Chapter 77: Chase and Escape (I)

Chapter 77: Chase and Escape (I)

The summer day was hot and windless, with not a wisp of cloud moving across the sky, so the moonlight fell like silver, spilling light over everything.

If you could soak a watermelon in well water at this moment, set up a table and stools beneath a tree, and enjoy the moon with a few good friends, that would be the good life.

But for Le Wuya, this bright moon in the sky right now might as well be here to take his life.

If the wind stirred the clouds and covered the moon, he might gain a moment's respite.

Yeah, right.

Wherever he fled, he'd be out in the open, completely visible to his pursuers.

And that wasn't all.

They were the unexpected guests; the enemy had home-field advantage.

They were stuck in the lowlands; the enemy had the high ground.

They were unarmed; the enemy was armed to the teeth.

...Screw it. Time to fight for his life.

After all, on the bright side, his life wasn't worth much; on the flip side, bad weeds never die.

Either way, he came out ahead.

He stopped worrying about the other two.

If they had any sense, they'd know splitting up was their best bet.

Sticking together would just get them all wrapped up like dumplings.

Le Wuya charged straight into the field of opium poppies, brutally stomping through a mess of crushed red petals.

It was both a provocation and a lure.

Wasn't this cursed flower field their pride and joy?

Le Wuya was going to stomp right on their most precious spot!

The tough, sturdy grass blades whipped against his calves, stinging slightly.

Clearly, the opium poppies here were ripe for harvest.

Le Wuya used the bright moonlight to scan the area, spotting three or four good spots for crossbow ambushes.

Before he could look away, another volley of bolts flew at him.

Le Wuya heard the whistle of the wind, dropped low, and rolled forward, barely dodging the deadly shot.

The bolt slammed into the dirt, barely half a chi from Le Wuya.

The wooden hairpin holding his topknot fell to the ground with it.

His hair loose and wild, he looked up toward where the bolt had come from.

...This shot came from a different direction than the last one.

So there was a second crossbow.

Le Wuya yanked the bolt from the ground, spun it in his palm, and sprinted deeper into the sea of bright flowers.

These bolts were clearly homemade, made from whatever was on hand—some from supple white waxwood, others from bamboo.

The third, fourth, and fifth bolts came one after another.

The closest one grazed his cheek, leaving a bloody streak across his face.

The seventh bolt came from behind.

By now, Le Wuya had picked up three bolts. Hearing the shot, he instinctively spun and raised his hand, deflecting the bolt's tip and dodging death.

But the bolt hit hard, twisting his wrist the wrong way and sending a sharp pain through it.

He didn't even flinch, his blazing gaze locked on where the shot had come from.

The third crossbow—found it.

In the mountain hollow, there were three crossbows in all, and...

Seven or eight torches were scattered around, closing in on him in a ring.

Le Wuya felt no fear, only hot blood surging through his veins.

Ever since returning from Ranqiu Pass, Le Wuya had taken up the martial arts he'd long neglected, training every day.

This body was built on a scholar's frame, and getting it back to his youthful general's form in a few months was asking a lot.

But luckily, this body had plenty of endurance and resilience, and inside it lived a restless, wild soul.

Not to brag, but when it came to running, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Le Wuya had crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, so even while running for his life, he had the spare brainpower to think:

Why shoot to kill right away?

And with such an important flower field, why was nobody guarding it?

Getting from Yin Family Village to here took a good while, and there was even a narrow pass where one person could hold the line.

All they had to do was post two villagers at that choke point, say outsiders weren't welcome because of recent bandit trouble, and chase them off.

Why go to all that trouble to be so ruthless and make such a big show of force?

...It was like they'd deliberately left an opening, just waiting for them to walk into a trap.

Their trip had been totally spur-of-the-moment, with no planning at all—how had they stumbled into such a tightly guarded trap?

Le Wuya ran, thought, and stripped off his clothes as he went.

He first pulled out his belt and used it to bind two white waxwood bolts together in a cross shape.

His knot-tying skills came from his military days, and in a few quick moves, he had the bolts lashed together tight.

His wrist was hurting more and more, but Le Wuya paid it no mind.

It wasn't like the pain could kill him.

Without his belt, his scholar's robes ballooned with wind as he ran.

Le Wuya found them a hassle, so he just ripped them off and tossed them aside.

Then he yanked the pouch off his waist, bit it, and pulled out a thin ox-tendon cord used for cinching.

By now, another man's footsteps were just a few feet behind him.

Le Wuya's heart was racing, but his hands were rock steady.

Maybe it was being at death's door that steadied him—he stretched the thin tendon tight, lashed it to the three front points of the cross-shaped frame, and nailed it on the first try.

The second it was done, he ducked right and snapped off an opium poppy branch.

In the rough yank, the pod fell to the ground, and Le Wuya stomped it into pulp.

All he had left was the bare, hard stem with its snapped end, and the flower head that, even after all that abuse, still bloomed with a weird, haunting beauty.

Le Wuya set the flower on his makeshift crossbow, spun around, and saw the guy just three steps away.

A cleaver glinted in the man's hand as it swung straight down at his head!

Le Wuya didn't hesitate—he aimed at the man's neck, held the bow one-handed, and pulled the tendon back with his injured hand, letting it fly!

This flimsy bow—or maybe slingshot is the better word—couldn't take even a light pull; it fell apart the second it took the strain.

But at that range, it was enough.

The cleaver in the man's hand would never fall again.

A brilliant flower was now stuck in his throat.

The man raised a hand to his neck, his face a mask of pure shock.

As the ferocity drained from his face like an ebbing tide, what was left was a sunburned, confused, terrified farmer's face.

Like a cornered animal, he spun around twice, gasping for air that wouldn't come, clawed at his throat a few times, then frantically grabbed for the flower to pull it out.

Pull it out, and he was dead for sure.

As blood gushed from his throat like a sluice gate, Le Wuya didn't give him another thought, grabbed the sharp cleaver, found some open ground, and took off running again.

Mid-run, Le Wuya caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye: to the southeast, toward the poppy field, flames were blazing bright.

Someone had started a fire!

Who?

Oh, right—the one who always carried flint, oil, and tinder was the ever-careful Wen Ren.

After leaving their horses at the bottom of the mountain, each of them had grabbed some personal gear.

Wen Ren had said he brought these fire-starting tools for light, worried that the sky would darken on their way down with clouds hiding the moon.

Le Wuya had never been so grateful for Wen Ren's fussy attention to detail.

First came a rush of relief, then a jolt of alarm.

That fire was so obvious—what if it brought the whole village running?

...The villagers?

Le Wuya's mind flashed to that farmer who'd just swung a cleaver at his head.

When they'd first gotten to Yin Family Village, it was already past dinnertime.

But as they'd huffed and puffed up the slope, he remembered, not a single wisp of smoke rose from the village.

And as they'd circled the village, there wasn't a single rooster crow or dog bark.

Only flies buzzed around them, droning on and on.

Le Wuya had first assumed it was the aftermath of bandit raids—that the villagers, scared or wiped out, had barred their doors early and stayed inside.

How could he have known then that these people might not have been home at all, but out patrolling the area?

But that brought the question he'd pushed aside right back to the surface:

Why were they out here by the poppy fields in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?

And why hadn't they stopped them, just letting them wander in?

Lost in thought, Le Wuya heard a pained scream from the southwest.

He turned to look and saw a figure on the cliff clutching his throat, falling from above, hitting the ground with a dull thud like a heavy sack, and going still.

That was probably Xiaoliu's doing.

Whatever he'd scrounged up, he'd managed to shoot that guy down from up there!

One side was on fire, another had lost a crossbow, and yet another had someone stomping through their precious fields.

Faced with all this chaos, these villagers—no trained soldiers—quickly lost their cool.

In the confusion, the three of them split up and ran.

But as Le Wuya ran, he slowly started to feel like something was off.

This hollow was a natural spot for shady business—looking around, there were only two ways in or out.

He'd definitely torn a path out of that deadly encirclement.

But turning back the way he'd come was now completely out of the question.

If they'd deliberately left that gap to lure them in, then once they were inside, that gap would definitely be sealed up again.

Going back would be walking right into a trap.

The other exit led into endless, unbroken mountains.

Truly, a place where you could advance or retreat at will.

Even if they couldn't win a fight, they could slip into the vast wilderness and plan for another day.

Luckily, they'd only come as a small handful—not enough to force the Yin Family villagers to abandon this "blessed land" and retreat into the mountains.

Just then, the wind started picking up.

The archers' aim got worse with the gusts, and the seven or eight bolts shot at Le Wuya all missed, since he moved like a startled crow.

The most critical thing was that a large cloud drifted slowly past in the distance, finally managing to block out that deadly moonlight.

But the wind still hadn't stopped.

If they didn't use this chance to escape the mountain hollow, once the cloud passed, they would be surrounded again.

There were only three of them, after all—where could they possibly run?

After all this hiding and dodging, Le Wuya was nearly exhausted, at the very end of his strength.

Taking advantage of the darkness that had swallowed everything, Le Wuya mustered his courage and climbed up the cliff face.

The mountain was muggy and damp, and although the rocks jutted out at all angles, providing handholds and footholds for climbing, they had been eroded by wind and water day in, day out, making the rock exceptionally brittle.

Le Wuya couldn't afford to care about that.

He didn't make a sound, moving through the pitch-black darkness like a gecko skittering up a wall, clinging to the rock face as he inched upward.

The men below had lit their torches, but the light they cast was limited, and they wouldn't spot him for a while.

But Le Wuya still had to work against the clock.

He had no idea when the moon might slip out from the clouds.

He couldn't afford to waste a single moment.

Le Wuya climbed with bare hands, not looking back, not looking down, focusing solely on the cliff wall as he climbed higher.

But heaven seemed to have it in for him.

Le Wuya faintly sensed strands of pale light filtering down from above.

...The clouds were about to break.

He no longer had time to carefully choose each foothold, so he sped up, scrambling upward.

Earlier, Le Wuya had lured those men away with the intent to die.

Now, he had to live.

Only by staying alive could he be of use, could he tie up a group of them and reduce the pressure on Xiaoliu and Wen Ren.

Perhaps heaven was punishing him for getting distracted—just as he was barely a foot from the platform above, he put his full weight onto a protruding rock and heard an ominous crack beneath his feet.

...This is bad!

Le Wuya reached out and grabbed the lip of the platform above, trying to haul himself up with his arms, but his already-sprained wrist chose that moment to give out, losing all strength.

His grip slipped, and Le Wuya began to fall!

But before he could plummet, a hand reached out from the darkness above and to the side, catching his injured wrist firmly.

Le Wuya's whole body tensed in pain, and without thinking, he reached for the hatchet at his waist.

Just then, the clouds parted and the moon broke through.

Le Wuya saw clearly who had grabbed him.

That face—disheveled, yet still handsome and refined.

...Little Phoenix.

As Le Wuya was momentarily stunned, Pei Mingqi put strength into his wrist and flung Le Wuya up onto the ledge.

Le Wuya collapsed against him, unable to stop gasping.

Pei Mingqi was a mess himself, looking even worse off than Le Wuya, his face covered in mud and scratches, yet he kept rubbing Le Wuya's back with his burning-hot palm, helping him get his breath back.

Le Wuya grabbed hold of his collar.

His voice was soft, since his whole body had gone limp: "You, how did you..."

Pei Mingqi, feeling tired and pained on his behalf, quickly finished his sentence for him: "How am I here, right?"

Footsteps sounded nearby again.

This place wasn't safe either!

Before Le Wuya could struggle to his feet, Pei Mingqi crouched down, hoisted him onto his back, and, using the cover of the small grove, ran forward silently.

As he ran, he lowered his voice to explain: "I find this Magistrate Shao suspicious."

"If there were bandits, the Xing Tai garrison should have sent carrier pigeons or fast horses to report immediately. There's no way a wanted notice would have been sent to all counties without me, General Dingyuan, knowing about it."

Le Wuya nodded slightly.

Pei Mingqi's suspicion was justified.

Pei Mingqi continued: "Isn't it a coincidence? The moment I returned to camp, the clerk from the Xing Tai county garrison arrived with news. He said Magistrate Shao had released a carrier pigeon two days prior and also sent him to deliver the message, but he fell off his horse, injured his leg, and couldn't ride. Assuming the pigeon had delivered the news, he took it upon himself to rest for two days on the road before coming to report—only to find the pigeon had been lost halfway."

"Regardless, that's still a dereliction of duty. I gave him twenty lashes and locked him up. But the next letter from Xing Tai arrived right away."

Le Wuya lay on his back.

No longer needing to run, his mind gradually sharpened: "...Does that mean all the bandits involved in the massacre have been captured?"

Pei Mingqi: "Yes. That's exactly why I came here."

"I've seen plenty of local soldiers—they're barely capable of fighting, at most maintaining daily order, quite different from regular troops. How many people does Xing Tai have? How could they wipe out a whole nest of bandits? And why would those bandits, after succeeding, obediently return to their stronghold? Neither selling off the loot nor fleeing deep into the mountains, just waiting to be wiped out?"

"I sensed something was off, so I brought five personal guards to investigate Yin Family Village."

The more Le Wuya heard, the more uneasy he felt.

He gritted his teeth and asked: "...They're not after you, are they?"

Pei Mingqi didn't catch the implication, and replied earnestly: "Right, yesterday I led my men straight to Xiaojiatuo Mountain and searched for a long time—not a trace of bandit fighting, and I couldn't even find the stronghold. Later, we came to Yin Family Village and found the village head to ask questions. They laid out a feast with wine, saying we'd traveled far and needed proper hospitality. I never drink on duty, so I only wet my lips with the wine. When I noticed my guards growing drowsy, I realized something was wrong, drew my sword, cut down two men, and fled over the wall. But they clung to me relentlessly, chasing me all the way here..."

Le Wuya: "...You didn't tell them you're General Dingyuan?"

Pei Mingqi was baffled: "When I'm out on business, why would I flaunt my rank?"

He speculated to himself: "Could Yin Family Village be a bandit village?"

Before he could figure it out, he felt a sharp pinch on his back.

He winced in pain: "What are you doing?"

How could Le Wuya not understand now?

The villagers of Yin Family Village had mistaken them for Pei Mingqi's accomplices!

No wonder they were on high alert—they were afraid Pei Mingqi might have backup.

The Hang family's gatekeeper probably figured they really did look like scholars, not in league with Pei Mingqi, and so urged them to leave quickly.

But instead of leaving, they headed straight for their secret grounds.

In the eyes of these villagers of Yin Family Village, didn't that just confirm they were spies?!