Chapter 228: The Storm (II)

Chapter 228: The Storm (II)

The cannon fire erupted just as the fog reached its thickest.

The outlines of distant mountains vanished entirely, and the shimmer of nearby waters blurred into obscurity. Heaven and earth merged into a vast expanse of gray, as if an invisible giant hand had erased all boundaries.

The fires in the streets still blazed fiercely, but no one lingered to watch.

When the townsfolk approached with buckets, they discovered that what had been set ablaze were merely pre-arranged piles of debris and abandoned shacks, with firebreaks clearly demarcated around them—no risk of spreading whatsoever.

Beside each blaze stood members of the water brigade, fully alert, their expressions grim.

They reassured the people that all of this was the arrangement of Prefect Wenren, urging everyone not to panic and to return home in an orderly fashion.

Yet most of the townsfolk were no fools.

A moment's observation revealed the anomaly—the water brigade members wore somber faces and soft armor, which was hardly ordinary.

The people exchanged uneasy glances, a quiet fear settling in that something terrible was about to unfold.

And then, the cannon fire sounded.

No words were needed. Like startled birds, the townsfolk rushed back into their homes, swiftly shutting doors and windows with practiced speed, extinguishing lanterns and candles. The elderly and children were woken up, while valuables and provisions were hastily packed and hidden away in stove holes, wells, pickle jars, and wall cracks.

A small yellow dog slipped out amid the chaos to scavenge for food, picking up the smell of gunpowder drifting through the fog. Its hair stood on end, and it barked furiously toward the docks.

Behind it, the door creaked open just a crack.

Its owner stuffed a cold, stale bun into the dog's mouth and quietly carried it back in.

Through door cracks and window gaps, pairs of eyes peered out in panic and unease.

The source of the cannon fire was clearly the docks.

The entire city snapped awake in an instant, but fell into an eerie stillness, with only the fog drifting silently across the streets.

Suddenly, the rhythmic pounding of running feet shattered the silence.

Before their hearts could race, the townsfolk recognized who the footsteps belonged to.

—the garrison soldiers!

Over a hundred garrison soldiers, divided into ten squads, marched in perfect step, leading the yamen runners to spread out along the streets, two by two, firmly securing every key intersection and main road.

A young garrison soldier clutched his weapon, his mind rehearsing how he would fight hand-to-hand when he encountered the Japanese pirates.

As he was filled with fervor and bloodlust, a window next to him creaked open.

He spun around, his face taut, and snapped: "Stay hidden! Don't run around! Don't ask any questions! ...And if you hear a ruckus outside, pretend you didn't hear anything!"

The one who poked her head out was a young woman dressed like a newlywed. She shrank back at his harsh tone.

After a moment of hesitation, she asked softly, "Have you eaten?"

The young soldier froze, momentarily speechless.

Before he could respond, a bundle of sesame flatbreads flew out from the window, landing right in his arms.

Then the window slammed shut with a sharp bang.

Elsewhere on the street, similar scenes unfolded one after another.

Windows quietly opened, throwing out food, clothing, or a reasonably sharp kitchen knife, a wood-splitting hatchet.

Before the soldiers could react, the townsfolk quickly shut their windows again, as if nothing was going on.

The young soldier stood there, clutching the still-warm flatbreads, dumbfounded for a moment. Then he realized that his earlier fantasies had disappeared completely.

He stood ramrod straight, his eyes fixed intently into the thick fog, his mind clear of all distractions.

Meanwhile, Mu Jiazhi rode at a gallop, a storm lantern swinging from his horse's harness, cracking his whip as he raced down the long street.

The fog swirled around his robes.

Wherever he passed, he needed only to snap his whip in the air with a sharp crack, and the nearby garrison soldiers would immediately let out a thunderous cheer.

The city remained ablaze with firelight, chaos churning on every side—the sounds of fleeing and shouting rising and falling in bursts.

Just as Fukami Sekitaro had wished, Tongzhou Prefecture had become a city in chaos.

Fukami Sekitaro arrived at the harbor, and everything he saw was fire and thick smoke.

Two ships moored at the docks were engulfed in flames, their hulls charred black, revealing the twisted, skeletal forms of their keels.

The dockworkers who had been bustling about earlier had long since fled somewhere unknown.

And the high platform that had once held the warning bell now lay shattered, the bell itself surely had long since fallen into the sea.

From deeper within the city came faint, muffled cries of frenzy. Fukami Sekitaro listened with satisfaction, the emotions he had held in finally released.

Once he confirmed that the guest teahouse where he had stayed before was within cannon range, he raised the red signal flag in his right hand with a triumphant flourish, ordering the ships to drop anchor and swiftly lower a hundred small sampans.

Five men to a boat, they skimmed across the water like speeding arrows, charging straight for the battered docks.

After confirming that the vanguard had successfully come ashore, Master Xi waved the blue flag in his left hand once more, commanding the crews to load the cannons and prepare for a coordinated volley.

He was always cautious, knowing full well that another round of shelling before the vanguard's charge would ensure victory.

And as his flag swept downward, a sharp shriek tore through the sky.

A streak of fire, like a meteor, cut through the damp fog, hurtling toward them from above!

Fukami Sekitaro's eyes widened in shock—

BOOM!

The first cannonball struck, and a warship was ripped apart in an instant. The cannon that was about to fire detonated within its barrel, setting off a chain reaction of explosions.

A massive column of water erupted skyward, like a furious, roaring dragon of water. The spray stung eyes and cheeks like blades, with unbearable pain.

The shockwaves from the explosion caused several rear ships to collide with those in front.

The poorly built vessels, already lacking proper planks and nails, buckled under the strain, creaking eerily as they slowly sank beneath the waves.

But this was only the beginning.

What awaited them was the devastating barrage of a hundred cannons firing all at once!

The garrison soldiers had long since perfected their artillery drills.

Their cannons had long been firmly mounted on their carriages, positioned throughout the dock, just waiting for the Japanese pirates' fleet to arrive and give them a hot reception.

The prefect had said that once "water ghosts" started crawling ashore, the range would be just about perfect.

The Japanese pirates were cunning, likely to first put on a show of force at sea, shelling the dock to sow chaos, then approach the shore, using cannon fire to cover their soldiers' landing.

However, the moment the dock buildings came within the pirates' range, the pirates' ships had also sailed within range of the garrison's cannons!

The five hundred soldiers who had just come ashore could only stand by and watch as their own fleet was annihilated in an instant.

And the few cannonballs that managed to be fired from the ships went careening off in every direction—one shot blasted three sampans to splinters.

The pirates who'd managed to leap overboard and save their skins hadn't even caught their breath when they spotted over twenty small boats—which had been tailing them unnoticed—cutting through the thick fog like fish, oars churning, closing in on them in the blink of an eye.

In the lead boat, Qin Xingyue knelt on one knee, drew his bow, and nocked an arrow, a proud smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he murmured to himself: "...Little General, watch over me."

Arrows flew like locusts, straight at these floundering wretches.

They knew there was no time to scream for help before they became corpses riddled with arrows.

Seeing their companions fall without a sound, struck in the face or neck, sinking into the icy sea like sacks of garbage, the surviving pirates panicked and swam for their lives toward the dock.

They had nowhere else to go.

The other sampans on the warships had already gone to the bottom of the sea along with the shattered hulls—could they possibly swim all the way back to the island they had previously inhabited?

Without clothes, food, or water, even if they escaped this rain of arrows, they'd surely drop dead from exhaustion halfway and end up as fish food!

As the pirates on shore stood in confusion, they saw a man holding a bow and arrows, looking like a god, with over three hundred soldiers behind him, their iron armor stretching like a forest, silently standing amid the blaze, like warriors descended from heaven.

Three hundred against five hundred—on paper, they were outnumbered.

Yet behind the pirates, their fleet was ablaze, and the screams and curses of their comrades rang out without pause. Many pirates, before a single blow was struck, were already itching to retreat—some even thinking of diving back into the sea.

Seeing someone turn to flee, Le Wuya nocked an arrow, without so much as a glance, and sent it straight through the man's back.

The arrow's momentum carried the man stumbling forward, and the arrowhead protruding from his chest pierced with a thud into the chest of the man ahead of him.

One arrow, two kills!

Yuan Zijin had long known his archery was unmatched, but witnessing this scene firsthand still left him slack-jawed.

Le Wuya drew the twin swords from his waist and shouted fiercely: "Today, we crush the pirates!"

Three hundred riders, like a black cloud bearing down on the city walls, came sweeping in with overwhelming force!

Seeing death imminent, the pirates shook off their daze, suppressing their terror, and hastily drew their bows to fend off the formidable enemy.

The garrison soldiers, in heavy armor and shields raised to guard their heads and faces, split into five squads as planned. Their captains led the charge, carving through the pirates' unformed ranks and sending them sprawling!

Blood sprayed everywhere—utter carnage!

Le Wuya personally led fifty riders, reining his horse around, wielding his sword one-handed. With a flash of the blade, the head of a pirate scrambling ashore tumbled into the water with a thud.

He flicked the blood from his blade and shouted: "Wheel around! Charge again!"

The pirates were renowned for their individual combat prowess, but under the thunderous charge of Le Wuya's iron cavalry, their fighting spirit had largely crumbled.

The iron cavalry swept through like a raging storm, howling back and forth. The pirates, unable to defend front or rear, were thrown into chaos—shoving, trampling each other like a pack of frightened curs.

Yuan Zijin, as the second squad leader, fearless and charging ahead, moving like a dragon, hurled a hand-halberd that struck the throat of a ronin who was frantically trying to organize a counterattack.

For a moment, his vision swam, and the dozen or so years of his wandering life flashed by, leaving no trace.

What stood out most were those grueling training sessions—Le Wuya making him swing hammers at targets, lift weights, do handstands.

Those experiences had forged his vision—sharp as a torch—and his uncanny accuracy!

His blood was boiling in his chest.

So he really could do it!

So... he truly was the son of Yuan the Tiger!

The tears welling in Yuan Zijin's eyes were quickly burned away by the heat of battle.

He pulled a heavy chain flail—over a dozen jin in weight—from his saddlebag, swung it twice in the air, aimed, and hurled it—

The spiked, heavy ball struck a pirate square in the chest, caving in his breastbone.

The man coughed up blood and fell, groaning twice before falling silent.

But the pirates weren't completely helpless.

The ronin who had slain a soldier to consecrate his war banner was a fierce and valiant warrior, skilled with a blade, and had quickly gathered seven or eight soldiers around him in the chaos.

Wherever his blade flashed, blood followed!

Yuan Zijin watched as this man hacked a garrison soldier off his horse, his heart burning with anxiety. He yanked the reins, trying to charge over.

But heartened by this ronin's example, many pirates rallied.

Two of them came at Yuan Zijin with twin spears thrusting straight at him!

Startled, Yuan Zijin was forced to wheel his horse around and fall back along the planned route with his men.

As he fell back, he crossed paths with Le Wuya.

Yuan Zijin narrowly dodged an arrow and shouted hoarsely to Le Wuya for help: "Sir, there's one over there—"

"I see him." Le Wuya's fingertips were already raw and bleeding, but he felt no pain, his spirits still high. "Yuan Xiao'er, watch me put a flower between that man's eyes!"

With that, he bent to the bow, nocked an arrow, and let it fly.

No sooner said than done.

The blood-soaked ronin stiffened and froze.

A trickle of blood ran down from the arrowhead buried in his brow.

Seeing this, Yuan Zijin was thrilled and awestruck, almost moved to tears.

But Le Wuya didn't give the dead man another look. He wheeled his horse and galloped off, shouting: "Careful! Someone's trying to slip into the city!"

Yuan Zijin pulled himself together, his chain ball whistling through the air with a heavy whoosh, sweeping a pirate who'd just scrambled ashore back into the water.

His voice trembled with excitement as he replied: "On it!!"

Even with Le Wuya tearing through the docks like a one-man army, charging in and out three times among the main force of Japanese pirates who had come ashore, leaving them screaming and scrambling for their lives, there were still a few crafty bastards who, under the cover of fog, ditched their weapons and stripped down to travel light, slipping into Tongzhou according to Shinsui Shitaro's plan.

Luckily, they were too few and too scattered to band together, and folks in the city had been ordered to stay inside.

Le Wuya laid down the law: anyone caught on the streets after curfew—whether gawking or dumping a chamber pot—would get hauled off and tossed in jail.

Thus, nine out of ten pirates got nabbed the second they showed their faces and were escorted to prison.

But one slippery bastard slipped through the dragnet, quietly creeping up near the government office.

The guy was a natural climber—short, wiry, and light on his feet. With a grappling hook, he waited for a gap in the patrols, scaled the back wall, and slipped into the compound.

Brimming with grim, suicidal resolve, he crept toward the most heavily guarded spot.

Killing the imperial envoy—wouldn't that be doing Master Xi's bidding?

His life meant nothing.

As long as he followed Master Xi's orders, he wouldn't have failed him...

He'd just reached the side room when a ghostly figure materialized behind him.

Zong Yao, blade in hand, struck from behind. The blade flashed like lightning and punched straight through his heart.

...He'd just stepped out to refill the Seventh Prince's tea and ran into this piece of filth.

Hearing the racket outside, Xiang Zhi pushed the door open.

Seeing the shriveled, monkey-like corpse at the feet of the frail-looking Zong Yao, eyes wide open in death, Xiang Zhi couldn't help arching an eyebrow.

...Looks can be deceiving.

Zong Yao sheathed his sword and coldly ordered the yamen runners to drag the corpse away. He wiped the warm blood off his cheek to keep himself presentable, then stepped up and gave Xiang Zhi a scholar's bow: "It was Wenzhi's failure to guard properly that startled the Seventh Prince. Please, Seventh Prince, go back inside and sit tight. Zong Yao may be unworthy, but I swear on my life to keep you safe."

Only around Le Wuya did Xiang Zhi drop the act and throw tantrums.

In front of others, he really did carry himself like a prince.

He sized up Zong Yao with interest: "Not bad."

Zong Yao bowed his head and said humbly, "You flatter me, Your Highness."

"I hear you're from the Zong clan," Xiang Zhi said offhandedly. "You don't act like it."

Zong Yao gritted his teeth a little but said nothing.

Xiang Zhi glanced toward the docks and asked, "You know how things are going over there?"

"No word yet," Zong Yao said honestly. "But Lord Le commands like a god and has the makings of a great general. He'll come back victorious, no doubt."

Xiang Zhi ground his teeth inside, wanting to tear a chunk out of Le Wuya, but kept a warm smile on his face: "Then I'll wait for the good news."

Watching Xiang Zhi shut the door, Zong Yao let out a small sigh and turned his gaze to the sky.

The fog was starting to clear, and moonlight broke through the mist, revealing a hazy full moon with a soft, fuzzy halo.

Sword in hand, Zong Yao stared at the moon, lost in thought:

Master... oh, Master.

If you're watching from above and see me like this, would you finally look at me with pride?

...

A great wind rises, and the fog slowly lifts.

Over at the docks, everything's wrapped up.

Qin Xingyue and Lord Zheng are hauling loot out of the sea.

As dawn breaks, it's clear the two burned "merchant ships" in the harbor were just two rust-buckets ready for the scrap heap.

Getting the pirates to waste a few cannonballs on those—what a steal.

The pirates blown into the sea crawled back ashore, half-frozen and banged up, with no choice but to give up.

Le Wuya tied the survivors together with rope, one after another, and had the garrison soldiers line up the corpses. He made them identify Shinsui Shitaro first, then called the water brigade to hose down the ground and wash away the blood.

The port should be back in business by early afternoon at the latest.

Money matters—can't afford to waste time.

As for Shinsui Shitaro, he was mixed in with the prisoners, shuffling along with the crowd to look at the bodies.

The other captured thugs, still scared shitless of Master Xi, didn't dare rat him out. They kept their heads down, silent, pretending to examine the bodies one by one.

Shinsui Shitaro was a clever bastard, no doubt.

After hitting the water, he fought to get out of his heavy armor, stripped a dead man's clothes off, and put them on.

Right now, he looked like any honest, ordinary fisherman.

He fancied himself an expert on China, speaking Chinese just as well as any Dayu local. He could easily pass himself off as a poor fisherman who'd been snatched and forced to row.

If he started crying foul, the others, desperate to save their own skins, would definitely follow his lead.

Buy as much time as he could.

As long as he was breathing, there was still hope—

A voice sliced through his thoughts: "Hey. Look up."

Shinsui Shitaro looked up, eyes full of panic and confusion, and whined: "Sir...? I'm innocent, I'm... I'm..."

Le Wuya stood before him, lazily twirling a long arrow in his hand.

The arrow spun like a pinwheel between his fingers, smooth and dangerously beautiful.

On the horizon, golden rays were bursting through the clouds.

Before Shinsui Shitaro could finish his act, Le Wuya grabbed the arrow, jammed it into his chest, and yanked it out in one clean motion.

Shinsui Shitaro's body jerked violently. He stared at Le Wuya in disbelief, then toppled over sideways.

Pain flooded his chest like a wave, and he felt his life draining out with the blood pouring from the wound.

...Why...? Why?

Le Wuya, true to form—kill first, ask questions later—said: "That hooked nose—doesn't it match the guy Xiao Zhong said was watching him at the teahouse?"

Yuan Zijin looked disgusted: "I've never seen him before, so I suppose so?"

"Before Xiao Zhong left, he asked me to catch this guy if I did, to eliminate any future trouble and prevent him from coming back to harm you."

With that, Le Wuya crouched down, gazing at Shenshui Xitailang whose pupils were gradually losing focus. He grabbed his wet hair and pressed his lips close to the other's mouth: "Listen, next time you steal someone's clothes, take a closer look. Not only do they not fit, but they're also stained with someone else's blood. Besides, which lowly deckhand, who doesn't get enough fresh food and meat, could still have such sturdy bones and a ruddy complexion like yours?"

Shenshui Xitailang's pale lips trembled as he let out a bitter, defiant roar of "ahh, ahh."

Le Wuya smiled faintly: "'Master Xi,' go meet your ancestors and tell them you've shamed them all. Meanwhile, here in the mortal world, I'll think of a way to send Zhang Kai down to keep you company. How about that?"