"Senior Brother!"
"Senior Brother!"
Just then Li Zhichang came pelting up at last, junior brothers in tow.
"Hero Guo, let us head back into the city first."
Yin Zhiping had no wish to spend another thought on the whole affair.
He had always acted purely on his own will—did as he meant to do. Beyond a limited few, Qiu Chuji among them, no one alive could sway him.
"Good. With Taoist Master Yin aiding us, I believe the Mongols will limp home with broken wings this time."
Ouyang Feng had fled beyond the horizon anyway; dwelling on the matter would only strain the goodwill. That much Guo Jing could see plainly, so he let it lie, and the matter passed.
Pity poor Li Zhichang and the junior brothers—they had rushed out overjoyed to fetch their senior brother, and before they could even stop to trade two sentences, it was about-face and back the way they'd come...
Still, Yin Zhiping's return gave them their keel back.
Li Zhichang could finally breathe out.
Truth be told, carrying that command had kept his nerves wound tight.
This was a war, after all.
Every brother on this trip had passed Senior Brother Yin's selection—second-rate strength at the very worst—but it still wasn't enough. Even he, a first-rate martial artist, couldn't swear he'd come through alive.
How many of them would walk home together, no one could say.
The dread of causing needless deaths through some misstep of his own had pressed on Li Zhichang without mercy.
Now, at last, the weight was off. All he had to do was follow Senior Brother Yin's orders.
His junior brothers' fussing put Yin Zhiping in a fine mood on the road back—though mostly it was being free of Ouyang Feng at last.
Yin Zhiping held no grudge against Ouyang Feng but one: the man had killed his martial uncle—Tan Chuduan, Master Changzhen.
But Master Qiu Chuji had said it himself: Ouyang Feng was mad, and the past would not be pursued.
So Yin Zhiping had followed his own heart—eased his hand that fraction, and let Ouyang Feng slip free.
Back in Xiangyang, they made straight for the City Lord's manor.
The gathered jianghu folk had long dispersed. In the cavernous hall, only Huang Rong sat with a teacup raised, waiting for her Brother Jing to return.
Worried? Hardly.
Never mind that an Innate-realm Taoist Master Yin was out there with him—even if her Brother Jing had faced Ouyang Feng alone, the one who ought to be worried, in her estimation, was Ouyang Feng.
Her Brother Jing's strength carried her own father's personal certification. Huang Yaoshi, Lord of Peach Blossom Island himself, had said outright: his son-in-law had outstripped him by a wide margin.
So Huang Rong's faith in Guo Jing was absolute.
"Rong'er, we're back. This is Taoist Master Yin—we met once at the Quanzhen Sect, years ago."
The moment Guo Jing entered he was introducing the newcomer, face bright with excitement, his earlier grumbling about the pulled sword-stroke completely forgotten.
That was Guo Jing—broad of heart, honest to the bone. A true hero.
"Chief Huang. This humble Taoist must also thank you for looking after my junior brothers."
Li Zhichang and the rest, arrayed behind Yin Zhiping, bowed to Huang Rong as well.
She truly had taken good care of them all this while—and set her people watching for news of Senior Brother Yin besides.
It was the Beggars' Sect's swift relay of that news, in fact, that had freed Senior Brother Yin from Ouyang Feng's clutches at last.
All of this Li Zhichang had recounted to Yin Zhiping on the way back.
So whatever Huang Rong's motives—warm feeling or cold calculation, real or performed—it made no difference. Yin Zhiping owed her a measure of gratitude, and would carry it.
"You are too courteous, Taoist Master Yin. It was no more than our duty. That you brought your fellow disciples to Xiangyang's aid—that is the greatest help anyone could give us."
And wasn't it just?
An Innate. On a battlefield, a weapon of slaughter walking upright.
Everything Huang Rong had done had one aim: that Yin Zhiping should arrive as Xiangyang's reinforcement—not stay trapped in Ouyang Feng's grip.
By her own reckoning she'd done little enough anyway: a word to the Beggars' Sect disciples to keep their eyes open, nothing more.
"Hero Guo, Chief Huang—rest assured. This humble Taoist will spend everything he has to drive back the Mongols and hold Xiangyang."
That was the purpose of the whole journey. It needed no urging from Huang Rong or Guo Jing; Yin Zhiping would give his all regardless.
"With those words from Taoist Master Yin, my confidence is made. Rong'er—how go the arrangements?"
The wordless accord of husband and wife: Guo Jing knew that in his absence, his wife would have everything ordered to the last stitch.
Honestly, even the assembly earlier hadn't truly needed him.
He presided only because he was, in name, the supreme commander, and the name required a face.
Every actual disposition was Huang Rong's work.
"Rest easy, Brother Jing. It's all been passed down. The jianghu fighters will be dispersed among the regular troops and move with the army—they'll follow orders, I've made sure of it."
Sure enough, Huang Rong had already swept up after him.
"Hero Guo, Chief Huang—of matters military we understand nothing. If you have any use for us, speak plainly; the Quanzhen disciples will obey to the letter."
Yin Zhiping chose that moment to declare his position.
War was no game. Best leave such things to those with experience.
He and his would simply follow commands.
On a battlefield above all, there should be exactly one voice giving orders.
Yin Zhiping knew that because of his cultivation, Huang Rong and Guo Jing would feel obliged to defer to his opinions—call it respect, call it wariness.
He had no wish to see that. Hence the declaration, up front.
Let them plan with free hands.
Guo Jing and Huang Rong exchanged a look. Yin Zhiping's words were an unlooked-for gift.
Given their bond with the Quanzhen Sect, they had never truly feared the disciples would balk at orders.
But with this said aloud, the last stone settled.
"The Taoist Master is righteous. Then I'll hide nothing either: the Mongols have come prepared this time. To deal with the Great Song's jianghu, no small number of their masters march with the army. We fear nothing else—only an Innate expert on their side.
If it's one, well enough; Brother Jing can manage him. If there's more than one, that is where we would need Taoist Master Yin's hand.
And of course, if no such opponent shows, the Taoist Master need only help with the lesser masters.
I had meant to ask my father here—but his movements are a mystery even to the Beggars' Sect. No word of him at all."
That was Huang Rong's thinking: give Yin Zhiping the widest latitude she could.
At present Xiangyang knew only that masters traveled with the Mongol host. How many, and above all how many Innate—of that they knew nothing.
Every scout sent to find out had gone and not returned.
She had carried that worry for days. Now, with Yin Zhiping here, at least some of the weight could be shared.
"As is only proper. Set your heart at ease, Chief Huang."
Yin Zhiping had no quarrel with Huang Rong's arrangement—if anything, it suited him perfectly.
"Then please rest well, Taoist Master. Your lodging is prepared—just beside Taoist Master Li and the others."
Huang Rong had been so certain Guo Jing would bring Yin Zhiping home that she'd sent someone to make up the room in advance.
Say what you would—Huang Rong knew how to treat people. Small things, all of them, and yet they made a person feel thoroughly at ease.
"Our thanks, Chief Huang, Hero Guo. Then we brothers will withdraw."
Guo Jing and Huang Rong saw the Taoists to the door.
Outside the door, Yin Zhiping turned back and said, very abruptly: "Chief Huang, I believe you should have a physician look at you. To this humble Taoist's eye, your complexion is not quite right."