The Nanzhao army was stationed at the Great Temple of Qiqu Mountain. Outside the temple stood ancient cypress trees as thick as a man’s embrace, said to have been planted by the Three Kingdoms general Zhang Fei and thus known as Zhang Fei Cypresses.
As the evening wind blew, the sounds grew fainter. While the Nanzhao soldiers drifted into sleep, the temple basked in the quiet autumn moonlight. Three of the selected soldiers were local hunters from Zitong. They led the group around the Nanzhao sentry posts, approaching the main camp via narrow mountain paths.
Going further with a large group would be impractical. Yang Jingyuan instructed in a low voice, “I’ll infiltrate the temple for the assassination. The firecrackers will be the signal.”
He tightened his silk belt, positioning his sword hilt for easy access. With a longbow and quiver on his back, he leaped onto a nearby cypress tree, drawing amazed looks from the soldiers.
Among the dense cypress trees, Yang Jingyuan moved without even using his grappling hook, gracefully jumping from tree to tree. A night bird, startled by his shadow, fluttered away. He concealed himself in thick branches as alert Nanzhao soldiers raised torches to investigate.
“A bird taking flight at night—could the Tang army be raiding?”
“You’re overthinking. Probably just a snake frightening the birds. Even if the Tang army could pass the three checkpoints below the mountain, they couldn’t reach the temple without being spotted by scouts.”
The two soldiers circled the tree with their torches, their voices carrying clearly to Yang Jingyuan’s ears.
“Carrier pigeons report that Prince Bai has taken Yizhou city today.”
“Excellent! Once the main army withdraws, we’ll be able to return soon.”
“What a shame! If only Military Commander Du hadn’t fallen out with Prince Bai and been sent to Zitong instead. Attacking Yizhou city—now that’s where the riches are!”
“How laughable that the Xichuan Governor-General gathered all the city’s Shu brocade and sent it by cart to Prince Bai, hoping he’d withdraw his troops. Ha! How stupid can Tang officials be?”
Gathering all the city’s Shu brocade to send to Sheng Fengze! The Yang family would have been the first target. Such a dog of an official! Yang Jingyuan could have wept at the Xichuan Governor-General’s stupidity, growing increasingly worried.
As the torchlight and the two Nanzhao soldiers gradually moved away, Yang Jingyuan slid down the tree and crouched in the undergrowth.
Guards stood at five-pace intervals, sentries at every ten paces around the temple. Every incense stick’s burning time, another patrol circled the temple buildings.
When autumn clouds momentarily obscured the moon, two torches mounted on the brick wall behind the temple suddenly fell. The two nearby soldiers were puzzled and bent to retrieve them.
Yang Jingyuan sprang from the undergrowth, rushing to the nearest cypress tree behind the temple.
As he heard the soldiers grumbling while picking up the torches, he drew a dagger and thrust it firmly into the tree trunk. The massive cypress concealed his form as he climbed up the trunk like a gecko from behind.
From his elevated position, he had a complete view of the Great Temple. The main hall was brightly lit, and Yang Jingyuan waited patiently. As the moon’s shadow shifted eastward, several commanders finally emerged from the main hall, each returning to their quarters in the surrounding wings. In the dim firelight, two more guard-dressed figures stepped out and spoke briefly with the hall guards. Without a doubt, Nanzhao’s Commander Du was resting inside.
Yang Jingyuan stepped onto the cypress branch nearest the main hall, his feet lightly touching the branches as he soared over the wall like a black eagle. His grappling hook wrapped around the upturned eaves of the hall corner. As wind-blown clouds parted and moonlight burst forth again, he hung inverted beneath the rear hall’s eaves.
The hall was divided by a curtain, behind which lay a tiger-skin couch. Beside it stood a rack holding a complete set of armor. Commander Du, wearing a left-fastening casual robe, had just lain down.
Whether from his sensitivity or the unusual strength of the evening wind, Commander Du felt an inexplicable chill. Exhausted from a day of planning how to withdraw past the Dongchuan army undetected, he pulled his felt blanket tighter.
In an instant, his eyes flew open, and he flung aside the blanket.
Too late—the sharp sword pierced through the felt and plunged into his throat.
Staring at the blanket-covered face, Yang Jingyuan hesitated. This was his first kill, and his heart pounded uncontrollably, fine sweat beading on his palms. Sheng Fengze’s sneering face seemed to appear before him, transforming into the endless funeral banners of the Yang family. In that fleeting moment, his stepmother, elder brother, and Ji Yingying appeared before his eyes in succession. Yang Jingyuan clenched his teeth and flicked his sword tip, and the feel slipped aside to reveal Commander Du’s wide-eyed stare. He brought his sword down with savage force.
He had misjudged his strength. The blade not only severed the head but also split the tiger-skin couch, producing a sharp crack.
“Commander?” The guards in the outer hall quickly called out at the sound behind the curtain.
Yang Jingyuan wrapped the head in the felt blanket, lit several firecrackers using a nearby candle, and climbed out through the rear window.
“The Commander has been assassinated! An assassin!”
As the guards’ alarmed cries rang out, the special firecrackers began their thunderous display.
The Great Temple of Qiqu Mountain erupted into chaos.
Before these officers and guards could search for Yang Jingyuan, the outer camp exploded with noise.
“The Tang army is raiding!”
The men hiding in the forest outside the camp shot fire arrows, igniting pre-arranged brush piles. Smoke and flames sprouted like stars, awakening the sleeping Nanzhao soldiers.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Yang Jingyuan vaulted over the temple wall, shocking the guards outside: “Assassin!”
Yang Jingyuan, no longer dwelling on the sensation of killing, cut down two soldiers and vanished into the forest.
He watched Nanzhao soldiers running past beneath the trees. Drawing his bow, he aimed at the hall’s roof from afar.
The arrow whistled through the air like a meteor, severing the rope he had tied to the front cypress tree. A white silk banner fluttered in the air, bearing two lines in blood-red characters: “Ten paces, one man dies; A thousand miles, leaving no trace.”
Carrying Commander Du’s head, he silently departed amid the Nanzhao soldiers’ shocked cries.
Early the next morning, Commander Du’s head lay before Governor-General Guo, who frowned and asked the soldiers who brought it back: “Yang Jingyuan hasn’t returned?”
“Squad Commander Yang said that as long as Nanzhao doesn’t withdraw from Qiqu Mountain, he’ll continue.”
Continue assassinating the Nanzhao army’s commanders.
“Kill the commander, then the lieutenants—one by one until they enter the valley…” Yang Jingyuan’s words echoed in everyone’s ears.
Master Shu shuddered, then burst into laughter, bowing to Governor-General Guo: “Congratulations, Governor! You have another fierce general in your ranks!”
Governor-General Guo glared at him, stroking his beard with a smile: “With such a desperate warrior, Nanzhao will likely withdraw soon. All commanders, hear my orders! Quickly set up ambushes in the Tong River valley.”
As the river wind carried endless battle cries, the Nanzhao forces retreated step by step, pressed down to the Tong River by the advancing Tang army. On the riverbank, Yang Jingyuan lowered his eyes, his spear’s tassel stained red with blood, thick drops slowly falling to the ground.
“Ha ha, Third Brother, well done!” Master Shu rode up beside him and whispered, “When the emperor issues his decree, you’re sure to get at least a fifth-rank Mobile Corps Commander position.”
“What use is it now?” Yang Jingyuan asked softly. Three days later, when the Nanzhao army withdrew from Qiqu Mountain and was surrounded by the Tong River valley, he returned to camp and learned the latest news from Yizhou.
That autumn, Nanzhao had taken over ten thousand Tang people from Yizhou Prefecture, retreating to the banks of the Dadu River.
Most were dyers and weavers—craftsmen connected to the brocade industry.
Having experienced war, Yang Jingyuan no longer naively hoped that the Yang family, Yizhou’s most renowned Brocade Kings, could remain intact.