Chapter 865: Try One More Time

Pan Yun had said she would make Zhu Qiyu an emperor remembered for millennia.

Then let us begin with legitimacy.

She saw the Emperor again outside Datong.

Esen held the Emperor hostage, repeatedly demanding the city gates be opened; though Datong and Xuanfu, the two major fortresses, never opened their gates, they dared not sortie to counterattack, lest they harm the Emperor.

Datong was forced into passive defense.

Kuang Ye paced frantically until Chen Huai brought Pan Yun back, then he hurriedly asked her: "Is there any way to secretly rescue the Emperor?"

Pan Yun spoke calmly: "I will do my best."

That night, Pan Yun devised a plan to sneak ten Embroidered Uniform Guards and soldiers into the Oirat camp.

Xue Shao wanted to come too, but Pan Yun refused: "I won't take Seeing Miao Zhen either. The Embroidered Uniform Guards and the scouts Kuang Ye selected have Wu Gong no weaker than yours, and they know the camp better—they're more suited."

Xue Shao stared at her with heavy eyes and asked softly: "Can you really rescue the Emperor?"

After a moment of silence, Pan Yun said: "I will do my best—only fate will decide."

Xue Shao stared at her and whispered: "Take good care."

Pan Yun knew he had more to say, but since he didn't speak, she didn't ask.

They nodded to each other and parted.

Yang Hong and Kuang Ye weren't idle—they jointly obtained a map of the tent where the Emperor was imprisoned.

It was said Guo Deng and Guo Jing had contributed greatly.

Having operated in Datong for years and secretly traded with the Oirats, they still had some connections.

Based on the map, Pan Yun and her ten men had just reached the Emperor's prison tent; as they slipped inside, a golden bowl descended from above, and as the Emperor stared in terror, Pan Yun spun to flee—the bowl suddenly trembled, golden light poured down, and Sanskrit characters swam through the air like fish, striking at her one after another.

Each impact carried the force of a thousand jin; An Chen, one of the Embroidered Uniform Guards who had come with her, rushed forward to help—only to take one step forward before a Sanskrit character slammed into him, his knee crashing to the ground with a loud bang.

The others Pan Yun had brought in turned pale at the sound—these forces were truly unpredictable; a single character appearing out of thin air could injure so severely. From the sound, An Chen's kneecap was likely shattered.

One character flew from the bowl, straight toward An Chen's head.

Pan Yun knew if it struck true, his brains would be splattered—her eyes hardened, Qi surged from her palm, she slammed upward violently, blasting all falling Sanskrit characters away, shaking the golden bowl slightly, then spun and kicked An Chen aside, a sword materializing in her hand…

Yun Yan caught An Chen and shoved him behind him, then charged straight toward the Emperor seated in the center: "Your Majesty!"

"Don't come closer!" The Emperor had barely spoken when countless hidden arrows shot simultaneously toward the center.

Three crossbow bolts, as thick as a forearm, pierced the tent and shot straight for Yun Yan's face.

Yun Yan retreated several steps, kicked off the ground, and leapt aside to dodge—but was struck by countless fine arrows from all sides. His expression didn't change; he swept his horizontal blade, knocking away the arrows around him, while the other Embroidered Uniform Guards and scouts likewise struck down incoming bolts.

But the next instant, shadows emerged from all four sides of the tent, blades slashed from within the darkness, and in the cramped tent, enemies suddenly appeared—silent, aiming straight for their skulls.

Both sides clashed instantly, flesh and blood flew.

The Emperor trembled slightly on his seat, unable to speak for a long while.

Pan Yun was entangled by the golden bowl and could not break free; her opponent had yet to reveal himself.

Pan Yun also sensed something wrong with the tent—after all this fighting, the tent remained utterly still; normally, it would have been torn apart long ago.

Fortunately, the selected Embroidered Uniform Guards and scouts were all elite fighters; they could hold out for now, and the blood flying everywhere belonged to the Oirats.

But soon, faint chanting rose from all four sides of the tent; Pan Yun's head swelled, her vision blurred instantly.

"Meow—" A cat's cry exploded in her mind; she snapped back to awareness—just as a Sanskrit character slammed into her chest with a bang, sending her flying backward. Yun Yan and the others, already weakened by the chanting, turned pale and swayed on their feet.

Fortunately, this sonic attack was indiscriminate—the Oirat soldiers fared no better.

Pan Yun flung her sword upward, swiftly forming hand seals; the sword hovered in midair, and countless sword lights erupted from it, striking straight at the shadows along the tent's walls.

Muffled groans echoed; the omnipresent chanting paused for an instant—right then, Pan Yun leapt, seized her sword, and thrust it toward the tent wall behind the Emperor.

The lanterns went out instantly, the tent plunged into darkness; the sword tip pierced through beside the Emperor's neck—she felt the blade caught and twisted by unseen hands, her Hukou trembled, nearly losing her grip.

One hand gripping the sword, the other seized the Emperor and hurled him backward; the Emperor shivered, seemingly unwilling to leave his chair—but Pan Yun yanked him upright and threw him toward Yun Yan's breathing direction, then stomped her foot—the ground beneath her turned to stone, launching upward toward the Emperor's seat and the tent wall behind him…

"Hiding your head and tail—do you know you can't show yourself?" The stones were shaken off by someone inside; Pan Yun seized the chance to slash open the tent with her sword—the figure inside dodged her strike but emerged from the tent.

Finally face to face, Pan Yun saw he was bald, clad in a monk's robe, though the style was strange; he was very tall, about one meter ninety, limbs long, his exposed arms thick as her calves.

His gaze fixed on her, radiating solemnity.

Pan Yun frowned: "Monk?"

Yun Yan, exasperated by her ignorance, supported the Emperor as she said, "That's a Lama!"

The dazed Emperor corrected: "Lamas are monks too—this is Tibetan Buddhism. The Yuan Emperor Kublai Khan revered Buddhism and granted Lamas special privileges—they are their state preceptor!"

At the same time, the four tent walls were torn open, and eight more monks in robes emerged one after another, lowering their eyes and bowing slightly toward the group trapped in the center, appearing courteous.

But Pan Yun felt nothing—because as they bowed, the formation completed: two points formed a plane, multiple planes formed a bowl; a flash of golden light enveloped Pan Yun and her companions.

The dome clung tightly to the tent walls—meaning they had all been fighting inside a single dome all along. No wonder the tent never moved; they had controlled the battlefield's boundaries from the very start.

Pan Yun smiled, raised her sword, and turned to the silent, towering Lama: "So afraid of me?"

The Lama paused, then said: "A genius from the Central Plains, top student of Long Hushan Academy—caution is never wrong."

Pan Yun: "I've come to bring back our Emperor."

The Lama looked at her: "Cultivators must not interfere in politics. The more they interfere, the worse their deaths will be."

Pan Yun: "Then what are you doing?"

The Lama's lips curled slightly: "I am not a Central Plains cultivator. I do not cultivate karma."