Chapter 98

Under the cover of night, Heifeng Ridge village was so quiet you could almost hear the cicadas singing.

Inside the village, darkness reigned, lit only by faint lanterns casting weary shadows.

At that moment, a powerful force shoved open Yang Dazhuang’s door, and a figure stormed in like lightning.

The door groaned as it slammed, wind howling through, even rousing Yang Dazhuang from his half-sleep.

“Who the hell dares barge in while I’m resting?!” Yang Dazhuang rubbed his eyes and cursed.

But the intruder remained unmoved, still gasping for breath.

His clothes were torn and caked with dust—he had clearly rushed here without care.

Yang Dazhuang narrowed his eyes, staring at the disheveled man, and said coldly: “Speak. What’s so urgent?”

The man straightened up, panting heavily, forcing himself to calm down, then nodded firmly and stammered: “Boss—something’s happened!”

Before he could finish, Yang Dazhuang’s face darkened. He waved his hand, signaling the man to catch his breath; once he’d recovered slightly, Yang demanded urgently: “Speak. What exactly happened?”

Fifteen minutes passed, and Heifeng Ridge village was illuminated once more, the lamps casting an atmosphere of tension.

Everyone had shaken off sleep and gathered, faces grim.

Yang Dazhuang stared hard at them, his displeasure impossible to hide.

One of the junior leaders rubbed his eyes and grumbled: “What’s going on at this hour?”

Yang Dazhuang’s cold gaze swept over them, his tone sharp: “Just now, our scout below the mountain sent word. The imperial envoy will lead ten thousand troops tomorrow, storming Mount Sanqing at midnight and wiping out every last bandit there.”

Shock rippled through the group; murmurs broke out.

One junior leader dared to ask: “Mount Sanqing’s terrain is formidable—how could it fall so fast? Is this rumor reliable?”

Yang Dazhuang’s face grew even darker; he sneered: “The report’s true—I sent that scout myself to verify. Right now, Jiang Mingyu’s purge around Mount Sanqing is all anyone’s talking about.”

“Heifeng Ridge is less than a hundred li from Mount Sanqing. Tomorrow, Jiang Mingyu will likely lead his army straight here. What do you all suggest we do?” His voice carried heavy pressure.

At these words, those who had been yawning snapped awake instantly. Voices erupted: “Ten thousand troops? We’ve only two hundred men here—how do we fight?”

“Mount Sanqing isn’t that easy to take—maybe the rumor’s exaggerated.”

“We’ve never had anything to do with the government. Why is Jiang Mingyu targeting us?”

Yang Dazhuang glared impatiently at them: “I asked you what to do—why are you all dithering?”

A junior leader with a face full of pockmarks stepped forward, voice firm: “Boss, I have a suggestion.”

“Things look bad. If the report’s true, with our meager numbers, we can’t stand up to Jiang Mingyu head-on.”

“Let’s leave here quickly and find another place to settle.”

“We’ll lose our base at Heifeng Ridge, but it’s better than being crushed by Jiang Mingyu’s army and dying all at once.”

His words won immediate approval and nods from the group.

Silence fell as everyone pondered the feasibility of the proposal.

“Old Li’s right—we’re no match for imperial troops,” Yang Dazhuang muttered, his thin eyebrows furrowing as his eyes locked onto Old Li.

“Yeah, Jiang Mingyu’s got ten thousand troops—how do we even fight?” another brother grumbled, rubbing his neck in helplessness.

“Boss, make a decision fast—the moment dawn breaks, Jiang Mingyu will be here,” the junior leaders all turned to Yang Dazhuang, awaiting his order.

Yang Dazhuang took a deep breath, his expression heavy and uncertain.

He bit his lower lip lightly, then spoke with resolve: “Quiet down. Let me think.”

Silence settled for a moment, then Yang Dazhuang’s gaze hardened: “It’s freezing and snowy now—where can we go?”

“Use your heads,” someone sneered, looking at Yang Dazhuang as if testing his thoughts. “Outside of Shangmu, the court has no time to care.”

“Where else in the Great Feng Empire can we hide? Go to Xixia?” another brother frowned, his voice thick with despair.

“We won’t even reach the border—Jiang Mingyu’s men will catch us, and we’ll die worse than ever,” someone clenched his fist, knuckles white.

The junior leaders sank into thought, knowing the situation was dire—but no clear solution emerged.

As silence gripped them, Old Li, a junior leader, suddenly brightened—as if struck by an idea: “Boss, we can seek help from the Scorpion King Gully’s Poisonous Scorpions.”

All eyes turned to Old Li, waiting for his explanation.

Old Li spoke confidently: “The Poisonous Scorpions of Scorpion King Gully are powerful—they say they can stand against imperial troops. If we gain their support, we might survive this crisis.”

Yang Dazhuang’s face showed hesitation: “The Poisonous Scorpions of Scorpion King Gully? Are you sure they’ll help us?”

Old Li nodded: “I’ve heard they’re an independent faction, unaligned with the court. If we win their aid, we might form a united front.”

Yang Dazhuang pondered, then shook his head: “I’m not sure they’d risk themselves for us. And the Poisonous Scorpions have their own goals—they won’t help us out of kindness.”

Another brother chimed in: “Besides, once we enter Scorpion King Gully, they might seize our territory.”

The group sank into helpless silence—the situation seemed hopeless.

But Yang Dazhuang’s eyes hardened again: “Things are dire, but we won’t just wait to die.”

He looked at them, voice resolute: “Even if we’re outmatched, we won’t surrender. I’ve decided—we’ll fight Jiang Mingyu face-to-face. Teach him a lesson. Show him what Heifeng Ridge is made of.”

“Even if we lose, we’ll leave such an impression he’ll never dare underestimate us again.”

“If we make Jiang Mingyu feel threatened, he might reconsider his terms with us.”

At this critical moment, Yang Dazhuang’s voice rang out, full of confidence and resolve: “Of course, this is only temporary. Once the storm passes, we’ll regroup and rise again—still a band of brothers.”

All eyes fixed on him. Old Li sighed, his wrinkles deepening with worry: “But Jiang Mingyu’s got ten thousand troops—we’ve only two hundred. How do we fight?”

Yang Dazhuang’s smile turned sly, his lips curling slightly, eyes glinting with cunning—as if he already saw the scene unfolding: “That’s where you and Old Yu come in. Only you two can pull this off.”

Old Li’s eyes widened with curiosity and anticipation: “Boss, you mean—”

Yang Dazhuang nodded, determination burning in his gaze, a faint smirk on his lips—as if already envisioning the future: “Exactly.”

“If our plan succeeds, even if Jiang Mingyu has ten thousand troops, they’ll be nothing but empty shells,” Yang Dazhuang declared, brimming with certainty.

Old Li’s eyes gleamed sharply, his brows lifting slightly, confidence radiating from his expression—as if victory were already in sight: “Boss, just watch.”

The next day, the sky over Mount Sanqing remained icy. Jiang Mingyu stood in the village, brows slightly furrowed, eyes filled with resolve. His voice carried finality: “Order: march on Heifeng Ridge.”

“This time, we don’t just reclaim my banner—we parade through the towns openly.” His tone held unwavering intent, as if his mind were already made up.

Tu Kesiluo frowned, eyes narrowing, his whole posture tense with suspicion: “My lord, what do you mean?”

Jiang Mingyu smiled and explained: “We win the people’s support—then the bandits’ days are numbered.”

His smile revealed careful strategy—as if a meticulously planned scheme were brewing.

Tu Kesiluo nodded, his expression clearing, slowly understanding Jiang Mingyu’s intent, his eyes now holding approval and trust.

Deeper still, he aimed to quickly establish himself in the people’s hearts as a benevolent official.

Only then could he build the popular support needed to counter Prince Qi’s hidden daggers.

He had no idea that Dong Cheng’s complaint letter had already been intercepted by Wang Zhe—his worries were all in vain.

At Tu Kesiluo’s command, two thousand soldiers stood ready, their steps thunderous and synchronized, showing discipline and martial dignity. Their eyes burned with determination and confidence, as if ready for any challenge.

On the road to Heifeng Ridge, Jiang Mingyu’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze fixed ahead, lips slightly curled—revealing inner passion and resolve.

He led them toward the coming battle, fearless, determined to press forward.

In the towns near Mount Sanqing, Jiang Mingyu’s force marched in with imposing might, hooves echoing across the sky.

Crowds gathered, pointing and whispering, curiosity and murmurs rising everywhere.

Someone asked in confusion: “Why so many troops? What’s happening? Who’s that young leader?”

Another, better informed, replied: “Don’t you know? That’s our Shangmu County magistrate—he’s come to crush bandits.”

“That’s right. Yesterday he wiped out the bandits on Mount Sanqing—last night, their heads were hung up.”

Hearing this, the people’s faces lit up with joy; they praised Jiang Mingyu’s valor: “This is wonderful! Those bastards are finally dead! Our magistrate’s a true good official—quick, kneel and bow!”

Amid the crowd’s excited cheers, Jiang Mingyu’s army moved forward, leaving behind kneeling civilians—as if paying homage to their savior.

In the cold wind, Jiang Mingyu’s face was calm, his eyes gleaming with thoughtful calculation.

He pulled his reins and bowed slightly to the kneeling crowd: “My fellow townsfolk, I am Jiang Mingyu.”

His voice, firm and resonant, carried to every corner: “Today, I swear—I will not retreat until every bandit in Shangmu is wiped out.”

Amid the cheers, Jiang Mingyu, confident and driven, vanished with his army into the cold wind.

He knew this display of power had already stirred ripples across Shangmu—victory would soon be the town’s hottest topic.

At noon, the cold wind eased. Jiang Mingyu galloped forward, finally arriving at the foot of Heifeng Ridge.

His gaze fixed on the distant, barely visible village, his expression grave and thoughtful.

He stared at the village, his mind racing. Sharp calculations intertwined, his grasp of the situation growing clearer. The smile on his face in the wind concealed deeper schemes: “How do I fight this battle?”

Zhuge Yu stood beside Jiang Mingyu, his brow slightly furrowed, clearly pondering the same question.