The night was alluring, the autumn wind quiet and still. After his secret meeting with Lu Qiaoshan, Su Wenfang slipped out from the side of the camp. Looking back, the Wuxiang Army’s encampment stretched on, grim and orderly, its military bearing impressive; the torchlight seemed to mirror the sea of stars above.
The situation had already grown complicated. Of course, this complexity had emerged months earlier — what was happening now merely pushed things a bit further along.
Though he’d come prepared, Su Wenfang still couldn’t help feeling his scalp prickle.
“Lu Qiaoshan’s attitude is deliberately vague. It looks like he’s playing for time. If dragging things out is enough to wear down the Huaxia Army, he’d naturally be happy to let that happen.”
The group rode away from the camp on horseback, and along the way Su Wenfang spoke quietly with Chen Tuozi, who rode alongside him. This once ruthless, hunchbacked blade-fighter was now nearing fifty. He had previously served as Ning Yi’s personal bodyguard, and later took charge of the Huaxia Army’s internal military discipline corps — his standing within the Huaxia Army was far from low, and though Su Wenfang was Ning Yi’s brother-in-law, he treated the old man with considerable respect.
This gray-haired old man no longer showed a trace of his once-sinister edge; his gaze, too, had grown far gentler over the years compared to what it had once been. He reined in his horse and nodded, his voice slightly hoarse. “Which soldier of the Wu Dynasty wouldn’t want to?”
“I did consider the possibility that he’s sitting back watching the situation unfold, maybe even giving it a push himself. But earlier I thought Li Xiannong and his fellow scholars were the ones itching to stir up trouble, and that the Wuxiang Army, given our long history of dealings, might not follow through all the way. Now it looks like Lu Qiaoshan’s own thinking may not be so simple after all. He seems like a smiling tiger — but underneath, he may well have real principles.”
“Meaning…” Chen Tuozi glanced back; the faint glow of the camp was already behind the distant mountains. “That everything he’s shown us so far has been an act, and he genuinely intends to force the issue?”
Su Wenfang nodded. “Afraid isn’t really the word — but still, a hundred thousand men, Uncle Chen.”
“Then it’s time to let the southern faction see a little wind and rain.”
“I still hope his attitude can shift.”
Every place under heaven had its own particular fortunes. The southwest had enjoyed three years of relative peace; life for the Huaxia Army here, though far from easy, was practically calm compared to the bloodshed at Little Cang River. Especially after the trade route had opened up, the Huaxia Army’s influence had spread out along that route, covering the four circuits of Sichuan and Shaanxi. Su Wenfang and the others operating out in the field had, with both the army and local officials turning a blind eye, faced relatively little danger.
But this time, the court had finally given the order, and the Wuxiang Army was moving accordingly; the local authorities nearby had also begun applying heavy pressure on the Black Banner. Su Wenfang and his people had gradually pulled back, shifting their activities from open to covert, and the shape of the coming conflict had already begun to take clear form.
Whether the Wuxiang Army would actually move against them was, in the end, the single most critical factor in the whole situation.
…
On a stifling, tiger-hot autumn night, a small bean-sized flame still burned, and beneath its light, a letter was still being written:
“To my worthy elder brother Cang, upon reading this:
“Your letter has reached me. I am glad to learn that the situation in Jiangnan proceeds smoothly, and that all hearts stand united against the Jurchens. That our dynasty possesses a worthy crown prince and worthy ministers brings me great comfort; should this continue, the revival of our Wu Dynasty can surely be hoped for.
“Since coming to the southwest, I have found the people here ignorant and the situation harsh, yet with the help of many worthy men, we have at last begun to break through. The lands of the southwest now all know of the Black Banner’s wickedness, public sentiment runs high, and their punishment can be anticipated. Worthy Brother Chengmao has appealed to the Yi chieftains in Liangshan with the great righteous cause, and to considerable effect — even the tribesmen now understand the great righteousness, the great right and wrong of this world; though dwelling in barbarian lands, there are among them righteous men who have burned the Black Banner’s rice fields and cut off their trade routes. The Black Banner scoundrels are trapped in the mountains, anxious and fearful. Worthy Brother Chengmao’s great merit and virtue, both to the Wu Dynasty and to the realm at large, put me to shame by comparison.
“Though the situation is now clear, hidden dangers still remain. Lu Qiaoshan of the Wuxiang Army holds his troops close and hedges his bets, his attitude unclear, and he has had past dealings with the Black Banner bandits as well. Now, under the court’s renewed orders, he uses the excuse of his distance from the capital to merely camp outside the mountains, unwilling to advance a single step. Such a man — whether slippery or crude — is difficult to plan great affairs with. My worthy companions and I have discussed it, and agree we cannot simply sit and wait upon him; whatever his true intentions may be, we must press him forward, to fight the Black Banner openly and decisively.
“Fortunately, on this journey west, our ranks include not only worthy Confucian scholars but also martial heroes who understand the great right and wrong of things. What we do, we do for the prosperity of the Wu Dynasty and the realm, for the peace of all living things. Should misfortune befall any of us in days to come, I beg worthy Brother Cang to see that silver and goods are sent to the families of the men listed below, so that their sons, brothers, and descendants may know for what cause their father or brother once set aside all thought of life and death. Only because our nation and homeland stand in mortal danger have I been unable to fulfill my full filial duty — for this I bow my head in apology.
“Those taking part in this at present include: the great hero of Jiangnan Zhan Shao, former constable-chief of Hangzhou Lu Xuanzhi, Jianxing’s Jian Mingzhi…”
The lamplight flickered as Long Qifei’s brush moved across the page, writing name after name. He knew that these names might one day leave their mark in history, that people would remember how many had thrown themselves forward, one after another, risking everything, setting aside all thought of life and death, for the sake of the Wu Dynasty’s revival.
Having finished the letter, he enclosed some banknotes and sealed the envelope before sending it off. Stepping out of his study, he found several men waiting outside — some scholars, some warriors, all with resolute eyes.
“…The Black Banner’s strength here in the southwest isn’t the most important matter at hand. But ever since our Wu Dynasty was forced south, the army has grown overbearing, and the Wuxiang Army — Lu Qiaoshan — truly holds sway over everything here. Though this undertaking has the support of the prefect, all of you must understand clearly what’s truly at stake here. So let me say this plainly, once and for all: if any of you wish to withdraw, I will hold no grudge against you…”
The night wind moaned as it passed through.
…
On the morning after the meeting with Lu Qiaoshan, Su Wenfang sent Huaxia Army members into the mountains to relay the Wuxiang Army’s stance. Over the following three days, he remained locked in intense negotiations with Lu Qiaoshan’s side.
Progress was slow. Every day Lu Qiaoshan came by, smiling and cheerful, to chat with Su Wenfang, yet he refused to budge on the Huaxia Army’s terms. Still, he emphasized repeatedly that the Wuxiang Army would never truly turn against the Huaxia Army — proof of which, he said, was that his troops remained stationed on the outskirts of Liangshan, idle day after day.
The local authorities’ crackdown on the Black Banner Army, meanwhile, only grew more severe — though this too was simply the execution of the court’s orders, something Lu Qiaoshan claimed he had no real power to prevent.
“The most crucial piece of this whole affair still lies in the capital,” Lu Qiaoshan said during one round of negotiations. “His Majesty has made his decision and given his order — how can we officials and soldiers possibly defy it? The Huaxia Army has connections with many officials at court; if you could mobilize them to have this order rescinded, the siege of Liangshan would naturally resolve itself. Otherwise, we’ll simply have to remain at this stalemate — it’s not as though business has stopped entirely, it’s just gotten a bit harder than before. Honestly, Envoy, the fact that there’s no actual fighting is already quite fortunate — none of us are having an easy time of it these days… As for the situation in Liangshan itself, surely Master Ning could simply crush that Mangshan clan outright — with the Huaxia Army’s strength, that shouldn’t be difficult at all, should it…”
Day after day, Lu Qiaoshan put on his show of forced smiles and feigned reluctance, playing the part of the unwilling bureaucrat to perfection. As for the situation in the mountains — with the Mangshan clan having scattered into smaller guerrilla units, the Huaxia Army, as outsiders to the region, seemed genuinely at a loss for how to deal with them. Su Wenfang didn’t know much about what was happening deep in the mountains, but he could feel the tension mounting day by day. He remembered Ning Yi once telling him the story of the boiling frog.
“Lu Qiaoshan doesn’t have good intentions,” Su Wenfang said one day, discussing the whole affair with Chen Tuozi. When Chen Tuozi urged him to leave, Su Wenfang shook his head. “But even if he does mean to fight, he won’t casually kill an envoy. Staying here to argue back and forth is the safer position — going back into the mountains, there’d be nothing useful for me to do there anyway.”
Hearing this, Chen Tuozi nodded in agreement; the now-gray-haired old man had never much cared about being in danger himself, and besides, in his view, what Su Wenfang said made good sense.
The next day, the one negotiating with Su Wenfang was the army’s adviser, Zhi Junhao. The two sides discussed every detail imaginable, yet ultimately came to no agreement. Su Wenfang could clearly sense the other side stalling for time, but all he could do was keep talking — in his view, there was still a chance to shift Lu Qiaoshan away from his confrontational stance, and even the slimmest chance was worth the effort of trying.
That afternoon, not long after returning to his lodgings, while Su Wenfang was still turning over what new argument to try the next day, a sudden commotion erupted outside the courtyard where he was staying.
The clash of blades rose sharply all at once — shouts, roars, and shrill screams of agony rang out. He’d barely registered what was happening when Chen Tuozi burst through the door, a single-edged blade in one hand already streaked with blood. He grabbed hold of Su Wenfang and barked, “Go—!” and Su Wenfang was hauled bodily out the door.
Su Wenfang had no martial skill of his own, and was dragged stumbling along the whole way. Inside and outside the courtyard, including Chen Tuozi, there were seven Huaxia Army fighters in all, most of whom had fought at the battle of Little Cang River, and by now all had their weapons drawn. Outside, the sound of footsteps and galloping horses had already risen; a great many men were charging into the courtyard. Someone shouted, “I am Li Zhengdao of Jiangnan—” before being cut down where he stood.
Chen Tuozi dragged Su Wenfang toward the escape route they’d prepared in advance, a hidden passage, fighting his way forward as flames began to rise behind them.
Out in the street beyond, chaos had already spread. Long Qifei watched eagerly as the encirclement he’d planned finally sprang into motion, the assembled swordsmen charging into the courtyard, warhorses packed densely together, roaring cries rising up. This was the first time he had personally overseen such an operation, and the middle-aged scholar’s cheeks flushed red with excitement. Then someone came to report: the resistance inside was fierce, and there was a hidden passage.
“Catch them, catch them…! The passage can’t be far — catch them—!” Long Qifei shouted in a panic.
The passage indeed wasn’t far, but the coordination and ferocity of the seven Black Banner fighters proved formidable. More than a dozen swordsmen who charged in were nearly cut down on the spot within the courtyard itself.
The first Black Banner fighter died at the entrance to the passage — already gravely wounded, he had tried to hold back the pursuers, though ultimately without success.
The second Black Banner fighter died at the exit of the passage, buying his comrades a brief moment more.
The passage itself spanned barely the length of a single street — this was merely a temporary safehouse, never meant to accommodate any large-scale construction. With the backing of the Zizhou prefect, Long Qifei had mobilized a great many men, and the moment Chen Tuozi burst out dragging Su Wenfang, they were spotted, and more men closed in from every side. Chen Tuozi released his hold on Su Wenfang and drew his twin blades, charging into a narrow alley nearby. His hair had already gone gray, but the twin blades in his hands remained ruthless and precise — nearly every step brought down another man with a single cut.
“Follow me,” Chen Tuozi shouted, fighting his way forward alongside four remaining Huaxia Army men, and within moments they had carved a path clear through one entire street amid the surrounding chaos.
Along the way, another Huaxia Army soldier fell, and the rest were wounded to varying degrees.
“Uncle Chen, go back and tell my brother-in-law what’s happened…”
“You go!” the old man roared.
“I can’t make it any further. The message matters more,” Su Wenfang said, dragging a leg pierced by an arrow, his whole body trembling — whether from pain or fear, he couldn’t tell. His voice cracked, almost sobbing, as he repeated himself. “The message matters more…”
More men were rushing in from ahead. The old man glanced back once, then let out a grief-stricken cry: “Brothers, fight with me to the last—!” and charged forward like a leaping leopard. By the time he vanished from Su Wenfang’s sight, Su Wenfang had stumbled to a tree at the roadside. A few remaining Huaxia Army men were still fighting; one fell as he pressed forward, while two others still stood guarding Su Wenfang. Su Wenfang cried out, “Stop! We surrender!”
One of the Huaxia Army soldiers refused to surrender, charging forward instead, only to be run through by a spear amid the crowd. The other, seeing this, slowly raised his hands and dropped his blade to the ground. Several men from the martial world approached with shackles in hand — but the Huaxia Army soldier suddenly lunged forward, snatching up his blade and swinging it wildly. The swordsmen, caught off guard by his last, desperate act, thrust their blades and spears forward, impaling him — but his final strike also sank into the neck of “the great hero of Jiangnan,” Zhan Shao, who clutched at his throat, blood spraying, and died moments later.
This last Huaxia Army soldier was beheaded even after his death.
Su Wenfang looked at the bodies scattered around him, trembling all over, and collapsed against the tree trunk. His leg, pierced clean through by the arrow, throbbed with unbearable pain, and tears streamed down his face. Not far off, in the alley, Long Qifei approached, his face pale at the sight of the trail of dead and wounded swordsmen and constables, but upon seeing Su Wenfang captured, his mood eased somewhat.
So much for the mighty Huaxia Army — even they could be reduced to tears.
He had the men seize Su Wenfang and summon a physician to treat him. Not long after, the Wuxiang Army arrived, led by a visibly furious Lu Qiaoshan, who surrounded the town and forbade anyone from leaving, demanding that Long Qifei hand the prisoner over. This was, after all, an area near military grounds — even the authority of the Zizhou prefect had no business reaching in here.
More scholars began pouring in as well, questioning loudly whether the army intended to shield the Black Banner rebels.
The standoff between the two sides continued for a while that day, until at last Lu Qiaoshan withdrew. Meanwhile, Chen Tuozi, covered head to toe in blood, made his way back toward Liangshan, his pursuers closing in from behind…
Su Wenfang, bound in chains, was escorted back to Zizhou. His true ordeal was only just beginning.
Long Qifei sent a letter to the capital:
“…Our great endeavor has met with initial success. Should matters proceed smoothly, the Wuxiang Army will have no choice but to turn against the regicidal rebels of the Black Banner — a most gratifying outcome. More than a dozen righteous men gave their lives in this cause; though such sacrifice was unavoidable, it remains a matter of deep regret…
“…Should this matter remain unresolved, we shall petition General Lu once more, so that the Wuxiang Army can no longer stall or evade. For the sake of our nation and homeland, this can no longer be delayed — even should we ourselves perish in this cause, we would count it no loss…”
Many more such stirring words followed.
Back at his camp, Lu Qiaoshan fell into a rare, prolonged silence, and did not discuss the matter’s implications with Zhi Junhao at all.
Deep within the mountains of Liangshan, a great storm had already finished gathering, and was now beginning to break…