Inside Jizhou City, Yu Chaozong had only a few hundred men left around him, protecting him as he fought and fell back — but in a situation like this, where was there left to retreat to?
Yu Chaozong watched helplessly as Zeng Ling was surrounded by Yuzhou soldiers and swallowed by the press of men. At first he could still catch occasional glimpses of Zeng Ling’s form slashing wildly about; then there was nothing but the Yuzhou Army soldiers swarming over the spot.
Before long, Yu Chaozong heard frenzied cheering from the Yuzhou side.
He looked back and saw a head launched into the air, falling and rising again and again, blood spraying through it into the sky.
Zeng Ling was dead. It seemed as though he ought not to have died this way — and yet, in its way, it seemed entirely expected.
Yu Chaozong fell back into the city. From the moment the Yuzhou Army entered, his several thousand men had been scattered and broken apart, cut off and cut down in pieces.
His personal guard battalion was made up of the fiercest fighters — handpicked from a force of over a hundred thousand. Even they could barely protect him long enough to pull clear, stumbling step after stumbling step down streets carpeted with corpses, fleeing as best they could.
The sound of horns pressed in from all sides. The pursuing Yuzhou troops were not far behind at all — one look back and they were visible.
Just then, from behind the Yuzhou Army, a column of cavalry appeared. The man at their head shouted: “Does anyone here know Yu Chaozong by sight?!”
The soldiers in pursuit had no idea who Yu Chaozong was. They had simply seen someone trying to break free and given chase — whoever it was, catch them and cut them down.
“Stand back,” that general called out. “Anyone who can’t identify Yu Chaozong — go after the others elsewhere.”
He turned to the bound man riding beside him: “Are you sure?”
Zheng Gongru, his hands bound and his face ashen, had just spotted Yu Chaozong. He raised both tied hands and pointed: “Ahead there — that’s one of them. Those are his personal guard.”
This general was Luo Lou — one of the fiercest and most capable generals under Luo Geng, and also Luo Geng’s adopted son. His original surname had been Zhao; his full name had been Zhao Lou. Luo Geng had genuinely admired the young man’s skill and loyalty, and took him as an adopted son, giving him the Luo family name.
Luo Lou also carried a long lance. He seemed always, in unconscious ways, to be modeling himself after Luo Jing — perhaps because in his heart, Luo Jing was the standard he was striving toward.
Clad in silver armor and bearing his lance, Luo Lou heard Zheng Gongru’s identification and spurred his horse forward in pursuit.
Zheng Gongru galloped after him, calling out as he rode: “Right there — the one in iron armor with the red cape, that’s Yu Chaozong.”
Yu Chaozong was running at full speed. Hearing the shout, he looked back — and in one glance saw the Eighth Chief riding up behind him.
In that instant, Yu Chaozong’s eyes flew wide open. The redness already in them blazed with a sudden eruption of bloodshot veins.
“Zheng Gongru!”
Yu Chaozong howled the name, opened his mouth — and spat another mouthful of blood.
His martial ability was such that he could move through the jianghu entirely by his own means — yet his constitution had never been strong. After relentless brutal fighting, he had already coughed up blood twice and was now swaying on his feet, barely upright.
Fifth Chief Chang Dingsu looked back as well and saw that same Eighth Chief. He already had the eyes of a leopard — now they bulged as though the hatred in them was about to pour out.
He didn’t even want to keep going. He turned on the spot and started back to kill Zheng Gongru, but Yu Chaozong beside him spat blood again and nearly collapsed.
Chang Dingsu caught Yu Chaozong, thought quickly, and shouted: “Take care of the Chief and get clear.”
The personal guards took hold of Yu Chaozong and ran on ahead. Chang Dingsu snatched up his long blade, turned, and planted himself in the middle of the street.
“Brother!”
Chang Dingsu did not look at Yu Chaozong. He shouted at the top of his voice.
“Fourth Brother is going on ahead. If there’s another life, and you recognize me — make sure you call me Fourth!”
When he finished, he let out a tiger’s roar and charged straight at Luo Lou.
Luo Lou was contemptuous: that blood-drenched rebel still dared to come at him. He raised an eyebrow and thrust his long lance directly at Chang Dingsu’s chest.
Chang Dingsu snapped his body violently backward. His back hit the ground, and the long blade in his hand swept horizontally out — cutting off the horse’s front legs with a single stroke.
The horse buckled forward with a screaming whinny, and Luo Lou was thrown involuntarily ahead. In the desperate moment, he used the shaft of his lance to brace against the ground and barely kept from falling.
He glanced at Chang Dingsu, then at the fleeing Yu Chaozong and the others ahead. He ground his teeth, shouted an order to kill that one, and then turned to chase Yu Chaozong.
Chang Dingsu could not let him go. He scrambled to his feet and gave chase, and when he saw he couldn’t close the gap, he hurled his long blade.
Luo Lou was running and glancing back. He saw the blade come flashing like a streak of light and threw himself sideways to dodge — but that dodge let Chang Dingsu, still sprinting from behind, close the distance.
With a snarling roar, Chang Dingsu drove a fist at Luo Lou’s face. The two men were now chest to chest; Luo Lou’s lance had no room to maneuver, so he raised the shaft to block the blow.
Chang Dingsu had no intention of surviving this. He had already stopped thinking about technique — all he wanted was to buy a little more time for Yu Chaozong.
His fist was caught, so he lowered his head and clamped his teeth viciously into the back of Luo Lou’s hand. Luo Lou screamed in pain and kicked Chang Dingsu away.
But Chang Dingsu wrapped himself around that leg and dragged the man toward him, then surged forward and pinned Luo Lou beneath him, hammering down blow after blow.
Luo Lou was highly skilled. He weaved his face left and right, and somehow dodged every single punch.
Chang Dingsu’s fists struck the ground again and again. In moments, both hands were bloodied, the flesh torn open — he paid it no attention.
Luo Lou forced his body to twist, throwing Chang Dingsu off, but before he could even rise, Chang Dingsu was on him again like a wild animal.
He pinned Luo Lou once more, both hands clamped around Luo Lou’s throat in a death grip.
Zheng Gongru, still on horseback behind them, was terrified by the savagery of the scene. He didn’t dare approach, but shouted: “What are you all waiting for?! Get in there and help! Run him through!”
The Youzhou soldiers, who had been hesitating for fear of injuring the general, now saw their chance. Chang Dingsu was astride Luo Lou’s chest trying to choke the life from him, leaving his entire back exposed to those behind him.
A Youzhou soldier spurred his horse forward and brought a blade down across Chang Dingsu’s back. Chang Dingsu seemed to have gone beyond the reach of pain — he kept his hands clamped around Luo Lou’s throat without loosening his grip.
Several more soldiers leapt from their horses and slashed down, over and over. Chang Dingsu’s strength finally began to fail under the cuts, and Luo Lou managed to break loose.
In the very instant of breaking free, Chang Dingsu bit down on Luo Lou’s neck. No matter how the men behind him hacked, he held on and would not let go.
“Kill him, kill him now!” Luo Lou screamed in terror, his voice cracking.
A Youzhou soldier came at him from the side, grabbed Chang Dingsu by the hair, lined up the angle, and drove a blade through Chang Dingsu’s neck.
Luo Lou barely managed to pull free. Blood poured freely from his neck — he had been bitten at the back of the throat, and mercifully his artery was not severed. Had it been, Chang Dingsu would have taken him along.
Shaking with shock, Luo Lou struggled to stand. His men rushed over to bind his wound. With one hand pressed to his neck and the other pointing at Chang Dingsu, he screamed: “Hack him to pieces! Hack him to pieces!”
Four or five Youzhou soldiers closed around Chang Dingsu and brought their blades down in a storm of cuts. But Chang Dingsu had been without breath long since.
On his horse, Zheng Gongru raised both tied hands to cover his face, muttering under his breath that it had nothing to do with him, that he hadn’t wanted to die either.
These two brothers.
The elder, Chang Dingzhou, had perished during the assault on Jizhou City — bracing himself with his own body against a shield while soldiers climbed over him up the wall, trampled to death underfoot.
The younger, Chang Dingsu, had come to an end barely different from his brother’s — hacked to pieces by multiple blades, left with a shape that was barely human.
Luo Lou’s men finished bandaging his neck wound. He snatched up his lance and pulled a stray horse over to him: “Keep the pursuit!”
Ahead, after spitting blood twice, Yu Chaozong’s body had reached a state of extreme weakness. He wanted to turn back and save Chang Dingsu, but he had no strength left at all. His personal guards refused to release their hold on him, half-carrying and half-dragging him forward in stumbling haste — and stumbling like that, how could they possibly outrun horses?
—
At the same time, outside the underground chamber.
Li Chi and Tang Pidi had tried several times to locate Yu Chaozong and failed each time. The two discussed the situation and agreed they still needed to return to the chamber first.
There was something that had to be settled with Luo Jing — they could not let the question of their own people’s lives and deaths go unaddressed simply because Yu Chaozong was nowhere to be found.
Tang Pidi could see the grief in Li Chi’s face. He understood: Yu Chaozong had truly mattered to Li Chi.
For a long period, Yu Chaozong had been, in a sense, where Li Chi placed his hopes for the future — and most importantly, it was the way Yu Chaozong regarded him. Being trusted, appreciated, and genuinely cared for — that feeling was, in truth, exactly what Li Chi had needed.
“Let’s go find Luo Jing first and then keep looking.”
Tang Pidi said to Li Chi: “Besides, last night the Yanshan Camp forces counterattacked and broke through — much of the main force should have fought their way out of the city. Maybe the Chief has already made it out.”
Li Chi nodded, holding that same hope in his heart.
The two slipped back through the rear courtyard of Shen Clinic, lifted the door of the underground chamber, and stepped inside — to find themselves immediately facing a forest of bows and crossbows aimed their way.
Seeing it was Li Chi and Tang Pidi at the door, every weapon was lowered, and a collective breath of relief was let out.
Li Chi walked up to Luo Jing and said, after a brief silence: “The Jizhou Army has been virtually destroyed. You can leave now. Your father should be just outside the city — he’ll be entering before long.”
Luo Jing smiled slightly. “You came to see me yourself. I imagine it’s because you want to ask that I not give you away?”
Li Chi nodded.
Luo Jing said: “I may not think much of the lot of you, but I have no interest in dealing with you right now. Once I leave, I won’t mention any of this to anyone, and I won’t say a word about this place. From this day forward, we owe each other nothing.”
Li Chi said, with sincerity: “We owe each other nothing.”
Luo Jing called his remaining Tiger-and-Leopard Cavalry soldiers together. Counting the wounded, there were perhaps three or four hundred. They rose, helped one another to their feet, and prepared to leave. As they passed Li Chi, each one gave him a nod in acknowledgment.
After walking a few paces, Luo Jing turned back. He looked at Li Chi and asked: “I’m curious about something. A strategist of your caliber — the Yanshan Camp should never have entered this trap. From the look on your face, I can guess that Yu Chaozong has been defeated, and may very well be dead. Why did it happen this way? Did he not trust you?”
Li Chi didn’t answer. He didn’t even want to speak.
Tang Pidi said: “There was a petty schemer in the Yanshan Camp named Zheng Gongru — the Eighth Chief. He was the one who persuaded Yu Chaozong not to follow Li Chi’s plan, and drove him to attack. This man had also been trying to have Li Chi killed all along, though no one knows why.”
Luo Jing nodded. “I will remember that name. If this person ever falls into my hands in the future, I will certainly kill him — though naturally not to vent your anger. We owe each other nothing now, and there’s no meaning in me doing it on your behalf. I simply want to kill him myself.”
Tang Pidi sighed. “What a stubborn mouth you have.”
Luo Jing laughed out loud, cupped his hands in farewell and said: “If we meet on the battlefield someday, I will no longer remember that we were once acquainted. At that time—”
Before he could finish, Tang Pidi cut him off: “At that time you won’t be a match for us either. Talking big this early will only come back to embarrass you.”
Luo Jing burst out laughing. He looked at Tang Pidi and said: “I’ll remember you too — and you, Li Chi. One day, if the chance comes, I intend to settle the score with the two of you and see who is stronger.”
Tang Pidi said: “If you’re going, then go. Stop wasting time, or you’ll eat into our grain rations.”
Luo Jing laughed as he walked away, looking genuinely at ease.
—