Behind the bamboo grove came a period of silence. After a long while, Ning Yi still used that tone from which joy or anger could not be discerned, replying lightly: “Oh?”
This tone—not to mention Qiu Yuluo, who had been watching him with hopeful expectation, her face beginning to lose color—even Feng Zhiwei behind the gate began to feel exasperated. When someone spoke like this, how could anyone continue the conversation?
Yet Qiu Yuluo had always been stubborn by nature. She stared directly at Ning Yi, her expression changing, finally saying forlornly after a long while: “That day on the river… Your Highness was drunk…”
Ning Yi suddenly turned around. Beneath the pale blue and faint yellow bamboo leaves, his countenance was like snow, even the gaze with which he looked at Qiu Yuluo was ice cold. Under such a look, Qiu Yuluo immediately found herself unable to say anything more.
“Speaking of this, this prince also finds it rather strange.” Ning Yi looked at her with a peculiar expression. “Wherever this prince stays, even if it’s a lone boat on an empty river, no one can approach casually. Lady Li, you are the mistress of a great household—how is it that in the dead of night, you happened to ‘encounter’ this prince on that river?”
He bit down hard on the last two words “encounter,” making Qiu Yuluo’s body tremble. Suddenly she knelt down, prostrating herself at Ning Yi’s feet, murmuring: “Your Highness… Your Highness… I don’t know… The Li family villa is right by that shore. That night my mind was troubled and I impulsively decided to take a boat on the water. I didn’t see anyone… Your Highness… Your Highness… You cannot suspect me…”
Ning Yi said nothing more. His robe moved as he made to step around her and leave.
“Your Highness!” Qiu Yuluo suddenly half-straightened her waist, moved forward on her knees, and clasped both hands around his leg. “I don’t believe you’ve truly forgotten!”
Ning Yi paid her no attention, didn’t even lower his head to look down at her. Ning Cheng had already emerged from some corner, glaring wide-eyed: “Hey, you woman have truly eaten a bear’s heart and leopard’s gall! Don’t you know that pestering the royal presence constitutes a capital offense?”
Qiu Yuluo didn’t even glance at Ning Cheng, only looked up at the unmoved Ning Yi. Her eyes slowly filled with the desperation and determination of one burning bridges behind them. Suddenly she released her hands and reached into her bosom to retrieve something.
The thing her fingers were slowly drawing out appeared to be the corner of a handkerchief. Feng Zhiwei was waiting for her to fully withdraw her hand when she suddenly heard footsteps behind her. Turning to look, she saw several gentry who had stayed were being accompanied by Qian Yan, walking in this direction—apparently looking to curry favor and establish connections with her.
If she continued standing here and was seen, it would inevitably be awkward. Feng Zhiwei immediately turned back, walking toward those people with a smile: “Gentlemen, how do you find my gardens? Actually, the scenery in the western courtyard is even better. Several triangular plum trees transported from the north should bloom soon…” As she spoke, she imperceptibly guided them toward the western courtyard, leaving the people in the bamboo grove behind.
By the time she had accompanied them on a tour of the western courtyard and accepted their goodwill gestures, when she returned to the front courtyard, she discovered Ning Yi had already departed. She stood at the manor entrance, watching Ning Yi’s carriage procession travel into the distance. Behind the princely entourage, that emerald-canopied, treasure-topped carriage followed distantly. In a cloud of dust, they gradually disappeared at the horizon. After a long while, she slowly smiled.
Behind her, Zong Chen was also looking in that direction. Suddenly he said: “I also heard those words just now. Something feels off—should we send someone to investigate?”
Feng Zhiwei seemed lost in thought. After a long while, a faintly cool smile floated to the corners of her lips as she said: “No need.”
That very night, Feng Zhiwei rushed back to Tongzhou, the Jianghuai provincial capital. Upon entering the Provincial Administration Office, she immediately asked: “Are the personnel arrangements ready?”
Receiving an affirmative answer, she nodded and went straight to her study. The night was deep, the wind cold, bamboo tapping at the windows. She sat alone in the study facing the lamp, before her a pile of spread-out military reports and documents.
From Min’nan, Changning, Xi Liang, and the grasslands—some from official channels, some from her planted informants.
Hua Qiong’s forces were gradually growing stronger. If they expanded further, they would inevitably draw the current dynasty’s attention. She had to find a way to conceal Hua Qiong’s influence. This seemed an impossible proposition—either break free from Tiansheng’s control and establish independence, or shrink the forces under Tiansheng’s banner. But now was not yet the time for independence. Hua Qiong had written asking how to handle this.
Changning had elite troops and ample provisions. In battles with Tiansheng, they won more than they lost. But ultimately, one region’s strength against one nation’s armies—if time dragged on, victory was unlikely. Looking at the Changning King’s offensive routes, it seemed he only wanted to swallow Min’nan and Longbei, establishing autonomy across the river from Tiansheng.
As for Xi Liang, though they could now be considered half her own people, a nation could not be treated as child’s play. What Xi Liang could do was rattle the mountain to frighten the tiger—surround but not attack, tying down Tiansheng’s southern military forces.
From the grasslands, Helian Zheng had written directly, with hints of eager anticipation between the lines, asking her: All is prepared—can the eastern wind arise?
Feng Zhiwei tapped her fingers on the desk, contemplating for a long while, then summoned Zong Chen, smiling: “We’ve been building our estate for so long, always entrusting it to you. I wonder what state my family fortune is in now?”
“Enough to support one household for a hundred generations, enough to support one nation for at most one year.” Zong Chen’s answer was extremely concise and precise.
This result exceeded Feng Zhiwei’s expectations. She widened her eyes with an “Oh?” never imagining she was actually this wealthy.
“In the five years since you entered official service, you’ve repeatedly received rewards in no small amounts. We’ve taken them all to purchase property and land.” Zong Chen spoke lightly. “Our organization has always had experts in commercial affairs, and moreover, the Yan family has continuously provided strong support. Just the business of transporting silk and porcelain in Nanhai alone has purchased a thousand acres of land in the capital suburbs, and that’s not counting properties throughout the nation.”
“Moreover…” He suddenly smiled. “Actually, when it comes to money, we still have plenty.”
“Oh? Do you possess some treasure trove left by a previous dynasty’s fallen empire? That would be rather legendary, wouldn’t it?”
Feng Zhiwei had been joking, but unexpectedly Zong Chen revealed an expression of “you’ve guessed correctly again.” She couldn’t help but pause in surprise. Zong Chen had already smiled and said: “Only one thing is incorrect—it’s not a treasure left by a fallen dynasty.”
“Then whose…”
“Strictly speaking, it’s not exactly a treasure.” Zong Chen said. “It’s wealth accumulated by successive generations of the Da Cheng imperial dynasty, stored in a fixed location, only to be used by Da Cheng imperial descendants in the most critical moments. Legend has it this was a rule established by Da Cheng’s founding Empress Shenhuan, requiring each generation of emperors to store away a batch of wealth during the nation’s most prosperous years, to prepare for future troubles. Accumulated generation after generation—you calculate what that number would be.”
“Future troubles?”
“The Empress once made an analogy, saying in one household there was a daughter-in-law particularly skilled at managing affairs. Every day when cooking rice, she would scoop out one bowl from the rice jar and store it aside. Over time, she accumulated several jars. When a year of famine came and every household lacked grain and faced starvation, this daughter-in-law brought out the stored rice to help the entire family survive. The Empress said she wanted to be that daughter-in-law—to prepare for danger in times of peace, storing away bowls of rice whenever possible, lest during times of national prosperity, when spending freely here and there with some waste, it would simply be wasted.”
Feng Zhiwei smiled and said: “Empress Shenying was uniquely distinguished, with far-reaching thoughts. What seemed like simple jest actually contained profound philosophy. Her person and her actions are truly admirable.”
“In the imperial edict and final testament left by the late Emperor Chengqing, he also… had many words of praise for the Empress. My ancestor lived a life of detached pride, and the only person he ever praised was the Empress alone. This shows her extraordinary nature.”
Feng Zhiwei knew that Zong Chen’s ancestor was one of the Five Great Emperors, Emperor Chengqing, the restorer of Xuanyuan. Later historical records also praised this great emperor extensively, saying that had the emperor not suffered bodily harm in childhood leading to his early death, Xuanyuan’s national power should have been far greater. According to legend, that medically skilled man in white robes ultimately could not heal himself—truly a matter of regret.
Suddenly she felt Zong Chen’s previous statement was rather strange, and asked with a smile: “What words of praise did the great emperor have for the Empress? Why is your expression so peculiar?”
Zong Chen rarely choked again. After a long while, he said hesitantly: “…He said her brain was still a bit cleverer than normal people’s, but sometimes too clever to the point of stupidity, making people frustrated to watch, so it was better he die early to avoid eventually being driven to exasperation.”
Feng Zhiwei had been drinking tea and nearly sprayed it all over Zong Chen. After a long moment, she set down her tea bowl and said: “Those are words of praise?”
“You don’t know my ancestor the great emperor.” Zong Chen smiled bitterly, saying sincerely: “This truly was his venerable self’s praise.”
“Emperor Chengqing was also an extraordinary person…” Feng Zhiwei thought of the legendary emperor who, after having his nation seized and family destroyed, endured in secret plotting, cast aside his very self, walked between light and darkness for over ten years, and finally achieved great vengeance. A faint melancholy rose in her heart.
A melancholy akin to spiritual communion—the weight and darkness that only those bearing the same heavy responsibilities could understand.
After a long while, she said softly: “Though a life may be brief, to have come, loved, lived, and walked through it with such vigor—that too is worthwhile.”
Zong Chen remained silent. Only after a long time did he say: “The small booklet I gave you back then was written by Empress Shenying.”
Feng Zhiwei smiled knowingly: “I knew long ago.”
Other than that legendary woman who was uniquely independent, seemingly unlike anyone of her era, other than the founding great emperor of Da Cheng who inherited the divine power of longevity and possessed unparalleled wisdom—who else could glimpse events six hundred years hence? Who else could, in such playful jest, create an unparalleled statesman six hundred years later?
The Zhuoying Scroll written personally by the founding Empress of Da Cheng—the answers to the first two questions were clearly written in that small booklet. Other than the Empress, who else could know?
That was not a woman of this world—though Grand Empress Dowager Mudan somewhat resembled her.
Six hundred years ago, the peerless imperial couple—what ultimate outcome had they glimpsed through the heavenly way, and what arrangements had they made accordingly? Thinking of this now, Feng Zhiwei felt a sense of solemn coldness.
“Don’t overthink it.” Zong Chen said. “The Empress’s original intention was only to prepare for any eventuality. This batch of wealth was accessed once before. There are four keys to that place—besides the direct descendants of the Da Cheng imperial family, the Tianzhan, Zong, and Yan families each hold one. All four keys together are needed to open it. After the Yan family abdicated, unwilling to involve themselves in politics, they later returned their key to the imperial house, so the imperial house held two. When Da Cheng collapsed, to facilitate escape, they opened the vault once and took some of the wealth. After that… some problems arose. Now we’re missing one key.”
“What problems?”
“The Tianzhan family became estranged from us.” Zong Chen hesitated before saying: “This was an old matter from back then. I had not yet taken charge of Xue Futu and was still with the Zong family. The Xue Futu leader, using the imperial gold certificate, requested the key from me, and I gave it. Later I heard that in the final escape, Xue Futu was betrayed and nearly completely wiped out. The problem lies in that word ‘nearly.’ At that time, Tianzhan Xuyao, the sole heir of the Tianzhan family across three thousand miles, volunteered to cover the rear. He was said to have died as well. The Zhan family said nothing, adopting a child from the branch line to continue the bloodline. But not long after, someone said Xuyao hadn’t died. You must understand—in that situation, anyone who survived was equivalent to a traitor. The organization leader, Nanyi’s uncle, searched far and wide for him. Whether he was ultimately found, I don’t know. But from that time on, Xue Futu and the Tianzhan family became estranged, with no further contact.”
“Xue Futu…” This was the first time Feng Zhiwei had clearly heard from Zong Chen’s mouth the name of his organization. Previously, when her attitude was unclear, Zong Chen had been very secretive about it. Now that Zong Chen had confirmed her intentions, he planned to be completely open with her.
She recalled Gu Nanyi’s jade sword—the hilt bore precisely a blood-colored pagoda. She recalled her childhood, when her foster father often went out, originally to search for that traitor.
From her mother’s words, she knew her foster father was an especially resolute and stubborn person. With his temperament, he would indeed pursue a traitor relentlessly unto death. But for unknown reasons, even until his final moments, he seemed unable to confirm who the traitor was.
Those who walked with Xue Futu to the end were all people who held Da Cheng’s imperial family’s highest secrets. If this traitor wasn’t found, it was like a fishbone lodged in the throat—who knew when it might pierce through. However, so many years had passed. Even her foster father couldn’t find them back then—where would she search now?
She also recalled that year at Jiyang Mountain’s ruined temple, teetering between life and death. The Tianzhan family had clearly sent someone to help, but ultimately avoided them when Zong Chen arrived. The relationship between the Tianzhan family and Xue Futu was truly subtle.
“We now maintain non-interference with each other.” Zong Chen knew what she was thinking and explained. “After Nanyi inherited Xue Futu, with both his and my temperament, neither would want endless conflict with the Tianzhan family. The Zhan, Yan, and Zong families—their ancestors all swore to look after each other. But after so many generations, after successive conquests, one cannot expect every family to still uphold that oath. It’s normal for people to remember grudges but not kindness. The Yan family withdrew early, the Zhan family became estranged. Now only the Zong family remains. Rest assured, each generation of the three great family heads takes a deadly oath when inheriting their estate—even if they don’t help each other, they won’t kill each other. The Zhan family should maintain neutrality.”
Feng Zhiwei remained silent for a long while before asking: “When Xue Futu was pursued back then, who were the final survivors?”
“Gu Heng, Gu Yan, Old Shi, San Hu, Xiao Liu.” Zong Chen said. “Gu Heng was the previous Xue Futu sect master. Gu Yan was his younger brother, Nanyi’s biological father, Xue Futu’s foremost expert. Old Shi was Xue Futu’s number seven figure, skilled with blades, usually in charge of Xue Futu’s warrior martial arts training. San Hu was Xue Futu’s most experienced veteran, managing Xue Futu’s information transmission. Xiao Liu was Tianzhan Xuyao. According to current regulations, people from the three great families generally don’t directly join Xue Futu. Xiao Liu joined to train himself. Descendants of the Zhan family receive different treatment within Xue Futu. When Da Cheng collapsed, he had only recently entered Xue Futu.”
Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes, as if contemplating something. From this information, Tianzhan Xuyao was indeed the most suspicious. But she had always understood that with some matters, looking only at the surface was often completely opposite to the truth. Without finding the true participants of that incident, mere speculation would not suffice.
She sighed, setting this matter aside for now, and asked: “Can we obtain the key from the Tianzhan family?”
“The current problem is that the key was on Tianzhan Xuyao at the time. The Tianzhan family says Tianzhan Xuyao is dead, and the key has not returned to the Zhan family. Now, unless we find Tianzhan Xuyao, we might obtain the key. But who knows where he is?”
Feng Zhiwei was lost in thought for a moment, then smiled and said: “As winds and clouds gather, dregs will naturally surface. Some matters, some people—when they should appear, they will appear…” She inquired no further, casually pulling over a map and saying to Zong Chen: “If this side can’t surface, our affairs on the other side cannot be delayed because of it. Send reliable people to transport a batch of the materials we’ve slowly been purchasing nationwide these years to here.” She pointed to a certain location—there, a long shadow of deep blue-green represented continuous mountain ranges. The hundred thousand great mountains of Min’nan.
“Alright…” Zong Chen had barely finished agreeing when he suddenly looked up. At the same moment, Feng Zhiwei sharply commanded: “Who’s there!” Her hand swept out, the writing brush in her hand flying like an arrow, whistling out through the window.
A resounding clang of shattering roof tiles, the sound of a heavy object falling on the tiles then scrambling up again. Immediately, wind sounds arose from overhead and all directions—Feng Zhiwei’s hidden guards had already given chase.
Feng Zhiwei looked up at the beams. Suddenly a faint gleam of light flashed somewhere. Her gaze contracted as she leaped onto the beam. Sure enough, she discovered two small mirrors placed extremely covertly on the beam, both positioned at the turn of light rays, directly facing her desk. On the side of the roof was also a small round hole. As long as someone lay on top and used the mirrors’ reflection, they could see the movements below. Those with particularly good eyesight could even see what she was writing. Moreover, the position where one would lie wasn’t directly overhead where it would be easily discovered. These mirrors’ placement was precisely calculated—clearly the other party had come prepared. But why had they made a sound just now? Was it because they saw the direction her finger pointed to on the map at that moment?
In all the world, to accomplish such work right beside Feng Zhiwei, it must be an expert in infiltration. Feng Zhiwei and Zong Chen exchanged a glance. Neither spoke, but murderous intent gleamed in both their eyes.
After a while, Zong Chen said: “Tonight the Dragon Slaying Gang behind the Chen family will certainly retaliate. Do you think it could be…”
Feng Zhiwei drew up her sleeves, looking at the withered bamboo tapping at the cold window in the winter night. Something strange flickered in her eyes. After a long while, she slowly shook her head.
The night was cold. Jianghuai’s winter nights differed from other places, seeping with bone-penetrating cold. Even if the day had been sunny, by nighttime white mist drifted everywhere. When moonlight struck down, the ground reflected pale blue glimmering light.
In the distance, the watchman’s clapper sounded, seeming drawn out and desolate by the night. The wind carried faint crying—the Chen family, known as “shaking half the city,” was holding funeral rites for their family head.
“Whoosh, whoosh.”
In the darkness, faint sounds of traveling wind came. Several figures shot out silently from various directions of the Provincial Administration Office, melting into the darkness, very coordinatedly running toward one direction. Behind them leaped several gray-clothed figures, ghostlike in their tight pursuit.
Though those fleeing in front appeared to run in panic without choosing their path, they were actually all heading toward a certain direction in the west of the city.
And at this time, in the western city.
The gates of a particularly imposing compound suddenly opened wide, surging forth with many capable men in short garb bearing blades. All wore identical brown short tunics with red sashes at the waist and black bands tied on their arms. Every face was solemn, radiating hidden killing intent.
At the compound entrance hung a lantern with gloomy light, illuminating the couplets on both sides of the gate. The left read: “Blades dance eighty thousand miles through wind and rain.” The right read: “Swords challenge three thousand zhang of red dust.” The couplet was simple, yet written with drawn swords and taut bows, murderous intent soaring. Under the lamplight, the strokes truly resembled blades.
This place looked somewhat like a martial arts school, but in Jianghuai, many people knew this was the location of the Dragon Slaying Gang’s main hall, the backing support of the great Chen family. The Dragon Slaying Gang wasn’t originally called Dragon Slaying—it was called Prosperous Dragon, merely a third-rate small gang. Legend had it that two years ago, someone with a single sword stormed the mountain gate, successively defeating the Prosperous Dragon Gang leader and thirteen subordinate leaders, winning the gang’s allegiance and taking that leadership position. In just two years, they rapidly rose to become the number one gang in Jianghuai, a latecomer surpassing predecessors. They changed the name to Dragon Slaying. Such a brazenly treasonous gang name naturally would not be publicly displayed, so the couplet at the main hall entrance never changed. The Dragon Slaying Gang connected with Jianghuai’s great households, dominating the local martial world. These past two years, they had been truly formidable.
Someone brought out a large basket filled with those black cloth strips. Most people silently walked over, taking one themselves to tie on their arms. A middle-aged man stood silently under the lantern, looking toward the Provincial Administration Office for a long time, his expression changing unpredictably.
News of Master Liu being disemboweled on the spot at Shuiyue Manor had already arrived. Young Master Liu had immediately knelt at the Dragon Slaying Gang’s main hall. The Provincial Administration Commissioner’s strike was no less than a great slap across the Dragon Slaying Gang’s face!
If the Dragon Slaying Gang swallowed this humiliation, how could they continue to operate in Jianghuai in the future?
Never in Jianghuai’s history had commoners fought with officials. Now they would make these damned officials taste some bitter medicine!
After a long while, that man resolutely waved his hand.
Countless short-garbed men let out a low “Hey!” The sound was deep and resonant. The chest resonance of thousands of men made even the ground seem to tremble.
Steady, rhythmic rustling footsteps arose, rapidly scraping against the ground as they departed. Crowds continually gathered from various directions, silently taking cloth strips at the entrance, then like countless streams of black water, they poured into the various lanes and alleys of the Jianghuai capital, finally converging toward the Provincial Administration Office.
No passionate oath-taking, no rousing slogans. The atmosphere was silent and deadly, not a cough to be heard. Only the fire crackled and popped, illuminating countless swaying figures in the night.
Precisely because of this, this Dragon Slaying Gang crowd transcended ordinary street thugs, possessing the calm yet earth-shaking power of iron-blooded soldiers.
Those black shadows pouring into the great city’s bloodstream like poisonous water were, from every direction, about to inject themselves into the heart of the Jianghuai capital—the Provincial Administration Office.
By tomorrow, the world would hear earth-shaking news.
The composed man before Dragon Slaying’s main hall couldn’t help but have excitement flashing in his eyes.
The fastest batch had already reached only an arrow’s distance from the dark Provincial Administration Office. Though they resembled soldiers more than hooligans, after all, there were many of them. This was the first time executing such a major operation attacking an official compound—inevitably they felt some excitement. So none noticed that several figures had silently inserted themselves into their ranks, followed in turn by several more figures silently trailing after.
An arrow’s distance away, the Provincial Administration Office crouched like a giant beast in the darkness. Before the entrance, lanterns lazily swirled in the wind. Two soldiers wrapped in cotton garments, holding long blades under the lamplight, swayed with eyes half-open and half-closed, completely unaware that crisis had silently approached.
As the night approached the third watch, the interconnected alleys outside the Provincial Administration Office gradually filled with more people, surrounding the entire vast compound.
The Dragon Slaying Gang’s second-in-command, walking at the very front, looked up at the two drowsy guards on duty before the entrance, a trace of contempt passing through his eyes.
He remembered the chief’s instructions: commoners don’t fight with officials. So this visit was mainly a warning. As long as the other side was sensible and gave the Dragon Slaying Gang sufficient face, everyone wouldn’t mind letting bygones be bygones with a smile. But the prerequisite was that the other side must see the Dragon Slaying Gang’s strength and determination!
Previous Jianghuai Provincial Administration Commissioners never provoked these local snakes. Three years per term—they simply sought peace. Why trigger major incidents and have it noted negatively in their performance evaluations?
So they came with confidence.
But honor trampled by blood might as well first be washed with the blood of these lackeys!
He sneered coldly, slowly raising his hand.
“Clack!”
Before his hand could fall, a sudden sharp sound came from mid-air. The second-in-command startled, before he could react, he heard another series of familiar grinding sounds.
Hearing this sound, his face changed drastically. His eyes darted and he saw that the originally unremarkable walls suddenly opened countless windows, extending countless crossbow mechanisms. The dark crossbow bodies were like serpents emerging from their lairs, coldly seizing everyone’s vital points!
The Dragon Slaying Gang’s second-in-command felt his heart and gall shatter in an instant—a wall full of crossbows! The other side was prepared, intending complete annihilation!
Just as he wanted to shout for retreat, it was already too late.
“Swish!”
In the darkness, a black cloud suddenly rose. Atop the black cloud gleamed dark blue-green cold light. With just one “buzz,” it descended overwhelmingly from above.
“Ahhh!”
In an instant, agonized screams erupted!
The Dragon Slaying Gang members, armed with long blades and short swords, preparing to assault the Provincial Administration Office, still feeling proud of their courage to attack the Provincial Administration Office—unexpectedly, the other side had even more courage, daring to launch a massive killing without even a warning!
The powerful crossbows, in an instant, mowed down like harvesting grain the entire first batch at the front. The fallen corpses sprayed blood three zhang high, dyeing the broad ground before the Provincial Administration entrance a sheet of blood red!
The crowd stirred with commotion, but incredibly, they still didn’t retreat. Or rather, those in front wanted to retreat, but because there were too many people, those in back had just arrived and didn’t yet know the situation ahead, pushing and preventing their retreat. Meanwhile, that volley of arrows stopped after one round. Then the crossbow mechanisms clicked as they seemed to change positions for alternating fire. The dark crossbow tips continuously shifted, aiming at various directions. This feeling of being swept by killing instruments was extremely terrifying—everyone was targeted by crossbow tips cold as serpent eyes, instantly soaked with sweat through their heavy clothes. The moment the crossbow moved away, they had just breathed a huge sigh of relief with a sense of escaping death when another crossbow mechanism slowly shifted to aim at them… Over and over, endless torment, repeatedly exchanging between life and death. Even men of iron couldn’t withstand this extreme psychological torture of tightening and loosening. Originally barely maintaining order, suddenly someone shouted and, stepping on companions’ corpses, drilled back into the crowd. This started a chain reaction. All sides instantly descended into chaos. Those in front drilled backward while those in back pushed forward. Noisy sounds, trampling sounds, screaming sounds, shoving sounds mixed with blood splashing everywhere and crushed corpses underfoot. Before the Provincial Administration Office, it instantly churned into a pot of blood-colored gruel.
The second-in-command in charge leaped atop the crowd trying to control the forces. But they had brought too many people, with many still continuously rushing here. Once chaos erupted, his small voice was long drowned in the earth-shaking cacophony. He was left desperately waving both hands atop the crowd—a powerless gesture in the firelight.
By now, those who hadn’t yet arrived had also heard the commotion here and quickened their pace. This batch moved more precisely and faster. But just as they reached the alley entrance—swish!—both walls of the alley suddenly projected giant blade nets!
Under moonlight, the swaying blade net was like countless cold moons. Those rushing fastest couldn’t stop their momentum and crashed into it, immediately suffering head wounds and bloodshed!
Some with apparently good martial skills flipped up trying to leap over the blade net. From the darkness came someone’s shout: “Shoot!”
Instantly, figures holding bows appeared on walls in all directions. One fierce volley immediately forced them back.
That batch blocked at the Provincial Administration Office plaza had some finally squeeze through wanting to escape through various alleys, but were stopped by those blade nets. Those nets were like dividing lines, splitting the Dragon Slaying Gang into two segments, severing all limbs, preventing them from receiving aid. Then, pinning each section separately—and beating them!
In every alley, the sound of bow-wielding people rapidly running along wall tops could be heard, now forward, now back, now left, now right. You could never know which wall top they would emerge from to give you an arrow—just like those crossbow mechanisms always surrounding but not shooting, constantly rotating. You never knew when they would suddenly loose a volley and another batch would fall in the plaza.
One could say the Provincial Administration Office hadn’t yet begun true massacre, yet the Dragon Slaying Gang members were already going mad—death itself wasn’t terrifying, merely darkness before the eyes and it passed. Most terrifying was the threat of death constantly pressing on your head. You knew it would come but didn’t know which moment it would come!
The broad open space was packed with people, all trying to retreat backward, attempting to escape that crossbow sweep. When they hid behind others, those turned to the front immediately felt the crisis and desperately pushed backward too… Layer after layer flipping over, everyone churned together. Some thought they’d squeezed to the back, but perhaps moments later, they would realize in horror they’d been pushed by the crowd back to the front again.
So many people, such chaos, the oppression of death—many in the open area were trampled to death or injured. Those in the alleys were even more unfortunate, with some literally pressed against walls and flattened.
In the darkness, all manner of howls pierced the heavens. Firelight reflected writhing human figures like ghosts and demons. Countless commoners huddled trembling in their quilts. Some bold enough to push open windows for a glance would be haunted by nightmares from then on.
This night, in Jianghuai’s unofficial histories, was called the “Night of Dragon Slaying.” That eternally legendary Minister Wei turned everything he experienced into legend—this time naturally was no exception. The Provincial Administration Office killed only thirty-odd people, yet drove mad the tens of thousands who had mobilized en masse to demand justice from the number one gang, Dragon Slaying.
This night was passed down by word of mouth among Jianghuai’s common people for a long time. They witnessed with their own eyes how the number one gang proudly rose over two years, then in one night was beaten back to original form and thereafter vanished.
Only at this moment did the prosperous and leisurely Jianghuai people, who looked down on everyone, truly remember forever for the first time that seemingly gentle yet resolute youth.
And this night, Feng Zhiwei merely held tea and smiled on the tower, quietly watching that sea of blood churning. The snow-white fur on her snow-white cape softly brushed her snow-colored cheeks. She appeared tall and upright, unstained by worldly dust like a person in a painting.
Her gaze never looked at the tragic scene before the plaza, but remained fixed on the depths of the alleys.
There, those who had earlier eavesdropped on her beam, disguising their identities, had merged into the Dragon Slaying Gang’s flow, wanting to take advantage of the chaos to escape. Little did they expect Feng Zhiwei had long prepared to close the door and beat the dog. The roving archers she arranged on walls within various alleys weren’t actually meant to kill those Dragon Slaying Gang members. She had never intended to exterminate them completely—she merely needed to kill their murderous prestige and authority, as they would be useful later. Her true purpose was to fish in troubled waters and completely annihilate those who dared eavesdrop on her beam!
After those people were discovered and withdrew from the compound, Zong Chen’s hidden guards followed them, pursuing relentlessly. With them tracking the opposition’s movements in the crowd, one could say every arrow from the wall-top archers was aimed at the eavesdroppers. Those spies trapped in the alleys—whether shot dead or killed trying to break out—had no other outcome.
Zong Chen stood behind her, watching her calm and indifferent expression. From start to finish, she hadn’t said to leave one alive to see who instigated the spying. This indicated she knew who it was.
After hesitating for a long while, he asked in a low voice: “Truly… kill them all?”
Feng Zhiwei lowered her eyelashes. The tea’s mist made her gaze even more moist, reflecting this night’s pallid sky color and streaming blood light. She didn’t speak, only held the tea cup more tightly, as if wanting to rely on that meager warmth to warm her ice-cold heart a little more.
Before dawn’s darkest hour, someone in the distance sent a signal from afar. Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes and waved her hand.
Crossbow mechanisms withdrew, blade nets retracted. Suddenly liberated, the Dragon Slaying Gang members instantly fled like a rushing tide, leaving behind dozens of unrecognizable corpses.
Feng Zhiwei on the high tower never descended, gazing at those interconnected alleys for a long time without speaking. Behind her, Zong Chen asked: “Should we dispose of the corpses in those alleys?”
He referred to those spies who had eavesdropped on the beam, then were trapped in alleys and shot to death one arrow at a time by Feng Zhiwei’s people with hidden arrows.
Feng Zhiwei remained silent. After a long time, she shook her head.
At the corners of her lips was etched a shallow, almost desolate smile.
About two hours later, these corpses were displayed at a certain imperial estate in Baizhou.
Five or six corpses lay in a row on the open ground, uniformly disheveled and drenched, their faces still retaining the terror and unwillingness from the moment before death.
Such expressions, seen by others’ eyes, seemed more like a warning.
Everyone in the courtyard looked grim. Only one person’s expression remained normal. He bent slightly, very carefully examining each of those corpses, as if trying to discern what those people wanted to say before dying.
His deep black cape embroidered with golden mandala flowers hung long to the ground, making his elegant countenance gain several traces of cold allure. His slightly slanted eyebrows, like trimmed feathers, revealed a blackish-blue color like distant mountains.
After a long while, he waved his hand, signaling his subordinates to collect the corpses. Someone wanted to come ask something, but he silently turned away. The people on all sides quickly dispersed completely.
He stood silently in the courtyard, his slender figure faintly bathed in the winter sun’s feeble light.
He looked toward the direction of Jianghuai’s capital.
Softly saying:
“Zhiwei, you clearly know they were my people.”