The sound of battle cries spread out, arrows flying into the forest. The outlaws’ attempt to rescue Fang Qifo had always been meant as a surprise strike, and once it failed, they scattered quickly, regrouping soon after at a predetermined spot in the nearby mountains and forest.
Perhaps to avoid falling for a decoy tactic, the government side pursued only briefly before pulling back, regrouping their ranks and tending to the wounded.
Though the outlaws had employed all manner of tricks, this operation on the government’s side was being led not by the army, but by the Ministry of Justice. A number of experienced chief constables from the surrounding prefectures and counties had been brought in, and against outlaw fighters rather than an army, they proved just the right match.
Along the road, stretchers carried the wounded past, along with the outlaw dead and injured, while a group tallied up their identities. Amid the faint smell of blood, a tall, middle-aged man approached the prisoner cart. During the earlier fighting, the convoy had paused by the roadside, surrounding the cart and prisoners in the middle. Now the man said, “We can move on. We’ll rest again at the next post station ahead.” The convoy began moving forward once more.
The middle-aged man wore official robes; though tall in stature, his face was gaunt—yet this leanness carried no sense of weakness, his cheekbones prominent, his eyes sharp and full of life, and when his lips pressed together slightly, he looked formidable and shrewd. His hair, though not long, looked somewhat disheveled despite having been groomed; he carried a wide-bladed longsword in hand, the scent of blood clinging to him as he walked alongside the prisoner cart. Every so often he glanced over at the man confined within, shackled and chained, an iron hook driven through his shoulder.
“How’s he doing?” he asked the guard watching over the cart.
“Reporting to the Chief Constable, the traitor’s just been staring at the sky the whole time.”
“Oh…” the chief constable nodded. “There are rumors in the outlaw world that Commander Fang Qifo is capable of anything—reading the stars wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve been rather curious, though—after watching you these past few days, have you figured anything out?”
This, of course, was directed at Fang Qifo. The prisoner cart creaked along for a good while before Fang Qifo finally blinked. “Chief Tie flatters me. I’ve barely read a handful of books in my life—how would I know how to read the stars? I was just hoping to catch a glimpse of… where a person might end up in the future, that’s all.”
“Sounds like Commander Fang has made peace with his fate,” the chief constable, surnamed Tie, said coldly, walking alongside the cart. “But if you’ve already made peace with it, why not simply kill yourself? Why drag so many people to their deaths for your sake? Your limbs may be useless and your skill gone, but surely you could still manage to bite through your own tongue, given the chance.”
His tone carried little inflection, betraying no emotion. Fang Qifo’s expression, too, remained calm and composed. “The rebel Fang Qifo attempted to take his own life but failed, and was left mute as a result—is that the story you’re hoping to spread, Chief Tie? Unless I’m mistaken, those two constable brothers beside you are physicians, aren’t they? If you truly wanted my tongue, why not take it yourself?”
“Commander Fang has sharp eyes indeed.” Chief Tie cupped his hands. “Before we reach the capital, we certainly don’t want you dead. Truth be told, I’d be quite pleased if they managed to rescue you—that would make it much easier for us to round up all those friends from the mountains and rivers in one sweep. Only, they’ve proven rather useless—I don’t think they’ll get much of a chance now.”
“I rather think so too…” Fang Qifo nodded. “Though I may not know how to read the stars, my ears still work well enough. You’ve handled things quite well up north, but down south, it seems quite a few men were wounded… Who came? Can you tell me the name?”
Chief Tie frowned slightly, falling briefly silent. “Some skilled fighters showed up, but they didn’t succeed either. It’s just a matter now of whether we can keep them here or not. You’ll know soon enough, once Brother Zong gets back.”
Fang Qifo sighed and looked up at the sky. The convoy continued on its way, and before long, someone came to report, followed by another group catching up from behind. The one leading this group also wore a chief constable’s uniform, riding a large horse, with a pair of steel whip-maces slung across his back—an even taller, more powerfully built man than the first. He dismounted, cupped his hands to the constable surnamed Tie, and the two exchanged a few quiet words: “The one who came… injured some of us, but got away.”
Though they kept their voices low, Fang Qifo, sitting in the cart nearby, still caught the name mentioned. His eyes narrowed slightly, and after a moment, he lowered his gaze and closed his eyes. The constable surnamed Tie glanced over at him. “Haven’t heard anything of them since Hangzhou fell—so she’s finally come after all. A little girl, and yet so loyal to her friends…”
…
As the prisoner cart and the chief constables continued forward, in the mountain forest, the outlaws were gathering, tending to wounds and tallying up the casualties from this attempt. On a spot up in the ridges, Fang Baihua was discussing the rescue attempt with a few people nearby, when she heard a commotion breaking out among the assembled heroes not far off—it sounded as though someone was preparing to leave.
“So they were well-guarded after all—just as we suspected. All that recent news must have been deliberately leaked from their side. Pressure from the capital, the cart traveling by night, seemingly poor defenses, ripe for the taking—it was all meant to lure us into attacking.”
“Seven chief constables from the Ministry of Justice—some of them are riding on family connections, sure, but Tie Tianying and Zong Feixiao are no ordinary men. We really should have expected as much.”
“What can we do about it now? Tell that to the people out there? Now that they’ve hit a wall, maybe they’ll finally understand the stakes.”
“Still, it’s inevitable that some group will end up charging in on a whim in the end, making a huge mess of things…”
After the fall of Qingxi, the remnants of the former Yongle faithful had scattered like startled birds; although Fang Baihua and Fang Qifo’s branch had drawn the brunt of the pursuit, in truth the number of men still following them had dwindled considerably. Combined with the crushing defeat at Poyang Lake, those still with Fang Baihua at this point had either scattered, deserted, or been deliberately sent away—there simply wasn’t enough strength left to mount a real rescue.
This attempt to save Fang Qifo had come about mainly because, throughout the southern regions, Fang Qifo still enjoyed considerable goodwill among people, along with some who saw an opportunity to strike a blow against the government and make a name for themselves in the process. In short, though people had gathered together, there was no unified command among them.
During this period, word had spread outside that the capital wanted Fang Qifo escorted north quickly, with a group of soldiers and constables traveling through the night, defenses supposedly thin. Upon hearing this, Fang Baihua and the others immediately suspected something was off—but in the outlaw world, there was never any shortage of people willing to believe whatever they heard. With the Yongle regime’s deterrent power now gone, if everyone believed such news and yet no one acted, this hastily assembled band of followers might well collapse on the spot. For this reason, they had organized this attack—meant to let people see the situation clearly and withdraw quickly afterward. Though the casualties still caused some to want to back out, it was better than letting the whole group collapse from inaction.
In truth, no matter how one looked at it, rescuing Fang Qifo was, by this point, already an impossible task for Fang Baihua and the others. But with the Yongle regime fallen, the army scattered, friends, brothers, and her own husband dead, aside from trying to save this last remaining cousin, there was nothing else left for Fang Baihua to do.
Just as they were talking, a female soldier who had been following alongside came over and whispered in her ear: “General Chen seems to be saying he’s leaving—he asked me to let you know…”
“Chen Fan?” Fang Baihua frowned. She knew Chen Fan would never abandon Fang Qifo, but naturally she was still curious. She started to go find him, when the female soldier added, “Those people who charged in from the south at the end just now—it seems… they’ve arrived.”
No sooner had she finished speaking than a commotion broke out from the direction of the forest. Voices carried over.
“Overlord Blade…”
“Liu Dabiao? They…”
“It really is them…”
“You’ve got some nerve showing up—where were you all back at Qingxi…”
“Where’s the rest of your Overlord Blade people? Just the few of you?”
The latter two remarks, naturally, came from leaders who had originally served in the Yongle army—some of whom had long harbored resentment toward Overlord Blade Manor. Amid the voices, a slightly hoarse voice rang out.
“We’re the ones who came… You have a problem with that?”
“A problem? Let me tell you, I certainly do—”
“This isn’t the Yongle regime anymore. Don’t think you’re still that princess everyone used to protect no matter what…”
“Don’t say that…”
“Everyone step back, let’s not do this…”
“You want to fight? With all the heroes of the land gathered here now, you…”
The chaotic exchange of voices rose in pitch, and Fang Baihua quickened her pace—only to be met by the ring of a blade being drawn, the clash of metal on metal, and the fierce clatter of fighting breaking out. Clearly, the straightforward young woman had already drawn her Overlord Blade and was cutting a swath through the crowd, followed by the sound of bodies crashing to the ground one after another. Fang Baihua rushed forward into the chaos; Du Sha, Fang Shuchang, and the others had already charged in as well, trying to calm the rest of the martial artists gathered there.
“My apologies.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine—family matters…”
Starlight fell through the gaps in the trees as the young woman swept her massive blade forward, planting it point-down into the ground. Before her lay a Yongle army leader who had been sent flying by her strike.
“Whatever my Overlord Blade Manor does, we answer to our own conscience—we owe you no explanation.”
The young woman stood there, her gaze proud and unyielding. Fang Baihua rushed over and helped the fallen leader to his feet.
“My brother and sister-in-law treated her like their own daughter—all of you know that, and yet you say such things! Everyone, calm down! This is a family matter! Xigua, you…” she trailed off with a sigh, “come with me…”
In the darkness, Fang Baihua’s expression was complicated. Even as she spoke, Liu Xigua sheathed her blade. At this moment, Chen Fan, carrying a bundle on his back, appeared nearby as well. As Fang Baihua walked ahead, remembering he wanted to leave, she waved him over too. “Wait, Chen Fan, you come along too.” Chen Fan nodded.
The three of them walked forward together, and once they reached the edge of the forest, Fang Baihua stopped, took a breath, and turned around. The young woman carrying the long case on her back suddenly knelt down silently on the ground, startling Fang Baihua, who quickly moved to help her up—but the girl was resolute, and bowed her head to the ground instead.
“Auntie, I’ve failed you all.”
“Er… you…”
Fang Baihua understood, in that moment, that this bow wasn’t meant for her alone—it was meant, even more, for the late Fang La and Shao Xianying, and for Fang Qifo, now captured and being taken to the capital.
“Oh… come, come, get up…”
After a moment, she helped the young woman to her feet. Tears welled in the girl’s eyes, which she wiped away with a wave of her hand, though her gaze remained steady and resolute.
“I… Auntie, I won’t hide it from you. After Hangzhou fell and you left, Auntie did hold some resentment toward you—but that was only on my end. I know why you did what you did, and my cousin and his wife knew it too, and they held no resentment toward you at all… At the very end, they even said that dragging a woman like you into all this made them feel they owed you…”
Fang Baihua, having spent years moving through the outlaw world, though no longer the female general she once was, dressed now in worn traveling clothes, still carried herself with a spirited, heroic air—yet speaking of Fang La brought a touch of sorrow to her own face as well. She waved it off with a smile after a moment and turned to Chen Fan. “Oh, right, Chen Fan—they told me you’re leaving. Where are you headed?”
Chen Fan opened his mouth, glancing toward Liu Xigua. “…Tie Tianying and Zong Feixiao were already prepared for us, and they’re seasoned veterans—we won’t manage to rescue Teacher this way. I want to go to the capital.”
“The capital?” Fang Baihua’s brow furrowed. “What are you going to do there, file a complaint with the Emperor? The place is heavily guarded—forget about rescuing your teacher, you’ll get yourself killed too!”
“I’m going to find someone to help.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say.”
Chen Fan answered this way, but his gaze drifted toward Liu Xigua as he spoke. Fang Baihua paused for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, I know you’ve got your own plans—do what you think is best. Though… honestly, if your teacher were here, he probably wouldn’t want you getting dragged into this.”
Chen Fan nodded, shouldered his bundle, and turned to leave—then turned back. “Xigua, are you coming?”
The girl’s gaze wavered, an uncharacteristic flicker of distraction crossing her face. “I… I’m not going…”
“Understood.” This answer didn’t surprise Chen Fan much; he nodded and turned to leave again. The girl spoke up from behind him. “Things are already settled between us. Going now would only bring him more trouble.”
Chen Fan, his back to her, said, “I know you don’t want to trouble him. But whatever the reasons behind it all, he owes me his life. This is something I can’t manage on my own—but he might be able to. I intend to have him repay that debt… Honestly, if you came along, it would go much more smoothly.”
“I’m not going.” Liu Xigua shook her head.
Chen Fan smiled, shook his head, and turned to walk away. “Alright then. I’ll go check on how Qian’er and the others are doing first…”
Only now did Fang Baihua realize exactly who they were talking about. She looked at the girl. “Is it him you mean… What’s he doing in the capital? Can he actually help rescue someone?”
The girl lowered her head, frowning in some discomfort, shaking it. “I… I can’t say…”
“Er… alright, then…” Under the starlight, the wind blew past, and Fang Baihua let out a soft sigh. She had, in truth, little impression of Xigua’s husband. After the fall of Hangzhou, Ning Yi had arranged for Overlord Blade Manor’s retreat to the southern frontier before heading to the capital himself—matters that, after Chen Fan returned to Qingxi, he had only told Fang Qifo about, never Fang Baihua. Because of this, she didn’t believe that finding some particular person could really solve the problem of rescuing Fang Qifo. As far as she could see, Chen Fan might simply be grasping at straws out of desperation—but by this point, with little hope left to speak of, perhaps the outcome no longer mattered so much either way…
Meanwhile, in the capital, Ning Yi—cruelly abandoned by his wife and concubines—was, at that very moment, absorbed entirely in his grand commercial ambitions, preparing for the next phase of Zhu Ji’s promotional campaign.