Chapter 40: Arrow Duel (Part 2)

Chapter 40: Arrow Duel (Part 2)

Ha Tu had always been a man of few words, so no one could see just how stunned he was at this moment.

He thought for a moment and said, "Let's toss the leather ball."

This game of tossing the leather ball meant throwing a cowhide ball into the air, with both men firing arrows simultaneously. Whoever hit the ball scored one point; if both hit, each scored one point.

They would throw the ball a total of ten times, and the one with the highest score would win.

To be fair, this was more like a practice session than a competition.

If both archers were equally skilled, it often ended in a tie, to everyone's satisfaction.

Le Wuya furrowed his brows for a moment before nodding in agreement.

He Qingsong was quite good at reading expressions. Seeing Le Wuya's grim face, his heart sank, and he whispered, "...Not good!"

A constable leaned in: "Chief He, what's wrong?"

He Qingsong discreetly pointed to the sky: "Look at the sky!"

The constables all looked up and noticed that the sky was even darker than before.

He Qingsong began to explain confidently: "The magistrate is a scholar. I've rarely seen a scholar with particularly good eyesight, especially at dusk. Isn't their vision worse than in broad daylight?"

The constables exchanged glances, finding this reasoning sound, and felt their confidence deflate.

This was a real competition, not like the first round where they could get lucky!

But they still had to save the magistrate's face.

So they raised their voices, cheering loudly for Le Wuya.

However, He Qingsong and the other laymen didn't quite understand why the Jing tribe soldiers across from them had not only stopped their chatter but were now wearing grave expressions.

This was because they knew that this Magistrate Wenren was an exceptional archer, no pushover.

Ha Tu's move was, in fact, settling for second best, avoiding a direct confrontation, trying to turn this one-sided "duel" back into a "practice session."

In other words, he had shown his weakness.

Although the soldiers disliked Ha Tu's timidity, if they were to compete with the magistrate in light archery, they wouldn't be confident either.

Besides... there was another noble present.

They stole a glance at He Lianche, whose face was as dark as water, and they could understand Ha Tu's concession.

It was easy to talk about fighting with pride.

But when it came to the honor of the Jing tribe, playing it safe was paramount.

A Jing soldier brought out a cowhide ball covered in arrow marks, rolled it in his palm a few times. Seeing that both men had their bows drawn and arrows nocked, he whistled, swung his fist, and struck the bottom of the ball hard.

The ball shot up like a flying falcon, heading straight upward.

Ha Tu nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring, held his breath, and let it fly!

However, just a step away from the ball, the arrow collided with another in midair.

Both arrows fell to the ground, defeated, together with the ball.

First round: no one hit.

Ha Tu thought it was a coincidence.

It was not uncommon for arrows to collide midair when two people shot at the same target.

For the second arrow, Le Wuya's arrow closely chased the tail feathers of Ha Tu's arrow, dragging both arrows down.

Ha Tu missed again.

Ha Tu frowned.

He began to sense something was amiss.

For the third arrow, the arrowheads of both men collided in midair. The metallic ring echoed over the training ground long after the arrows hit the ground.

Now even the Nanting constables could tell something was up.

Three arrows, each colliding differently—not even a ghost would believe that was a coincidence.

They found it hard to believe:

Could the magistrate actually have hidden skill?

For the fourth arrow, Le Wuya shot Ha Tu's arrow clean in half midair.

For the fifth arrow, Ha Tu deliberately let Le Wuya shoot first. But it seemed that this Little Master had developed the ability to keep an eye on everything. Perhaps he guessed that Ha Tu would yield this time, so he shot without hesitation.

By the time Ha Tu raised his bow, Le Wuya had already hit the cowhide ball.

He shot it at an awkward angle, sending the ball far into the depths of the night.

Ha Tu hastily drew his bow, his arrow flying like a shooting star chasing the moon.

But a bow with six stone draw weight had its limits.

Ha Tu's arrow lost its strength halfway and fell to the ground.

The constables were dumbfounded but quickly shouted their praise, clapping until their palms were red.

Ha Tu turned his head, looking at Le Wuya in confusion.

He wanted to know what kind of deity this distant magistrate was.

Le Wuya not only looked back at him generously but also gave him a playful wink.

Ha Tu, being a quiet-natured man, was so startled by Magistrate Wenren's flirtatious glance that he whipped his head back around, nearly twisting his neck.

A Jing soldier reluctantly called out the score: "Magistrate Wenren scores first point!"

For the sixth arrow, Ha Tu's arrow hadn't even made it halfway when Le Wuya shot it down directly.

He had completely dropped the pretense.

Every arrow was shot without waste, all aimed at Ha Tu's arrows.

...

The tenth arrow.

Ha Tu knew he had suffered a crushing defeat, completely humiliated.

If only he could win back just one round... just one!

He pretended to draw the bowstring, faking a shot, hoping to trick Le Wuya into shooting first.

Breaking an opponent's arrow shaft—he could do that too!

The leather ball soared high with a single strike.

Ha Tu watched Le Wuya out of the corner of his eye, waiting for his arrow to fly!

Le Wuya aimed intently at the ball, his long eyelashes casting shadows but unable to conceal the starry sparkle in his eyes.

Yet his arrow seemed to stall on the string, never releasing.

Before Ha Tu could react, the sound of the ball hitting the ground and rolling reached his ears.

Ha Tu stood frozen in place, feeling that sound was deafening.

Le Wuya's shoulders began to shake slightly.

After a moment, he couldn't help but burst into laughter, like a mischievous teenager who'd just pulled off a prank.

In both his past and present life, Le Wuya had never enjoyed silence, low profile, or blending in.

He wanted to be lively, wanted everyone to see him shining brightly.

What did he care about others' opinions or judgments?

If he was going to compete, he would come first—by any means necessary, focusing only on victory or defeat.

Still laughing, he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes: "Ha Tu, I'm sorry for deceiving you."

Ha Tu lowered his hand.

He had lost indisputably and had nothing left to say.

"One round from you, one from me—now both are done." Le Wuya turned cheerfully to Meng Zha. "How about the third round being set by Special Envoy Meng Zha?"

Meng Zha: "I..."

He thought they'd embarrassed themselves enough and should call it quits.

But before he could finish his sentence, someone interrupted.

"I'll set the challenge." Helian Che's tone left no room for negotiation. "Bring two oranges."

Once Helian Che spoke, there was no room for Meng Zha to interject.

Meng Zha waved his hand hastily, and the Guard Captain rushed to the kitchen to fetch the so-called "oranges."

The soil of the Jing tribe was not as fertile as that of Dayu; the oranges were green and small, and ripe fruits were often used to season dishes.

Some had tried eating them plain, concluding the skin was thick and the fruit astringent, difficult to stomach.

Helian Che took an orange from the bronze plate, held it in his hand, and ordered the two men to stand in the center of the training ground. He stepped back himself until he was thirty paces away.

He raised his arm and held the orange at arm's length, level with his chest.

He ordered curtly: "Shoot."

Ha Tu: "..."

Le Wuya: "..."

The first round tested speed.

The second round tested precision.

The third round tested control of a light bow's arrow momentum—whether one could control its range freely.

These were all fundamental skills for any archer.

But usually, when practicing arrow control, one simply placed a paper target far away—not place a living person behind the target!

Most of the troops stationed at Ranqiu Pass didn't recognize Helian Che; they only knew he was an honored guest from Shuonan City.

But Meng Zha had once served as a personal guard for Damuqi, and a handful knew who this silent, cold, strange man really was.

Ha Tu was one of that handful.

He immediately knelt: "Honored guest, I dare not."

If this arrow went astray and caused harm, his entire clan would be sent to the grave with him.

Helian Che narrowed his eyes slightly, looking down at Ha Tu, who was kneeling.

Under his cold, piercing stare, Ha Tu felt like a thousand pounds were pressing down on him, trembling uncontrollably, not daring to move.

After what seemed like an eternity, when Ha Tu was on the verge of fainting, he heard Helian Che's voice: "...Come here."

His heart pounded even faster as he stood and hurried to Helian Che's side, knelt down again, not daring to meet his eyes even for a second.

Helian Che handed him the orange and said flatly, "Eat it."

Ha Tu dared not defy him. Without pausing, without even peeling the skin, he stuffed the orange into his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed it whole, not daring to show even a hint of pain on his face.

"The Jing tribe is worthless. They've brought shame on themselves." Helian Che turned to Le Wuya. "Magistrate Wenren, would you like to give it a try?"

In the gentle spring breeze, Le Wuya faced him from thirty paces away.

Le Wuya thought, back then, the distance between them felt exactly like this.

Thirty paces, like a chasm that could never be crossed.

At that time, he was the one holding the bow, and he himself was the one waiting to be shot.

Now, Helian Che held a tiny orange, facing the sharp arrowhead without flinching.

Everything seemed like a reversal of that event from long ago.

But why was he doing this?

Had he recognized him, or hadn't he?

If he had, given the bone-deep hatred he had for him, he should have struck him down right then and there.

If he didn't recognize me, why would he take such a risk?

Could it be that he truly trusts my archery?

Perplexed, Le Wuya drew his bow, squinted one eye, tilted his head, and aimed at the center of his forehead.

When He Qingsong and the others saw Helian Che using himself as a target, they were utterly baffled and terrified. Now seeing that the magistrate had actually drawn the bow, He Qingsong jumped in shock, abandoning all etiquette, rushed over, and threw his arms around Le Wuya's arm: "Magistrate! Think twice! Think twice!"

If this arrow is really loosed and something goes wrong, would it count as this big fellow seeking his own death, or the magistrate's lack of skill?

Thinking of the chaos that would ensue, a chill ran down He Qingsong's spine.

Who would have thought that before the magistrate could respond, He Qingsong heard a cold voice coming from thirty paces away: "In a sparring match, how can a meddling bystander be on the field?"

Several soldiers did not dare delay and immediately rushed onto the field, grabbed He Qingsong, and pried him off Le Wuya.

He Qingsong hadn't expected Helian Che to be so determined to die; for a moment he was speechless, and with a dazed expression he was forced to leave the field.

Le Wuya nocked an arrow again and once more aimed at Helian Che.

This was the first time he had observed Helian Che's face so boldly and directly.

His arrow tip hovered in the air, sweeping across his forehead, eyes, and the tip of his nose.

Helian Che, compared to his two elder brothers, was a very different breed.

He had a kingly bearing and a commanding presence, but his expression was indifferent, inscrutable—one couldn't tell whether he loved or hated someone.

In the midst of his thoughts, Le Wuya's fingers holding the bowstring loosened without warning.

Before the onlookers were fully prepared, the tangy scent of orange had already spread through the air.

The arrowhead pierced through the fruit, emerged from the other side of the orange, and then stopped steadily.

Juice ran down Helian Che's hand.

The field fell silent, with only a gentle breeze blowing across.

Le Wuya looked down and saw one arrow remained in his quiver.

He decided not to waste it.

As he pulled out the arrow, he made eye contact with Meng Zha, who was drenched in cold sweat beside the field, looking as if he had just survived a near-death experience.

Meng Zha, who had just calmed down from his fright, now noticed that this man's pupils were a deep purple, with a hint of unearthliness. When he stared at someone, one felt as if they were being watched by a beautiful yet sinister crow.

All the Jing people knew that crows are the most vengeful.

Le Wuya aimed the arrow diagonally downward, and with a slight exertion of strength in his hand, drew the bow a little.

Maintaining this poised position, he smiled at Meng Zha: "I've won this match. Next time, Commander Meng won't 'accidentally' impound our Nanting stone materials, will he?"

His tone hovered between seriousness and jest, sounding rather unsettling.

Meng Zha stared fixedly at the arrowhead that seemed to carry hidden killing intent, and a drop of cold sweat slowly slid down the tip of his nose.

He forced a smile, twitching the corner of his mouth: "No..."

Le Wuya beamed a brilliant smile, released the bowstring, slung the bow over his shoulder, and cupped his hands in salute: "The Special Envoy's word is as good as gold; I trust you won't go back on them. Wen Ren Ming Ke thanks you."

The archery contest thus came to an end.

Meng Zha's mind relaxed, and he nearly collapsed to the ground.

Meanwhile, Wen Ren Yue hurried onto the field, the admiration in his eyes hard to hide.

But he had more important things to do.

"It's still cold." He draped a thin, loose robe over Le Wuya's shoulders. "You've sweated; don't catch a chill."

"I was just looking for you, and here you are."

Le Wuya let him fasten the cloak for him: "I'm assigning you an assignment. Can you practice archery until you're as good as I am?"

Although Le Wuya had taken over Wen Ren Yue's body, he had no reason to cater to him.

If he were to leave and have Wen Ren Yue take his place, Yue would need to have sufficient skill.

Therefore, Le Wuya wanted to set one goal after another, to see how far this person could follow him.

Wen Ren Yue thought for a moment, did not decline, and answered earnestly: "I'll do my best."

...

Off to the side, Helian Che, while wiping his hands, called over the crestfallen Ha Tu.

Without saying a word, he untied a gold-and-jade bell from his waist and placed it in his hands.

The Sire bestowing a public reward was already a great consolation and prize, and the meaning was clear: this defeat was nothing, and he was not to blame.

Ha Tu, who had been a bit fearful and resentful, now held the Sire's gift in both hands, and his heart finally calmed down a little.

He accepted the gold bell with sincere reverence, took Helian Che's hand, and pressed his forehead to the back of his hand, which still smelled faintly of orange, to show respect and submission.

Just as Le Wuya finished speaking with Wen Ren Yue, he turned and saw Helian Che bestowing the bell.

His eyes went wide.

He had always liked shiny things. When he had aimed at Helian Che earlier, he had caught a glimpse of that pair of gold-and-jade bells at his waist—delicate and beautiful, tempting one to steal them.

If he had known that the loser could get gold, he might as well have lost—losing wouldn't be shameful!

Le Wuya's good mood vanished completely, and he couldn't even bear to listen to the flattery from He Qingsong and the others in his disappointment.

He returned to the bedroom Meng Zha had arranged for him, washed up briefly, and dejectedly got ready for bed.

But he had just fallen into a light sleep when a polite tap on the window roused him.

He pushed open the window and, not at all surprised, saw Wen Ren Yue.

Le Wuya, still half-asleep, said: "What, changed your mind? Don't want to practice?"

"It's not that."

Wen Ren Yue leaned on the windowsill, looking at him solemnly: "Regarding how to get rid of the bandit threat, I still haven't thought of a better plan than yours."

Le Wuya, mid-yawn, covered his mouth, confused: "...Huh?"

Wen Ren Yue: "When I heard Brother Gu talk about how to deal with the mountain bandits, I silently criticized that this plan was improper. What if civilian women were captured and taken up the mountain, forced to suffer the loss of their virtue, forced to stay, and eventually die from disease along with the bandits, unable to go home after death—wouldn't that be tragic? But after thinking it over again and again, I still couldn't find a solution that addresses both issues. I myself am incompetent, so I shouldn't have judged Brother Gu so harshly in my mind. I knew I was wrong, and I couldn't sleep at all, so I came to apologize to Brother Gu."

Le Wuya was silent for a long moment. "..."

"Just this?"

Wenren Yue nodded earnestly.

Then he received a hard flick on the forehead.

"My waist is still sore. I was exhausted all day and had just fallen asleep when you came to bother me! I was still uncomfortable while riding today! ... Oh, and you took my oil lamp yesterday, nearly blinding me! If I lose the archery contest because of that, I'll bite you to death! Don't you dare come find me at night again unless it's urgent!"

Bang! The window was slammed shut from inside.

After getting a thorough scolding, Wenren Yue barely knew what hit him.

He rubbed his nose awkwardly.

Brother Gu… sure holds a grudge.

He tapped the window frame. "Magistrate, good night."

In response, a soft pillow thumped against the window from inside.

Le Wuya sulked on the bed.

A moment later, he heard the window being pushed open slowly from outside.

The bedding sank slightly—someone had gently tossed the pillow back.

Along with it came a greeting: "Brother Gu, sweet dreams."

Le Wuya ignored him.

When the footsteps outside gradually faded, Le Wuya rolled over, with one hand behind his head, staring blankly at the dark bed canopy.

It seemed he had truly found a good friend.

One without deceit or concealment—and who, even when knowing he had been deceived and hidden from, still chose to treat him sincerely.

Le Wuya tucked the soft pillow back under his head.

That faint, elusive joy only kept him wide awake.

...

Another person shared Le Wuya's sleeplessness.

He Lianche stood coldly in the corridor, drawing something with a charcoal stick in the moonlight below.

If he didn't sleep, Meng Zha naturally didn't have the gall to do so, standing with hands at his sides, pretending to be a mere ornament.

After drawing for a while, He Lianche stopped, took a deep breath, and his face turned gloomy.

At that point, playing dumb would be courting death for Meng Zha.

He braced himself and asked, "Sire, what's wrong?"

He Lianche asked in a deep voice, "Why did he call me a dead end?"

What did he mean?

Did he bump into me and already want to turn back?

Where does he want to return to?

Is he going to be like that person—once touching me, he'd turn and leave without any hesitation?!

He got stuck in his own thinking, spiraling deeper, even wanting to grab Le Wuya out of bed and interrogate him fiercely.

Meng Zha: "..."

Though he hadn't studied much, Magistrate Wenren's words were just a joke, weren't they?!

He didn't want to think in the direction of "His Majesty is narrow-minded," so he could only sigh that His Majesty's heart, as deep as the sea, was impossible to guess.

...

The next day, both sides tacitly pretended that the previous night's contest had never happened, exchanging polite farewells.

Meng Zha issued the travel permits. He Qingsong and the others stayed temporarily at Ranqiu Pass, waiting for the stone materials to be checked and accounted for before shipping.

Le Wuya and Wenren Yue returned first to Nanting to handle county affairs.

Meng Zha wanted to see Magistrate Wenren off at the pass and call it a day, but He Lianche, for some inexplicable reason, joined the farewell party again and showed no sign of stopping at the pass.

Since Meng Zha couldn't turn back without making it obvious, he had to go along.

When they reached the border between Dayu and the Jing tribe's official road, Meng Zha hadn't yet breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a cavalry unit stationed on the road.

Le Wuya was chatting and laughing with Meng Zha, but when he noticed Meng Zha's fixed gaze, he looked ahead as well.

The leader of the opposite side fixed his eyes on Le Wuya, whipped his horse, and galloped over, leaving a trail of dust.

Pei Mingqi raced to the front, his eyes on no one else but Le Wuya. His face as cold as frost, he demanded angrily, "What are you doing here?"

Le Wuya: "..." He wanted to ask the same thing.

Pei Mingqi's gaze shifted to He Lianche in the farewell party. Surprise flashed, followed by a murderous intent.

His expression changed abruptly. He reached out with his long arm, sweeping Le Wuya off Le Wuya's own horse and pulling him into his embrace.

"What are you doing here?" Pei Mingqi fumed. "Stay away from him!"

He Lianche remained expressionless at this rude behavior. "He came to me on his own. If you can't keep him in check, it's your incompetence."

Wenren Yue, though having a poor impression of both, knew that Pei Mingqi was at least a Dayu person, while the flower seller's identity was suspicious. He pulled his horse alongside Pei Mingqi, facing He Lianche. "The Jing tribe detained the stone materials for Nanting's road repair. That's why we came. How is it 'came to you on his own'?"

But Pei Mingqi didn't appreciate the help. He scolded Wenren Yue, "Aren't you that scholar surnamed Ming? I couldn't keep him in check at Qingyuan Garrison. You stay by his side every day, and you let him fool around like this?"

Le Wuya: "..."

Hey. Does anyone care about his waist?

It really hurts.