Chapter Fifteen: Awakening

Mu Chengyao left the Mu residence and headed straight for the military camp, immediately selecting a portion of his troops and issuing orders to suppress the bandits. Upon hearing that the young master of the Mu family would be accompanying them, the men below broke out into groans of dismay.

Relying on his close relationship with his superior, Ji Cang couldn’t help but grumble, “Hey, this young master Mu really has it figured out—just a stroll with you and he gets to claim battle merits for free. When the notice goes out, it’ll read ‘The notorious bandit Liu Huzi was eliminated by Mu Fusheng—like father, like son.’ Are we supposed to compete with the young master for the credit?”

Mu Chengyao shot him a cold glance, and Ji Cang immediately fell silent.

After a while, seeing that Mu Chengyao paid him no further attention, Ji Cang leaned over to whisper to his comrades, “Mobilizing two battalions just to wipe out some bandits? He might as well haul out a few cannons and level the mountain where the bandits are holed up. This young master, always so sarcastic to our boss, still has the nerve to come here and gild his reputation…”

Mu Chengyao, studying the map, suddenly called out, “Ji Cang.”

“Here!” Ji Cang sprang to his feet reflexively.

“Training intensity—tenfold. Complete it today.”

“Yes, sir!” Ji Cang, all too familiar with such orders, hurried off to the drill ground.

“The bandits have been active around Tongcheng. Time is short. Rest today, we set out at dawn. Send someone to inform Young Master Mu.”

“Yes, sir!” The subordinates straightened in unison.

Mu Chengyao stood tall, his deep gaze sweeping over each man about to march into battle, just as he did before every campaign: “May you all return with me!”

“With you!” they echoed.

War was inevitable. May all of you, treading through blood and smoke, share victory with me.

Elsewhere, Liu Huzi, exhausted from fleeing, led his men into a forest outside Tongcheng.

Wiping his face at random, Liu Huzi ordered, “Pass it along—rest here.”

Immediately, his men collapsed haphazardly onto the ground. Surrounded and pursued by Song’s troops, they’d lost many on the way—comrades who had been speaking to them one moment, shot dead the next. They dared not stop, running was their only hope for survival.

Blood and mud had long since dried and caked on their bodies, layer upon layer of crust. Some of the blood belonged to the pursuers, some to themselves—it was impossible to tell anymore, but after these past days, they had grown accustomed to it.

Having barely escaped, the group was utterly spent. Some fell asleep as soon as their eyes closed; others curled up, unable to help but recall the carnage, their muffled sobs rising unbidden.

They had committed many crimes in their time, but now that misfortune had come upon them, they finally understood pain.

The faint weeping echoed through the forest like the unwilling wails of souls before death. Even those who’d fallen asleep woke, staring up at the tree-shrouded sky in silence.

Gradually, as the sun set and the forest grew dark, snores began to rise.

Dongzi was one of the escapees. His family had been struck by disaster, too poor to buy food, and with taxes so high, failure to pay meant being sent off to the mines. His mother, desperate, sold his elder and younger sisters to cover the taxes. Just as the family was about to make it through, Dongzi was about to be conscripted. He was her only remaining child—if he were taken, their line would end.

His mother had knelt and begged the officer for mercy, only to be kicked aside. Frail and sickly, having never truly eaten her fill, her body had already reached its breaking point. That very night, after suffering that blow, she passed away.

Before dying, she had clasped Dongzi’s hand, telling him to survive no matter what.

Dongzi hastily buried her. Overhearing a conversation between the landlord and his wife, he learned that it was supposed to be the landlord’s eldest son who was conscripted. The landlord had bribed the officials, sending Dongzi in his place.

In a fit of rage, Dongzi killed the landlord. Fleeing, he ran straight into Liu Huzi’s men collecting ransom, and was taken up the mountain, becoming one of Liu Huzi’s followers from then on.

Staring with open eyes, Dongzi recalled his mother’s dying words. The sensation of familiar brains splattering onto his face was still vivid. He wiped his face with his sleeve, but the sleeve was filthy too—who knew whether his face or the cloth was dirtier.

No, he couldn’t stay here!

Clenching his fists, Dongzi waited for the right moment. Taking advantage of turning over, he glanced around. Seeing that those nearby had their eyes closed and seemed asleep, he slowly got up, hunched over, and carefully crept toward the edge of the forest.

As long as he reached there, he’d be out of sight from this side and could make a run for it. Even if the others discovered his escape, there would be nothing they could do.

Gradually, the edge drew nearer.

Almost there!

“Dongzi, where are you going?” A hand gripped his shoulder.

Dongzi froze, slowly turning—only to see Liu Huzi’s blood-caked face, indistinguishable where beard ended and dried gore began.

“Where are you going, Dongzi?” Liu Huzi asked again, smiling as if inquiring about breakfast.

Yet Dongzi heard only murderous intent in his tone. He began to tremble uncontrollably. “I—I’m just going to pee.” To make himself more believable, Dongzi repeated, “Just stepping aside to relieve myself.”

Liu Huzi casually slung an arm around Dongzi’s shoulder, grinning, “To pee, huh?”

Dongzi nodded frantically, relaxing just a little.

“Then go pee before the King of Hell,” Liu Huzi said, and fired.

Blood and brain matter sprayed over Liu Huzi’s face.

The gunshot startled the birds from the trees and made all those watching in secret hold their breath.

Liu Huzi wiped his face, clearing his eyes, then hefted his gun and laughed, “Anyone else need to pee?”

Red and white filth painted his grinning face, making him seem like a demon or ghost reborn among men.

His gaze swept the crowd—anyone meeting his eyes immediately lowered their heads in submission. Satisfied, Liu Huzi declared, “You are all my brothers, bound by life and death. This calamity proves your loyalty. Don’t worry—with me, you’ll never be left with just soup while I eat the meat!”

“Tongcheng is right before us—wealth and women in abundance. If we make a comeback, all of it will be ours!”

“Think back—endless wine, women at your whim. We’ve been unlucky once, but I won’t let my brothers suffer a second time. Stick with me, and you’ll lack for nothing you had before, and gain everything you never had!”

“Brothers, are you with me?”

“With you!”

…

No matter how bloody and stormy the world outside, it had nothing to do with the ladies and young misses in their boudoirs. Incense burned as ever at Qianyun Temple.

In a haze, Lu Yalan heard someone say, “Is she still not awake? She’s been unconscious for days.”

“She’s too frail, just recovered from a serious illness, then fell into the water and caught a chill—no wonder she’s slow to recover…”

She didn’t catch the rest; she drifted back into unconsciousness.

When she opened her eyes again, it was already evening. The setting sun streamed through the guesthouse window onto her bed, bathing her in light. She snuggled into the quilt, savoring the scent of sunshine.

Aside from illness, Lu Yalan had never lain in bed at this hour before, not since she could remember.

Compared to her own room, where she could walk with her eyes closed, this space—seen from this angle at this hour—felt entirely different, full of novelty.

A warm golden hue coated the room. The plain wooden table seemed much larger than usual. From her angle, she could see its base hidden in shadow—the bright parts brighter, the dark deeper—making it easy to imagine a monster lurking beneath.

Lu Yalan giggled at her own fancy. How could there be a monster under the table? Where did that come from?

A monster?

A monster!

Her sluggish mind finally began to work. Scenes of being thrown into the well flashed through her memory.

The last thing she saw was Hongxing swimming desperately toward her.

Was it Hongxing who saved them both? But the cliff was so slippery, the water icy cold, and Hongxing had to carry her unconscious body—how did she manage? Or were they both rescued by someone else? Any ordinary person would have avoided such trouble.

Lu Yalan knocked her head, finding her thoughts muddled. But one thing was certain: since she’d been saved, Hongxing, who had still been conscious after she herself fainted, must also be alive.

That was enough!

No need for wild guesses—she’d know soon anyway.

Her thoughts calming, Lu Yalan’s mind turned to Li Qiuling.

She knew Li Qiuling didn’t like her. Sensitive by nature, she often noticed things others missed. Whenever Li Qiuling spoke of Zhao Dingsheng, her eyes would shine, and when she looked at Lu Yalan—Zhao Dingsheng’s nominal fiancée—her gaze was positively venomous.

Lu Yalan had never spoken of this. First, she had no proof, and it might affect relations between the Lu and Zhao families. Second, to say Li Qiuling liked Zhao Dingsheng would mean revealing how Li Qiuling bullied her. Unlike Li Qiuling, who was doted on by elders, Lu Yalan had no protector; at best, the matter would be hushed up, leaving her with a reputation as a gossip.

She’d thought Li Qiuling was just overbearing and chose to avoid her. Never had she imagined Li Qiuling would dare kill!

When she’d been dragged and thrown into the water, she’d been panicked—yet recalling it now, she realized none of the Li family’s people had looked surprised. Clearly, this was not Li Qiuling’s first time.

In the Lu family compound, Lu Yalan had suffered many grievances growing up—the old master’s concubines schemed and fought—but never to the point of murder.

She’d thought that the worst women could do was ruin reputations or compete for affection—never to kill.

Thank heavens for the old matriarch!

She hadn’t realized it before, but now she understood: it was the old matriarch’s presence that kept things in check.

The old lady had always been scrupulously fair, favoring no one and suppressing none. She was like a clay statue in a temple, seated high above, observing the entire Lu family without sorrow or joy, always putting the family’s interests first.

As a child, Lu Yalan had tried to draw close—after all, the old matriarch was the only relative she could reach, the nearest by blood. But the old lady had always kept her distance. Most of the time, she ignored petty squabbles, and it was precisely those “minor” matters that made Lu Yalan suffer.

So she’d always felt more awe than affection for the old matriarch. But now, warmth welled up in her heart, her eyes growing wet. If not for the old lady’s silent protection, she might never have lived to this age.

How wonderful it felt to be protected!

After this ordeal, Lu Yalan finally realized how reckless she’d been to scratch Second Aunt’s face. If not for the old matriarch, given Second Aunt’s years of scheming in the Lu household, she would have been skinned alive if not killed.

She’d made Second Aunt suffer and, though she’d later felt a bit impulsive, deep down she was pleased. It had made her forget caution and that, at heart, she was still the same powerless girl as before.

Only after returning from the edge of death did she truly understand the need for prudence. To resist was not to oppose blindly and crudely, but to assess the situation—bowing when necessary, making it clear she was not to be bullied, yet standing on firm moral ground.

Lost in thought, Lu Yalan’s confused gaze gradually grew resolute.

“Miss, you’re awake!” Hongxing burst in to see Lu Yalan sitting up in bed, eyes red. She hurried to her side, worry etched on her face. “Miss, what’s wrong? Are you feeling ill?”

Before Lu Yalan could reply, Hongxing was already turning to dash out, “I’ll fetch Master Liaoyuan…”