In his final moments before plunging into complete darkness, terror and excruciating pain lashed at Jin Rong’s consciousness. They had searched so thoroughly before—where had the Crown Prince gotten that thing from?
“This was given to me by Zhu Buhua! Today, I’m returning it to you!”
Crown Prince Zhu Zhanji roared, smashing his fist into Jin Rong’s face again, causing more blood to spray from his left eye. He had struck with such force that his right shoulder was rapidly becoming soaked with blood, but the Crown Prince paid it no mind. He ferociously moved behind Jin Rong and kicked the back of his knees, forcing this “Military Guan Gong” to kneel. Then he drew the straight-handled blade from Jin Rong’s waist and held it against his throat.
This series of movements was clean, swift, and ruthless as if releasing a torrent of pent-up rage.
The Wei commanders and Qianhu officers were caught off guard—how had the situation reversed so quickly, with Jin Rong suddenly at the Crown Prince’s mercy? They rushed forward in alarm to save him, but Zhu Zhanji barked: “Stand back!”
The finely patterned steel blade pressed against Jin Rong’s throat. The officers had no choice but to comply with the Crown Prince’s demand, hesitantly stepping backward.
“Wu Dingyuan, are you still alive?” Zhu Zhanji’s voice was hoarse; his previous roar had nearly torn his vocal cords.
“Still kicking, Big Radish.”
“Release him!” Zhu Zhanji grabbed Jin Rong’s hair and yanked backward, pressing the blade closer to his throat.
Jin Rong’s guards quickly let go. Wu Dingyuan struggled to his feet, fighting through the pain in his arms as he stumbled over. When he saw the blood on the Crown Prince’s right shoulder, he drew in a sharp breath. The prince had been ruthless enough to dig out the arrowhead deeply embedded in his shoulder muscle—Su Jingxi’s previous treatment was now completely undone, and the tendons in his right shoulder were likely permanently damaged.
But without such desperate measures, they couldn’t have broken this deadlock.
Wu Dingyuan knew this wasn’t the time for sentimentality. He quickly ran to the Crown Prince’s side and took over holding the blade against Jin Rong’s throat. As soon as the prince let go, he staggered, clutching his right shoulder and nearly falling. How much pain must someone endure to physically dig an arrowhead out of their flesh? Even Wu Dingyuan couldn’t imagine it. He forced these idle thoughts away and pressed the blade against Jin Rong’s throat: “Tell everyone to stand down!”
Blood streamed down Jin Rong’s face, but he only grunted, neither begging for mercy nor calling for help. Since Wu Dingyuan couldn’t kill him, he could only shout at the Wei commanders and Qianhu officers: “If you don’t want him dead, order your men to stand down!”
The commanders and officers hurriedly agreed. Suddenly, one of Jin Rong’s old personal guards burst into tears, kneeling and begging to tend to his master’s wounds. Just as Zhu Zhanji was about to nod in agreement, Wu Dingyuan called out first: “Don’t come any closer! Just throw over some hemostatic powder and bandages.”
The guards quickly tossed over a bag of military medicine and cloth rolls. Wu Dingyuan slightly relaxed the blade’s pressure, allowing Jin Rong to dress his wounds. Despite losing both eyes, the old soldier remained stoic, not making a sound as his hands steadily treated his injuries.
He only used half the medicine, leaving the other half for Zhu Zhanji to bandage his right shoulder. The forceful removal of the arrowhead had torn away a chunk of flesh with its barbs, completely ruining the nearly-healed wound. During this brief respite, the Wei commanders and Qianhu officers quickly ran to the banner platform below, calling for their subordinates to cease fighting.
The scene below the platform was chaos. Liang Xingfu was completely entangled in fishing nets, unable to move, with dozens of guard officers lying around him. More officers, red-eyed with rage, cursed while repeatedly stabbing at the nets with steel forks and straight blades, turning him into a bloody mess. Liang Xingfu’s valor was truly remarkable—he had single-handedly drawn the attention of hundreds of men on the parade ground, and incredibly, not one had noticed what was happening on the platform above.
Only when their superior officers hurriedly came down calling for them to stop did the guards realize the change in situation on the platform. How had their commander-in-chief become a prisoner in such a short time? They exchanged confused glances and gathered around the platform, quickly forming three rings of men both inside and out.
The parade ground had fallen into a peculiar stalemate. The Shandong military district’s guards dared not approach the platform, fearing for their commander’s safety; those on the platform couldn’t break through either. The balance of power hung entirely on the steel blade in Wu Dingyuan’s hand. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the platform, each gaze sharp with killing intent. Wu Dingyuan seemed oblivious to it all as he pointed down at Liang Xingfu: “Let him through!”
Several Qianhu officers glanced at the bloody-faced Jin Rong and reluctantly issued the order. Soon, several men dragged the fishing nets, pulling Liang Xingfu to the platform’s base, surrounded by countless hateful glares. His body was a bloody mess, with burn scars reopened—he barely looked human. Yet he stood steady as an iron tower. The armed men around him instinctively maintained their distance; otherwise, his imposing presence would have made it impossible to breathe. Several tall lanterns on the platform made it much brighter than the surroundings.
As soon as Liang Xingfu climbed onto the platform, a commotion erupted in the crowd.
“It’s Liang Xingfu!” a trembling voice called out. Another voice immediately cried out: “It is him!”
“He’s still alive?” a third voice was filled with panic.
Those who called out were at least company-grade officers. These small ripples continued to spread, making the parade ground boil like a pot. Surprisingly, Liang Xingfu’s earlier feat of fighting hundreds in darkness paled in comparison to the shock his mere appearance now caused.
Liang Xingfu remained expressionless, showing no pride. Wu Dingyuan, however, was quite shocked that the name could cause such an impact. Did he have some history with the Shandong military district? Of course—he was the White Lotus Protector, so he must have clashed with Shandong’s military forces before, causing them significant trouble.
“So it is Liang Xingfu?”
Beside him, Zhu Zhanji’s eyes widened; his shock was no less than the others. Liang Xingfu had pursued them like an avatar of death from Nanjing to Huai’an, becoming almost a nightmare—how had he suddenly become their savior in Jinan? Wu Dingyuan had no time to explain in detail, only saying gravely: “The White Lotus has reformed.”
Before Zhu Zhanji could marvel at this, the one-eyed and bleeding Jin Rong snorted coldly, then muttered indistinctly: “Unexpected that he would come too.”
Wu Dingyuan frowned: “You know Liang Xingfu?”
Jin Rong said: “Even blind, my ears would recognize this man. Over twenty years… and he’s still alive.”
Wu Dingyuan’s suspicions grew—over twenty years? This meant Jin Rong had known Liang Xingfu before the Yongle era, even before the Buddha Mother’s uprising. But the current situation didn’t allow him to dig deeper. So Wu Dingyuan jerked the blade, pressing it against Jin Rong: “Enough talk! Order your men to withdraw!”
Jin Rong said coldly: “It’s useless.”
Wu Dingyuan’s wrist flexed, pressing the blade down: “That’s fine. If you die, guess who they’ll follow? A dead rebellious military officer, or the genuine Crown Prince of Great Ming?”
Such rebellion already carried heavy psychological pressure, and now their leader was held hostage, leaving them leaderless. If the Crown Prince properly revealed his identity and claimed the moral high ground, who else could these hundreds of guards pledge loyalty to?
But contrary to Wu Dingyuan’s expectations, before Jin Rong could speak, Zhu Zhanji shook his head: “It’s useless.” Wu Dingyuan was puzzled by this abrupt statement. The Crown Prince immediately added: “He and Zhu Buhua are old war companions, both under the Prince of Han. The entire Shandong military district’s forces are my uncle’s former subordinates.”
“You figured it out yourself? Perhaps you’re not entirely useless.” Jin Rong offered a rare word of praise.
“What a… masterful plan,” the Crown Prince sighed.
Once he had guessed that the noble behind it all was the Prince of Han, all the clues made sense. Zhu Buhua led the Warrior Camp south to ensure the Crown Prince’s death in Nanjing; meanwhile, Jin Rong secretly gathered Shandong’s military forces in Jinan, preparing to march north to the capital, becoming the sharpest blade in the Prince of Han’s bid for the throne.
The full scope of the Two Capitals Plot was now largely revealed. Beijing, Nanjing, and Jinan—three simultaneous strikes, a grand design that left one speechless.
This was why the Crown Prince said it was useless. The guards who chose to come to Jinan must all be Jin Rong’s die-hard loyalists. If Jin Rong were killed, rather than beg the Crown Prince for mercy, they would more likely surge forward and turn Zhu Zhanji, Wu Dingyuan, and the others into a bloody pulp before scattering. Wu Dingyuan clicked his tongue in disappointment, abandoning his fantasy of persuading the guards to surrender.
Zhu Zhanji clutched his right shoulder, blood slowly seeping through his fingers. Wu Dingyuan dared not delay further and shouted down to the crowd: “Prepare three fast horses for us, and clear the barricades from the North Gate! Quickly!”
A commotion erupted below, and Wu Dingyuan shoved Jin Rong’s shoulder, shouting fiercely: “Hurry!” The Wei commanders and Qianhu officers had no choice but to give the order. Soon, someone led over three fine horses, fully saddled.
“Bring them to the platform edge and clear a path!” Wu Dingyuan said, slowly drawing a line of blood across Jin Rong’s neck.
The guards below looked ready to breathe fire, but none dared risk their commander’s life, so they reluctantly stepped back to clear a path. Wu Dingyuan made a gesture, and Zhu Zhanji jumped down first, mounting a horse. Liang Xingfu also stood up but didn’t rush to mount. Instead, he took Wu Dingyuan’s blade: “You go first.”
Wu Dingyuan had no time to marvel at the Sick Buddha Enemy’s unexpected consideration. He leaped down and mounted another horse. Liang Xingfu walked to the platform’s edge with Jin Rong, suddenly beginning to recite the “Essential Practice of Self-Sacrifice Sutra.” Wu Dingyuan’s hair stood on end—the last time he heard these scriptures, he had nearly been executed by Lingchi. What madness was the Sick Buddha Enemy planning now?
Liang Xingfu slowly lowered the blade, then suddenly twisted his wrist, cutting away a piece of flesh from Jin Rong’s leg. Caught off guard, Jin Rong let out an agonized cry. This enraged the guards, who surged forward, but Liang Xingfu waved the blade, forcing them back again. However, this advance and retreat made their escape route increasingly narrow.
“Liang Xingfu!”
Wu Dingyuan grew anxious—why create additional problems at such a critical moment? Liang Xingfu’s eyes were perfectly calm: “Some old business to settle.” With that, he raised the blade again and cut another piece of flesh from Jin Rong’s arm.
Wu Dingyuan knew that once this man went mad, nothing could stop him. Given the urgent situation, he had no choice but to let him be. He turned and pulled his reins, saying to the Crown Prince: “Let’s go!” The two horses galloped toward the North Gate.
Meanwhile, Liang Xingfu continued reciting the “Essential Practice of Self-Sacrifice Sutra” while forcing Jin Rong down to mount the third horse. Unexpectedly, the previously listless Jin Rong gathered his strength and exploded with power as he mounted. This force wasn’t enough to break free from Liang Xingfu’s grip, but it gave him some freedom of movement. Liang Xingfu reacted swiftly, swinging the blade at his head. If Jin Rong wanted to live, he would have to lower his head obediently.
But Jin Rong’s choice surprised even Liang Xingfu. Without dodging, he deliberately let his head hit the blade, causing blood to pour forth. Simultaneously, he shouted to those around him: “Kill both captor and hostage!”
His voice was so loud it made the entire parade ground vibrate. This was an iron rule of the military—those who take hostages must be killed along with their hostages, with no compromise. The guards below had been holding back, but hearing this cry, they immediately erupted in fury.
Liang Xingfu’s expression changed for the first time as he tried to pull Jin Rong back. But Jin Rong showed no fear, staring with his bloody left eye as he continued shouting: “Forget about me! Kill the Crown Prince! The Prince of Han will reward you well—” His final word was cut short by Liang Xingfu’s fist smashing into his mouth, sending several teeth flying with trailing threads of blood. But it was too late—the guards’ eyes had already grown fierce. Earlier, they had hesitated to harm their commander, their resolve wavering. Now Jin Rong’s words had removed the final restraint, and the rebels no longer showed any hesitation about attacking the Crown Prince.
From horseback, Wu Dingyuan heard these words and immediately sensed danger: “Run!”
He hurled his iron ruler, striking the Crown Prince’s horse’s rump. The stallion whinnied in pain, rearing up on its hind legs, poised to gallop forward. But the path ahead was densely packed with people, and the horse’s initial speed wasn’t enough to break through. Instead, it was blocked by crossed blades and forks. Further out, numerous helmets bobbed as men converged from all directions, surrounding the horses so tightly that not even water could flow through.
A suffocating murderous intent rose from all sides of the banner platform.
Liang Xingfu snorted coldly and lifted Jin Rong high. By now, Jin Rong was blind in both eyes, his body covered in cuts, blood dripping onto the parade ground and forming a small pool. The guards’ advance slowed slightly. But everyone present knew their hesitation was rapidly disappearing—an attack was only a matter of time.
Wu Dingyuan and Zhu Zhanji exchanged glances, each seeing despair in the other’s eyes. They were surrounded by hundreds of elite guards—this time, there truly seemed no way out.
“Who would have thought that I, the Crown Prince of Great Ming, would die alongside a boatman in Jinan?” Zhu Zhanji said with a bitter smile.
“Serves you right! A future emperor, rushing to his death!”
“I feared that once I became emperor, I wouldn’t be able to save you anymore. Yu Qian was right—an emperor must think of the realm first, and many things become impossible.” At this point, Zhu Zhanji suddenly remembered something. “After showing you such loyalty, does your head still hurt when you look at me?”
“Yes,” Wu Dingyuan answered.
Zhu Zhanji snorted.
“But it won’t hurt much longer.”
Zhu Zhanji tugged at his reins, his mood calming: “Had I known it would come to this, I wouldn’t have forced you to escort me from Nanjing.”
“You still owe me five hundred and one taels of silver, and a bag of Hepu pearls,” Wu Dingyuan said expressionlessly.
“Yu Qian will repay you—he still has the incense burner.” Zhu Zhanji tilted his head back, looking at the pitch-black sky. “What a pity that neither of us can fulfill our oath made before the incense burner. I won’t return to the capital, and you won’t avenge your father.”
Hearing these words, Wu Dingyuan opened his mouth but swallowed his response. At this point, many grievances need not be spoken—letting the Crown Prince die in ignorance might not be such a bad thing.
“Ah, right, one last question.”
Zhu Zhanji suddenly showed a hint of shyness: “Do you like Physician Su?”
Wu Dingyuan’s face stiffened—even at the end, the Crown Prince was thinking about such things. “You want my head to hurt more?”
“Answer me directly. This is a Crown Prince’s order.” Zhu Zhanji was persistent. Wu Dingyuan glared at him and turned away. Zhu Zhanji said unhappily: “Can’t you let me die with a clear understanding?”
Wu Dingyuan shot back without courtesy: “Whether I like her or not is none of your damn business!”
“You know, Physician Su is refined, gentle, and virtuous—she has the qualities of an imperial consort. I had planned to take her into the palace.”
“Marry her if you want, it’s none of my damn business!”
Zhu Zhanji froze for a moment, then burst into laughter: “Good answer, good answer! The most satisfying things in life are summed up in ‘none of your business’ and ‘none of my business’!” Still laughing, he straightened his posture and declared loudly: “They all say I don’t look like a ruler. At least I should die like one, so Grandfather won’t look down on me from the afterlife!” His eyes now blazed with pride, all fear, terror, and dejection swept away as if his very soul had caught fire.
The front row of guards had raised their blades to strike but were momentarily stunned by the Crown Prince’s sudden burst of presence.
Wu Dingyuan snorted and seized the moment to charge his horse forward, positioning himself between the Crown Prince and the guards. He dismounted from the other side, picked up the iron ruler, and viciously stabbed it into the horse’s belly. The horse, suddenly in pain, thrashed forward madly, knocking down several men.
Wu Dingyuan took advantage of this to circle to the front of Zhu Zhanji’s horse, trying to cut open a path for escape. But these were elite soldiers—they quickly dodged the panicked horse and closed ranks again. Wu Dingyuan’s efforts had only cost them a horse, achieving nothing else. Zhu Zhanji, clutching his shoulder wound, shook his head: “Dingyuan, don’t waste your strength. This prince cannot die at the hands of rebels—you should do it.” But Wu Dingyuan stood motionless, his brows tightly knitted.
“Do it quickly!” the Crown Prince urged.
“Shut up!”
Wu Dingyuan shouted. The Crown Prince was stunned, feeling wronged—you won’t kill me, yet you yell at me? But he soon realized that not only Wu Dingyuan but all the surrounding guards had also stopped moving. Everyone tilted their heads slightly, seeming to listen to something. The Crown Prince soon heard it too—a dense cluster of footsteps coming from the North Gate. At this hour, who else would come to the Shandong military district’s parade ground?
They didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
First came dozens of large white paper lanterns, lighting up the area from the gate to the parade ground as bright as day. Then a group of yamen runners escorted an official wearing a crimson robe and black gauze cap, with a wild goose embroidered on his chest badge—the Prefect of Jinan.
The Jinan Prefect glanced at the military banners by the great standard, then at the mass of guards before him, his face ashen. For the Shandong military commander to bring troops to the prefecture’s gates without any notice was unthinkable.
“Where is General Jin? Who ordered him to bring so many troops to Jinan?”
The Prefect’s voice was no less powerful than Yu Qian’s, but he was met with silence—no one stepped forward to explain. Including Wu Dingyuan and Zhu Zhanji, no one had expected the Jinan Prefecture to intervene at this critical moment.
The Prefect called out three times with no response. Annoyed, he looked around and saw the bloody Liang Xingfu holding an equally bloody Jin Rong. Frightened, he stepped back several paces: “Jin… what have you done to General Jin?” His gaze swept to the corpses of the deputy commanders on the platform, and he retreated three more steps: “Are you conspiring with the White Lotus to rebel?!”
At the word “rebel,” the runners immediately formed a semicircle, protecting the Prefect as they quickly withdrew. The Wei commanders and Qianhu officers exchanged glances and simultaneously gave the order: “Kill!”
The Prefect had misunderstood that they were conspiring with the White Lotus. But there was no way to explain—they could hardly say they weren’t working with the White Lotus but rebelling independently. Since they were already committed to killing the Crown Prince, killing one more prefect made little difference. With hundreds of guards gathered in the parade ground and thousands more troops assembled outside the city, they could slaughter all of Jinan in one night if they chose.
With clear orders from their superiors, the guards split into three groups—two flanking toward the North Gate and one charging straight ahead to surround and kill the Jinan Prefect. However, the Prefect wasn’t foolish. At the stroke of a bronze gong, a large group of militia armed with bows rushed in through the North Gate.
After the White Lotus caused trouble in Shandong, the Yongle Emperor issued an edict allowing local authorities to recruit and train militia. This way, if bandits attacked, the localities would have some means of self-defense before the military arrived. Jinan Prefecture had naturally trained its militia, though no one expected them to be needed here.
These militia weren’t used to large-scale fighting and couldn’t handle close combat. But they had been selected from local archery societies and were competent with bows and crossbows. When they heard the Prefect’s warning about suppressing White Lotus cultists, they immediately unleashed a rain of arrows. The guards, wearing light marching gear without heavy armor, fell in large numbers.
However, the militia were few, and their vision was poor in the darkness. They only posed a threat initially. The battle-hardened guards quickly dispersed their formation—the rear ranks hurled spears, forks, and dirt clods to disrupt the archers’ formation, while the front ranks advanced in a crouching serpentine pattern, timing their moves between bow volleys. The faster ones quickly closed in, drawing their blades to strike. Once these veterans got close to the archers, blood sprayed everywhere as the formation instantly collapsed.
The entire parade ground had become a chaotic battlefield, with nearly a thousand men engaged in combat, dust flying and battle cries filling the air. Zhu Zhanji and Wu Dingyuan had resigned themselves to death, but now the situation had become even more confused.
As they stood dumbfounded, a group suddenly charged toward them, engaging the guards surrounding the Crown Prince. They were dressed as militia but fought dirty—throwing lime powder, splashing caustic water, and some carried long bamboo tubes packed with gunpowder that shot long streams of sparks when lit. Though barely more powerful than firecrackers, the display was intimidating enough to temporarily drive back the Shandong military forces.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, two figures rushed to the front of the horses.
“Physician Su?”
“Zuo Yehe?”
Zhu Zhanji and Wu Dingyuan simultaneously recognized the two women, both surprised and delighted. Both women wore short jackets with wrapped heads, blending in with the troops. Su Jingxi reached the horse’s head, looked up to see the Crown Prince’s shoulder wound, and frowned: “Hurry!”
“What’s going on?” Wu Dingyuan asked, and Zuo Yehe quickly explained.
After Su Jingxi realized Jin Rong was the Prince of Han’s former subordinate, she immediately deduced that the Prince must have made the Shandong military forces a crucial piece in the Two Capitals Plot. After quickly calculating the distance and marching time from Jinan to the capital, Su Jingxi discovered that these troops must complete their assembly in Jinan by the twenty-seventh day of the fifth month at the latest, or they wouldn’t reach the capital in time. In other words, Wu Dingyuan’s strategy of drawing the tiger from the mountain had only lured away a small tiger from the Jinan garrison—they had rashly walked into the entire Shandong military force.
The White Lotus couldn’t possibly contend with such an army, so Su Jingxi devised an ingenious plan—reporting to the authorities.
She and Zuo Yehe went to the Jinan yamen and, as civilians, reported shocking news: “The Jinan garrison’s afternoon incident at Daming Lake was preparation for rebellion. The Shandong military district has conspired with the White Lotus, secretly gathering forces to rebel. The dozen explosions in Jinan just now were their signal to begin.”
This narrative was perfectly crafted, with every detail fitting together seamlessly. Seeing the dozen black clouds rising into the sky, the Jinan Prefect had no choice but to believe. He hurriedly gathered his runners and militia, leaving the city to confront Jin Rong at the South Camp. Meanwhile, Zuo Yehe had gathered a group of White Lotus believers who disguised themselves as militia and infiltrated the parade ground.
Zhu Zhanji and Wu Dingyuan both looked at Su Jingxi with admiration. This woman was masterful at manipulating people—with one elegant move, she had arranged all the details, both legitimate and rebellious, to align perfectly, as naturally as flowing water. With the Jinan Prefect’s intervention, most of the rebels’ attention was immediately diverted, significantly reducing the pressure on the Crown Prince’s position.
“It seems the Jinan Prefect isn’t part of the rebellion. Should we join forces with him?” This time, Zhu Zhanji had learned his lesson and cautiously sought others’ opinions. Wu Dingyuan glanced at him sideways: “How long do you think these runners and militia can hold out?”
“Uh…” The Crown Prince was at a loss for words. In the current battle, the garrison forces had gained the upper hand. As they closed to melee range, the prefecture’s troops couldn’t withstand the pressure and kept retreating. The militia archer units were in complete disarray. The Jinan Prefect, under the desperate protection of several runners, was about to escape the parade ground.
“Even if you went to the prefecture now, they couldn’t protect themselves. Once the rebels strike, they won’t stop until it’s finished—they might even massacre the city,” Wu Dingyuan pulled at his horse’s head. “You should take Physician Su and escape the city while there’s chaos. There’s still time.”
“What about you?”
Wu Dingyuan said: “I’ll stay here.” He glanced at Su Jingxi. She understood his thoughts—he neither wanted to reveal his background to the Crown Prince nor accept the position of White Lotus Patriarch. He would rather face the enemy in battle, even if it meant death. She sighed softly, about to persuade him, when Zhu Zhanji suddenly erupted in anger: “I came to Jinan to save you! If you wanted to die, I should have gone straight to Linqing and saved all this trouble!”
Just then, hoofbeats approached—it was Liang Xingfu riding up. He dismounted directly, still gripping the half-dead Jin Rong with one hand while passing the reins to Wu Dingyuan with the other: “Take this horse. I’ll cover your retreat.”
“You…” Wu Dingyuan was truly shocked—was this the same Sick Buddha Enemy who had wanted to slaughter the entire Wu family?
Liang Xingfu silently turned away, lifting Jin Rong horizontally and using the commander’s body as a spear. This brutal fighting style terrified the pursuing soldiers, making them scatter.
“Go now!” Liang Xingfu shouted with his back turned.
Wu Dingyuan knew they couldn’t delay any longer. He quickly mounted, pulling Zuo Yehe up behind him, while Zhu Zhanji took Su Jingxi. The two horses carrying four people rushed toward the North Gate under the cover of the believers, managing to exit just moments before the Jinan Prefect’s retreat.
By then, the Prefect’s black gauze cap was askew, his gold belt broken, and his whole appearance disheveled as he fled through the gate. His runners were terrified, barely maintaining formation. The Prefect had no time to notice who was on those two fast horses—he was worried whether the Jinan government could survive until sunrise.
As the Prefect fled in disarray, the fighting on the parade ground gradually subsided, with only the area around Liang Xingfu still in chaos. His use of Commander Jin as a weapon both enraged and shocked the guards. Many picked up bows from fallen militia and shot from a distance—no longer hoping Jin Rong would survive, they just wanted to recover his body intact.
As for Liang Xingfu, he continued fighting expressionlessly, though his movements grew increasingly stiff. After the twentieth arrow struck him, the Buddha Enemy finally faltered, hurling Jin Rong’s body into the crowd before collapsing. Several Wei commanders rushed over and were surprised to see the bloody body in the pile of people move its right arm slightly.
Commander Jin was still alive?
It wasn’t an illusion—his right arm moved again, and then he extended his index finger toward the North Gate, crying out in a hoarse, muffled voice: “Qingzhou! Full wind!”
“Full wind” was military terminology meaning to abandon supplies and advance at full speed. The Wei commanders, being long-time subordinates, immediately understood: that Jin Rong was ordering the rebellion’s core force—the Qingzhou banner army—to depart immediately for the capital to support the Prince of Han as planned. The other banner armies were to pursue and kill the Crown Prince—if he lived, the rebellion would be meaningless.
As for the Jinan Prefect, he was a minor concern compared to these two priorities, not worth bothering about.
The Wei commanders stood up straight, solemnly accepting the order. With a thud, Jin Rong’s arm finally fell to the ground and he lost consciousness completely. With clear orders, the Shandong military district operated with extreme efficiency. Soon, a force of two hundred mounted soldiers left the parade ground, spreading out in all directions, their thundering hooves nearly shattering the panicked darkness outside Jinan City. By then, the Crown Prince’s group had just reached the Qichuan Gate on the city’s east side.
The Qichuan Gate, also known as the Old East Gate, opened onto flat terrain covered with rich wheat fields. It was late May, nearly harvest time for summer wheat, and rolling waves of grain stretched across the furrows, broken only by a straight official road. The view was completely unobstructed.
Unfortunately, the bright moonlight allowed visibility for three or four li. This favored the pursuers, so the four riders dared not stop, galloping along the official road.
When the two horses passed a small hill called Horse Mountain Slope, Zuo Yehe and Su Jingxi called out almost simultaneously: “Stop!”
They pulled their reins, and the horses slowly came to a halt. Su Jingxi pressed Zhu Zhanji’s shoulder, her tone grave: “Your Highness must treat this wound immediately, or you won’t survive.”
Zhu Zhanji gripped the reins, his face pale. The jolting ride had caused his shoulder wound to bleed heavily again—if they continued, he might die from blood loss before the pursuers caught them.
“Why did you call to stop?” Wu Dingyuan looked at Zuo Yehe.
“Outside the Old East Gate is all open ground, with Horse Mountain Slope being the highest point. If we continue like this, the Qingzhou banner cavalry will catch us within half an hour. We’d better hide in the wheat fields.”
Wu Dingyuan frowned as he surveyed their surroundings, facing a true dilemma. Abandoning the horses to hide in the wheat would help them evade pursuit but eliminate any chance of making good time. The hour was approaching the twenty-eighth day of the fifth month, and any delay would make it impossible for the Crown Prince to reach the capital in time. The dual pressures of pursuers and time left them with very few options.
“You’re familiar with the Jinan area—what options do we have?” Wu Dingyuan asked.
Zuo Yehe crunched lotus seeds between her teeth, saying nothing. Wu Dingyuan’s temple throbbed—he knew what she meant, but there was no time for hesitation. He had to command in a low voice: “This is an order, speak!”
“I obey the Patriarch’s command!” Zuo Yehe bowed, then pointed north. “Jinan’s east and west are plains with crisscrossing fields, the south has Mount Li, all with major roads. But the north, due to the Xiaoqing River and Daming Lake’s constant drainage into the outskirts, is covered in waterways, forming a vast marsh rarely traversed. When Zhu Di attacked Jinan, he bypassed the northern side, attacking from east and west.”
Wu Dingyuan didn’t know if her mention of Zhu Di was accidental or deliberately provocative. He forcefully suppressed his displeasure: “You’re suggesting we detour north through the marsh?”
“Correct. I guess the Crown Prince’s original plan was to reach Dezhou to catch a grain transport boat?”
“Yes.”
“Dezhou is northwest of Jinan, about two hundred li away. Going through the northern marsh is our only choice.”
Wu Dingyuan grunted in acknowledgment without further comment. Zuo Yehe suddenly lowered her voice: “Patriarch, the one you rescued is a friend, but the one running to the capital is the Crown Prince. You should think carefully about what to do next.”
“We’ll deal with that when we reach the capital!” Wu Dingyuan waved his hand in annoyance.
Zuo Yehe’s eyes flickered to the side: “The Crown Prince faces both external and internal troubles—Patriarch, you should be prepared.”
Wu Dingyuan followed her gaze. Su Jingxi was crouching by the roadside, burning several wheat stalks with flint. His face hardened: “You needn’t doubt Physician Su. I know about her situation—it has nothing to do with the Crown Prince.”
“She’s impenetrable, yet seems to tell the Patriarch everything.” Zuo Yehe smiled warmly.
Wu Dingyuan’s tone grew sterner: “Don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
Wu Dingyuan thought for a while but couldn’t find the right words. Finally, he impatiently struck the saddle: “Just don’t cause trouble!”
Zuo Yehe pressed her lips together: “I obey the Patriarch’s command.” Then she popped another lotus seed into her mouth.
By then, Su Jingxi had stood up and called them over to help. She held freshly burned wheat stalk ash in both hands, instructing Zuo Yehe to tear off an inner lining from her riding skirt while Wu Dingyuan tore open the Crown Prince’s clothes. Once the wound was exposed, she applied all the ash at once—though not the best method to stop bleeding, it was the best emergency option available. Then she used the lining to bandage the wound, carefully wrapping the Crown Prince’s shoulder.
Su Jingxi’s technique was swift and precise, her ten slender white fingers seeming to merely brush past as everything was set right. Perhaps psychologically, but the Crown Prince’s color improved noticeably after the bandaging. Wu Dingyuan proposed the northern detour, and the others had no objections. The four mounted again, turning north from Horse Mountain Slope and galloping northwest.
The bright moon illuminated every ditch and ridge on the official road ahead, allowing the horses to maintain high speed. This route essentially circled from the east around the north, with the distant city wall as a reference point, making it almost impossible to go wrong.
The moonlit Jinan city wall had a mysterious quality—a long cyan brick wall three zhang and five chi high stretched out to the left like a dragon sleeping on the Qi-Lu plain. Every hundred paces stood a tall enemy tower, like spines along the dragon’s back. Running parallel to the wall in the distance, it seemed endless.
If Yu Qian were here, he might have composed an impromptu seven-character quatrain. Wu Dingyuan had no such refined interests—he was thinking that if they could see the city wall, the pursuers could see them too. A moonlit plain was most troublesome for fugitives. Thus, he led the way, trying to keep the horses moving along the reverse slopes of rolling hills to avoid exposing their silhouettes. The two horses, one behind the other, soon reached the extension line of Jinan’s northeastern corner and began turning westward.
After the turn, Wu Dingyuan noticeably relaxed. If the pursuers were still in the east, the city wall would provide perfect cover, buying them more time.
They rode another dozen or so li when the official road mysteriously ended, replaced by faint trails that could have been made by either animals or humans. The ground’s texture changed too, gradually shifting from dry earth to wetland, where hoofprints left water seeping through.
The ground grew increasingly soft, and patches of reeds, wild mushrooms, and pale purple marshmallows began appearing in their field of vision. In the distance were strings of water bubbles and crisscrossing streams, with the air growing heavy with moisture. This must be the northern marsh Zuo Yehe had mentioned. The terrain here dipped slightly, with the Xiaoqing River to the north and Daming Lake to the south both draining into the area. No wonder Zhu Di had bypassed the north when attacking Jinan—this terrain would be a nightmare for an army carrying supplies.
Wu Dingyuan reined in his horse, moving Zuo Yehe to sit in front while reaching around her sides to grip the reins. This way, she could guide their path and prevent them from sinking into deep spots, though it significantly reduced their speed.
Zuo Yehe was quite familiar with this area, casually pointing out directions while continuing to eat. Getting comfortable, she leaned back against Wu Dingyuan’s chest, quite at ease. Unable to dodge while on horseback, Wu Dingyuan had to let her lean against him, occasionally glancing back.
The riding positions had also changed on the other horse. Su Jingxi held the reins in front, while the Crown Prince supported himself with one hand on her back to minimize jolting. Su Jingxi was explaining to the Crown Prince the various circumstances in Jinan. Catching Wu Dingyuan’s glance, she nodded slightly, indicating she wouldn’t reveal the Tie family’s history.
Wu Dingyuan turned back, suddenly thinking of something: “I wonder if Liang Xingfu… has escaped?”
“Maybe he ran, maybe he died—depends on how the Buddha Mother blessed him.” Zuo Yehe seemed unconcerned about this Protector.
“How did he become like this?”
Wu Dingyuan’s tone was awkward. Though the Sick Buddha Enemy had been his mortal enemy, after the Buddha Mother’s death, he had abruptly transformed from fierce opponent to powerful ally, even sacrificing himself to cover their retreat. This dramatic change was impossible for him to understand.
Zuo Yehe said lightly: “Because of the Buddha Mother’s dying wish for us to assist you.”
“No, it can’t be just because of her final command.” Wu Dingyuan couldn’t explain why, but he had this feeling. He tried to recall earlier details: “After Liang Xingfu charged into the parade ground, I heard someone call out his name, and those guards reacted like street dogs with broken legs—terrified to the point of nearly wetting themselves. Had they encountered him before?”
Before he could finish, Zuo Yehe suddenly raised her hand: “Turn left ahead, follow that row of red alders.” The moon was dimmer now, increasingly hidden by clouds. They could only rely on Zuo Yehe’s judgment. Wu Dingyuan pulled the reins as directed, adjusting their course, and Zuo Yehe finally returned to his question: “The Shandong military district has fought the White Lotus for so many years—those guards have suffered plenty under Liang Xingfu. No wonder they remember his reputation.”
Wu Dingyuan frowned: “But from Jin Rong’s tone, he knew Liang Xingfu more than twenty years ago.”
Zuo Yehe suddenly turned back, smiling with pressed lips: “Patriarch, this has some connection to you.”
“How is it…”
Wu Dingyuan’s heart jumped—too many truths had been revealed today. But he bit his lip and didn’t stop her from continuing.
“This is what I heard from the Buddha Mother—true or false, I couldn’t say, it was before my time.” Zuo Yehe explained first. “Over twenty years ago, Liang Xingfu was a bandit chief in the Mount Liang area. When Minister Tie Xuan personally led troops to suppress the bandits, he somehow managed to win over this fierce brigand, who became Tie’s guard and followed him to Jinan.”
“He was my birth father’s guard?” Wu Dingyuan was shocked—how ironic! Zuo Yehe enjoyed his reaction. She narrowed her eyes slightly and continued: “When the Prince of Yan rebelled, didn’t Tie Xuan defend Jinan city? Several times the city nearly fell, but Liang Xingfu recklessly charged out to repel the Yan army. He became famous, even earning praise from the Southern Army’s commander Sheng Yong. Sheng Yong specifically wrote to Tie Xuan to borrow this fierce general. In the later Battle of Dongchang, Liang Xingfu single-handedly charged into the Yan formation, killing Duke Zhang Yu and eight other northern generals, terrorizing all of Shandong.”
So they had crossed paths on the Dongchang battlefield. Jin Rong’s subordinates were mostly veterans of the Jingnan Campaign who had personally experienced Liang Xingfu’s terror—no wonder they were struck with fear at his name.
“What happened then?”
“The Southern Army still lost. The Prince of Yan crossed the Yangtze and entered Jinling, even Sheng Yong surrendered. But Liang Xingfu despised following Sheng Yong in submitting to Zhu Di, so he ran back to Shandong to rejoin his old master, only to witness Tie Xuan’s family being taken to Nanjing. Liang Xingfu tried several times to rescue them en route, but the Yan army’s security was too tight. In the end, he could only watch helplessly as Tie Xuan suffered execution by lingchi.”
At this point, Zuo Yehe pressed her finger to her temple, suddenly crunching a lotus seed with a sharp “crack.” “The shock was too much—after that, his mind broke.”
Wu Dingyuan listened silently, feeling the air growing increasingly humid and oppressive. Looking up, he saw the previously clear, starlit sky had become overcast.
“How exactly did his mind break?”
“His mental illness… according to the Buddha’s Mother, he couldn’t accept the reality of Tie Xuan’s family’s execution, so he had to find a reason to make himself feel better. Like if your wife had an affair, and a fortune teller said wearing a cuckold’s hat would ward off disaster—you’d know it’s a lie, but it would make you feel more balanced. Understand?”
“I don’t understand! Continue about Liang Xingfu!”
“After returning to Shandong from Nanjing, Liang Xingfu became a bandit again. Somehow, he joined the White Lotus in Binzhou, coincidentally at Lin San’s altar. To pacify him, Lin San said Tie Xuan underwent the Situo Secret Method, where extreme suffering expels bodily poisons, and through the sacrifice of flesh, one ascends cleanly to the dharma realm, free from the suffering of reincarnation.”
Wu Dingyuan’s cheek twitched slightly—this was exactly what Liang Xingfu had said when trying to flay him.
“Lin San meant well, just wanting Liang Xingfu to move past this and accept reality. Who knew his mind was truly broken—he thought this method of ascension was so wonderful, that he had to help all those close to him transcend. Those years in Shandong, he played quite a few people, all former subordinates of Tie Xuan scattered about.”
Zuo Yehe spoke casually, but Wu Dingyuan listened with chills.
“In the eighteenth year of Yongle, when the Buddha Mother started her uprising, she recruited him as Left Protector. To keep the Yongle Emperor from focusing on Shandong, the Buddha Mother told Liang Xingfu that a Tie family survivor awaited transcendence in Nanjing. Liang Xingfu immediately rushed there, causing havoc in the city. I later heard him say he didn’t find the survivor but met an old acquaintance on Mount Yecheng—former Jinan constable Zhong Eryong, now called Wu Buping. Wu Buping, remembering old ties, risked greatly to save Liang Xingfu. But his illness struck again, and he insisted on helping Wu Buping’s family transcend.”
“He saw it as repaying kindness, but Wu Buping naturally saw it as betrayal and had to drive him from Nanjing. Liang Xingfu always remembered this, so when the Two Capitals Plot began, he volunteered to return to Jinling. When I kidnapped Wu Yulu, borrowing his fearsome reputation, the Iron Lion immediately cooperated when he heard his daughter was in the Sick Buddha Enemy’s hands…”
Zuo Yehe suddenly yelped in pain as the arms around her suddenly tightened, threatening to break her in half. She frowned reproachfully: “Patriarch, be gentle. I didn’t know then that the Iron Lion was hiding a Tie family survivor.”
Wu Dingyuan loosened his grip slightly and said in a deep voice: “So Liang Xingfu’s change in attitude was because he learned I was Tie Xuan’s son?”
Zuo Yehe pursed her lips: “I didn’t dare tell him, afraid he’d suddenly go mad and flay you to reunite you with Tie Xuan.” She paused, then added: “But he probably figured it out himself—except for this obsession, he’s quite sharp about everything else.”
Wu Dingyuan slowly exhaled on horseback. Liang Xingfu was thoroughly mad, yet this madman had sacrificed himself at the crucial moment. Whether due to the Buddha Mother’s final command or his twisted loyalty to Tie Xuan, they would probably never know the answer.
“This might not be such a bad thing,” Zuo Yehe said. “While alive, the Buddha Mother was the only one who could control him. Now that she’s gone, he’d become an uncontrollable wild horse, liable to drag the White Lotus over a cliff at any moment.”
Wu Dingyuan frowned: “As fellow Protectors, that seems rather heartless.”
“As long as the White Lotus survives, neither his life nor mine matters,” Zuo Yehe said flatly. She twisted around to face Wu Dingyuan, “But you, Patriarch, need to make a decision soon.”
“Uh? What decision?”
“You’re Tie Xuan’s son, he’s Zhu Di’s grandson. Patriarch, you need to figure out how to handle this relationship early. Think carefully.”
“He’s my friend, it’s that simple,” Wu Dingyuan answered stiffly.
Zuo Yehe sneered: “Friend? Sure, he’ll acknowledge this friendship while in trouble, but what about when he becomes emperor? Even if you don’t plan to do anything to him, think about what he might do to you. Will he drag his grandfather Zhu Di from the Changling Mausoleum to let you whip the corpse for revenge?”
Her sharp questioning left Wu Dingyuan speechless; he could only fidget with the reins.
“We’ll deal with it after escaping the pursuers…”
“Patriarch, you can’t keep avoiding this.” Zuo Yehe’s voice grew sharp. “Think carefully—since saving the Crown Prince at the Fan Tower, every step has been reactive, reluctant, and unwilling. When have you ever actively chosen to do something?”
Wu Dingyuan silently guided the horse, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the marsh ahead.
“If you were still that worthless boatman, that would be one thing, but now you’re Tie Fuqian! As we get closer to the capital, Patriarch, you must understand who you really are and what you truly want to do. If you keep avoiding and equivocating in that dragon’s pool and tiger’s…”
Before she could finish, a large hand suddenly covered Zuo Yehe’s mouth. She thought Wu Dingyuan was annoyed by her words, but immediately heard his stern voice: “Be quiet!” Zuo Yehe froze. Wu Dingyuan reined in the horse and dismounted. He first signaled Su Jingxi behind them to stop, then stared at a small puddle by his feet. Ripples were spreading across the water’s surface, one ring after another, in a steady rhythm. Without hesitation, he lay on the ground, listening carefully with his ear to the ground for a moment before standing up.
“The pursuers aren’t far. All cavalry, at least two units.”
Wu Dingyuan spoke gravely, worriedly looking back at the path they’d taken. Two long strings of clear hoofprints marked the damp earth. Even with the moon increasingly hidden by thick clouds, these tracks would be as obvious as torches to those looking for them. The marsh was a double-edged sword—while it slowed the cavalry’s advance, it also left them clearer trails to follow.
Wu Dingyuan pulled the reins, his voice somewhat hoarse: “At this rate, they’ll catch us before we leave the marsh. We must eliminate them all to have any chance.”
The other three exchanged glances, unaccustomed to Wu Dingyuan’s sudden proactiveness. Eliminate the pursuers? Easier said than done—without Liang Xingfu, with only one wounded man and two women, how could they face two units of elite cavalry?
“Even a cornered rat will bite a cat, and even a waterlogged pole can pierce flesh.”
Wu Dingyuan looked up at the sky, now heavily overcast—a summer downpour was imminent.