that Commander Huo prefers single combat. Otherwise, resolving this matter peacefully would have been far more difficult. Moreover, I suspect these Oirat individuals hold clues I must investigate. On my journey to Hengliangzi Town, my escort of Embroidered Uniform Guard was ambushed by Tatar cavalry, and we became separated. I believe those Tatars’ identities are questionable.”
Yan Chengxue’s pupils constricted as he seized on the critical point: “You suspect irregularities with the Tatars, and the clues point to these Oirat people? Could it be that, despite their apparent enmity, the Tatars and Oirat are colluding behind the scenes to harm the Ming Dynasty?”
Su Yan shook his head. “It’s too early to say. But these Oirat people cannot be killed. If Lord Yan remains uneasy, you can keep them detained in Qingshui Camp, ensuring they don’t leave the city.”
When compared to potential national crises, the immediate shortage of horses for the border cavalry suddenly seemed less pressing. Yan Chengxue finally abandoned the notion of killing the Oirat traders and shouted to those below, “Stop fighting! Both sides, stand down—this was a misunderstanding!”
Huo Dun echoed, “Cease fighting!”
Although the Ming soldiers had suffered injuries, fatalities had been avoided. This was due to Aletan’s restraint—despite being different from ordinary Oirat, he knew killing Ming soldiers could escalate tensions and disrupt his Royal Father’s greater plans. Thus, his orders emphasized incapacitation over lethal force.
The Oirat traders, though injured, were alive as well, having spent much of the scuffle under the roof’s eaves, watching their prince duel the Ming commander.
When archers aimed at Aletan and he brought down the roof, the traders were buried in the rubble. By the time they dug themselves out and rejoined the fray, negotiations upstairs had reached a conclusion, and the command to halt had been issued.
Su Yan then called out, “Aletan!”
Aletan, who had just kicked a soldier aside, turned in surprise. “You? What are you doing here?”
Su Yan responded, “I’ve come to mediate. They were wrong to try to entrap you, but you’ve fought back and even brought down their meeting hall. Both sides are now in a stalemate. Rather than let things spiral out of control, why not sit down for talks? After all, when no one wants things to escalate, the negotiation table is the best place to settle disputes.”
Aletan cast a complex gaze at Su Yan, his guard, and then at Yan Chengxue and Huo Dun. His expression betrayed his discontent.
Still, after a moment of contemplation, he relented and said, “I’ll agree to a ceasefire, but I demand the release of my detained tribesmen. If we are to negotiate, it will be at the Qingshui River grasslands, with no Ming soldiers accompanying. I don’t trust a single one of these Ming officials!”
With that, he helped his injured companions to their feet and left without looking back.
Su Yan exhaled in relief.
Huo Dun, still concerned about Su Yan’s identity, hesitated before suggesting, “Since the matter is resolved, staying at an inn may be inconvenient. Let me escort Lord Su to retrieve your belongings and arrange lodging at the West City fortress. It would also facilitate discussions with Lord Yan.”
Su Yan felt uneasy, unsure if they would believe his explanation that his credentials were lost during the ambush and likely with his missing Embroidered Uniform Guard escorts. While the truth, it sounded far-fetched. Would they accept it?
Lord Yan was most likely about to order his imprisonment, keeping him locked up until his identity could be verified.
Jinghong Zhui, who had remained silent the entire time like a dutiful shadow guard, seemed to sense Su Yan’s unease. Using sound transmission, he whispered directly into Su Yan’s ear, “My lord need not worry. If they truly refuse to believe you, I can still ensure your safe escape from the city.”
Su Yan considered this and realized it was true. With Ah Zhui around, at the very least, he didn’t have to fear for his personal safety. He nodded to Huo Dun and said, “I’ll trouble you, Officer Huo.”
The two of them took the lead, stepping onto the wooden stairs and descending.
Huo Dun watched Jinghong Zhui’s back, sensing that he had whispered something to Su Yan, but with the man’s profound martial arts skills, the sound was tightly controlled, making it impossible to hear.
After a moment’s thought, Huo Dun deliberately fell behind a few steps and murmured to Yan Chengxue, “I’ll go there myself. If I find anything suspicious about these two, I’ll seize them on the spot.”
Yan Chengxue replied, “That guard of his seems to be a master—he won’t be easy to capture.”
“No problem. I’ll just bring more men.”
“Take my poison-coated weapon, or I’m coming along.”
Huo Dun chuckled helplessly. “Alright, alright. You’d better head back to clean up and rest. Look at you, covered in dust.”
Yan Chengxue, who had a mild obsession with cleanliness and took pride in his appearance, suddenly felt an urgent need to bathe and change clothes. Taking the excuse, he left without further argument.
Huo Dun personally led his soldiers to escort Su Yan and his companion out of the camp fortress toward the White Cloud Inn in the eastern part of the city.
As they entered the inn, a cavalry unit led by Chu Yuan—500 riders strong—was advancing two streets away under the guidance of the local garrison commander, heading straight for the western camp fortress.
