A full day had passed, and when Feng Changyu thought about that severed head still displayed in the stockade hall, he felt a small mallet pounding rhythmically at the back of his skull.
His emaciated body, drained dry by too many women, sat in the nanmu wood chair wearing official robes like a corpse, staring blankly at the wind chime beneath the eaves. He could have imagined that Ji Kun and the new Governor’s son would never let each other go if given the chance, but he never imagined that under such circumstances, Ji Kun would be publicly beheaded by the new Governor’s son, who at the end didn’t forget to frame and slander them by claiming they had deliberately leaked Ji Kun’s whereabouts.
“How did Ji Kun end up falling into the new Governor’s son’s hands?” Feng Changyu’s deeply sunken eye sockets stared at several stockade soldier leaders beneath him, his voice hoarse as he asked: “A whole day has passed, and you still haven’t found out what happened? Are you waiting until one day when Jingyun Stockade is breached and this head on my neck is also cut off and displayed in the stockade hall before you’ll be satisfied?”
“Heavy rain fell on the mountain last night, washing away many traces. Currently we can only confirm that after Ji Kun and his two men left the stockade, they didn’t directly head north along the ridge but suddenly went south for a stretch at Golden Rooster Ravine. The traces through Old Toad Gully were washed away by the heavy rain. We searched all the way to the bamboo forest on West Mountain before finding signs of combat and the corpses of Ji Kun’s two subordinates. We estimate Ji Kun was targeted by Han Qian’s people after passing Old Toad Gully.” A lean man wearing leather armor with a green dragon tattoo on his arm, disheveled and barefoot, knelt before Feng Changyu making his report.
“So you’re saying Ji Kun’s death wasn’t because someone in the stockade tipped them off?” Feng Changyu breathed a slight sigh of relief, his emaciated body settling back into the chair.
Over the past several decades, mountain stockades had been breached before, but nine times out of ten, it was because of internal traitors. When Feng Jin brought back Ji Kun’s head, Feng Changyu’s first worry was that there was a mole in the stockade.
Currently they had confirmed that after leaving Jingyun Stockade, Ji Kun had changed his route and direction several times. Since they themselves didn’t know Ji Kun’s specific direction, there was no question of someone tipping anyone off.
Kneeling in the hall entrance, Gao Bao’s heart, which had been lodged in his throat, finally settled back down somewhat.
At this moment, he was also certain that when Han Qian’s people acted to kill Ji Kun, they had considered leaving as few suspicious points as possible. Otherwise, if the Feng father and son truly suspected a mole in the stockade, where could he hide?
“Father, should we send someone to Jinling to find the Ministry of Military Affairs’ Geographic Bureau to explain this matter clearly? We can’t take the blame for this!” Feng Jin, thinking about yesterday’s events, still felt a knot of foul anger blocked in his chest.
“Explain?” Feng Changyu glanced at his son, an evil energy rising in his heart as he sneered: “In the eyes of Great Chu’s court officials, we are all barbarians. If you don’t explain, others won’t think we did it. But if you run to explain, and others insist you did it, what then can you explain?”
“…” Feng Jin was slightly stunned, his mind unable to wrap around this logic.
Feng Changyu stopped his cold mockery and sat up straight, becoming serious as he said: “They killed Ji Kun without any intention of making us take the blame. Could it be that with Ji Kun dying in Xuzhou, the people from the Geographic Bureau won’t hold Han Daoxun and his son accountable but will blame someone else instead? They killed Ji Kun to show us! Think about it—with no one in the stockade tipping them off, how difficult would it be to kill Ji Kun? Or put it this way: if you didn’t know beforehand which direction Ji Kun would leave Jingyun Stockade from, and I gave you thirty men, what confidence would you have in capturing Ji Kun alive?”
Watching Han Qian publicly kill someone yesterday, Feng Jin’s heart had burned with uncontrollable rage, and even now that knot of foul anger still blocked his chest. But hearing his father put it this way, he felt a chill shoot straight up from his tailbone.
Yes—if they didn’t know which direction Ji Kun was leaving from, how many elite experts would they need to deploy to ensure they could intercept Ji Kun and his subordinates in the deep mountain forests spanning dozens of miles?
Judging by the final combat traces, Ji Kun and his two subordinates, whose martial skills were absolutely not weak, hadn’t even managed to inflict any harm on their opponents!
The deeper Feng Jin thought, the more he felt as if thorns were pricking his back.
All these years, they had been able to be far from the emperor’s reach—to put it plainly, it was because Xuzhou was located in a remote area with treacherous mountains and narrow roads. If truly intense conflicts arose, they prominent clans could unite, establish stockades for mutual defense, and no one could do anything about them.
Moreover, they were internally self-sufficient and didn’t need to rely on external material supplies.
But if the new Governor had a group of elite troops who could traverse mountains and forests and were familiar with Xuzhou’s every mountain and stream, could they still have confidence in closing their stockades for self-defense?
Thinking further about how yesterday when Han Qian ordered his subordinates to kill, his expression had been so light and carefree, Feng Jin felt even more chilled to the bone.
“I’ve heard that Great Chu’s emperor is advanced in years. The succession struggle shouldn’t take too long before reaching a conclusion. Let’s watch and wait until then. Don’t make any rash moves…” Feng Changyu warned Feng Jin, then stared into his eyes, wanting him to personally promise this.
“Yes.” Feng Jin nodded reluctantly.
“You may all withdraw.” Feng Changyu waved his hand, telling Feng Jin to take the tribal soldier leaders and leave first.
Feng Changyu had a clear understanding of exactly how much power the Four Clans truly possessed. At bottom, they only occupied the advantage of favorable terrain. Otherwise, before the powerful families of the Central Plains, they weren’t worth dog shit—could they really think three to five hundred stockade soldiers made them arrogantly self-important like Yelang?
Thinking of this, Feng Changyu couldn’t help but laugh self-mockingly. It was said that a thousand years ago, Xuzhou had been within the territory of the Yelang Kingdom. The only plan now was to hope the court’s succession struggle reached a conclusion soon.
If the Crown Prince successfully ascended to the throne, or if the Crown Prince in Jinling thoroughly defeated the Third Prince’s faction, he would inevitably take action to purge the Third Prince’s remaining forces in Xuzhou.
And if by chance the Third Prince emerged victorious, with the fertile lands of Jianghuai everywhere offering rich soil, presumably he wouldn’t have much interest in focusing on this bird-shit place called Xuzhou, would he?
“Little Nine, come quickly and massage my legs…” After calling out for quite a while with no response from the inner chamber, Feng Changyu only then remembered he had already handed his Ninth Concubine over to Han Qian for disposal. His heart still felt hollow, but thinking about keeping Little Nine, he would always feel like thorns were pricking his back.
The seemingly docile Little Nine had actually dared to take a sword to assassinate Han Qian. Gao Bao said her martial skills were quite good. Thinking of this, Feng Changyu also felt a cold sensation on his neck. Perhaps she was just a wolf cub that could never be tamed. To have dared keep her by his side back then—he truly had been blinded by lust!
…
…
Guanyue Tower was one of Qianyang City’s few three-story wooden buildings, separated from Furong Garden by only one alley.
At this moment, in a refined chamber on the third floor’s west side of Guanyue Tower, the Gentleman Wen who had previously appeared beside Ma Xun, the heir of the Tanzhou Regional Commander, stood by the window gazing toward Furong Garden. Behind Gentleman Wen stood a man wearing blue casual robes, his face hidden in shadow.
Just then, the blue-robed man and Gentleman Wen saw Han Qian and his group exit Furong Garden through the eastern side gate and ride horses toward the eastern city gate.
“Who is that tribal woman?” Gentleman Wen pointed at Madam Xi riding side-saddle on a purple-maned horse and asked the blue-robed man.
They were only sixty or seventy paces from Han Qian. Gentleman Wen could quite clearly see that Xi Ren’s face was beautifully elegant—a rare beauty in this region of Wu Mountain and Wu River.
Xi Ren’s leg shackles were hidden beneath her long skirt, and with her agile movements, even wearing shackles she could mount the horse like an ordinary woman without help. Thus Gentleman Wen couldn’t detect anything unusual.
“I heard that when Han Qian returned from Jingyun Stockade, he brought back a mountain tribal female slave. Yesterday that woman was disheveled and grimy so no one paid attention. Presumably she’s a tribal slave Feng Changyu gave to Han Qian,” the blue-robed man stared intently for a while, but his eyesight wasn’t as good as Gentleman Wen’s and he couldn’t see Madam Xi’s face clearly, only able to speculate: “We still haven’t found out clearly what exactly happened at Jingyun Stockade these past few days. Han Qian isn’t on guard against me. Should I visit today to inquire about some information for you, sir?”
“All of Zhao Mingting’s schemes against the Han father and son have fallen flat. The Han father and son are by no means simple people. Don’t make any rash moves lest you reveal flaws,” Gentleman Wen shook his head saying: “That tribal woman is indeed a rare beauty, so it’s quite possible Feng Changyu gave her to the Han father and son as a gesture of goodwill. I’m sure someone in the city should recognize her—we don’t need to specially investigate.”
“Fortunately you entered the city in time to warn me, sir. Otherwise, when I saw the Four Clans making unusual moves that day, I likely would have already moved my family out of the city, losing any chance of getting close to the Han father and son.” The blue-robed man said with considerable emotion.
“When Wang Yu died, no one at the time could detect any abnormalities. Could it be that three months later, when Han Daoxun intercepted the coffin midway, he could examine and verify anything? This was clearly a strategy by the Han father and son to flush out the grass and startle the snake, yet the Four Clans simply couldn’t keep their composure. Did they really think that by allowing prison inmates to stage a jailbreak, a mob of rabble rioting could actually make things difficult for the Han father and son?” Gentleman Wen laughed disdainfully, saying: “They don’t even think—if it were truly so easy, could the Han father and son have smoothly walked into Qianyang City?”
“If the Han father and son are so formidable, will the master’s side truly allow them to stir up wind and rain in Xuzhou?” the blue-robed man asked.
“The master doesn’t wish to attract Jinling’s attention. Everything prioritizes lying low. Your main responsibility here is to monitor the Han father and son’s movements. Be careful not to reveal any flaws.” Gentleman Wen said.
“I understand this. The Han father and son probably won’t suspect I’m problematic in any way, right?” The blue-robed man laughed rather proudly, but just then, seeing Han Qian turn his head to look in this direction, he jumped in fright, his body suddenly shrinking backward, his heart pounding wildly in alarm.
“We’re standing in shadow—they can’t see clearly what’s happening in this room,” Gentleman Wen stood quite calmly by the window without dodging backward, saying: “Oh yes, you mentioned the miasma-dispelling wine the Han father and son brought into Xuzhou has remarkable effects. If possible, when you get close to the Han father and son, you need to find out this recipe.”
The Han father and son helping the Third Prince recruit plague-stricken famine refugees to establish the Dragon Sparrow Army had exceeded many people’s expectations. This also made Gentleman Wen have to believe that the miasma-dispelling wine the Han father and son produced this time, curing six prisoners, was no coincidence.
Even Tanzhou’s troops often suffered from miasma vapors and toxic miasma. Going south from Tanzhou, the mountain forests were even more hot and humid. From the current perspective, obtaining the miasma-dispelling wine recipe was more important than anything else.