“Before I came, someone told me: never underestimate the Magistrate Army under the King of Ning’s command.”

Yao Huancheng smiled. “The reputation is well earned.”

He suddenly stepped sideways into the side room. Several magistrate soldiers rushed forward at once, their crossbows aimed at his back and releasing a volley of bolts.

In the next breath, Yao Huancheng burst out through the rear window — but the rear window didn’t open onto the street. He was still inside the courtyard. To escape, he still had a high wall ahead of him.

He came out with a bolt of coarse cloth tucked under his arm, for reasons no one had yet understood.

Behind him in the courtyard, magistrate soldiers had already taken position. Their crossbows unleashed a dense rain of bolts at him, like a sky full of shooting stars.

But their orders were to capture alive if possible, so the bolts they were using were of a special design. The heads were blunt, with only a needle-sharp protrusion at the tip like a bee’s stinger, and that stinger was coated in anesthetic.

The Magistrate Bureau had grown enormously in scale and structure, with entire departments dedicated to designing and crafting specialized weapons. These bolts were called *Bee-Tail Hooks* — purpose-built for missions requiring a live capture.

At that moment, Yao Huancheng shook out the bolt of cloth and flung it skyward. A length of over four *zhang*, unrolled, it spread out like a hurled ladder.

He ran beneath it as it drifted down. The bolts flying at his back were blocked one by one as the cloth gradually settled to the ground.

The cloth was clearly no ordinary material. There was something woven into it — the magistrate soldiers only now understood why he’d taken it. The bolts couldn’t pierce through, partly because the material was special and extremely tough, and partly because the cloth floating in the air absorbed much of each bolt’s momentum on impact. More than anything, though, the Bee-Tail Hooks simply weren’t sharp enough. If they’d been using the Bureau’s standard triangular-edged arrows, the result would have been entirely different.

As he ran, Yao Huancheng saw the leading edge of the cloth dropping toward his head. He grabbed it with one hand and gave a flick of his wrist — the cloth snapped back like a chain whip.

Just as everyone expected him to vault over the high wall, Yao Huancheng caught something else: a bundle that had been rolled up inside the cloth. On the surface it looked like a plain wooden plank, but it was iron, painted to look like wood.

With it in hand, he charged headfirst at the wall. A dull *boom* rang out — and the wall crumbled open where he hit it.

Once through, the iron plank was twisted and bent beyond use. He tossed it aside without a second thought.

The moment he cleared the wall, he shook the cloth up around him into a circular barrier. The magistrate soldiers outside fired bolt after bolt — every one of them caught by the cloth standing in its ring.

Then Yao Huancheng dropped down beneath the cloth and swung his arm up, flicking out a thin rope. It coiled around a distant tree branch. He pulled hard, and his body swung forward through the air.

At that instant, a feathered arrow split the air.

He was still mid-flight with no way to dodge. The arrow struck him squarely in the back.

He was fortunate — the arrow was also one designed for capture rather than kill, similar in design to the Bee-Tail Hook bolt, or it would have punched clean through him.

Yao Huancheng let out a stifled grunt and endured the searing pain, still swinging out several more *zhang* before his other hand flung out a second rope.

A second arrow came. He happened to be swinging upward at that moment, and the arrow missed the vital point, catching him instead in the thigh.

When he landed again, his whole body swayed, yet he somehow kept going and forced his way out of the alley beyond the wall.

But the moment he cleared the alley mouth, he found the street filled with at least two hundred black cavalry waiting for him.

Yao Huancheng froze for just an instant — and in that instant, the third arrow came. It struck him in the neck, piercing through the back and out through his throat.

He stiffened visibly. He seemed to try to turn and look toward where the arrow had come from, but he had no strength left. His body slowly pitched forward and fell.

When Shang Qingzhu and Fang Xidao reached Yao Huancheng’s side, the man was already dead. Both of them turned to look back at Yu Hongyi, who had followed close behind. Her expression was troubled.

She crouched down and examined the body, then looked at the other two Qianban officers. “I only fired two arrows.”

Up on the three-story wooden tower that had been used to watch Yu Wenli’s home, the few magistrate soldiers who had been posted there lay dead on the floor. A masked man set down his bow, turned, and walked downstairs.

He came out through the back door of the tower, unwound the cloth covering his face and discarded it, then turned and walked straight into the crowd of onlookers.

When Shang Qingzhu brought people to the tower to investigate, the man was standing right there in the crowd below. He watched a while, saw the magistrate soldiers carrying out the body, and then turned and left.

Not long after, in what appeared to be a perfectly unremarkable little courtyard, a middle-aged man returned and went directly to the side room.

Mo Lili was in the side room cooking — a pot of noodles on the fire, and he was in the middle of chopping scallions. He heard footsteps but didn’t bother turning around.

“Is it taken care of?” he asked.

The middle-aged man bowed. “Sir, it’s taken care of. Yao Huancheng didn’t escape.”

“Expected.”

Mo Lili said, “The King of Ning, Li Chi — what sharp instincts, what decisive hands…”

He tipped the scallions into the pot, then poured in the prepared broth.

“Let’s eat. Once we’ve eaten, we move to a new location.”

The middle-aged man who had dealt with Yao Huancheng was another Flag Officer of the Curtain Camp, one by the name of Dian Cang.

Flag Officer Zhou Xiaoxin ladled a bowl of noodles for Mo Lili, then sat down and asked, “Sir, now that the line is cut, should we activate the backup?”

He had already asked once before, and been refused.

Mo Lili blew on the steam before answering. “I told you already — don’t think about that for now. You’ve brought it up twice in one day. Are you suggesting I’ve forgotten?”

Zhou Xiaoxin, who had just sat down, immediately rose and bowed. “Sir, I was wrong.”

“I’ll say it one last time,” Mo Lili said. “The backup cannot be moved yet. Our best asset is still Gao Xining. If we can’t capture Gao Xining, then we go for the Long-Browed Daoist…”

Before he could finish, someone came hurrying in from outside, leaned down, and murmured something in Mo Lili’s ear.

Mo Lili’s eyes lit up. He smiled. “Li Chi is sharp enough, but he has too many people around him. He can’t keep watch over everything. Someone will always let something slip.”

When he’d heard that Yang Jing had been moved, he’d honestly felt a moment of helplessness. Li Chi’s reaction had left him without an opening. Taking Yang Jing to the same compound, having magistrate soldiers transferred there — any further move against Gao Xining seemed nearly impossible.

But where one road closes, another opens. Good news had come.

Mo Lili glanced at the freshly cooked noodles with a touch of regret, then stood. “You all eat. I have urgent business. Before I return, everyone move to the third safehouse and wait for word.”

As he spoke, a subordinate brought him his long outer robe. He extended his arms, and the man helped him into it.

“Dian Cang.”

Mo Lili pointed at his own bowl. “Eat that for me. Don’t waste food.”

Then he turned and left.

Dian Cang stood and replied, “Understood.”

Outside the courtyard, Mo Lili took four or five men, circled around two streets, and found two carriages waiting. They climbed in and drove straight for the city gate. They carried only ordinary resident identification — no contraband, no weapons — so after a brief inspection they were passed through.

Twenty *li* outside the city, there was a small grove of trees by the roadside. The two carriages stopped outside it.

Mo Lili climbed down and gave a brief command. “The rest of you drive on. Find some inn, stay a few days, then make your way back to Daxing City.”

Then he walked quickly into the grove. Inside, dozens of sharp-looking fighters were already waiting, along with dozens of fine horses.

Mo Lili mounted up. “Move out.”

Dozens of men rode after him out of the grove, heading off in a different direction.

Two days later, some three hundred *li* from Daxing City, Mo Lili’s group halted outside a small town. Three hundred *li* in two days and nights — the strain showed on every face. After so long in the saddle, even dismounting was stiff and awkward. Fresh horses had been waiting for them at relay points along the way, but the men themselves had not rested.

At the town entrance, dozens of guards stood waiting. When they saw Mo Lili arrive, they bowed in unison.

“Where is he?” Mo Lili asked.

The Flag Officer in charge here, Jin Jinjin, answered, “Held in the village, sir. We’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

“Lead the way.”

Mo Lili gave the order, and Jin Jinjin hurried ahead to guide them.

They walked through the town to a courtyard that stood noticeably nicer than its neighbors — clearly one of the wealthier households in the village. Guards stood at the gate, and when they saw Mo Lili they bowed with great deference.

Inside, Jin Jinjin pointed toward the side room. “He’s in there, bound. We broke both his leg bones to prevent him from escaping.”

Mo Lili’s brow creased slightly. “Fetch a physician. Have his legs set.”

He continued walking toward the room and spoke as he went. “If his legs were merely broken, it can still be remedied — as long as he recovers fully. If he doesn’t, Li Chi will fly into a rage over it, and even if we complete this exchange for Yang Jing, the aftermath will be difficult to manage. Be more careful from now on…”

Jin Jinjin said quickly, “This man was genuinely difficult to restrain. We had no other choice. Aside from his legs, everything else is completely unharmed.”

Mo Lili acknowledged this with a hum, pushed open the door, and entered. In the center of the room was a wooden bed, and the man lay bound upon it.

Mo Lili didn’t speak yet. He waited for the physician.

Before long, the physician arrived and, as instructed, carefully aligned the bones and set the legs with wooden splints.

“Done, sir.”

The physician bowed.

Mo Lili waved him off. “You may go.”

He looked at Jin Jinjin. “Untie him. And bring a jug of wine.”

His subordinates were clearly terrified of him, and wasted not a single moment — they rushed to untie the man. Someone retrieved a jug of wine and passed it to Mo Lili.

Mo Lili took the jug, rose, and walked to the man’s bedside. He held out the wine.

The man looked up at him with furious eyes. Mo Lili smiled.

“General Yu,” he said, “have a drink. To settle your nerves.”

—