Chapter 102

Zhuge Yu hadn’t spoken when heavy footsteps suddenly approached.

A burly man with a face full of coarse flesh and eyes brimming with malice, Tu Kesiluo, strode forward, his follower Li Goudan panting behind him, eager to vent his grievances.

Tu Kesiluo crossed his arms and sized up Jiang Mingyu and Zhuge Yu, clearly impatient.

He bellowed: “My lord, what are you hesitating about? I say we strike while the iron’s hot—launch our troops now and wipe out Scorpion King Gully!”

As he spoke, he slammed his palm hard onto Zhuge Yu’s shoulder, sending the man stumbling backward.

Seeing this, Li Goudan hurried over, his beard unkempt, eyes gleaming as he rushed to agree: “Yes, yes, my lord, listen to Tu Kesiluo—net up all those damned bandits at once! We’re outnumbering them, what’s there to fear?”

Jiang Mingyu frowned, pondering for a moment, then turned to the silent Zhuge Yu.

Zhuge Yu pressed his lips together, as if deep in thought, then slowly nodded: “Master, their advice holds merit. Our movements have already been exposed; the Poison Scorpion has no choice but to fight to the death. Our army is far stronger—swift victory is the best strategy.”

After listening, Jiang Mingyu fell silent for a moment, then spoke firmly: “Fine, it’s settled. At first light tomorrow, the entire army marches straight on Scorpion King Gully—we annihilate the Poison Scorpion in one blow.”

The next day, as dawn barely broke, crisp bells and loud whistles rang through the camp. Jiang Mingyu stood straight and barked: “All troops, prepare to march!”

The group stepped into the morning light, setting out once more toward Scorpion King Gully. Before them stretched endless mountains, winding paths twisting through the peaks. Their faces were resolute, their steps steady.

Scorpion King Gully lay deep within a desolate mountain, eighty li northwest of Heifeng Ridge, its terrain hidden and complex.

Jiang Mingyu recalled the scout’s report: Scorpion King Gully was not the Poison Scorpion’s original base, but why he moved here remained a mystery.

The Poison Scorpion was a bandit from the wilds, yet unlike ordinary bandits.

He robbed the rich to aid the poor and never slaughtered the innocent.

He strictly forbade his men from provoking the government, limiting himself to minor offenses. Having repeatedly led men to resist the Western Xia, this “noble robber” had even won some popular support—this was the key reason Scorpion King Gully swelled with so many followers.

Jiang Mingyu understood all this, but his position left him with only a sigh.

He knew a bloody storm was inevitable; all he could do was do his utmost to end this tragic slaughter...

The sound of hooves grew clearer on the muddy mountain path, the cold wind stinging their faces. Li Goudan pulled his cotton coat tighter, shivering violently, yet couldn’t help recalling the scout’s description of the Poison Scorpion.

“My lord, compared to those cruel bandits before, the Poison Scorpion is almost kind. He doesn’t harm civilians, and his men are numerous—he must have some ability. Among bandits, he’s practically a good man.”

Jiang Mingyu, mounted on horseback, frowned tightly; his breath formed thick clouds of vapor as he slowly shook his head: “I think that’s precisely what makes the Poison Scorpion dangerous.”

“What? What do you mean, my lord?” Li Goudan looked up, puzzled.

Jiang Mingyu gripped the reins, choosing his words carefully: “Think about it—if they’re all doing the same thing, why is the Poison Scorpion different? If he truly doesn’t harm civilians, how do hundreds of men eat? There’s something wrong here. I don’t yet know what, but he’s definitely winning hearts. Otherwise, how did Scorpion King Gully gather so many?”

“I’ve said it before: bandits are bandits. Even if he repelled the Western Xia, he still must be exterminated. Since I’ve resolved to purge all bandits from this region, the Poison Scorpion must die.”

Li Goudan still had doubts, but seeing Jiang Mingyu’s firm expression, he nodded. Jiang Mingyu sneered and added: “I’ve already underestimated him—he may be even more dangerous. We must be cautious.”

Tu Kesiluo immediately chimed in: “My lord is absolutely right! These damned bandits can’t survive without plundering! I refuse to believe the scout’s lies—bandits caring for civilians? Nonsense!”

Zhuge Yu, who had remained silent, frowned slightly, gazing at the drifting snow ahead, and spoke calmly: “We’re nearly at Scorpion King Gully. Once we see the Poison Scorpion for ourselves, we’ll know whether the rumors are true.” His tone was steady and certain.

The snowstorm grew fiercer, making progress difficult. Jiang Mingyu brushed snow from his shoulders and called out loudly: “Brothers, are you cold?” His voice rang clear, yet carried a hint of weariness.

A uniform reply rose from the ranks: “Not cold!” The soldiers forced energy into their voices, trying to mask their chill.

Jiang Mingyu’s face darkened; he repeated sharply: “I’ll ask again—are you cold?” His tone left no room for evasion.

After a brief silence, the soldiers shouted together: “Cold!”

Jiang Mingyu burst into laughter, snow falling from his body: “Good—that’s right, I’m cold too. Once we take Scorpion King Gully, I’ll buy you all wine—drink your fill, how’s that?”

“Good wine!” Cheers erupted into the sky; the biting snowstorm suddenly felt less unbearable. The soldiers, imagining the feast after victory, straightened their spines, their resolve to crush Scorpion King Gully hardening.

Among the crowd, soldiers hurried forward with renewed speed, faster than before. Jiang Mingyu smiled inwardly—this was the living embodiment of “quenching thirst with the sight of plums”—the truth behind the saying was no fiction.

Yet even this fleeting joy faded quickly, dissolving with each step. On the battlefield, blades flashed, life and death uncertain—who could guarantee they’d live to taste Jiang Mingyu’s promised wine?

In the afternoon sun, Jiang Mingyu hastily bit into a dry steamed bun, about to urge the troops onward, when a scout rushed back. Unlike the soldiers before him, this scout was caked in dust, like a lonely messenger swept by the cold wind.

Gasping with cold breath, he reported: “My lord, thirty li ahead lies our target—Scorpion King Gully. The fortress is heavily guarded; hundreds of bandits stand in formation, ready to face our army.” His voice carried fatigue and tension.

Li Goudan frowned deeply: “This morning I thought the Poison Scorpion might be decent—now I see he’s no better than the rest.”

He drew a deep breath: “With such pitiful numbers, how dare he challenge my lord’s army? He’s blind to his own fate.”

Tu Kesiluo showed no concern: “Perfect. We crush their nest in one strike—no more trouble later.”

His narrow eyes gleamed with icy malice and thick killing intent; his tone was just as cold and merciless.

Jiang Mingyu longed to eliminate the bandits and return swiftly to Shangmu; he agreed with Tu Kesiluo: “Tu Kesiluo’s right. Since the Poison Scorpion is so eager for a fight, I’ll play along.”

He ordered: “Sound the advance—full speed to Scorpion King Gully before dusk.”

About half an hour later, the group reached the gates of Scorpion King Gully. A middle-aged man in a black cotton robe, plain-faced, around forty, stood before Jiang Mingyu—hands empty. The Poison Scorpion.

Behind him, hundreds of bandits also stood unarmed, bare-handed. Jiang Mingyu frowned in surprise: “Poison Scorpion, what is this?”

But the Poison Scorpion suddenly dropped to his knees before Jiang Mingyu, his voice trembling with emotion: “My lord, we surrender.” His expression was desperate, sincere—as if entrusting his fate entirely to Jiang Mingyu’s hands.