Chapter 52

When Zheng San returned, Fu Tingjun was in the room with Zheng Sanniang making winter clothes, while A Sen was in the main hall playing with Linchun.

Seeing his father, Linchun babbled at him.

Zheng San smiled and ruffled his hair, and Zheng Sanniang quickly took the child away.

Fu Tingjun had A Sen pour Zheng San a cup of tea and asked him, "Have you had lunch yet?"

No one was more loyal to Zhao Ling than A Sen. It was possible she might still need A Sen to run errands in the future. He was clever and sharp, and the more he knew, the better he could act on his feet in an emergency. She had not hidden anything from A Sen.

Zheng San gulped down the tea in one go, handed the cup back to A Sen, thanked him softly, and said respectfully to Fu Tingjun, "I bought two flatbreads and ate them on the way." A simple smile appeared on his honest face.

Fu Tingjun had A Sen bring him a stool to sit on, then asked somewhat urgently, "What did you find out?"

Zheng San said in a low voice, "Young Master Yang and Young Master Jin are not staying together. I first went to Tai'an Inn where Young Master Yang was staying. The innkeeper said that Young Master Yang felt the bad times wouldn't improve anytime soon, and there was no point continuing to waste time in Xi'an Prefecture. He sold off all his goods at low prices and took his men back to his hometown, settling his accounts just this morning. Then I hurried to Lotus Temple where Young Master Jin was staying. The reception monk at Lotus Temple said that Young Master Jin ran a small stationery business. Staying in Xi'an Prefecture like this was very costly, and with the Mid-Autumn Festival approaching, rather than being trapped here, it was better to take his men back home for the festival. Early this morning, he too packed up and left the city."

"Both of them are gone?" Fu Tingjun was shocked.

Zheng San nodded. "I was one step too late."

Fu Tingjun looked toward A Sen.

A Sen was somewhat surprised, but not alarmed.

Fu Tingjun let Zheng San go rest. "Have Zheng Sanniang make more flatbreads. We may need you to make another trip later!"

"I await your orders, miss." Zheng San bowed obediently and withdrew.

"A Sen!" Fu Tingjun asked him with a grim face, "What do you know? Tell me now. Don't make me guess around and waste time!"

Perhaps he truly sensed the gravity of the situation, for this time A Sen said not a word of nonsense and directly poured out Zhao Ling's arrangements like beans spilling from a bamboo tube.

The more he spoke, the darker Fu Tingjun's expression grew. Before he even finished, Fu Tingjun jumped to her feet: "Why didn't you say this earlier? How could such a clever man believe Ninth Master's words? Guard his retreat for him? We came with servants and luggage, making a racket all the way to Willow Lane. Mo Yi is a guerrilla general under the Marquis of Yingchuan—how could this possibly be hidden from him? This place has been carefully built up over so many years—the house, the shop, the identities of the Lyu couple—all of it is real. Unless the Lyu couple went to inform on us, even if Mo Yi was suspicious, he couldn't find any evidence. Because of our arrival, a hidden piece became an exposed piece. If Mo Yi meant harm to Ninth Master, how could Ninth Master possibly come to Willow Lane to take shelter? The idea of guarding his retreat simply doesn't hold water!"

Fu Tingjun's aggressive questioning had already left an indelible impression on A Sen of her extraordinary intelligence, and Zhao Ling's words had already crumbled in his mind. Even so, he still refused to give up: "By your reasoning, this place can't be hidden from Mo Yi at all. Then why did Ninth Master send all of us here? Isn't Ninth Master afraid that Mo Yi might harm us, or use us to threaten him?"

This boy—why was he so stubborn?

“Ninth Master’s relationship with Mo Yi isn’t like his relationship with Feng Laosi,” Fu Tingjun explained patiently to A Sen. “Ninth Master and Feng Laosi have conflicting interests—they’ve long since burned their bridges, so whatever tactics he uses, he can just go ahead. Between Mo Yi and Ninth Master, there’s still a pane of paper in the way. As long as it isn’t pierced, Mo Yi won’t move against Ninth Master. But once it is pierced, it will be a fight to the death. Here we have nothing but women, children, and the young. Mo Yi, as a guerrilla general, could deal with us with the slightest effort. As long as he and Ninth Master maintain the current situation, he won’t touch us.” Her voice grew slower and slower. “If they do come to blows and Ninth Master is lucky enough to escape, then I, as his ‘betrothed,’ and you, as the servant who grew up at his side—as long as we stay here, Ninth Master might not be able to let us go and will come back for us. Mo Yi only needs to station men here, wait, and Ninth Master will walk right into the trap. If Ninth Master… whether we live or die won’t matter to him at all. This is under the jurisdiction of the Shaanxi Administration Commission, and he belongs to the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission. Above him is the Marquis of Yingchuan, and behind him is Sixteenth Master. There’s no reason for him to slaughter our whole household and draw the Administration Commission’s attention, creating complications and unnecessary trouble. Nine times out of ten, he’ll just leave us alone. Either way, we’ll be safe.” Her heart felt as if it were bleeding. “Ninth Master’s move looks like beating the grass to startle the snake, but in reality it’s turning from the shadows into the open… Once he escapes, even if Mo Yi knows it’s a trap, there’s nothing he can do… He never intended to see us again!” At this, tears slipped down her face despite herself. “How can you still believe his words?”

Before she even finished speaking, A Sen was already utterly convinced and heartbroken. Seeing Fu Tingjun weep, he could no longer hold back and burst into sobs, kneeling before her and pleading, “Miss Fu, I beg you, save Ninth Master! In my next life, I’ll repay you as your ox or horse.”

Fu Tingjun was both anxious and angry at this moment.

Anxious because he hadn’t taken her words to heart at all—he’d sent everyone around him away, clearly intending to fight Mo Yi to the bitter end, and she didn’t know if she could still stop him in time. Angry because he only thought of himself, ignoring the feelings of those around him, stubbornly going his own way, never considering how heartbroken his people would be if anything happened to him.

She pulled A Sen to his feet. “So I have something to entrust to you and Zheng San. No matter what, we cannot let Ninth Master take that path!”

Hearing that Fu Tingjun had a plan, A Sen immediately stood up, stopped crying, and looked at her with hope written all over his face. “Miss Fu, I’ll do whatever you say.”

Fu Tingjun wiped the corner of her eyes, her heart growing as firm and immovable as stone.

Even if Zhao Ling resented her for the rest of his life, she could not let him lose his life.

“Take Zheng San, bring some flatbread, and wait at the entrance of Xisheng Inn. No matter what, you must wait until Yang Yucheng and Jin Yuanbao show up,” she said with a grave expression. “Have them come see me.”

A Sen was too young, and Zheng San had sold himself into servitude only because he had no other choice—neither could compare to Yang Yucheng and Jin Yuanbao, who were Zhao Ling’s right and left hands. They could even ferret out Mo Yi’s identity, and their capability and loyalty were beyond question. Some matters were far safer entrusted to them than to A Sen and Zheng San.

A Sen hesitated. “But Brother Yuanbao, he… he went to Huayin!”

“Even I can see that Ninth Master is in dire straits right now—do you think Yang Yucheng and Jin Yuanbao can’t see it too?” Fu Tingjun said. “Otherwise, why would Ninth Master repeatedly warn them not to act on their own? Those two definitely won’t leave. They might even be plotting something in secret.” She added with some worry, “What I’m afraid of now is that they’ll try something reckless,” and cautioned A Sen, “Don’t you go along with their wild ideas. Mo Yi is a great general—he only commands troops and deploys forces. He won’t fight you hand-to-hand like Feng Laosi would. You have no advantage in a direct confrontation.” Then she steeled herself, her eyes fixed intently on A Sen. “Just listen to me, that’s all.”

Fu Tingjun’s analysis was so logical that it resolved the confusion in A Sen’s mind. He was now completely devoted to her, and at her words, he straightened his small frame. “Don’t worry, Miss Fu. Whatever you command, I’ll do!”

…

But Chen Liu’s back could no longer stay straight.

“Both of them sent away the people around them,” he murmured. “Yang Yucheng has vanished without a trace, and Jin Yuanbao has left the city…”

"Damn it!" Mo Yi couldn't help but slam his palm onto the tea table, which shattered with a crack. "Xiao Wu, have him take men to chase after them." After shouting that, he calmed down considerably and said, "Forget it. Since that Jin Yuanbao has left the city, he's most likely blended in with the refugees. Not to mention we're short-handed—even if we brought all ten banners' men, we'd probably return empty-handed." As he spoke, his gaze turned cold and menacing. "Have Xiao Wu deliver a message to Tao Mu—mobilize the Divine Crossbow Battalion."

The Divine Crossbow Battalion and the Wind-Chasing Battalion, both founded by the Marquis of Yingchuan, were the two banners of the Gansu Commander-in-Chief's office, unmatched anywhere else.

"Master Mo," Chen Liu hesitated, "the Divine Crossbow Battalion is too conspicuous. If the Shaanxi Surveillance Commission or the Provincial Administration Commission found out and reported it to the Ministry of War or the Censorate, the Marquis would be in serious trouble. That Zhao Ling is nothing but a common martial artist who only met Sixteenth Master once. For us to go this far... wouldn't that be making a mountain out of a molehill?"

He was one of Tao Mu's men, sent by Tao Mu's orders to assist Mo Yi. Given the gravity of the matter, he felt obliged to offer his counsel.

The Mo clan of Luyi had produced generals for generations.

Mo Yi came from a distinguished family, skilled in warfare, and was a fierce warrior under the Marquis of Yingchuan. Though he served the Marquis, the Marquis treated him with considerable deference, which had fostered his fiery temper.

At this moment, a blaze of anger burned in his chest, and Chen Liu's words only poured fuel on the fire. He sneered repeatedly: "Zhao Ling is a common martial artist—then what are you?"

Orders had already been given, and yet Yang Yucheng and Xu Yuanbao had slipped away right under their noses.

Chen Liu's face turned ashen with shame. He lowered his head and said, "General Mo, this subordinate is incompetent and willing to accept whatever punishment you see fit." But he carried his own pride. "Still, I beg General Mo to seriously consider my advice."

Chen Liu, known as the Swift Courier, was the most elite scout under the Marquis of Yingchuan, and the grandson of the former Yunnan Commander-in-Chief. Mo Yi had to show him some respect no matter what.

"This Zhao Ling—if he merely had some brute strength, what would there be to fear?" His expression softened slightly. "But look at his path so far—he's never miscalculated. He's left you and me with no opening, and even when slapped in the face, we can't cry out in pain. A man like this—if we could trace his clan and relatives, then fine. Money, fame, or the lives of his entire family—one of those would surely move him. But as it happens, he's utterly alone, his origins a complete mystery. When he's right beside us, we can't get a handle on him. If we let him leave, wouldn't that be like a fish returning to the sea? We'd never find him again. Having a man like that lurking in the shadows—I don't know what Tao Mu is thinking, but I'm not comfortable with it." His voice rang out like metal striking stone. "We must intercept and kill him!"