Chapter 83: Tartars

Adding blood to cinnabar, using blood as the catalyst when drawing talismans, not only increases the talisman's power but also establishes a connection with it.

When a talisman is activated, the person who drew it will sense it.

This method of drawing talismans is mostly used for protective and blessing talismans, such as amulets; Pan Yun has only drawn them for Da Tong's father and elder brother.

Pan Yun regulated her breath, suppressing the surging pain, cast a cold glance toward the sky after glancing toward Da Tong's direction.

Calculating the time, the fifty taels she sent should reach her father and brother today—could this matter be connected to that damned heaven?

The sky was clear, without a single cloud; heaven didn't even deign to notice Pan Yun.

Pan Yun also felt she had overthought it; she pressed her chest, her face pale, and said: "I must go to Da Tong."

Tao Ji gripped her shoulder and comforted her: "Don't rush—first write a letter to ask. Since your talisman was activated, they should have escaped disaster. Don't forget, to them, you are the greatest danger. Fourth sister also warned you not to meet your family."

Pan Yun suppressed her urgency, clenching her fists: "But I don't know what disaster they've encountered…"

Tao Ji couldn't answer her. If Big Brother or Fourth Sister were here, perhaps they could calculate it for her—but he couldn't.

Pan Yun knew he couldn't; her gaze fell on the black cat.

Pan Xiaohei: "Meow, you're asking me? I'm one with you—I can't see anything."

Pan Yun: 【I often think about what use you are.】

Pan Yun's lips were pale; she rose, gripping Tao Ji's hand, and said: "I'm returning to Huishan!"

Tao Ji and Pan Xiaohei can't tell—can't Big Brother and the Master calculate it either?

Tao Ji: "I'll return with you."

Pan Yun: "Will the Zhou family let us go? We took their hundred taels of silver."

Tao Ji silently stared at her.

Pan Yun said: "I solemnly promise—I'm returning to Huishan, not sneaking off to Da Tong."

Tao Ji thought for a moment, decided to trust her once, and let her go alone.

Pan Yun didn't even have time to bid farewell to the Zhou family; she shouldered her pack and left.

The Zhou family's rice was ready for harvest; he was now in the field with his laborers, wearing a straw hat. Just as he straightened his back, he saw Pan Yun running toward him with a pack on her back.

He was startled, about to greet her, when Pan Yun shot past the field edge with a hiss—soon she was gone, her speed leaving him far behind.

Pan Yun spared no effort, holding her breath and sprinting straight toward Mount Sanqing.

In the western suburbs of Da Tong, Pan Yu pulled her brother Pan Yue's hand as they both ran in silence; Pan Yue was dizzy and blurred-eyed, yet still shouted: "To the woods, to the woods—"

Pan Yu turned her steps, leapt into the field, and sprinted across the Tian Geng toward the woods.

Faster than them were the Jin brothers, who overtook Pan Yue and dashed into the woods.

Pan Yu saw them, pulled her brother harder—now, only by running faster than others could they possibly survive.

Behind them were many others—all fellow exiled convicts who had come to the western suburbs to harvest rice.

After the Tartars appeared, the overseer's bailiff was shot dead; these exiles, armed only with sickles, could only run.

Inside the woods, Pan Yue gasped: "Find a tree—find one with thick foliage…"

There was no time to search; Pan Yu lunged forward, picked any tree, and shoved her brother upward.

Seeing she couldn't lift him, she decisively abandoned him, scrambled up the tree in a flash, reached the branches, pulled off her sash, and lowered it to haul him up.

Pan Yue managed to catch his breath, began climbing—when five exiles burst in behind him. He turned his head and saw three Tartars on horseback chasing them.

His face changed; he slapped away Pan Yu's sash, and while they hadn't yet reached them or spotted the three hiding in the tree, he turned and ran: "Stay hidden in the tree. Don't come out."

Pan Yu's eyes widened, half her body leaning out, about to speak—when a pebble struck her.

The Jin brothers each hid on separate trees; they had climbed earlier, unseen—so long as they didn't look up, no one would notice them.

They were warning Pan Yu: don't make a sound and reveal your position.

Pan Yue had already turned and run behind a low thicket; the five men who entered instinctively followed him.

Pan Yue picked up a stone from the ground, didn't mind hiding with them—so the group crouched silently in the woods, afraid to emerge.

The Tartars reached the forest's edge but didn't enter; they reined their horses, stamped in place, cracked their whips in the air, and shouted into the woods.

The voices were thunderous, mixed with the pounding of hooves—making it feel as if they would charge in at any moment. One of the five hiding inside couldn't bear the near-ear shouts; in terror, he bolted toward the other end of the woods.

Pan Yue shouted: "Don't go out—"

But he ignored him, sprinting blindly—soon he vanished.

With so many people in the woods attracting the Tartars, if he escaped from the far end without being seen, he might live.

Soon after, Tartar shouts came from outside—one Tartar galloped off after him; the two remaining laughed loudly at those hiding in the woods.

After a while, the Tartar who chased him returned with a severed head, rode to the forest's edge, flung it inside—thump—it landed, rolling sluggishly to the edge of the thicket where Pan Yue and the others hid.

Black hair draped over the face, revealing only half a visage and one eye, wide with terror—it was the man who had just fled.

Pan Yue's face turned instantly pale; his limbs trembled.

The four others huddled with him also shook; one, overcome by fear, stumbled backward, clutching his head and screaming, then staggered out.

Pan Yue lunged and grabbed him: "Don't go out!"

A hiss—a shaft grazed Pan Yue's cheek, then pinged into the tree trunk behind him.

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Pan Yue tackled the man to the ground, dragged him back; the three behind reacted, grabbing his legs and pulling him back—soon the two were hidden again behind the thicket.

Pan Yue pinned the youth, slapped his face hard, and growled: "Are you awake now? Don't you see yet? They dare not enter the woods—here, we have a chance. Run out, and you die!"

"Yes, yes—the Tartars' horses can't enter the woods! I heard the bailiff say: once Ming soldiers ambushed here and killed many Tartars; since then, they've dared not enter lightly."

Pan Yue slapped him three more times; seeing him calm somewhat, he stopped, releasing him.

Pan Yue whispered: "This is far from the city gate, but there's a garrison nearby—wait for them to arrive, and we'll be safe."

The others, calmed by his composure, regained hope and fell silent.

Several hisses—arrows pierced the thicket; most were blocked by the foliage, but two or three shot through and stuck into the ground.

The four panicked again, crouching low to slip away.

Pan Yue hurriedly said, "Stay hidden here—arrows that hit here lose their force in the thickets. Look, they're only stuck shallowly in the ground; even if they hit a person, the wounds won't be serious. If you go out, who knows? Can you be sure you'll dodge the Tartar arrows?"

The men were uncertain, so they continued crouching and crawling, praying the Tartars would leave soon.

But today's Tartars were unusually patient—they wouldn't leave. When shouting failed to draw them out, and arrows failed to force them out, they hesitated no longer.

The three conferred briefly, then drew their swords and spurred their horses into the woods.

Seeing the Tartars dare enter the forest, Pan Yue knew today's matter could not end peacefully—their fates were now locked in life-or-death struggle. He roared, "Kill them! If they live, we die!"

"You're mad—they have horses and swords, how can we—"

Before the protest finished, the Tartars who heard Pan Yue's cry spurred their horses forward, leaning low, raising their blades, ready to slash.

The first horse galloped beneath the trees—suddenly, a shadow leapt down from above, crashing onto the Tartar and dragging him to the ground…

Because the trees were too close together, they couldn't ride side by side as they could in open ground; to avoid ambush, the three Tartars advanced in single file, cautiously.

The first man was suddenly knocked down—the rider behind reacted instantly, lunging to strike. But before he moved, shadows fell from above: two figures leapt down, each tackling one Tartar.

At the same time, Pan Yue burst from the thicket, shouting, "Kill them—!"

The four hiding with him rallied—seeing him charge out, they hurled stones at the Tartar who had rolled to his feet.

Their eyes hardened, and they charged out too, fists clenched, smashing the other two Tartars.

Eight against three—the Tartars, stripped of their horse advantage, could only roll on the ground with them.

Pan Yu was kicked flying, tasting iron in his mouth. Seeing his brother pinned, throat gripped, the Tartar's hand rising to twist—his eyes turned fierce. He lunged, slamming into the man, then bit down on his neck…

The Tartar screamed, swinging his fist to smash Pan Yu's back. A thin glow flickered over Pan Yu's body—as if a membrane had blocked the blow—but only for an instant. The second strike landed solidly on his back.

But Jin Zhangli saw it.

His suspicion confirmed: the Pan brothers possessed treasures. He had clearly seen a Tartar's blade strike Pan Yu—yet Pan Yu bore no wound; instead, the Tartar himself had panicked and fled his horse.

Pan Yue had been shot too—he'd been knocked down by the arrow's force, yet when he rose, not a single arrow remained on him.

The thought flashed through Jin Zhangli's mind—he abandoned the Tartar entangled by three men and lunged to aid Pan Yu.

Pan Yue, face streaked with blood, rose from the ground. Seeing the three locked in brutal struggle, yet the Tartars still held the upper hand, he shook his dazed head, crawled over, snatched up the Tartar's dropped sword, and advanced. Just then, the Tartar kicked Jin Zhangli away, grabbed Pan Yu by the neck, and tried to pull him off—but couldn't. So he rolled over, searching for Pan Yu's throat to choke him.

Today's lucky number for all chapters is the last digit 8. Screenshot any chapter number ending in 8 to join the Great Ming group and claim your reward—I won't post it in every chapter.

(End of Chapter)