The violent rain made pursuit all the more difficult.
The dense and unrelenting downpour seemed as though it would fall until the end of the world, blanketing all of creation in the darkest hour before dawn. The wind drifting through the forest turned savage the moment it swept onto the open road, cutting like a blade through the sleeves of every man it touched.
Fu Xuanmiao led several dozen of his battle-hardened personal guards in pursuit, following the hoof prints left in the mud.
Muddy water splashed and sprayed beneath a flurry of galloping hooves.
At a fork in the road, the hoof prints abruptly vanished.
Fu Xuanmiao reined in his horse, pressing his lips together as he came to a halt.
Two of his personal guards swiftly dismounted to investigate, while the rest remained on horseback alongside Fu Xuanmiao. Their eyes swept warily in every direction — and kept returning, again and again, to Fu Xuanmiao’s injured right shoulder.
Blood had soaked through the blue-green fabric of his robe, then been diluted by the rain until it turned a blackish red — the color of a ripe peach just beginning to rot.
Pale red water trickled down along the white finger bones visible beneath Fu Xuanmiao’s wide sleeves, dripping from his grip on the reins. He held the reins firmly, his expression cold and hard, utterly unhearing of his subordinates’ careful, anxious concern.
Tonight, he would make Li Wu die here. That was certain.
“My lord, the tracks disappear right at this point…” The two personal guards who had been checking the hoof prints came jogging back.
Fu Xuanmiao lifted his gaze and looked out along the middle road ahead, raindrops striking his long, dark lashes.
“…If Li Wu wanted to flee, he would certainly take one of the smaller paths through the denser woodland. Of these three roads, one is flat and wide open, and two are overgrown with wild grass. Of the narrow paths, one leads to Yanzi Mountain, and the other leads to Chongwen Town. For Li Wu to return to Yangzhou, he must pass through Chongwen Town.”
Fu Xuanmiao’s expression was steady and unhurried as he spoke slowly:
“To completely erase one’s tracks, the only way is to ride the horse forward while sitting backward in the saddle, destroying the hoof prints as you go. Doing so would greatly reduce speed — and to avoid being overtaken, it would be impossible to keep this up the entire way.”
“Expand the search further ahead. Within less than a li, hoof prints will reappear.”
Another personal guard dismounted, joining the two already on foot — three guards in total, each taking one of the three roads, scouring the newly expanded search area for even the slightest trace.
Sure enough, less than a li later, the guard on the path leading toward Chongwen Town called out:
“Found it! The hoof prints have reappeared! The rebel appears to be injured — there are traces of blood on the ground!”
Fu Xuanmiao snapped the reins:
“Pursue!”
A group of fine horses galloped once more through the night rain along the narrow path.
The sound of hooves mixed with the pounding storm, rumbling across the vast, dark expanse of earth.
At the next bend, Fu Xuanmiao and his men followed the blood-streaked hoof prints and plunged into the mountain forest, where grasping, writhing branches greatly reduced their speed. They had assumed the difficult terrain was only temporary — but to their surprise, the further they went, the more secluded it became. The hoof prints on the ground continued ahead, but the drooping branches grew too low for a mounted rider to pass.
Two personal guards drew their sabers to clear a path, hacking continuously at the obstructing branches and limbs.
Fu Xuanmiao looked at the tangled, unruly growth ahead, his frown deepening with each passing moment.
At last, the mountain path was hacked open, and a small clearing came into view. A horse bearing the distinctive insignia of the Fu Family Army on its saddle was pawing the ground in nervous agitation, blood dripping continuously from a wound on its hindquarters, staining the puddles on the ground red.
It was a trap —
Fu Xuanmiao’s expression changed drastically. Li Wu had never taken the road to Chongwen Town at all!
He had deliberately erased a stretch of tracks, leading him to believe he had taken the road to Chongwen Town — when in truth, he had gone the way of Yanzi Mountain!
Yanzi Mountain was nothing but sheer cliffs and precipices, with barely even a few wolves living there — but once you crossed Yanzi Mountain, you could reunite with the fleet that had escaped by river, and take the waterway back to Yangzhou!
Fu Xuanmiao immediately turned his horse around, ordering everyone to retrace their route and head in the direction of Yanzi Mountain.
Returning to the three-way fork in the road, Fu Xuanmiao’s company had barely set foot on the path toward Yanzi Mountain when a frantic shout rang out from behind:
“My lord! My lord! It’s terrible — the camp is on fire!”
Fu Xuanmiao’s heart lurched. He fixed his eyes on the Yan army scout who had come to report, already with a rough sense of what the man was about to say.
The captain of his personal guard, seeing that Fu Xuanmiao said nothing, snapped at the scout on his behalf:
“What are you saying? Speak clearly! With rain this heavy, how could there possibly be a fire?”
“It’s — it’s true… The supply train of the rear guard, for reasons no one can explain, has suddenly caught fire. The flames are black, and they will not be extinguished by water. Our soldiers have tried to put them out, but with very little effect. The fire is uncanny — once it touches a person’s body, it burns until the person is charred through completely, before it gradually dies down…”
“How can this be…” The captain of the personal guard looked baffled, and instinctively turned his gaze to Fu Xuanmiao.
Fu Xuanmiao pressed his lips into a tight line, his expression terrible.
Black flames —
That was the fierce fire oil hidden among the Yan army’s supplies — which he had prepared to use against Li Wu!
The captain of the personal guard caught sight of Fu Xuanmiao’s dreadful expression, and silently swallowed the question that had not yet left his throat.
“Return to camp —” Fu Xuanmiao forced the words out through clenched teeth, his voice coming out warped and twisted.
He had been wrong from the very beginning —
Li Wu had not gone to Chongwen Town, nor had he gone by Yanzi Mountain. He had had the brazen audacity to take the main road straight to the Yan army’s main camp!
Was he overestimating himself, or underestimating the master of that camp?
Fu Xuanmiao gripped the reins with such force it seemed as though he might snap them in two. The horse beneath him, feeling the legs pressed so tightly against its flanks, let out a pained cry.
The reins cut a sharp crack through the air as they snapped back, and the horse beneath Fu Xuanmiao, driven by the threat of pain, surged forward at even greater speed.
Riding at full gallop, Fu Xuanmiao and his company finally made it back to the Yan army’s main camp.
Before they had even drawn near the camp’s gates, the fires raging through the heavy rain already drained the color from every mounted man’s face.
Fu Xuanmiao swung off his horse and strode rapidly through the camp gates.
Every Yan soldier within sight wore an expression of panic. Many carried all manner of vessels filled with water, rushing frantically toward the flames. The scene was total chaos — finding the person responsible for setting the fire was an utter impossibility.
“My lord, shall we now…” The captain of the personal guard hesitated.
“…Sound the order for the entire army — break camp and withdraw.”
“But this fire…”
“This fire cannot be put out.” Fu Xuanmiao said. “Leave the burning areas alone. Order the entire army to break camp and withdraw immediately.”
The firelight played across Fu Xuanmiao’s face — a blood-red glow flickering and flaring. He stood motionless, feeling the numbness and stabbing pain from the wound on his right shoulder. A killing intent like an ice-cold serpent coiled tightly around him, its chill so fierce it felt as substantial as something physical. Soldiers passing nearby instinctively gave him a wide berth, quickening their steps to move away from him.
“Li Wu…” He stared into the blazing fire that seemed to lick at the falling rain.
Like cinders floating before his eyes, the words Fu Xuanmiao murmured aloud were barely a breath — low and soft, yet drifting like a phantom. Within that ghostlike, near-inaudible sound lived a hatred so total it could devour flesh and crush bone, a killing intent that surpassed everything else in the world. Every treasure, every cherished thing — all of it would yield before this.
It meant that as long as he could kill him —
No cost was too great. No sacrifice was too dear. That was his resolve.
……
“Achoo!”
Li Wu, riding through the rain on horseback, let out a resounding sneeze.
“What’s wrong, Master — did you catch a chill?” Niuwang, riding alongside him, asked with concern. “Should I take off my clothes and drape them over you?”
“I’m as sturdy as a bull — how could I possibly catch a chill?” Li Wu raised the back of his hand and wiped his nose, grumbling irritably. “It’s definitely my wife muttering about me.”
“Mistress must be worried about Master,” Niuwang said. “If it weren’t for Master coming back to rescue me just now, I don’t know how I would have made it out of there. Only Master could have come up with a plan like escaping straight into the enemy’s main camp — what a brill… a genius stroke! Master truly is Master!”
“What good is it if just the two of us escaped…” Li Wu murmured. “Mistress’s own brother was poisoned to death, and I still haven’t figured out how to tell her…”
“Master, your whole face looks like it got scorched,” Niuwang sighed. “In my view, Master should just tell Mistress everything, exactly as it happened. It wasn’t Master who killed him — can’t you just say that directly?”
“Just say it directly? You have to consider whether your Mistress can take it! She’s not a blockhead like you — you’d cry for half a day over a dead horse. Losing her own brother — wouldn’t she cry herself unconscious?” Li Wu shot back flatly.
Niuwang thought of Mistress’s tears — which came whenever they pleased, in boundless, endless supply, as though connected directly to the Yangtze River — and quietly closed his mouth.
Li Wu sat atop his horse, his brow creasing again.
…If they had arrived a little earlier, would they have been able to save Shen Suzhuang?
The thought flickered briefly through Li Wu’s mind, then was pressed down to the very depths of his thoughts.
For things that had already happened, Li Wu never entertained thoughts of what if.
Since Shen Suzhuang was already dead, he could only accept this reality — and so could Shen Zhuxi. Fu Xuanmiao had come to this point, and there was no longer any hope of pulling him back from the edge. Add to that what had happened today: once Fu Xuanmiao pinned Shen Suzhuang’s death on him, the decisive battle between the two of them would be close at hand.
Li Wu turned his thoughts to the difficulties that lay ahead, while galloping through the night rain.
The rain gradually lessened, and the view grew wider and clearer. At the far end of the muddy, splashing path, a sliver of pale dawn light was already turning up from beneath the horizon.
After a full day’s travel, Li Wu and his group finally reunited with the Blue Phoenix Army soldiers who had boarded the ships and departed first. Taking stock of what the night had gained them — though they had failed to successfully rescue the Emperor, and had been smeared with the filth of regicide — thinking on the brighter side: Shen Suzhuang had been in Fu Xuanmiao’s hands, meaning Fu Xuanmiao could frame Li Wu whenever he pleased. Whether Li Wu had been present or not mattered very little. As long as Fu Xuanmiao wished it, he could always find someone or something to point the finger at Li Wu.
The fire he had set last night was sure to give Fu Xuanmiao plenty of headaches as well.
The fierce fire oil had clearly been smuggled toward Yangzhou with an obvious purpose: either to burn down Yangzhou City, or to burn down the people of Yangzhou — perhaps just one person, perhaps both. Once fierce fire oil ignited, it would burn until it had consumed everything, and nothing could put it out. The fierce fire oil Fu Xuanmiao had brought was enough to reduce all of Yangzhou to ash.
Li Wu had intercepted the fire oil on the road and used it to burn Fu Xuanmiao’s own supply wagons and provisions — turning his weapon back on him, making him drop a rock on his own foot. The bitter taste of suffering his own scheme in silence was sure to keep Fu Xuanmiao savoring the unpleasantness for quite a few more days.
With the main force having suffered devastating losses and their provisions cut off — and on top of that, the sudden death of Shen Suzhuang — Fu Xuanmiao’s next move would certainly be to withdraw and return to his base.
Just as Li Wu had predicted, after the rains ended, the Yan army changed course and began a rapid march back the way it had come. At the same time that Li Wu and his men reached Yangzhou, they returned to their main base of Jianzhou. Immediately after, official proclamations denouncing Li Wu were sent out through imperial edicts posted throughout Great Yan.
But before those edicts went up, a different proclamation had already been sent through the Bai Family Silver Exchange’s hidden networks spread across the country, and had made its way into the hands of ordinary people everywhere.
Compared to the proclamation posted on the imperial edicts, this one was worlds apart.
For the educated class, the one on the imperial edict was the sky — refined, elevated, and lofty; the one on rough paper was the mud — plain, crude, and lowly.
For the common people, the one on the imperial edict was the mud — impenetrable and dense; the one on rough paper was the sky — clear and luminous above them.
Everyone had heard others say that the proclamation on the imperial edict was sonorous and profound, grand and forceful in its expression, a rare masterpiece. But when they looked at it themselves, they might not recognize two out of every ten characters — and even when someone read it aloud to them, they were left in a daze, exchanging blank looks with one another.
The other proclamation was entirely different. It was a short verse, catchy and easy to remember, sincere and unpretentious — so plain that even the village simpleton could understand every word:
“Utterly shameless Fu Xuanmiao — killed the Emperor and tried to run away. The Princess, upon hearing, sobbed and cried out loud — this certain duck, upon hearing, nearly pissed his trousers right now. If you’re going to piss, piss on a dog’s face — soak that dog-faced mug all over the place. When I return, I’ll bring my troops to aid — tomorrow I’ll come, justice to be paid.”
From the moment this proclamation — unprecedented and unrepeatable in all of human history — was made public, the village simpleton discovered a new source of delight. Whenever someone recited this verse aloud, he would sniff his runny nose, clap his hands, and rock his head from side to side:
“Wonderful…”
“Truly wonderful…”