Chapter Twelve: Turmoil

Che Hongshi felt somewhat consoled when he heard Che Yeming was determined to break out of the encampment. He glanced at his son and sneered, “At least you still have some backbone left. You’re not rotten to the core.”

Then he looked at his wife and sighed, speaking with a sense of regret, “The Miao family is currently enraged. If we handle this poorly, the consequences could be unimaginable... Perhaps it’s best if this unfilial child lies low for a while. Once the storm passes, we can make plans for the future.”

Ye Hongyu saw her husband relent and, after a brief consideration, asked, “Where, then, should Yeming go?”

Che Hongshi pondered for a moment, a strange light flickering in his eyes, his voice carrying a distant tone, “In my opinion, he should go to Yezhou for now.”

Ye Hongyu was a little taken aback, not understanding why her husband wanted Che Yeming to go so far away. Yet, seeing the seriousness on his face, she nodded despite her misgivings. With her assent, Che Hongshi turned back and fixed his gaze on Che Yeming. Suddenly, his voice grew stern and forceful as he asked, “Do you still remember the ancestral precepts of the Che family?”

Though Che Yeming didn’t know why his father asked this at such a moment, the somber expression on his father’s face made him wary of questioning further. He knelt before Che Hongshi and recited in a clear, measured voice, “All descendants of the Che clan must not commit great evil, must not indulge in murderous deeds, must keep compassion in their hearts, must hold to benevolence... must never fall to the demonic path.”

Hearing his son’s upright recitation, Che Hongshi’s tense face softened a little. With a complex, meaningful look, he said quietly, “You’re going to Yezhou now—take care of yourself and live up to those words...”

The Che couple knew this was not the time to lecture their son. Without further delay, they smuggled Che Yeming out through the back gate.

After sending him off, the two exchanged glances and saw relief in each other’s eyes. Che Hongshi gazed at his wife’s face, still as lovely as ever, and couldn’t help but take her delicate hand in his. That touch seemed to carry him back a hundred years, to when they had pledged their vows in Yezhou.

Che Hongshi suddenly smiled, “Yu-mei, I once promised to protect you with my life. But today, we are at fault, and I find I lack the courage to charge forward as I once did. Besides, I don’t want my brothers and comrades to suffer... If things truly become hopeless, you must...”

Ye Hongyu pressed her fingers to his lips, “Now that Yeming is gone, I have no more worries. Live or die together, that is all there is to it.” Her voice was gentle, as if discussing something ordinary, but her words fell with a resolute weight that left no room for doubt.

Seeing her so determined, Che Hongshi said, “But what about Wuyou? Without his mother’s care, the child will be all alone, at the mercy of others. He may not speak much, but I know he is proud at heart. If we are gone...”

Ye Hongyu quietly cut him off, “Each child has his own fate. He will find his blessings. If fate decrees otherwise...” She bit her lip before continuing, “Then so be it. Besides, with the title of Ye family’s son-in-law, who would dare truly harm him?”

Che Hongshi saw the determination in her eyes and knew there was no persuading her. He sighed, “I owe Wuyou so much. I’ve only ever scolded or beaten him, and even in his final days, I wanted him to be happy, yet I failed. I owe him far too much...”

Ye Hongyu patted her husband’s large hand and gazed tenderly at him. He was no longer as handsome as in his youth, but there was a new depth and steadiness in his features that made him all the more appealing. Her heart was flooded with emotions, words upon words unsaid. She reached to pluck a white hair from his temple and sighed, “Time passes so quickly—far too quickly.”

Che Hongshi let out a soft sigh, “Come, let us go and meet Miao Shilin. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

The couple said no more. After a brief adjustment of their attire, they walked together toward the city wall. By the time they arrived, Miao Shilin and his party were already gathered outside the city.

As he had always done when inspecting the gates, Che Hongshi first looked over the faces of the Che clan’s young warriors standing ready atop the wall. He then glanced at the great ballistae poised overhead. But his heart was heavy with bitterness.

He shook his head, composed himself, and stepped forward to the battlement, bowing toward Miao Shilin below. “Brother Miao, you have waited long—please forgive me.”

Even as he spoke, Che Hongshi’s eyes swept the crowd below. His heart sank. Miao Shilin’s sworn brother Lin Feng was present, as were the famed Daoist masters, the Zhang brothers, Zhang Da and Zhang Yuan, from Jizhou. All three were renowned peak Return-Origin cultivators, especially Lin Feng, who was notoriously difficult to deal with. On his own side, only the chief steward, himself, and his wife were at the late Return-Origin stage. Today’s situation was perilous indeed; the opposition had come well prepared.

Miao Shilin sneered at Che Hongshi’s words, “Master Che, you must be truly fortunate and capable to have raised a son like Che Yeming. Why not bring him out? Let us all admire his peerless talents.”

Che Hongshi was somewhat embarrassed and apologized, “You flatter him, Brother Miao. Yeming is just an inexperienced child, unworthy of your notice.”

Miao Shilin’s face darkened. Che Hongshi was indeed slippery, trying to brush things off with a few words. But how could matters be resolved so easily? Miao Shilin’s voice turned cold and sinister, “Master Che, let us speak plainly. If you hand over Che Yeming today, we will withdraw at once and trouble you no more. If not, then I fear Guhe City will be strewn with corpses and awash in blood. Surely you do not wish to see such a sight?”

The general in charge of the gate, Che Laiwu, was incensed by Miao Shilin’s arrogance. He shouted, “Master, this man is insufferable! Enough words—let us fight to the death!”

The chief steward, ghostlike behind Che Hongshi, agreed, “The young master is right. Our Che family has stood in Guhe City for two thousand years. Who have we ever feared?”

Several others joined in, “Master, give the order—let us fight to the death!”

The Che clan’s soldiers atop the wall were already boiling with battle spirit. Hearing these cries for battle, they all raised their heads and roared, “Fight to the death!” Thousands of voices thundered to the heavens, shaking the mountains and rivers. Even the elite cultivators the Miao family had gathered below grew solemn at such a show of force.

Lin Feng, Miao Shilin’s sworn brother, was much younger than the many famed masters from the southern Jiang and Jizhou regions. Having gained fame in his youth, he was proud and arrogant. Unable to contain himself, he threw back his head and laughed, “Master Che, what impressive spirit! Do you truly believe that with just these thousands of men you can hold the city gate?”

Che Hongshi, seeing it was Lin Feng, quickly smiled apologetically, “I dare not, I dare not.”

Lin Feng went on, “Though the immortal world respects strength, we do not wish to force your hand. Your son has slain over a hundred of our disciples—let that pass. But he even had the audacity to kill my nephew, and in a final frenzy slaughtered hundreds of commoners in Eight-Mile Town, leaving it a wasteland. Such a vicious individual—do you still intend to protect him? Do you mean to make the Che family the enemy of the entire Daoist Alliance?”

His last words rang out, causing a chill among the Che family’s warriors, their resolve wavering. They looked at one another—could what Lin Feng said be true? Was Che Yeming truly such a monster?

Che Hongshi’s heart sank. Lin Feng was cunning, going straight for their hearts. In this age of Daoist supremacy and the decline of the Demonic Sect, with all belonging to the Daoist Alliance and raised under its influence since childhood, if one were branded an enemy of the Alliance, who would dare stand with them? There would be no refuge left in all the lands.

Che Hongshi was momentarily at a loss for words, unsure how to respond. At that moment, the chief steward standing nearby suddenly shouted, “Nonsense! I watched Yeming grow up. Mischievous, yes, but how could he be so depraved? He is only a twelve-year-old child—how could he possess such profound cultivation? Your story is utterly absurd!”

The crowd murmured agreement. Che Yeming was only twelve—how powerful could he possibly be? Could he really have slaughtered so many of the Miao family’s elite, including the heir Miao Zongbao, who was renowned throughout southern Jiang and Jizhou as a prodigy of the Dao, skilled not just in cultivation but also a master of alchemy? Was Che Yeming, at twelve, truly at the Return-Origin stage and capable of killing Miao Zongbao? That was hard to believe. Even if he were at that level, he could not possibly have overcome so many elite Miao disciples at once.

Many were now doubtful. Someone called out, “If you claim Yeming committed such a crime, where is your evidence? Present it for all to judge.”

Lin Feng hesitated. In the battle at Eight-Mile Town, the entire Miao force had been wiped out, not even a chicken or dog left alive. What evidence could remain? If not for the testimony of a mysterious man in a green robe, the Miao family would not even know who the culprit was.

But to bring that man forward was impossible. His cultivation was unfathomable, his comings and goings like a ghost. Such a figure was surely a sect master or an elder in some great sect—far beyond the Miao family’s means to summon.

Lin Feng’s expression darkened as he replied coldly, “Would the great Lin Feng stoop to lying to you all?”

Che Laiwu retorted, “So, Young Master Lin—should we condemn our heir to death on your word alone? If so, when our Lord Zhen disappeared years ago without cause, I could just as easily accuse you of the deed. Would the great Che Laiwu lie?”

Everyone knew Lord Zhen was Che Hongshi’s sworn brother, highly esteemed in the Che family. Yet, years ago, he had vanished without a trace, and after nearly a decade, there was still no word. By now, his fate seemed sealed. Che Laiwu’s bold words made his intentions crystal clear.

Lin Feng was so enraged by this retort that he nearly spat blood. Having won renown in his youth, he was accustomed to respect, and with his cultivation ever deeper, few dared cross him. Now, to be denounced in public by Che Laiwu infuriated him. He snapped, “You impudent wretch! I’ll start with you!” With a clang, he drew his longsword, as if about to charge on horseback.

Seeing the Miao family move first, the Che warriors on the wall drew their weapons in turn, while the archers bent their bows, arrows trained on the enemy below, awaiting only their master’s command to unleash a deadly volley. In an instant, swords were drawn, bows were bent, and the tension was at its peak—a great battle was about to erupt.