Chapter Sixty-Four: The Battle Begins

Su Yang lingered in Jin Ping’er’s chamber for most of the day, only stopping when night had fallen. Seeing the darkness outside, he finally dressed and prepared to go out.

“Master… where are you going at such a late hour?” Jin Ping’er asked, her body languid on the bed.

“I need to step out for a while. I’ll come back later and keep you company. Rest for now—have the servants prepare a bath for you to ease your fatigue.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting for you, Master…” Jin Ping’er bit her lip shyly, shrinking back beneath the covers, well aware of what her lord intended.

Returning to his own quarters, Su Yang changed into black attire suited for night errands before slipping quietly toward the Wu family’s flatbread shop.

Within the Wu family’s dwelling, Pan Yinlian knelt in the mourning hall, burning paper offerings and keeping vigil. The long hours had left her haggard and wan. The constables once stationed at the door had long since withdrawn, leaving only three captains watching in secret—two of the ninth rank and one of the eighth.

Su Yang surmised someone was indeed watching from the shadows, though he could not say exactly where. Rather than hesitate, he burst into the house, swept Pan Yinlian up in his arms as she tended the fire, and darted out into the night.

Pan Yinlian, soft and delicate in his embrace, turned deathly pale with fright, about to scream for help. But when a familiar voice whispered in her ear, relief flooded her; she clung tightly to Su Yang’s sleeve as they darted through the labyrinth of streets.

After several blocks, Su Yang estimated that three pursuers followed behind—he could not gauge their exact strength but guessed the strongest was of the eighth rank. If a seventh-rank appeared, he could fight back using his Wild Ox Long Fist, but that seemed unlikely. After all, Wu Song was merely the chief constable, commanding only the third class and sixth division.

A seventh-rank warrior would hardly remain in a magistrate’s employ—they would be offered far better terms by the great houses, unless they had a real chance at the chief constable’s position. Thus, seventh-rank warriors were rare in the constabulary and usually relied on the three great families of Yanggu County, waiting for their chance at promotion rather than carrying out surveillance at Wu Song’s behest.

Within Yanggu, seventh-rank warriors were found mostly among the great households or the remnants of defeated armies. As for sixth-rank warriors, that was even more out of the question. Wu Song himself was just sixth rank—how could he order someone of equal strength to handle such trifling matters?

Su Yang sprinted toward the Dongmen Qing estate, knowing he was but a few streets away. Steadying his pace, he set Pan Yinlian down and, moving like a panther, charged the lead pursuer.

“We’ve been discovered—run!” the eighth-rank captain shouted, his face contorted with alarm as the three scattered in different directions. Su Yang gave chase, his speed surpassing theirs by far. As he closed in, the eighth-rank captain, realizing escape was futile, turned to fight.

In a few swift exchanges, the captain fell to Su Yang’s fists. The other two ninth-rank captains had long since vanished. Hoisting the dead man’s body, Su Yang led Pan Yinlian to a riverside thicket often used for disposing of corpses.

The wild grass here grew dense and tall, offering perfect concealment—no passerby would notice what transpired.

“Miss Yinlian, wait here for me. I’ll go take care of this,” Su Yang said, setting her by the riverbank. Her face remained ashen, hands clutching his sleeve, still shaken to her core.

“Alright… but please come back quickly,” she replied, dressed in her white mourning clothes, the pallor of her garments accentuating her delicate beauty. Watching Su Yang’s retreating figure, her heart pounded with anxiety and fear. She crouched low, eyes darting nervously, afraid of drawing any villain’s attention.

Su Yang, as practiced as ever, swiftly disposed of the eighth-rank captain’s body. Wu Song would surely recognize that only a seventh-rank fighter could have struck such a decisive blow—no sixth-rank could have done so lightly. To frame Dongmen Qing, Su Yang knew he must leave no trace or flaw.

Practice makes perfect.

The body was soon dealt with. Su Yang brought Pan Yinlian back home, settling her in the room beside Shen Lian, and assigned two maids to keep her company—she had suffered a fright, after all.

Like Shen Lian, Pan Yinlian could not yet be seen in public. It remained to be seen how Dongmen Qing and Wu Song would respond.

With this matter resolved, Su Yang returned to Jin Ping’er’s room. Upon hearing him arrive, the petite and alluring Jin Ping’er hurried barefoot from the bed, her eyes brimming with charm and longing as she gazed at him.

The next day.

Everything remained quiet as before. Su Yang took breakfast with Liu Wenxiang as usual. No major events troubled the county these days.

After eating, Su Yang visited the neighboring Su residence—formerly the Hong family’s estate, now home to Pan Yinlian, Shen Lian, and Shen Yushui.

Shen Yushui refused to leave her room, so Su Yang spoke with Shen Lian about the county’s current state. If Shen Lian wished to resume his role as constable, he would have to wait and see—conflict between Wu Song and Dongmen Qing was sure to escalate.

Pan Yinlian, still shaken, hid in her room, terror etched on her face. Thankfully, the two maids kept her company; without them, the trauma might have left her truly ill. Su Yang held her gently, offering comfort before taking his leave—he would not take advantage of her distress, though she had clearly given her heart to him.

The sixteen handpicked household servants trained diligently under the alternating guidance of Wang Han and Ma Chao, as well as instruction in the Hundred Demon Manual. Their eyes now sparkled with spirit.

Su Yang was confident that before long, they would become robust and capable men.

Another day passed. Night had fallen, and just as Su Yang considered visiting Jin Ping’er to indulge in a night of passion, Captain Hu Shi arrived in haste.

“Master, the chief constable has gathered his best men and set out,” Hu Shi reported, panting heavily.

“I understand. Resume your usual duties—you need not keep watch any longer,” Su Yang replied with a hint of delight, sending Hu Shi away before donning his night attire once more and heading toward the Dongmen estate.

Of course, he dared not approach too closely, lest he be drawn into the fray.

Under the cover of darkness, Wu Song and his most trusted captains scaled the wall of the Dongmen estate. The night was still and silent, but from his vantage atop a distant teahouse’s second floor, Su Yang could sense the massacre unfolding within.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, he heard a gong sound, only to be abruptly silenced. Not long after, the slaughter intensified—cries and furious shouts echoed through the night.