Feng Zhihui pressed his body tightly into a small depression on the cliff face, wishing he could transform into an insect. A leopard had just borrowed leverage from his body, its sharp claws leaving four deep bloody marks on his shoulder. Young Hou, as a loyal servant, had never stopped wielding his horizontal blade. His skilled swordsmanship had saved his life countless times—he stubbornly believed this time would be no exception.
He thoroughly enjoyed this endless slaughter. One slash to the left killed a mountain goat, one slash to the right removed a gray wolf’s head. Covered in blood, he was like a killing god descended to earth. Licking the fishy-tasting blood from the corner of his mouth, he tore off his tattered clothing. His well-built torso bore three bloody marks running from chest to lower abdomen where a bear had just caressed him. If he hadn’t been quick, the bear would have disemboweled him.
Taking advantage of the beast tide’s weakening, he pushed the young master into that small depression. The other two young masters had long been torn to pieces by wild beasts. Whether he could survive depended on whether he could rescue the young master. His arm was somewhat numb. He quickly used cloth strips to bind the blade to his hand, preparing to continue fighting.
The beast tide had weakened considerably. A python with a bulging belly slithered past. From the outline of its belly, there was clearly a person inside, still squirming.
There was a horse-cutting saber on the ground. Young Hou kicked it up, hurling it forcefully. A flash of cold light and it pierced that bulging lump. With great force and a heavy blade, the horse-cutting saber penetrated the python’s body and was firmly nailed to the ground.
In pain, the python coiled tightly around the horse-cutting saber, forming a serpent formation. Its two yellow eyes stared at Young Hou, its tongue constantly retracting in its mouth.
A baby elephant separated from its herd stumbled over, preparing to pass through the standoff between man and python. Young Hou flew up with a kick, striking the pig-sized baby elephant. The elephant toppled over against the python’s body, accidentally touching the horse-cutting saber. The python, already maddened by pain, wrapped around the baby elephant like lightning. Before it could tighten its coils, Young Hou’s horizontal blade sliced across its flat head. A great spray of blood shot skyward, drenching Young Hou.
Young Hou opened his eyes to look—snake blood had covered them. Heaven and earth were a sheet of blood red…
The baby elephant was crying weakly. Young Hou expended great effort dragging away the python’s corpse. Stroking the baby elephant’s head, he smiled and said, “Brother, sorry about this. Lend your body to help your older brother.”
The baby elephant swung its limp trunk, still crying. That kick earlier—Young Hou hadn’t held back.
Looking back at the trembling young master, Young Hou had a feeling of being reborn. Just as he prepared to sit down, he felt an icy sensation in his chest. A beautiful tusk protruded from his front chest. With difficulty turning his head, he saw a male elephant as massive as a mountain, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes.
“I was only borrowing your child…”
Before finishing his words, he was flung like a rag doll onto tree branches by the elephant. Hanging in the tree, Young Hou watched helplessly as the elephant stepped once on the young master’s body, then again…
Hanging high, he could see far. Those stronghold chiefs who had previously competed with the young master for command now lay in the valley in various poses, more or less missing chunks of flesh.
Recalling those several thunderous sounds heard during the night, Young Hou used his last strength to desperately shout, “Mountain God Grandfather, spare me!”
When Feng Zhiyong arrived at the valley, it had already become an ocean of flies. Countless large green-headed flies almost covered the entire valley, their buzzing deafening. Bold servants used bamboo with branches to drive away the flies—the valley seemed to raise a sheet of black clouds.
Walking to the end of the valley, he finally saw Young Hou hanging in the tree branches. Pink lung lobes hung at his chest, covered with yellow fly eggs. In the earthen pit below lay a bloody, mangled corpse. From the clothing, he identified it as his younger brother Feng Zhihui.
The Feng family carried back four corpses from the mountains—three were Feng family children, and one was a Feng family retainer. The sight was too horrible to bear. Feng Zhiyong placed the bodies at the Princess Manor’s entrance and shouted grief-stricken, “Your Highness Princess, is this the result you wanted?”
Hearing the commotion, Li Anlan came out from the manor. Seeing the four corpses, she couldn’t help but turn and run. The bloody stench was not something a wealthy woman who had never seen death could endure.
Liu Jinbao came out, looked at the corpses, took a satisfying breath, and said to Feng Zhiyong, “Why are you bringing dead people to our place? The flies have already laid maggots. If you don’t bury them quickly, are you waiting to raise maggots?”
“They’re all dead. Why aren’t you dead?” Feng Zhiyong pointed at Liu Jinbao and roared.
“I didn’t go. The Princess wouldn’t let me. If I went, she said I’d have to bring the young master along to see the world. Hurry up and remove the dead. Don’t you see the flies multiplying here? A few useless wastes—they even die looking for gold. Our young master is still waiting to collect taxes, and now what taxes can we collect? Everyone’s finished. Really damn unlucky.”
His vile attitude infuriated the Feng Manor retainers. They drew their blades and were about to charge forward when Liu Jinbao’s eyes flashed coldly. “Got the guts? Since you’ve drawn your blades, don’t sheath them. Today our Lord Marquis is here. If you’ve got guts, keep acting tough.”
“Yun Ye is here?” Feng Zhiyong’s pupils shrank to the size of needle eyes.
Yun Ye walked out from the manor holding a scroll of books. He glanced at Feng Zhiyong, squatted down using the book to cover his mouth and nose, examined carefully for a while, then stood up saying, “They didn’t die by human hands. They all perished in the mouths of wild beasts. This one’s fatal wound is at the throat—seems to have been bitten by a wolf-like animal. It must have first crouched on this person’s back, then when he turned around, bit down in one motion.” As Yun Ye spoke, he made a biting gesture with his hand.
“This corpse clearly died from trampling—died so miserably, multiple fractures throughout the body. From the hoof prints, what trampled him was an adult elephant.”
“This one is rather strange. The claw wounds on the chest aren’t fatal. The fatal injury is being penetrated through the chest by something. This object was very smooth—you can tell from the neat wound that he must have struggled for some time before dying. Who would have such great strength?”
“This one is completely blackened—clearly died from poison. I haven’t studied poisons much, so I don’t know. If Master Sun were here, he could tell what bit him.”
“Yun Ye, I don’t want you to determine how they died. I want you to give me an explanation.”
Feng Zhiyong’s eyes were bloodshot. Of four brothers who came to Liao territory, three had died inexplicably. This responsibility was too heavy for him to bear.
“Who is he?” Yun Ye asked Liu Jinbao.
“Lord Marquis, he’s Duke Feng’s sixth son. Among the four dead on the ground, three are his brothers.”
“I see. Brother Feng, what is your purpose in carrying corpses to the Princess Manor’s entrance?”
“Yun Ye, my brothers died inexplicably. As lord of Liao territory, shouldn’t Her Highness the Princess give me an explanation?”
“Insolent! You, a son born of a concubine—who gave you such audacity to run wild at the Princess Manor? Feng Ang?” Yun Ye turned around, pointing at Feng Zhiyong and demanding answers.
Being born of a concubine had always been a wound in Feng Zhiyong’s heart. His father was too prolific at producing sons, and he had too many wives—so many that his father couldn’t even remember his sons’ names. This was his sorrow. If Feng Zhidai were here, Yun Ye wouldn’t be so dismissive. But himself? He had no qualification to confront Yun Ye. He knew it clearly, and Yun Ye knew it too.
“Marquis Yun, in a few days my father will arrive in Liao territory. You can explain to the old man.” After Feng Zhiyong finished speaking, he took the four corpses and left. He had no reason to remain here. The stronghold chiefs who were friendly with the Feng family had died one by one—even a fool knew something was suspicious. But these people all died in the mouths of wild beasts, not one fell to blade or sword. Without evidence, there was no way to file charges. Acting rashly would only give Yun Ye an excuse for purging. This could be deduced from Liu Jinbao’s murderous appearance.
“The mountain god beats his drum! The mountain god beats his drum! What excellent mountain god drumming! Marquis Yun’s methods are superb—borrowing the might of heaven and earth to kill people, eliminating dissidents while bearing no karmic consequences yourself. Feng Zhiyong is enlightened.”
From a distant street corner came Feng Zhiyong’s mournful voice.
Yun Ye chuckled, dusted off his scroll, and entered the Princess Manor with hands behind his back.
Returning to the rear courtyard, he looked at his son sleeping soundly in the cradle, properly adjusting the gauze curtain gaps to prevent mosquitoes from harming the child’s tender skin. He himself reclined in a rocking chair, continuing to read his book—this miscellaneous record about ghosts and monsters was quite interesting.
“Brother, what if Feng Ang comes?” Li Anlan appeared like a ghost behind Yun Ye, bringing him a bowl of tea and asking worriedly.
“Don’t concern yourself with so much. Continue winning over hearts. When Feng Ang comes, he’ll only look for me, not trouble you. At the latest, His Majesty’s edict will arrive tomorrow. Then we’ll see who explains what to whom. When you came to Liao territory, I specially prepared a meal to invite Feng Ang, asking him to take good care of you. He didn’t do it. Instead, he reached his hand in. If I don’t cut it off, you’ll never have a peaceful day, and my son will become a puppet in the future. Would a Yun family member become a puppet? Feng Ang thinks too highly of himself.”
Yun Ye took a sip of tea and continued, “His Majesty has deployed seven thousand armored soldiers beyond the Five Ridges. No matter how urgent the grassland campaign, they haven’t been mobilized. The Meiling Ancient Road is also controlled by Hong Cheng. With his twenty thousand barbarian troops—fine for dealing with natives, but wanting to establish independence in Lingnan? He’s courting death.”
Li Anlan quietly listened, then sat in the chair beside him, watching Yun Ye gently rock the cradle. His hand was very light, the frequency very steady, showing not the slightest disorder. She had thought about many things last night and slept too late. Now that matters had erupted, she instead felt drowsy. Before long, she fell asleep.
Yun Ye covered her with a blanket and came under that lychee tree, picking a lychee. After peeling it, he realized the lychees on this tree hadn’t yet ripened.
Tossing away the lychee, he gazed silently toward Guangzhou, his fist clenching ever tighter.
Feng Ang, come then. Let’s see clearly who truly is the master of this land. You’re not your noble and upright mother. Your killings have already made the natives on this land lose faith in you. This is the perfect time to eliminate the last unstable factor on the Lingnan earth.