[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming":3,"chapter-the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-84":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Unorthodox Sword of Ming",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2337289,4570,"Chapter 84: Killing the Enemy","the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-84",84,"\u003Cp>Pan Yue gripped his broadsword, aimed at the Tartar’s back, and drove it down hard; as he fumbled for Pan Yun’s throat, the Tartar’s eyes bulged wide, his mouth opened, and blood gushed onto Pan Yun’s head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He rolled halfway over, trying to see who killed him, but collapsed before he could finish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue shoved the corpse aside and pulled Pan Yun away from the still-biting Tartar, shouting into his ear: “Pan Yun! Pan Yun! He’s dead—let go! He’s dead!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun released his grip, raised his foggy eyes to his brother, and opened his mouth—blood spilled out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue saw at once that his internal organs were damaged; his eyes burned red as he helped Pan Yun lean half-sitting against a tree.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned, pulled the blade from the Tartar’s back, and charged toward the other two Tartars still entangled with his men…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jin Zhangli hurried after him, stomped on the Tartar’s hand as it reached for a sword, and snatched it up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without horses or swords, the Tartars could only fight hand-to-hand—and they had swords.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eight of them killed three Tartars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though all were badly wounded, each covered in blood, bruised and swollen, they were elated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Once off their horses, Tartars don’t seem so terrifying.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If Zong Silang hadn’t run out, he wouldn’t have had to die.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They fell silent, staring at the severed head lying not far away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue ignored them; he ran back to Pan Yun, felt his body, and asked: “Where does it hurt?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun felt pain all over, especially in his abdomen; tears welled up as he struggled to speak: “Big brother… I… I think I’m going to die.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue wiped the tears and blood from his face, but more kept coming; he pretended not to see and scolded softly: “Don’t talk nonsense—I see you’re fine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue pulled a string from his collar; tied to it was a small red cloth pouch hanging around his neck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He untied the pouch and pulled out a piece of paper, now charred to black coal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It had burned away, yet still showed its original triangular fold; when he touched it, the paper crumbled to ash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue stared at it, unsure if it would work, but shoved it into Pan Yun’s mouth anyway: “Swallow it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun recognized it—the talisman their little sister had sent them; after receiving it, their father had sewn three cloth pouches, each holding one talisman for them to wear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d always thought it was merely symbolic—a reminder that their sister still thought of them; he wore it not because he believed it could protect him, but because it was her prayer, and when he missed her, he could touch the pouch and feel comfort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet now, this talisman truly had protected him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d felt it—the moment the blade swung toward his neck, the pouch on his chest burned hot; his foot slipped, he fell, and the sword struck his back instead; his back felt as if covered by a stone slab.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He heard the thud, felt the force of the blade striking him—but he was unharmed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Remembering the talisman’s miracle, though swallowing ash made him nauseous, he opened his mouth and ate it all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue pulled out his own pouch, untied it, and took out his talisman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His talisman was warm, half-charred, but not yet reduced to ash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue’s eyes lit up; he slipped his talisman into Pan Yun’s pouch, then hesitated, unwilling to let go—he pulled it out and shoved it into Pan Yun’s mouth: “Just eat them all. Folk tales say talisman water cures illness—maybe swallowing works better than wearing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This talisman was worse than ash—it smelled of burnt paper and faint incense, but this one carried a strange, bloody stench.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he’d just drunk a Tartar’s blood—what wasn’t fit to swallow now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He chewed and forced it down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue stared intently at him: “How do you feel?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yun felt a little stronger; he smiled at his brother: “I feel better.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue: “Good.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned to look at the others; no one dared step outside—whether more scattered Tartars lurked beyond, none knew; all sat or lay quietly on the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three corpses lay scattered among them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue scanned them, chose one, stepped forward, stripped off its armor, raised his broadsword, and brought it down—its head rolled free.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jin Zhangli and the others stared wide-eyed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue said: “This head belongs to my brother. The other two—divide them yourselves.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jin Zhangli and his brother Jin Zhongwu exchanged glances, looked at the remaining four, then rose, seized a sword, and chopped off one head: “This one’s ours. The last one’s yours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The four exchanged glances—no objections.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without Pan Yue’s plan, Pan Yun and the Jin brothers wouldn’t have leapt from the trees to drag down the three Tartars—they’d never have killed them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The four whispered among themselves and decided to include the dead Zong Silang, splitting the credit for that head equally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were all exiled families of disgraced officials, all young; a Tartar’s head was still a great reward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It could improve their families’ lives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Should we return to the city now?” Pan Yue stood behind a tree, gazing into the distance. “Wait a while longer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the battle, they all trusted Pan Yue; if he said wait, they waited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue stared fixedly ahead, glancing back now and then at Pan Yun leaning against the tree; he was more anxious than anyone, more desperate to return to the city—but he couldn’t. Not until he confirmed the guard battalion had sent out troops; otherwise, they’d be easy targets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After nearly half an hour, Pan Yue saw dust rising in the distance; his eyes brightened, he studied the direction and movement of the dust, then turned sharply: “We leave now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue helped Pan Yun onto a horse, tied the severed heads and armor to the saddle, swung himself up, sword in hand, and rode ahead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jin Zhangli and Jin Zhongwu shared one horse; the remaining four lifted their most severely wounded comrade onto another, placed Zong Silang’s head on his lap, and ran alongside, guarding the horse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eight of them, mounted and carrying heads, trotted for a long while until they reached Datong City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gate guards spotted them, ordered them to halt from afar, checked their identities and the heads on the horses, then let them in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soldiers inside waited specifically to receive them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three Tartar heads meant nothing to Datong’s garrison—they saw them often.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!. Read\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The rice harvest was nearly complete; Tartars from the north frequently raided southward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Minor clashes occurred constantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The imperial court had questioned the Tatars repeatedly, but they never admitted these raiders were soldiers—or even civilians.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When asked, they claimed the raiders were bandits, and that they themselves suffered from them, having failed to eradicate them despite multiple campaigns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, Datong Prefecture always sent troops to “suppress bandits” during this season, gaining minor victories—but no one had ever seen nine exiled convicts, unarmed, kill three Tartars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldier compiling records carefully examined their wounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A battalion commander strolled over: “What’s going on?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“These exiled convicts killed three Tartars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qin Captain stepped forward, glanced at the blade cuts on the three heads, scanned the wounds on Pan Yue and the others; seeing Pan Yun’s pale lips, needing Pan Yue’s support to stand, and the others’ many injuries, he said: “Nine men killed three—what’s there to doubt? Record it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldier confirmed their names and backgrounds, and logged their achievement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The three heads were confiscated, the horses surrendered; the soldier glanced at Captain Qin, then tossed the armor and swords back: “Go home and wait. Once the bandits outside the city are wiped out, we’ll tally the merits.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue accepted, slung the armor on his back, bowed to Captain Qin, then shouldered his sword and helped Pan Yun home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Captain Qin clicked his tongue: “I hate these bookish types—but they’ve got some guts. Who is he? Exiled official’s family? Which one of his kin got in trouble?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Great Ming, exile and military conscription mostly targeted those who committed attempted murder or serious crimes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither offense reached the death penalty, so they were exiled or conscripted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The former were exiled alone; the latter could implicate their families. So this young man, refined and exiled, was clearly an official’s son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldier said: “Their father is Pan Hong. We don’t know what he did. If you want to know, I’ll find out.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Captain Qin was about to wave him off when another soldier passed by: “Pan Hong? I know him—I handled his family’s exile. He was a censor, accused of bribery and dereliction of duty, but rumor says he was framed—he angered Master Wang in the palace, so they sent him here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Captain Qin spat: “What ‘Master Wang’? He’s a eunuch.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldier grinned sheepishly, thinking: The Emperor calls him ‘Master’—how dare we small soldiers defy His Majesty?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only here in Datong, far from the capital, could Cao Jixiang not hear news—otherwise, Captain Qin would’ve ended up like Pan Hong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soldier left; Captain Qin took notice of the Pan family—he sent someone to investigate them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue helped Pan Yun walk a stretch; Jin Zhangli ran to rent an ox cart, helped load Pan Yun onto it: “You’re taking him home?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue: “No—first, the clinic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He said: “Brother Jin, please go home and tell my father to bring money to the clinic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jin Zhongwu glanced at his brother, nodded, shouldered his own spoils, and strode toward the exile village.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue took Pan Yun to the clinic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The doctor took one look and knew his internal organs were damaged; after feeling his pulse, he said: “It’s not life-threatening, but not minor either.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue: “Please tell me honestly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’ll live, but needs long-term care. Medicine is expensive. Treat it now, and you can cure it completely. If you only take life-sustaining medicine, he’ll carry the illness for life—damaging heart and lungs, likely leading to consumption.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pan Yue turned pale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The doctor comforted: “He was kicked in the waist and abdomen—but such injuries are rare—he’s lucky to be alive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1699,"2026-06-20T22:03:57.478Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","06208f5fc81dd8f0bcf82f8b6f346a982d650821970e48d8c6af2b0274dc8f55","the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-85","the-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-chapter-83",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-unorthodox-sword-of-ming-cover.jpg"]