Using his qinggong, Jinghong Zhui carried Su Yan swiftly toward the magistrate’s office. Despite carrying someone, his movements remained light and agile, leaping across rooftops like a swallow skimming the water.
The wind roared past, and Su Yan leaned close to Jinghong Zhui’s ear, summarizing the situation in a few brief sentences.
Jinghong Zhui, already annoyed by the two bandit leaders, volunteered eagerly, “Let me sneak into their group during the chaos and assassinate Wang Five and Wang Six. That’ll settle it.”
Su Yan shook his head. “That’s unwise. From what we can see, the bandits have a clear objective: breaking into the prison to rescue someone. If Wang Five and Wang Six die suddenly, the bandits will be leaderless and may lash out in a violent rampage, looting and killing indiscriminately. That would cost the lives of countless civilians.”
Jinghong Zhui likely understood the consequences but, as someone accustomed to acting on personal grievances, often preferred swift retribution. With few close ties aside from his late sister, his outlook had grown colder over the years. Killing for money, he saw human life as merely a transaction.
However, meeting Su Yan had changed him. Gratitude and admiration gradually deepened into affection through their time together. The more he grew to respect and care for Su Yan, the more unwilling he became to leave his side, wanting instead to protect him from any harm.
But that wasn’t enough. To truly help Su Yan, he had to understand his goals, broaden his perspective, and wholeheartedly support his ambitions. Only then could he become Su Yan’s…his… Jinghong Zhui clenched his teeth and silently reminded himself: his loyal bodyguard.
Before long, the two arrived at the magistrate’s office. To save time, they scaled the wall instead of knocking and entered directly into the main hall.
A few guards stationed there, startled by their sudden appearance, shouted and drew their weapons. Jinghong Zhui quickly intervened. “The Lord Censor is here—stand down!”
Su Yan asked, “Where is Magistrate Zhou?”
The guards sheathed their weapons and replied, “The magistrate learned of the bandits’ plan to break into the prison and has already led soldiers to the jail.”
“When did he leave?”
“Just now. Unable to wait for reinforcements or messengers to return, the magistrate paced the hall for some time before taking the sword hanging on the wall. He said he couldn’t let the bandits breach the city and harm the people.”
Su Yan found himself impressed by Zhou’s actions. For someone bold and courageous, such a decision might be natural, admirable but not extraordinary. However, Zhou’s character was timid and indecisive, more inclined toward simple pleasures and averse to challenges. Yet in this critical moment, he remembered his duty, overcame his fear, and confronted the bandits head-on. Regardless of the outcome, he had earned the title of a true magistrate.
This made Su Yan even more determined not to abandon him.
Turning to the guards, Su Yan asked, “Who among you dares to guide me to the jail?”
The guards exchanged hesitant glances.
Jinghong Zhui sneered. “Cowards.” He looked at Su Yan. “We don’t need them—I’ll take you myself.”
“…If my superior isn’t afraid to risk his life, why should I?” A slender guard suddenly stepped forward, gripping his sword tightly. “I, Tang Jing, will lead the way!”
Su Yan regarded the young guard standing firm. “Your name is Tang Jing? Very well, lead the way.”
Back at the inn, Chu Yuan broke into the room but found it empty, the window wide open. He guessed that Su Yan, with the help of the wandering swordsman, had gone to the magistrate’s office to face the danger directly. With a sigh of frustration, he resigned himself to the situation.
He turned to the other Embroidered Uniform Guard. “If anything happens to Lord Su, none of us will survive. As things stand, let’s head to the magistrate’s office and the jail to follow his lead. If we must die, let it be with honor.”
Gao Shuo, recalling the Northern Surveillance Bureau insignia Shen Qi had entrusted to him, said, “If that’s the case, I’ll go to the hidden outpost in the city to gather reinforcements. Though most of our spies are stationed along the borders, there are still a few left in the city—it’s better than nothing.”
Chu Yuan nodded. “I almost forgot—you were originally with the Northern Surveillance Bureau’s Command. We are too few; even a handful more men would help. Go quickly.”
Gao Shuo cupped his fists and left.
With one man gravely injured and bedridden, leaving two servants to tend to him at the inn, the remaining eighteen Embroidered Uniform Guard riders resolved to live or die together. They mounted their horses, ready for battle, and galloped towards the blazing fires and the sounds of chaotic slaughter.
—
Wang Wu and Wang Chen hacked through the prison doors and shackles. With a roar, Qi Meng burst forth like a tiger escaping its cage, snatching a six-sided spiked hammer from one of the lackeys. Swinging the short iron chain attached to the hammer handle, it whistled as it arced through the air. One strike crushed a prison guard’s skull, and he laughed wildly. “To the magistrate’s office! Kill every corrupt official!”
As the group stormed out of the prison, they found themselves surrounded by layers of soldiers. Qi Meng, undeterred, seemed only more exhilarated, charging madly into the crowd. His hammer sent blood and flesh flying in all directions. The bandits, emboldened by his ferocity, followed his lead, their battle cries shaking the heavens.
The Wang brothers held the rear, covering their comrades as they fought. When the signal arrows exploded in the sky, the brothers were inside the dungeon and missed the sight. Now, as they emerged, a clever lackey quickly reported the development.
Wang Chen slashed down a soldier and turned to Wang Wu. “Brother, the officials have sent a distress signal. Thousands of soldiers from the nearby garrisons will likely arrive soon. We can’t linger here.”
Wang Wu responded, “We’ve come this far—how can we return empty-handed? At the very least, we must kill that Lu official and the magistrate to avenge our family… and that Su brat too! There are still six or seven hundred of our brothers outside the city under Yang Hui’s command—they can hold the line for a while.”
Wang Chen felt a pang in his heart. He fully agreed with avenging Lu Angao and Zhou Zhidao, but killing Su Yan… left a bitter taste he couldn’t quite place.
Scenes flashed in his mind like ghosts. The waterfall cave, where a bare-chested young man with ink-black hair cascading over his fair skin fell back gracefully, thanking him even as he gripped his throat. The wooden cabin in the mountain village, where that same youth sat cross-legged in his soiled robe, his bright presence undimmed as he cursed the heavens with unrestrained sincerity. The touch of that youth’s hand on his shoulder, solemnly swearing, “A vow cannot be broken.”
Could all of that have been a lie?
Perhaps that young official really had nothing to do with his parents’ deaths. By the timeline, he would have just entered the city when the executions occurred, stumbling upon the scene by chance…
Wang Wu, sensing his twin’s hesitation, immediately stepped in. Blocking an attack aimed at Wang Chen, he cursed under his breath, “Spacing out on the battlefield? Do you have a death wish? For someone who deceived us and murdered our parents, you’re acting like a fool!”
Wang Chen gritted his teeth. He knew that his instinct to defend Su Yan—even finding excuses for him—was utterly foolish.
With renewed resolve, he swung his blade and severed the head of a soldier sneaking up behind them, letting the scalding blood splash across his face. It was a harsh wake-up call to harden his heart and stay focused, refusing to let Su Yan’s words cloud his judgment again.
Magistrate Zhou Zhidao arrived with his clerks and troops just as over a thousand soldiers were being crushed by five hundred bandits. Casualties were heavy, morale low, and a breach had already been forced in their ranks. He quickly ordered his men to fill the gap while riding forward, shouting, “The garrison’s five thousand elite troops have entered the city and will arrive shortly! Bandits, surrender now! If you lay down your arms, all but the leaders will be pardoned. Once reinforcements arrive, military law will show no mercy—even I will not be able to save you!”
Though the reinforcements were nowhere in sight, Zhou Zhidao’s education and experience lent him a commanding presence. His words, mixing truth with bluff, struck at the bandits’ nerves like a blade.
Hearing the claim of imminent reinforcements and the promise of amnesty, many of the bandits faltered, their confidence shaken.
Wang Wu, seeing the shift in morale, raised his voice in rebuttal. “Brothers, think hard! Why did you turn to banditry in the first place? Wasn’t it because you couldn’t survive otherwise? Do you want to throw away your weapons and crawl back to being treated worse than beasts?”
Wang Chen added, “Better to trust ghosts than the lies of officials! Kill that dog of a magistrate!”
“Kill the officials! Take the grain! Fight for survival!” The bandits echoed, their renewed cries shaking the battlefield.
Zhou Zhidao’s face turned pale. If reinforcements didn’t arrive soon, he feared his own end would come that night—falling in the line of duty.
Wang Chen planted his saber into the ground and pulled the iron-banded bow from his back. Drawing the string, he aimed an arrow directly at Zhou Zhidao on horseback. The arrow shot forth like a streak of lightning.
Su Yan and Jinghong Zhui, guided by the young bailiff Tang Jing, raced towards the prison. From a hundred paces away, under the torchlight, they saw Wang Chen nock the arrow and take aim.
Su Yan shouted, “Ah Zhui, save him!”
Jinghong Zhui had already slipped a willow-leaf throwing knife into his hand. At Su Yan’s command, he flicked his wrist, releasing the blade with precision. The knife struck the arrowhead midair with a sharp clang, sparks flying as both projectiles fell to the ground.
Wang Chen’s expression darkened as he turned to glare at the approaching riders. His anger contorted into something heavier when he recognized the man on horseback.
He drew another arrow, this time aiming for Su Yan.
In mere moments, Su Yan and Jinghong Zhui reached Zhou Zhidao’s side. Su Yan pulled his horse to a halt and said, “Lord Prefect, be cautious. I’ve sent signal arrows—the garrison troops will arrive shortly. Hold the line for a little longer.”
Wang Chen shouted furiously, “It was you! You launched the signal arrows!”
Su Yan and the man stood separated by dozens of soldiers and bandits locked in fierce combat. One stood high above in his official robes, while the other, clad in coarse cloth and straw sandals, wielded a bloodstained blade. Their gazes met across the battlefield.
The tattooed bandit leader remained bare-chested, his muscular, bronze-toned torso glistening with sweat under the firelight. One side of his face was rugged, marked by rough stubble, while the other was streaked with blood. His eyes churned like a raging storm, yet beneath the fury lay an abyss of unfathomable depth.
Su Yan recalled the moment he had raised his palm and declared, “A clap to seal the oath,” his voice bold and unrestrained. A flicker of emotion stirred in Su Yan’s heart. He turned to Jinghong Zhui and said, “I want to speak with him, but I doubt my voice will carry that far.”
Jinghong Zhui leaped onto Su Yan’s horse, placed a palm against his back, and said, “Speak normally, my lord. He will hear you.”
Su Yan spoke, realizing that under the stimulation of internal energy, his voice indeed traveled easily to the distant target. However, unlike a modern loudspeaker, his words formed a concentrated thread, delivered directly to the other party’s side, as though they were speaking face to face.
“Wang Chen, Wang Wu,” Su Yan began clearly. “I understand your grief at losing your loved ones, your anger, and your desire for revenge. But grievances have their sources, and debts have their debtors. The one who abused harsh laws and treated human life like dirt was Censor Lu Angao. By imperial decree, I’ve already stripped him of his office and ordered his extradition to the capital, where he will face judgment by the emperor. Even if he escapes death, he cannot avoid imprisonment or exile.”
“I’ve also reported the local mismanagement of horse policies, which caused this turmoil, to the court. I’ve requested a suspension of the harsh capture orders to soothe public sentiment and proper resettlement for displaced civilians. Once the horse policy is rectified, farming and production can resume, allowing officials and the people to return to their rightful places. I ask you to believe in me, to give me time to fulfill my promises. Do not let hatred blind your true nature—there’s a thin line between a chivalrous thief and a violent bandit.”
The Wang brothers were momentarily stunned. Wang Wu was the first to shout, “Lu Angao was only dismissed? How can that atone for his year of indiscriminate killings? My brother and I will say no more—first, we must personally take his head to honor our parents!”
Su Yan said, “He is guilty, and the law will judge him. If everyone takes justice into their own hands, what will become of this country? The officials and wealthy families you rob also have parents, wives, and children to support. If innocent lives are lost in the chaos, isn’t that also a sin? Should their families then seek revenge on you, capturing and executing you in return? And what about the military supplies you seized? You only think of strengthening your own forces, but have you considered that border soldiers rely on those weapons to fight the Tatars? If they lack arms, how will they defend the frontier? When they die on the battlefield, their families will grieve just as deeply as yours.”
Wang Wu hesitated before responding, “We’re not saints. How can we possibly care for the tens of millions in this land? We barely manage to take care of the poor folks in our region and keep our own brothers from starving or freezing. That alone is hard enough.”
Su Yan countered, “If you find it difficult to look after just a few hundred people, do you think it’s easy for the Emperor to govern seventy million to a hundred million?”
He continued sincerely, “The court manages a vast land and countless lives. No policy or administration is without flaws. The failure of the horse trade policy has caused great suffering, and His Majesty is deeply concerned about the people. That’s why he sent me to investigate and bring reform. Can’t you give me this chance—to fulfill my promise to both the Emperor and the people, and to help build a future of peace?”
Wang Wu clenched his jaw before suddenly barking, “Enough talk! Look at all this blood—years of hatred spilled onto the ground. How could it ever be washed away? My brother and I chose this path, and now we have no choice but to see it through to the end. If we surrender, do you think the court will spare us? Tonight, we stormed the prison, killed countless officials and soldiers—we’ve already committed an unforgivable crime! Officials are officials, bandits are bandits. The two have never coexisted. There’s no need for further persuasion!”
Seeing Wang Wu’s unwavering stance, Su Yan turned to Wang Chen. “Do you feel the same?”
Wang Chen hesitated, then said in a low voice, “I only have one question.”
“Ask.”
“The night my parents were beheaded—were you at the execution ground? Why didn’t you save them?”
Su Yan fell silent, guilt weighing heavily on him. He had indeed been there. But as a newcomer to the region, he had first sought to understand the situation and reason with his colleagues. If persuasion failed, he had planned to use the Emperor’s decree to intervene. But just as he was preparing to act, Qi Meng had suddenly broken free, startling Lu Angao, who instinctively shouted “Now!” The executioner, reacting reflexively, brought the blade down in an instant.
In that crucial moment, Jing Hongzhui had been focused on getting Su Yan to safety, while the Embroidered Uniform Guard under imperial orders had prioritized his protection. Taken by surprise, he hadn’t given the command to save the condemned—though even if he had, it likely wouldn’t have been in time.
A twist of fate. A cruel trick of destiny. And now, it had led to this bloody battle.
Rationally, Su Yan knew he bore no responsibility. But emotionally, the regret lingered. He could only imagine how the people—whether aware of the full truth or not—cursed his name behind his back.
With a heavy sigh, he murmured, “I am deeply sorry.”
Wang Chen’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning red as he stared at Su Yan, as if engraving the young official’s face into his memory—only to later carve it away, piece by piece, with his blade. His voice was hoarse, as though every word scraped against the rough edge of a whetstone, drawing blood.
“The oath we swore with a clap of hands—consider it void. From now on, if we meet again, it will be as sworn enemies, fighting to the death. Let this arrow bear witness!”
He pulled his bowstring to its absolute limit, and the arrow shot forth like a bolt of lightning tearing through the darkness.
Jing Hongzhui’s pupils shrank. He did not attempt to catch the arrow barehanded, sensing the depth of Wang Chen’s resolve behind it. Instead, he grabbed Su Yan, spurred his horse’s flanks, and dodged to the side. The arrow whistled past them, vanishing into the void.
Su Yan’s hands tightened around Jing Hongzhui’s arm.
Jing Hongzhui, knowing his distress, whispered in his ear, “The shot was off. Even if we hadn’t dodged, it would’ve only grazed you. That bandit knows, deep down, that you weren’t to blame for his parents’ deaths. He just can’t bring himself to admit it. Don’t burden yourself with guilt, my lord.”
Just then, a messenger on horseback galloped over, shouting, “The garrisons have seen the signal arrow—reinforcements are coming!”
Wang Wu roared, “You silver-tongued censor! All this talk was just a stalling tactic! Brothers, with me—break through the encirclement and get out of the city!”
The bandits howled in unison, brandishing their weapons as they charged toward Su Yan and Zhou Zhidao’s position like a raging black tide, shattering the ranks of the surrounding soldiers.
Chaos erupted.
Jing Hongzhui focused solely on protecting Su Yan, slicing through incoming weapons and deflecting arrows raining down like a storm. Meanwhile, Su Yan struggled to pull the panicked Zhou Zhidao back onto his horse as the official nearly slipped off.
Fortunately, eighteen Embroidered Uniform Guard cavalry arrived in time, forming a defensive barrier around them. Before long, Gao Shuo also arrived with seven or eight spies, reinforcing the protective circle. The pressure on them immediately lessened.
Under the command of the three bandit leaders, the outlaws managed to break through the city gates before the elite garrison troops could fully mobilize, reuniting with Yang Hui and their waiting reinforcements outside.
At this moment, the vanguard of the five-thousand-strong garrison troops had reached the outskirts of the city. After a brief skirmish, the bandits suffered heavy casualties. Realizing the disadvantage, Wang Wu and Wang Chen ordered a fighting retreat, heading toward the direction of Qingyang Prefecture.
Having already planned a guerrilla strategy within Shaanxi’s jurisdiction, they avoided attacking Qingyang city directly, instead targeting less-defended counties. They plundered these areas, absorbing refugees into their ranks as they moved south through Pingliang Prefecture, Fengxiang Prefecture, and Hanzhong Prefecture, eventually bypassing Xian Prefecture to head east.
By the time they entered Henan’s territory, their numbers had swelled to several thousand. Shedding the label of “bandits,” they rebranded themselves as the “Righteous Army,” gaining momentum. However, their forces—primarily composed of farmers, horse-handlers, discharged soldiers, and a fair share of rogues—lacked discipline. While targeting corrupt officials and wealthy landlords, they sometimes harmed civilians, committing numerous atrocities such as murder, looting, and other heinous crimes.
Later, they merged with the group led by the infamous “Crazy Liao” in Henan, who enforced strict discipline and rallied the troops under the banner of “Upholding Heaven’s Mandate, Reopening Chaos.” What began as a disorganized rabble transformed into a regular army of tens of thousands. Their actions, coinciding with a turbulent imperial succession and political instability, nearly triggered a rebellion that threatened half the empire.
But that was a story for the future.
As a “small butterfly” flitting across time and space, Su Yan’s actions stirred the winds of change, altering the fates of countless people. Whether he could turn the tide at a critical moment in the future remained to be seen.
For now, Su Yan, still recovering from a severe illness, forced himself to take charge. Despite his dizziness and physical weakness, he ensured the safety of Prefect Zhou and other local officials, successfully stalling the crisis until reinforcements arrived. With minimal losses, he defended Yanan from the bandit onslaught.
When the dust settled, Su Yan was utterly spent. His face pale, cold sweat pouring, he collapsed unconscious, frightening Jinghong Zhui and the Embroidered Uniform Guard guards out of their wits.
Jinghong Zhui, carrying Su Yan, raced as fast as a galloping horse to the medical hut, clutching the doctor’s collar in desperation, pleading for him to treat Lord Su first.
Startled by the urgency, the doctor carefully examined Su Yan and diagnosed, frowning, “Has the patient been running a high fever for days without eating properly, only to exert himself after just recovering?”
Jinghong Zhui nodded regretfully, blaming himself for not restraining Su Yan from taking risks, regardless of others’ safety. He anxiously asked, “Is it serious? What should be done? Do you need any rare medicines? I can find a way to get them.”
The doctor stroked his beard and chuckled. “Young man, you’re too concerned. He’s simply weak from illness and exhaustion, compounded by a few days without proper nutrition. A light diet and rest will suffice. With a few days of care, he’ll be fine.”
