Chapter 445: Wukeshan Captured (Daily Update—Begging for Rewards!)

Although Cui Yingyuan wore an expression of "I'm very friendly," and the smile on his face looked so sunny and bright, no one dared to take his words lightly.

The words he spoke made people feel a chill to the bone, and no one thought he was a kind person.

Strolling over to Fan Yongdou's side, Cui Yingyuan lowered his head and said, "Do you think what I said is true?"

Even if one had never seen the might of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, one had heard of it. These men operated with absolutely no scruples, and what they said was basically always true. Once someone fell into their hands, there was basically no good outcome.

"You can't do this! The Great Ming has laws!" Fan Yongdou looked at Cui Yingyuan and struggled to speak.

But he was held fast by two Embroidered Uniform Guard officers, and such struggling was futile.

Fan Yongdou glared angrily at Cui Yingyuan, his face twisted with fury as he said, "I haven't done anything! Why are you treating me like this?"

Hearing this, Cui Yingyuan immediately laughed, his manner extremely arrogant.

After a moment, Cui Yingyuan said, "I never expected you to say something so naive! Since when does the Embroidered Uniform Guard care about what you have or haven't done when making an arrest? Utterly stupid! I can't be bothered to waste words with you. Men, take him away."

The Embroidered Uniform Guard officers beside Cui Yingyuan immediately moved, directly escorting Fan Yongdou out the door.

As for Fan Yongdou's family, they were naturally held here—it wasn't possible to drag them all into the great prison. Guarding them on the spot was the best approach. Moving them elsewhere would only invite trouble.

Posting a squad of Embroidered Uniform Guard at the Fan residence, keeping people out—that was safe enough. For Cui Yingyuan, this was no difficult matter.

A group of Embroidered Uniform Guard officers escorted Fan Yongdou and several key members of the Fan family away.

The moment news broke that Fan Yongdou had been arrested and the Fan family's property confiscated, the entire Zhangjiakou was thrown into chaos.

Everyone in Zhangjiakou knew who Fan Yongdou was. The Fan family had operated in Zhangjiakou for generations, deeply rooted and firmly established there.

For someone like that to be seized by the Embroidered Uniform Guard—how could that not stir up an uproar?

Especially those who did the same kind of business as Fan Yongdou—they naturally panicked at once; those who traded with Fan Yongdou were even more frantic with fear.

For a time, the whole of Zhangjiakou was gripped by anxiety. Many people ran home to pack their things and prepare to flee; some even went to the government offices to lodge complaints, hoping for some resolution.

Zhangjiakou had originally been a purely military fortress. Only after the peaceful trade on the northern frontier began did Zhangjiakou develop from a simple military fortress into a border city combining garrison and commerce.

Before the Jiajing era, there was no gate on the north side—it was mainly used for defense. During the Jiajing era, an opening was cut into the northern city wall. This small gate was very tiny, which is why it was called Zhangjiakou.

Zhangjiakou was an important town of the northern passes, administratively subordinate to the capital. In such a place, there naturally couldn't be any well-developed administrative organs, and no county yamen had been established.

Only in recent years, as Zhangjiakou's importance grew, was a county yamen finally set up.

But compared to county yamens elsewhere, Zhangjiakou's yamen ranked much lower. After all, Zhangjiakou was a military garrison city—what said the most was the generals who held military power, while civil officials ranked lower.

The one truly in charge was the Guard Commander of a guard stationed in Zhangjiakou. The current man in charge was named Chen Zhong, a general in his forties.

Upon hearing that the Embroidered Uniform Guard had stormed the Fan residence, all the civil and military officials throughout Zhangjiakou sprang into motion.

Especially the military officers—they felt even less confident at heart.

One had to understand, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had arrested Fan Yongdou. Over the years, Fan Yongdou had been smuggling goods through Zhangjiakou, and these military officers had taken no small share of the profits.

Never mind smuggling—even with ordinary trade alone, these men pulled in large sums of money every year.

Everyone had once been somewhat vigilant, but Zhangjiakou had been peaceful for decades, and no one had taken these matters to heart.

Now that Fan Yongdou had suddenly been arrested, panic naturally spread.

Zhu Youxiao cared nothing for any of this. Zhangjiakou was only so big—block the small northern gate and no one could get out; the place became a dead city.

Zhu Youxiao had already sent men to seal the city, and he was even less worried that anyone could walk out.

Looking at Fan Yongdou before him, Zhu Youxiao sat in his chair with a smile on his face, letting Fan Yongdou shout all he wanted without saying a word.

At this moment, Wei Chao couldn't watch any longer. He walked directly up to Fan Yongdou and said with a smile, "Never thought we'd meet again. Mister Fan, would you kindly shut your mouth? The way you're carrying on is very noisy and keeping our young master from resting."

Fan Yongdou glanced at Wei Chao, his expression turning very ugly.

Raising his head to look at Zhu Youxiao, Fan Yongdou said, "You have some nerve, daring to seize me like this! Do you know what you're doing? I'll find someone to submit a memorial impeaching you! You've gone too far!"

Wei Chao glanced at Fan Yongdou, gave a cold snort, and said, "That mouth is too loose. Men, take him down and give him twenty slaps."

Hearing this, the two Embroidered Uniform Guard officers holding Fan Yongdou looked up, saw that no one spoke to stop it, and that Eunuch Chen Hong even nodded.

The two officers naturally showed no courtesy. They dragged Fan Yongdou down directly, and the sound of "smack smack smack" rang out.

Fan Yongdou cried out in pain, but it was no use.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city.

Zhang Chun stood at the entrance of the inn, his expression very grave.

Glancing back at the men behind him, Zhang Chun said, "Once we charge in, no talking—grab people directly. If anyone resists, kill them without mercy."

The men behind Zhang Chun hurriedly replied, "Yes, Chiliarch."

These men all wore black leather armor, waist knives at their belts, daggers strapped to their legs, hand crossbows slung diagonally across their backs, and longspearmen flanking them for cover.

At the command, these men charged in like wolves and tigers.

Inside the inn, a man was running at full speed, heading straight to the back courtyard.

Wukeshan looked at the newcomer, and his expression instantly turned grave. He reached out and gripped the saber at his side, raised his head to look at the man, and asked, "Bater, why are you running? Has something happened?"

The newcomer was a burly man in his thirties, panting heavily from running too fast.

Upon seeing Wukeshan, Bater said directly, "Something's happened! People have burst in—they're grabbing our men everywhere. These men are extremely skilled in combat; our people are no match for them. What do we do now?"

Hearing this, Wukeshan's face instantly turned grim. He stood up and said, "You all come out with me."

After saying this, Wukeshan turned to Bater and said, "You protect Bumbutai and get out of here quickly. If it's safe, come back. If there's trouble, find a way to get her out of Zhangjiakou—don't hesitate for a moment. No matter what happens to me, don't get involved."

Bater looked at Wukeshan and nodded firmly, saying, "No problem. I'm leaving right now."

With that, Bater turned and ran toward the back.

Wukeshan led his men charging to the front.

Soon, Wukeshan saw Zhang Chun approaching from the opposite direction.

One look told Wukeshan these men meant trouble, and from their equipment and the skill of their movements, they were no ordinary soldiers—they should be elite troops of the Great Ming army.

He hadn't expected these men to come for him so early. His plan hadn't even begun to unfold, and he was already cornered inside the building.

In this place, the only one who would dare make a move against him was that playboy. He never imagined that playboy would have such audacity.

Wukeshan looked at Zhang Chun with a dark face and said, "What do you intend to do?"

Zhang Chun looked at Wukeshan, holding a hand crossbow as he said, "Don't worry about what we're doing. Put down your weapons, and you'll keep your lives. Otherwise, no one gets spared."

"Big talk!" Wukeshan snorted angrily, hefting his blade as he charged forward.

Wukeshan no longer cared about his own life or death now — he needed to buy time so that Bater could get his sister away.

That playboy was after Bumbutai. If his sister fell into that man's hands, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Zhang Chun watched Wukeshan charge at him, handed his crossbow to the man beside him, and drew his blade as he rushed forward to meet him.

He said to the men beside him, "I'll handle this one myself. The leader needs to be taken alive. You go after the others — mind your restraint. Don't kill if you don't have to, but don't be soft when killing is called for."

"Yes, Chiliarch!" The others quickly acknowledged.

By this time, Wukeshan had already reached Zhang Chun, his blade swinging straight at him.

Zhang Chun neither dodged nor avoided it — his own blade met Wukeshan's directly with a sharp "Clang!"

After that single strike, Wukeshan suddenly felt a tremendous force transmit through, forcing him backward.

He stumbled several steps before finally steadying himself.

But before he could even recover his bearings, Zhang Chun charged in again, blade chopping down at Wukeshan.

Wukeshan dared not be careless — he hurriedly raised his blade to meet the attack.

The two blades clashed together once more.

With a "Clang!", Wukeshan was again driven back several paces.

Clearly, in terms of raw strength, Wukeshan was outmatched against Zhang Chun.

To serve as one of Zhu Youxiao's personal guards, one's martial ability was naturally extraordinary. Add to that the long period of good nutrition and rigorous training, and the results were nothing short of remarkable.

Zhang Chun had been a trained martial artist to begin with, and his current skill was exceptionally high. The very fact that he could reach the rank of Chiliarch showed just how formidable he was.

Against Wukeshan, there was no fancy footwork or clever technique — he simply hefted his blade and hacked away with raw, heavy strikes. Each blow landed with crushing force, leaving Wukeshan with only the ability to parry and no chance to counter.

After several exchanges, Wukeshan began gasping for breath.

Zhang Chun let out a cold laugh, twirled his blade in a flourish, and said, "You people really do get worse with each generation! The courage of Genghis Khan back in the day — you've thrown most of it away by now, haven't you?"

Wukeshan gritted his teeth, glaring furiously at Zhang Chun.

Their people excelled at horseback archery and mounted combat — not at trading blows on foot.

The man before him was clearly a master of the blade, and his strength was immense. Fighting him was simply too much of a disadvantage.

Zhang Chun paid none of this any mind and continued pressing his attack against Wukeshan.

"Clang!"

"Clang! Clang!"

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The two clashed and fought without pause, exchanging dozens of blows in a short span of time.

After one heavy strike, Wukeshan lurched violently and felt his hand suddenly grow light.

Looking down, Wukeshan discovered that his blade had actually been split in two.

The blade's tip had flown off — what he held in his hand was a broken remnant.

He looked at the blade in Zhang Chun's hand — it was completely unharmed.

Seeing Wukeshan staring at his blade, Zhang Chun said with a smile, "To be honest, your blade isn't bad — it managed to hold up this long. An ordinary sword would have given out long ago."

Wukeshan gnashed his teeth in hatred. These men's blades were simply too good — how did they have such fine equipment?

Zhang Chun found nothing surprising about it. They were the Son of Heaven's personal troops, bona fide imperial guards. Whatever fine equipment the Great Ming had, it all went to them first.

Though the blades and spears of armies across the realm were also quite good now, compared to the Son of Heaven's personal troops, they were still far behind. Whether in quality or hardness, the two simply could not be mentioned in the same breath.

Zhang Chun had complete confidence in the blade in his hand. He gave a cold snort and said, "You'd better surrender now, or next time you won't be so lucky. If you end up getting hurt somewhere, that wouldn't be good for anyone."

If he weren't trying to take the man alive, who would waste words on this Mongol blockhead? They'd have just loosed arrows at him directly.

Wukeshan gritted his teeth and straightened up, declaring, "If you've got the guts, kill me! I will never fall into your hands!"

In Wukeshan's view, falling into that playboy's hands would mean no good end anyway — he might as well fight to the death here.

"Brother!"

Suddenly, a young girl's shout came from behind him, and Wukeshan's face instantly turned grim.

He hurriedly turned to look — Bater had been captured and brought back, or rather, dragged up.

Bater was covered in wounds, several arrows still stuck in his body, as he was dragged up in a miserable state.

As for his sister Bumbutai, she too had been brought up, her once-clean dress now stained with dust and blood. Clearly, they had been captured.

Seeing this, Wukeshan was so enraged his liver and gall seemed to split apart. "Bumbutai, are you hurt anywhere?!"

Bumbutai shook her head, looking worriedly at the half-dead Bater.

Zhang Chun frowned, glanced at his subordinates, and said with some displeasure, "Why can't you lot ever shake that rough-handed habit? You were too vicious with your strikes! Is he dead?"

A subordinate quickly replied respectfully, "Rest assured, sir, he's not dead — no vital spots were hit."

"Take him away and tend to his wounds." Zhang Chun's tone carried a hint of impatience.

These subordinates really had no sense of proportion. Not that Zhang Chun feared killing — but a captive of some standing was only worth merit if taken alive.

Zhang Chun's gaze fell upon the young girl, and he put on what he considered a brilliant smile, speaking in as gentle a tone as he could manage: "Greetings, young miss."