Qi Jianshuang’s injuries had not yet fully healed. Coupled with a whole day of agricultural labor, his waist and back were sore and aching. Ducking and dodging, he expended quite a bit of effort; in the past, a single strike would have meant a life, and there would have been no need to feel so aggrieved and stifled.
Seeing him retreat step by step while Deng Hua protectively shielded him, the bandits assumed Qi Jianshuang was all show and no substance, instantly regaining their full confidence.
Dahuhu spat out a bloody froth, his blade pointing diagonally at the ground. Taking advantage of Qi Jianshuang turning around, he lunged forward. Who would have guessed that Qi Jianshuang seemed to have eyes on the back of his head? With a clean and crisp backhand slash, a fresh sword wound instantly appeared on Dahuhu’s bulging right arm.
Qi Jianshuang’s sword tassel fluttered in the wind, and blood droplets condensed on the blue-steel blade.
“Clang!” Dahuhu’s saber dropped to the ground.
Qi Jianshuang gave him a cold glance and paid him no more mind.
Dead grass made a crisp, rustling sound underfoot.
Out of the corner of his eye, Qi Jianshuang caught a glimpse of a dark shadow flickering on the left. He immediately twisted his waist and delivered a side kick, sending the bandit attempting a sneak attack with a club flying to the side. The dull thud of a skull crashing against a stone wall, mixed with the clear ring of steel clashing, echoed across the open space before the city gate, startling several jackdaws into flight.
Deng Hua took over his position and swiftly resolved the seven men in no time.
Dust slowly settled among the crowd.
Deng Hua retracted his sword, put it behind his back, stood firm, and lifted his chin at the fallen bandits. With a steady tone, he said, “Your skills are lacking. Everyone, you need to practice diligently from new on.”
The men rolled around on the ground in pain, wailing and muttering curses under their breath.
Yun Zhensong had never underestimated Hongke’s capabilities, but he truly hadn’t expected such formidable figures to exist among the refugees. He tilted his head and whispered to Zhou Si, “Between you and this female hero, who is stronger?”
Zhou Si was not a petty person nor one to envy others’ talents; he generously admitted, “She is stronger.”
“Then how do you compare to Hongke?”
“…Him.” Zhou Si knew his master would ask this, but added, “Still, if I were to go suppress bandits, I wouldn’t necessarily come out at a disadvantage.”
“That goes without saying.” Yun Zhensong smiled and patted his shoulder.
Zhou Si was Yun Zhensong’s personal bodyguard; matters like this didn’t call for Zhou Si to step in.
A faint light was already visible at the edge of the sky. The morning glow hid behind the clouds, appearing and disappearing intermittently. If one listened closely, it was unclear whose rooster was crowing loudly and vividly—they had in fact been up the entire night.
Yun Zhensong gathered his spirits, stepped outside, and prepared to play the role of the benevolent mediator.
Dressed in a plain tunic with a heavy cloak tied around his neck, Yun Zhensong wore a warm and gentle smile. He instructed the men to help the injured up and told the doctors to prioritize treating those who had shed blood.
Yun Zhensong first feigned a tone of mild reproach: “I told you not to draw blood, so why are you still so heavy-handed? Alright, alright, there’s no need to apologize. You’re all tired, go get some rest, okay?”
From beginning to end, Qi Jianshuang showed not the slightest intention of seeking forgiveness, and even let out a scoff after Yun Zhensong uttered his final soothing syllable.
Leaving the rest to Yun Zhensong was enough. He turned and walked into the city, and the others instinctively followed behind.
Yun Zhensong narrowed his eyes with a knowing look. Finally, he said to the men on the ground who were waiting with eyes closed to be beheaded, “Don’t look like your doomsday has come; this official is not going to kill you.”
Dahuhu lifted his drooping eyelids and looked over with a sinister gaze.
Yun Zhensong wasn’t afraid at all, meeting his gaze directly: “Don’t sit there cursing me in your hearts for being hypocritical. Your opinions are worth less than nothing to me.”
“I am giving you two choices,” Yun Zhensong stood in the center with a slender frame, yet his voice carried exceptional power. “First, be locked in the dungeon, sharing a bed with rats every day, eating spoiled food and drinking dirty water. Second, wear handcuffs and shackles and go work in the fields. While you won’t get rare delicacies, I guarantee you won’t go hungry.”
“Rest assured, it’s all agricultural work, and there will be rest periods; we won’t exploit you to death.”
Everyone remained silent. Could there really be such a good thing???
Yun Zhensong timely played his final trump card: “Those who choose the second option can register their households right now and receive a bowl of white congee.”
Instantly, everyone’s eyes lit up. To hell with whatever conspiracy! The master wants to eat!
“Me! I choose the second option!”
“Damn it, I want congee!”
“Look at your pathetic bear-like selves!” Dahuhu felt a mix of frustration and disappointment, turning his head to shout, “It’s just farm work! I’m not even afraid of death! You’re afraid of working?!”
Yun Zhensong smiled knowingly, waved his hand at the chief clerk, and gracefully retreated having accomplished his mission.
Several officials in the county urged Yun Zhensong to return to the residence to rest; his constitution simply could not afford to collapse, and there were still many matters requiring the magistrate to preside over the big picture.
Yun Zhensong was so busy that his back was already aching. The mere thought of having to walk back to the residence gave him a massive headache.
He slumped into the grand master’s chair, looking listlessly at the busy figures of the commoners, and sighed.
Rest his legs for a moment… If worst came to worst, he could just sleep right here…
When Yun Zhensong drifted off in thought, he subconsciously began to bite his fingernails, his brow tightly furrowed.
“Master? Are you too tired?” Yusheng asked. “Zhou Big Brother, carry Master back to the residence…”
Yun Zhensong hurriedly waved his hand and said, “No, no. Zhou Si has also been busy all night, don’t put him through that. I’m fine, just a little dizzy, a short rest will do.”
Without his master’s nod, Zhou Si wouldn’t dare overstep, so he could only anxiously stand guard nearby.
Some refugees were taken back into the homes of local residents, while the rest crowded into the rudimentary shelters near the city gate. At this moment, only the city-guarding soldiers remained on the empty, desolate streets, where a faint fragrance of rice and traces of chill lingered in the air.
Right after that, Yun Zhensong sneezed and shivered all over: “Sigh, I should go back after all, I’m about to catch a cold—hm?! Hongke? What are you doing!”
Only to see Qi Jianshuang, who had been silent and standing in the shadows all along, squat down, hook his strong arms backward, and steadily hoist Yun Zhensong onto his broad back, saying in a deep voice, “Carrying the magistrate back to the residence to rest.”
Zhou Si and Yusheng frowned at the same time—this guy was way too bold! But the next second, instead of reprimanding him, their master began showing concern for the other man’s health: “Can you manage? Are you tired? I’m actually quite heavy… Ah, why is your body so hot?! Are you running a fever? Yusheng, Zhou Si! Stop standing there dazed, hurry up and follow. Let’s all go back to the residence and drink some ginger soup to warm up…”
Words are too dense, Qi Jianshuang thought to himself.
The figures of the few gradually disappeared into the hazy morning mist. Cheng Sui lifted a corner of the straw curtain, unwilling in his heart to face the iron-blooded general who had once galloped across battlefields “degenerating” into a mere nobody—one who should have received tens of thousands in gold, been conferred noble titles and high office, only to see power and wealth vanish like smoke overnight.
Cheng Sui sighed; he felt a sense of unfairness for the general.
On the way back, Yun Zhensong fell asleep in a daze.
Qi Jianshuang placed him onto the bed, then silently returned to his own small room.
Later on, no one sent over any ginger soup; they had likely forgotten about him.
“Investigate for me!” Li Ting smashed a precious inkstone from the square table fiercely onto the floor, pointing at the nose of the Minister of Punishments and cursing furiously, “If you can’t find out who ordered those assassins, I will severely punish you all!”
At this moment, the Imperial Study was filled with a room full of kneeling officials. If any single one of them were placed in Yuanqing County, not only would the entire county pull out all stops to receive them with the highest specifications, but the magistrates of neighboring counties would also personally come to flatter them.
How majestic they looked in the Zhongzhou imperial court, and how miserably they were being berated by the emperor at this very moment.
Every single one of them looked disheveled and dirt-stained, not daring to breathe too loudly.
The new emperor, Li Ting, sat back on the dragon throne, feeling anxious and uneasy inside, while maintaining a sarcastic facade: “We have never issued an order for Qi Jianshuang’s head. Some people are being too clever for their own good! Have you ever considered who guards the northern border?! Gongsun Can! Is it up to your Ministry of Punishments?! Gong Qun! Or is it up to your Censorate!”
“Tell Us! Nowadays, who else can guard the frontiers for Us!”
“Fools!” Li Ting was so angry that he began to cough, one hand clutching his chest while the other fiercely pointed toward the hall doors. “Get out!!! All of you, get out!!!”
The crowd scurried away with their heads bowed, terrified of provoking the emperor’s bad luck and bringing disaster upon themselves.
When he finished coughing and raised his head, apart from the guards and palace maids, there was no one else left in the massive palace. For a moment, Li Ting collapsed somewhat dejectedly back into the dragon throne, his hands gripping the armrests tightly, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.
Li Ting cast his gaze onto the 300-li expedited military report, his expression growing increasingly filled with loathing.
He was the Son of Heaven; he could not make mistakes! Qi Jianshuang’s death was not something he brought about, and the current precarious crisis of facing enemies from within and without was not entirely of his own making—it was all due to the ministers handling affairs incompetently and with utter stupidity!
“Wang Liren,” Li Ting called out in a deep voice, “summon Han Pei into the palace.”
“Understood.” The emperor’s personal eunuch bowed respectfully to accept the command, trotting away with hurried, tiny steps to deliver the order.
Han Pei, the second son of the Han family, was well-read and eloquent, yet excessively jealous. He could not bear to see others gain power—especially those who refused to submit to his “discipline.”
In his early years, Qi Jianshuang had been on very close terms with Han Yan, the eldest son of the Han family. The two brothers of the Han family had completely opposite personalities; Han Pei couldn’t stand his older brother having a close friend who was a young general, and repeatedly whispered bad things into the Prime Minister’s ears, exhausting every effort to badmouth Qi Jianshuang. But back then, Qi Jianshuang was young, frivolous, and arrogant—aside from the late emperor, he didn’t take anyone seriously. Toward Han Pei’s petty actions, he sneered with utter contempt and couldn’t be bothered to care. This drove Han Pei into a towering rage, pushing him to desperation, wishing he could dig out Qi Jianshuang’s eyes for turning a blind eye to him!
When the late emperor passed away, the Prime Minister was grief-stricken and followed him in death. As the crown prince’s study companion, when the crown prince ascended the throne, Han Pei frantically fawned over and curried favor with the new emperor, leaping overnight to become the youngest Prime Minister in Great Xuan. Han Yan, on the other hand, had always been indifferent to fame and wealth; seeing Great Xuan undergo a complete transformation and lose its former glory, he shouldered his ancient zither and went off to travel the world.
As for Qi Jianshuang, his bitter days had truly arrived.
Fighting wars abroad, rations exhausted, troops short in supply—it was sheer misery. When he finally won a hard-fought victory, it was twisted into “deliberately delaying and missing military opportunities.” When Qi Jianshuang first learned that such a massive bucket of slop had been dumped over his head, he almost flipped the military tent over. In the end, it was only because Cheng Sui and Deng Hua forcefully held him back that his newly bandaged wounds didn’t rupture all over again.
Inside the tent, the candlelight stretched Qi Jianshuang’s shadow very long. Blood soaked half of his battle robe, and armor fragments were deeply embedded into his left shoulder, blending with congealed blood scabs to cast a dark red hue under the dim candlelight.
When the military doctor cut open his clothing, the sticky flesh made a soft, tearing sound.
Qi Jianshuang clenched the cloth strip stuffed in his mouth and sucked in a cold breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his tense neck. The candlelight cast his back—covered in new wounds layered over old scars—onto the tent wall like a mottled sand-table map. His youthful torso should have been as pristine as fresh snow, yet right now it was covered in the rings of time carved by swords and halberds.
The military doctor’s scissors hovered close to his skin, cutting away the final string of silk connecting the armor with a crisp “snip.” Qi Jianshuang shuddered violently, and a bead of sweat rolled down his jaw, splashing onto the crude low table.
“This is a piercing wound; it will hurt much more than the others.”
When the physician washed the wound with fiery wine, Qi Jianshuang’s back instantly curled like a fully drawn horn bow, the muscles beneath the gauze bunching up like the roots of an ancient tree.
Standing nearby with a deep frown, Cheng Sui involuntarily recalled the curved saber from three hours ago, when the blinding blade-light split the yellow sands and Haleba’s ferocious face twisted into a demon’s visage amidst the bloody mist. If it hadn’t been deflected by half an inch, the head hoisted on the tip of a spear right now would be…
The military doctor said, “General, please bear with it.”
The moment the medicinal powder fell, Qi Jianshuang’s fingernails dug deeply into his palms.
As the gauze wound around his chest, Qi Jianshuang’s front and back were already covered in rugged old scars. Layer upon layer of bandages were wrapped tightly, and fresh blood seeped through the plain hemp cloth, making the man’s pale face look even more like jade immersed in a cold pool.
“Dammit!” Qi Jianshuang jerked his head to the side, spitting out the cloth gag from his mouth, his teeth itching with hatred. “Han Pei, you scoundrel! If I’d known you were an unraisable beast, I should have given your older brother a proper beating on your behalf back when you were running around with your bare bottom!”
As Han Pei grew older, his heart grew more and more warped. But he had forgotten that back when his birth mother died and he suffered bullying from his peers, it was his Qi Big Brother who picked him up and placed him on broad shoulders, letting little Pei see the scenery from up high.