Chapter 49: The Blood Hall

Pang Yu didn't pause for a moment — the instant he finished one bowl he swapped it for another, putting on a bold front but spilling quite a bit. Still, with several people watching all around, he was forced to swallow a portion of it.

As the last mouthful went down, Pang Yu deliberately coughed, forcing the wine into his windpipe. He braced himself against the wall, body hunched over in violent hacking. Zhu Zong finished his own wine and, seeing Pang Yu's state, even came over and patted him on the back with concern.

After the coughing subsided for a moment, Pang Yu suddenly covered his mouth and waved his other hand repeatedly. "Gonna puke, gonna puke!"

The bandits roared with laughter. Pang Yu hastily grabbed a torch and ran out of the main hall through the rear hall door.

Once out the rear hall door, Pang Yu turned west past the Monks' Quarters and stuck his finger down his throat right at the corner of the wall. He recalled what the old woman had said about the potency of Grass Crow Poison, and anxiety surged uncontrollably in his heart — yet the more anxious he got, the more things went wrong. He retched dryly several times but couldn't bring anything up.

"Need to find something disgusting."

Pang Yu glanced left and right, then suddenly remembered a certain spot. He skirted the Lay Practitioners' House and headed straight for the large manure pit in the southwest corner. The moment he reached the edge, a foul stench assaulted his nostrils.

"Blaaargh!"

Pang Yu crouched by the manure pit, the acid surging back up stinging him until tears and snot streamed down his face. He vomited twice, paused to catch his breath, and stared at the revolting pit under the torchlight. Suddenly steeling his heart, he lowered his head and vomited onto his own clothes.

…

When Pang Yu returned, he slumped limply against the hall wall. The bandits all burst out laughing, and a few came over to tease him. But the moment they saw the filth stains on his clothes, they immediately backed away in disgust. After a short while, no one paid him any more attention.

At this moment, Pang Yu had seized the initiative. No one was paying him any mind anymore — all he needed to do was lie here feigning drunkenness until they all succumbed to the poison, then make his move. Pang Yu felt this was a genuine, bona fide victory by lying down.

But he still didn't let his guard down. Eyes narrowed to slits, he observed the bandits in the main hall. He had to keep track of those who weren't drinking or were drinking very little — those would be his primary targets when he struck, not long from now.

Wang Guohua was still drinking at his unhurried pace; his second bowl of wine remained unfinished long after. Pang Yu's greatest worry was this man. Wang Guohua could be said to be the hardest to deal with among the bandit faction — brave, martial, yet methodical, and possessed of strong organizational ability.

In Pang Yu's initial estimation, Wang Guohua would certainly go down the mountain together with Huang Wending; the two were always inseparable, because Huang Wending relied heavily on Wang Guohua's organizational skills. For an operation as critical as rescuing Zhang Ru, Pang Yu had no idea why Wang Guohua would choose to remain at Yunji Temple.

Then Pang Yu's thoughts turned to the silver chests in the Side Hall. Perhaps Wang Guohua was also uneasy about leaving so much wealth under anyone else's guard.

A burst of raucous laughter came from across the room. Pang Yu shifted his gaze through narrowed eyes. Zhu Zong was once again draining bowls the instant they were matched. This man had a huge capacity for liquor and often bungled things when drunk; recently, after being cursed and beaten by Huang Wending a few times, he had reined himself in somewhat. Today, with Huang Wending absent, Zhu Zong was like a horse slipped from its reins — wildly overenthusiastic, drinking with practically everyone. In Pang Yu's mind, he had set Zhu Zong's symptoms as the indicator for when the poisoned wine would take effect, since he had drunk the most of anyone in the entire hall.

According to what Pang Ding had said, poisoning with Grass Crow Poison did not take effect immediately. He couldn't say exactly how long it took; the two people he'd seen accidentally ingest it had both shown symptoms after about half a shichen.

Pang Yu steadied his mind and lay in the corner, silently waiting for the drugged wine to take effect.

The atmosphere inside the main hall was raucous. The onlookers were all egging them on, watching Zhu Zong drink match for match with one man after another. The distilled wine of this era generally had an alcohol content of just over ten percent; someone with a strong tolerance could indeed drink quite a lot — Zhu Zong was probably that type.

Pang Yu paid little attention to the drinking contest. The bulk of his focus was on Wang Guohua. That was why, after returning, he had chosen to lie down against the wall behind Wang Guohua — from this position he could conveniently keep Wang Guohua under surveillance without drawing the man's notice.

Pang Yu shifted his gaze from Zhu Zong back to Wang Guohua, and suddenly saw Wang Guohua make a hand signal beneath the table. Three of his trusted confidants quietly rose and headed toward the Side Hall opposite.

Seeing this, Pang Yu was instantly struck by a sense that something was wrong — a massive feeling of crisis crashed over him. Why would Wang Guohua make a move under the table? It meant he was taking action he wanted to conceal from the others. Combined with his unusual calmness tonight, a possibility flashed into Pang Yu's mind, making his scalp prickle and go numb.

In that interval, Wang Guohua kept scanning left and right, and finally glanced back at Pang Yu behind him. Pang Yu hurriedly shut his eyelids, letting his mouth hang open a little wider so a string of thick drool trickled from the corner of his lips.

Wang Guohua suspected nothing and quickly looked away. Moments later, the three men returned to the main hall. Two sat down and pulled from their sleeves what looked like scabbards, silently placing them under the table. The third man exited through the main hall's front door.

Pang Yu felt his throat go dry. Judging by the behavior of Wang Guohua and his men, they were likely about to make a move against their own comrades — and very soon. The one who had gone out was surely going to deal with the two lookouts posted at the top of the Mountain Path.

Then Wang Guohua signaled again. He and his three other confidants rose together and headed once more toward the Side Hall. Pang Yu knew they were going to fetch weapons. Once they returned, they would strike immediately. Sweat beaded on his palms. If Wang Guohua intended to make off with the silver, he would certainly leave no one alive.

In the blink of an eye, the situation had flipped from a highly promising robbery to a life-or-death crisis. What needed considering now was no longer the silver, but how to stay alive.

Pang Yu didn't even have time for dejection. His mind raced, working out how to escape. There were seven or eight torches inside the main hall, making it quite bright, but beyond the hall was boundless darkness. If he could just get out of the hall, he could use the cover of darkness to slip away for the moment.

Pang Yu steadied his nerves and silently analyzed his advantages. First, everyone in the hall had drunk the poisoned wine — sooner or later, the poison would take effect. As long as he survived the slaughter inside the hall, time was on his side. Second, everyone thought he was dead drunk, so they certainly wouldn't target him in the corner first. In the chaos of the killing, he might be able to flee outside the hall, and then he would have the initiative.

Wang Guohua's two underlings were seated near the main entrance, so Pang Yu's only option was to flee out the rear door into the inner courtyard. But Yunji Temple's inner courtyard was not large; if he didn't get beyond the compound walls, Wang Guohua would eventually search him out. Pang Yu kept running through the layout of the compound walls in his mind, searching for any spot suitable for climbing over.

The bandits in the main hall, still unaware of the impending doom, continued their loud revelry, pouring wine down each other's throats. Pang Yu cracked his eyes open a slit to watch the activity at the front and rear doors. Before he had finished thinking it through, Wang Guohua had already appeared at the Side Hall doorway. A Waist Saber was thrust through the left side of his belt, a quiver hung on his right, and in his hands he was actually carrying a heavy crossbow.

Pang Yu felt as if a basin of ice water had been poured over his head. He had never imagined Wang Guohua would possess a long-range weapon. Through successive dynasties, what the authorities forbade the common folk to possess was not swords or spears, but armor and bows — and crossbows.

The most strictly controlled of these was the heavy crossbow, because bows required long-term training and few could use them proficiently. Even among military archers, not many could shoot with both accuracy and penetration.

The crossbow was different. Heavy crossbows were simple to use, and their power far exceeded that of bows. Even an untrained commoner could easily kill an elite soldier with a heavy crossbow.

A single heavy crossbow erased the martial disparity between commoners and soldiers, which was why the imperial court strictly controlled crossbow craftsmanship and artisans while also cracking down on possessors. In peacetime, these measures effectively reduced purchasing demand. Over time, the civilian crossbow-making industry, lacking economic incentive, gradually vanished. Thus, acquiring a heavy crossbow was generally only possible through the military, and the price far exceeded that of a bow.

Though Pang Yu didn't know exactly how terrifying a heavy crossbow was, he knew such a weapon possessed immense power. He couldn't help but sigh inwardly at his rotten luck. Ever since this plan had been set in motion, practically not a single step had gone as smoothly as he had anticipated.

But at this point, fear was a luxury he couldn't afford. Pang Yu slowly drew the Short Blade from his sleeve, moving as quietly as possible. Outwardly, he still appeared to be in a drunken stupor, but his mind was on high alert. He could even feel the blade softly scraping against the wooden scabbard.

The bandits in the hall were still bellowing and drinking heavily, utterly oblivious that Wang Guohua and his crew had already come up behind them. The two who had been seated earlier now gripped their sword hilts under the table.

Wang Guohua was just inside the Side Hall doorway. From Pang Yu's angle, he could see the man's every move. He watched Wang Guohua set the heavy crossbow against the wall, then give a hand signal. In unison, his accomplices slowly revealed their blades from their sleeves. From his reclining angle, Pang Yu could see several Blades catching the torchlight's gleam. The two who had been seated earlier drew their swords under the table, shifting from a sitting posture into a half-crouch.

Everything was utterly silent. The bandits, half-drunk and half-sober, were in the middle of a collective toast led by Zhu Zong, completely unaware that danger was closing in. The torch flames flickered and swayed; everything was dim and hallucinatory.

Strangely, Pang Yu's heart suddenly relaxed. He no longer regretted this decision to pluck chestnuts from the fire, and instead focused entirely on the predicament before him. He wasn't without a chance to escape — especially since Wang Guohua was only keeping the heavy crossbow as a backup. Dealing with these Green-Skins probably didn't require such a high-grade weapon.

Pang Yu concentrated intently, observing Wang Guohua's every move while keeping the front and rear doors in his peripheral vision. He pulled the Short Blade fully free of its scabbard, shifted his body's center of gravity onto his left hand, ready to spring to his feet at maximum speed.

Wang Guohua took a step forward out of the Side Hall doorway, arriving behind the bandits in the hall. Zhu Zong had just tilted his head back and drained a large bowl of wine; the bandits were all throwing their heads back to drink deeply — it was the perfect moment to strike.

Wang Guohua's shoulder lifted slightly. Pang Yu's entire body tensed; his left hand compressed slightly, waiting for the instant they struck so he could leap up immediately.

In Pang Yu's eyes, the main hall was filled with suffocating air. Time itself seemed to freeze in that moment; even the flames on the torches stopped their dancing.

Suddenly — "Bang!" A thunderous crash.

The Gate Leaves of the main hall's front entrance burst violently open. Several black-clad figures, blades gleaming, surged in as one. At the same moment, several more stormed in from the direction of the rear door.

No one in the hall — including Wang Guohua and his men — had any idea what was happening. The lead black-clad figure, man and blade together, slammed into the chest of the Rioter before him. The other black-clad figures, without a word, swung their swords and hacked wildly.

The bandits were completely unprepared, and in their wine-flushed, slow-witted stupor, they were practically being butchered. Blades flashed across the hall; blood mist sprayed. In the blink of an eye, three or four men had been hacked to the ground — including one of the Rioters hiding a sword under the table, who hadn't even had time to resist.

The sudden turn of events left even Wang Guohua at a loss. He stumbled backward several steps until he was pressed against the hall wall.

"Aaaah!" The Rioter at the front let out a long, agonized shriek.

Wang Guohua finally snapped to his senses at that moment and bellowed, "Kill them all!"

His crew of men began fighting the black-clad figures. The black-clad attackers seemed not to have expected resistance so quickly, and their assault momentarily stalled.

The bandits' drunken stupor was shocked right out of them. The hall instantly descended into utter chaos. The utterly unprepared Green-Skin Ruffians, their hearts and gallbladders shattered with Fear, ran and crashed about like headless flies. Seven or eight black-clad figures attacked from front and rear, hacking at anyone they saw. Wang Guohua's crew had originally planned to slaughter the bandits themselves; now, caught off guard under this assault, they panicked and began hacking wildly at the bandits as well. Over twenty bandits were killed or wounded in large numbers. Inside the main hall, agonized screams rose from all sides as blood flowed across the floor.

Pang Yu's breathing came in rapid gasps. Wang Guohua and his crew had met the exact same fate as him — in the blink of an eye, their goal had flipped from seizing Wealth to clinging to their lives.

At this moment, the fighting at both the front and rear doors of the main hall was fierce; Pang Yu couldn't get through either. The Side Hall opposite was an escape route, but it required crossing the center of the main hall — an even worse choice.

Staying put here wouldn't work either. Though temporarily safe, once the slaughter ended, the victorious side would surely butcher every last person. Escaping then would be even harder.

His vision was filled with spraying blood mist; his ears rang with shrill, agonized screams. There were simply no conditions for Pang Yu to think calmly.

Just as he was hesitating in helpless panic, a Rioter came staggering over to where Pang Yu lay. Pang Yu stared blankly at him. The Rioter's neck had been slashed halfway through and could barely support the weight of his head, which kept lolling forward and backward, threatening to snap off at any moment.

When he reached Pang Yu, he could hold on no longer. His legs buckled and he collapsed to his knees. His head suddenly snapped backward, exposing a massive wound on his neck — the esophagus and blood vessels across the front half of his throat had all been severed. With each heartbeat, spurts of blood jetted rhythmically from the wound.

Summoning his last strength, he used both trembling hands to wrench his head upright, covering the neck wound. But fresh blood still gushed from the wound like a spring, staining the entire front of his clothes crimson.

He faced Pang Yu directly, his face full of terror. Bloody froth bubbled ceaselessly from his mouth. Both hands stretched toward Pang Yu, as if begging Pang Yu to save him. Under the flickering torchlight in the hall, he looked like a bloodthirsty demon.

Pang Yu had already been half-crouching, but now his legs went weak and he collapsed to a sitting position on the ground, his mind turning completely blank.