Chapter 83: Tartars

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

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

This method of drawing talismans is mostly used for protective charms and blessings, such as amulets; Pan Yun has only drawn them for Da Tong’s father and brothers.

Pan Yun regulated her breath, suppressing the surging pain, glanced once toward Da Tong’s direction, then turned cold eyes to the sky.

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

The sky was clear, without a single cloud; heaven itself had no interest in acknowledging Pan Yun.

Pan Yun also felt she had overthought it; she pressed her chest, her face pale, and said: “I must go to Datong.”

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 calamity they’ve encountered…”

Tao Ji could not answer her. If First Brother or Fourth Sister were here, perhaps they could calculate it for her—but he could not.

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 see nothing.”

Pan Yun: [I often wonder what use you are.]

Pan Yun’s lips were pale; she gripped Tao Ji’s hand and rose. “I’m returning to the mountain!”

Tao Ji and Pan Xiaohei couldn’t tell—could First Brother and Master not 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 the mountain, not sneaking off to Datong.”

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.

Master Zhou’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 her pack on her back.

He was startled, about to call out—when Pan Yun shot past the edge of the field in a blur, and moments later vanished entirely, her speed far beyond his reach.

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

In the western suburbs of Datong, Pan Yu tugged her brother Pan Yue’s hand as they ran blindly; Pan Yue was dizzy and blurred-eyed, yet still shouted: “To the woods! To the woods!”

Pan Yu turned her steps, leapt into the rice field, and sprinted across the ridges 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 like them, exiled convicts come to harvest rice in the western suburbs.

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

Inside the woods, Pan Yue gasped: “Find a tree—a tree with thick, leafy branches…”

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

When she couldn’t push him up, she decisively abandoned him, scrambled up the trunk, and within moments reached the branches. She pulled off her sash and lowered it, trying to haul him up.

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

His face changed; he slapped away Pan Yu’s sash, and while they hadn’t yet spotted the three hidden in the tree, he turned and ran: “Hide in the tree! Don’t come out!”

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

The Jin brothers each hid in separate trees; they’d climbed earlier, unseen. As 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 behind him instinctively followed.

Pan Yue picked up a stone from the ground, unbothered by sharing the hiding spot. The group huddled silently in the woods, afraid to move.

The Tartars reached the edge of the woods, hesitated, then reined their horses, pacing in place, cracking their whips through the air, shouting into the forest.

The voices were thunderous, mixed with the thunder 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 for the far end of the woods.

Pan Yue shouted: “Don’t go out—”

But he ignored him, sprinting blindly—moments later, he vanished.

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

Soon, shouts came from outside—one Tartar galloped off after him; the remaining two 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, and hurled it inside—thud! It landed, rolling slowly to 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 lurched blindly out of hiding.

Pan Yue lunged and grabbed him: “Don’t go out!”

*Shh!* An arrow grazed Pan Yue’s cheek, then *zing!* embedded itself in the tree trunk behind him.

!. Read

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

Pan Yue pinned the youth, slapped him across the face, teeth gritted: “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 headman say: once, Ming soldiers ambushed here and killed many Tartars; since then, they never dare enter lightly.”

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

Pan Yue whispered: “We’re far from the city gate, but there’s a guard battalion nearby, stationed for farming. If we wait for them to arrive, we’ll be safe.”

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

*Shh-shh!* Arrows pierced the thicket; most were blocked by leaves, but a few pierced through and stuck in the ground.

The four panicked again, crouching low, ready to flee.

Pan Yue quickly said: “Stay hidden! Arrows hitting here lose force from the thicket. Look—they’re only half-buried in the earth. Even if they hit someone, the wounds won’t be deep. If you run out, who knows? Can you be sure you’ll dodge Tartar arrows?”

None of them were certain; they huddled again, trembling, praying the Tartars would leave soon.

But today’s Tartars were unusually patient—they wouldn’t leave. They couldn’t lure them out, nor force them out with arrows.

The three conferred, then drew their swords and rode into the woods.

Seeing the Tartars dare enter the forest, Pan Yue knew today could not end peacefully—it was now kill or be killed. He shouted: “Kill them! If they live, we die!”

“You’re mad! They have horses and swords—how can we—”

Before he could finish, the Tartars who heard Pan Yue’s shout spurred their horses forward, leaning low, swords raised, ready to slash.

The first horse galloped beneath the trees—when a shadow leapt down, tackling the Tartar and crashing him to the ground…

Due to the narrow gaps between trees, they couldn’t ride side by side as they did in open ground; to avoid ambush, the three Tartars advanced in single file.

The first was suddenly knocked down; the second rider reacted instantly, lunging to kill—but as he moved, shadows fell. Two dark figures leapt from the trees, each tackling a Tartar.

At the same moment, Pan Yue burst from the thicket, shouting: “Kill them—!”

The four with him stirred, seeing him charge out; they hurled stones at the Tartar who had just rolled to his feet.

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

Eight against three—the Tartars, deprived of their horses, could only roll on the ground with them.

Pan Yu was kicked away, tasting iron in her mouth; seeing her brother flipped over, his throat gripped, the Tartar’s hand rising to twist—her eyes hardened, she lunged, slammed into him, and bit down on his neck…

The Tartar screamed, punching her back—Pan Yu’s body shimmered with a thin glow, as if a membrane blocked the blow—but only once. The second punch struck her back solidly.

But Jin Zhangli saw it.

His suspicion confirmed: the Pan siblings possessed treasures. He’d clearly seen a Tartar’s blade strike Pan Yu—yet she bore no wound; the Tartar himself had panicked and fled his horse;

Pan Yue had been shot by an arrow—he’d been knocked down by the impact, yet when he rose, not a single arrow remained on him.

A thought flashed—Jin Zhangli abandoned the Tartar entangled by three men, lunging to help Pan Yu.

Pan Yue, face streaked with blood, rose from the ground. Seeing the three locked in combat, the Tartars still holding the upper hand, he shook his dazed head, crawled over, snatched up the Tartar’s fallen sword, and advanced—just as the Tartar kicked Jin Zhangli away, grabbed Pan Yu by the neck, and tried to pull her off. Failing, he rolled over, groping to choke her.

Today’s lucky number for all chapters is the last digit of the chapter number being 8. Any screenshot with a number ending in 8 qualifies for reward entry into the Great Ming group—I won’t repeat this in every chapter.

(End of Chapter)