After checking the provisions and fresh water loaded onto the small boat, Meng Jianqing had it lowered to the sea. From chest twenty-three, several dozen taels of silver fragments and sixteen gold ingots were also placed inside. Meihong and Fang Guohao both came up on deck, with Meihong holding a lantern and watching Meng Jianqing standing at the bow facing the wind.
With sails raised high, they rode the northwest wind past another small island.
Uncle Yanfu at the helm kept his eyes fixed on Meng Jianqing. He had to see Meng Jianqing leave this ship with his own eyes before he could feel at ease.
The Guanyin statue, wrapped layer upon layer in coarse cloth, was tightly bound to Meng Jianqing’s back.
Meihong vaguely thought that Meng Jianqing’s back had just suffered such a severe wound—wouldn’t binding it so tightly aggravate the injury?
She was suddenly startled.
How could Meng Jianqing look like someone who’d been seriously wounded?
That bloody gash might not have been as deep as she’d originally thought—perhaps just some superficial flesh wounds—
But Meng Jianqing had already swung out his long rope, lassoed the crossbeam, and swung up. His right-hand blade flashed as he flew past, shredding the sails piece by piece and severing the rigging section by section.
Uncle Yanfu stood stunned for a moment before recovering and roaring in fury. He grabbed a ghost-head saber beside him and hurled it at Meng Jianqing as he swung down around the mast.
Meng Jianqing struck back with his blade, hitting the ghost-head saber’s center and deflecting most of its momentum. His left hand reached out to catch it while his legs pushed off the mast, making his diving attack even more ferocious. Uncle Yanfu grabbed a fishing spear to meet him, but couldn’t withstand Meng Jianqing’s diving force and toppled over with his weapon. The ghost-head saber chopped down, splitting the arm-thick ship’s rudder in half.
Uncle Yanfu rolled back up, and seeing the destroyed rudder, wept bitterly while his chest burned with even greater fury. He charged forward with a great shout.
As Meng Jianqing’s right-hand short blade flew out, he had already swept toward the iron anchor winch on the other side. His hands came together, and the ghost-head saber chopped down again, shattering the winch as the iron anchor splashed into the sea.
Uncle Yanfu used his crosswise spear to block the incoming short blade, which spun around the spear shaft and flew over his head to embed in the cabin wall, still quivering with sound.
As Uncle Yanfu continued charging forward to thrust his spear into Meng Jianqing’s back, he suddenly heard Meihong’s cry of alarm and felt hot blood flowing down from his head. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t help but reach up to wipe it.
In that moment of hesitation, Meng Jianqing kicked him into the sea.
With sails torn and anchor lost, the ship drifted with the wind, immediately slowing its momentum.
Fang Guohao’s face was deathly pale as he wailed, “It’s over, it’s over…”
Meihong’s hand holding the lantern trembled involuntarily, not from fear but from anger.
Meng Jianqing had deliberately pretended to be seriously wounded, intending nothing more than to let the pirates and her people fight to mutual destruction. With Uncle Yanfu dead, he commanded the entire ship.
He had been deceiving her, perhaps all along.
Meng Jianqing cast out his long rope, lassoed the handle of the short blade embedded in the cabin wall, and with a wave of his hand, the rope brought the blade back to him.
He sheathed his blade and looked at Meihong, saying, “That small boat was prepared for you. Wherever you want to go, I won’t interfere. Though the gold and silver aren’t much, it’s enough for you to live comfortably for life.”
Hearing these words, Fang Guohao felt as if he’d found life in a desperate situation and said joyfully, “Thank you for your mercy in not killing us, Lieutenant Meng! Meihong, let’s go quickly!”
Tears glittered in Meihong’s eyes as Fang Guohao pulled her into the cabin to pack their belongings. They also helped the seriously wounded Fang Fourteen and Fang Seventeen brothers out of the cabin—she feared that after her departure, Meng Jianqing would certainly kill them to eliminate future trouble. Meng Jianqing stood at the cabin door watching them. Meihong almost reached for the dressing table, but Meng Jianqing gave a light hum. She hesitated, and the bitter taste rising in her heart finally brought her to tears.