Chapter 721: Returning Home

At that moment, Ma Chonghao, who had already seen clearly who the newcomer was, hurriedly stepped forward and grabbed the agent. The agent instinctively struggled and shouted hoarsely, "Who's got the nerve! I'm on the most urgent official business — delay means execution!"

Then he turned his head and saw clearly just who was holding him.

"Sir?" His face was full of shock. "It's Sir Ma!"

"It's me, Xiao Zhou. What in the world is so urgent!" Ma Chonghao asked calmly. Out of caution, even though he had already reached the safe territory of Nanjing, he still wanted to know more.

As it happened, Ma Chonghao knew this agent — a former subordinate from his time in the capital, and one who had received his patronage. He had no idea what urgent matter had brought him here in such a reckless state. His clothes were worn and his face covered in dust; he surely hadn't rested much along the way.

The agent called Xiao Zhou finally came to his senses somewhat. Though he didn't understand why Sir Ma was dressed in plain clothes, their old ties remained, so he saw no need to hide it from him — he would find out sooner or later anyway.

After taking several deep breaths to steady himself, he glanced around, leaned in close, and spoke in a low voice, his throat already completely hoarse: "Sir, His Majesty has passed away. He departed on the twenty-first of the seventh month. The Crown Prince has now ascended the throne and is preparing to change the reign title to Tai…"

Ma Chonghao heard only the first half of the sentence before he stood there frozen, as if struck by lightning. After Xiao Zhou finished speaking and saw that Ma Chonghao remained utterly unresponsive, like a clay or wooden statue, he could spare no time for further details. He simply pulled free gently and sprinted off toward Nanjing.

It's over. All over.

What churned in Ma Chonghao's heart at that moment was nothing but boundless despair.

Though he was no longer in the capital, his political instincts had not dulled. He knew his backing was the Zheng faction, and the Zheng family's power rested on the Wanli Emperor's favor toward Noble Consort Zheng. But after the succession struggle, the Zheng family had made bitter enemies of the court's powers. Now that the Wanli Emperor was dead and the Crown Prince had ascended — he was someone the Zheng family had long bullied!

No matter how magnanimous the new Son of Heaven might be, he would never protect the Zheng family when the court officials moved against them. The reckoning against the Zhengs was likely about to begin at any moment.

When the great tree falls, its branches and leaves cannot survive. His own trip north to Xuzhou — something that could originally have been suppressed — had now become a grave offense. Those who wanted to strike at the Zheng family would certainly not let a Zheng lackey go; they might even use his crimes as a pretext to attack the Zhengs.

It's over. This time it's truly over. In that moment, Ma Chonghao's heart was truly like dead ashes; he held no hope whatsoever. His body hunched over. He looked toward Nanjing — the towering, mighty city was right before his eyes, yet it felt impossibly distant.

"Master, you… what's wrong…" Ma Liu was truly frantic, unable to understand what had come over his master. Who could have imagined that upon reaching the Nanjing border, his master would suddenly collapse like this?

"Master!" he shouted. When Ma Chonghao didn't respond, Ma Liu raised his voice and shouted again.

The sound was so loud that everyone else at the ferry landing turned to look. Even the monk and the scholar who had been walking this way stopped.

"Over… all over… completely over. What good is returning to Nanjing? The arrest warrant for us will be here any moment. It's over…" In mere moments, Ma Chonghao's voice had gone completely hoarse, his face ashen. He paid no attention to the frantic Ma Liu beside him, only looking around blankly, utterly lost as to what to do.

His eyes had no focus, just a vacant gaze. As he turned to look back, he happened to see the monk and the scholar stepping forward and bending at the waist — an odd-looking movement, but anyone trained in martial arts knew what came next. It was the prelude to an attack!

Ma Chonghao's whole body jolted. In that instant he understood: this monk, this scholar — they had come for his life. He was well-versed in such matters. They had hidden themselves well on the road and he hadn't noticed, but now there was no mistaking it. A quick sweep of his eyes told him everything: that small boat not far away was their escape. They could kill him here, board the boat, and be gone before the authorities ever reacted.

Heh, Zhao Jin was clearly determined to take his life. And fair enough — with how he had opposed him, Zhao Jin must have hated him for a long time now.

What to do? Was he going to die here? There was probably no escape…

Though he had spoken countless times of setting life and death aside, Ma Chonghao now discovered with anguish that he did not want to die at all.

That's right — I still have so many great deeds unfinished. How can I die? How could I die! he roared in his heart.

Only when death is at hand does a person truly know how desperately they fear it.

At this moment, Ma Chonghao's mind raced, desperately searching for a way to survive.

The tall monk and the scholar met Ma Chonghao's gaze and knew they had been discovered. The two of them no longer bothered to hide it. They exchanged a glance, cold sneers appearing on their faces, and each straightened up, preparing to draw their weapons. Ma Chonghao's side had six men, yet these two showed no fear.

But at that moment, several men from the small boat were also approaching, carrying long, wrapped bundles. Ma Chonghao could guess what was inside — if he wasn't mistaken, they likely contained podao blades.

Ma Liu and the four trusted men around Ma Chonghao had already sensed something was wrong and were reaching for their own weapons, ready to fight.

The tall monk and the scholar pressed closer and closer, clearly eager to finish the job quickly. They must have endured a great deal of patience on the boat.

"We're getting on the boat!" Ma Chonghao, however, now seemed to regain his composure. He took a deep breath and spoke in a deep voice.

These words stunned Ma Liu. He couldn't help but ask, "Master, are we not going home? We're already in Nanjing!"

"Home? What home! We never had a home in Nanjing to begin with. What is there to return to? Get on the boat — we're going to Xuzhou!" Ma Chonghao spoke very loudly. Ma Liu and his trusted men stared at each other in shock, and even the monk and the scholar across from them looked at one another, momentarily stopping in their tracks.

Ma Chonghao, heedless of everything, walked straight toward the two men, raising his hands as he went to show he had no intention of fighting. As he walked, he said, "You two, is this boat of yours heading to Xuzhou? I wish to go along. Would it be convenient to take me as a passenger?"

The scholar's hand was already on his sword hilt, the blade half-drawn. This was no ornamental scholar's sword for travel — it was a narrow-edged rapier, made purely for killing. The monk had his hands behind his back, his weapon clearly hanging there.

They looked at each other, utterly baffled. Had the man lost his mind? He had clearly seen they were here to take his life, yet he was walking right up to them to die.

"You two, I am Ma Chonghao, Assistant Commander of the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard. I wish to go to Xuzhou and surrender to Zhao Jin — no, to Lord Jin. Please lead the way." Ma Chonghao spoke quickly and not quietly. Quite a few travelers coming and going at the ferry landing overheard and instinctively moved further away. Had this man lost his mind? Daring to impersonate a high-ranking agent official?

The scholar narrowed his eyes and stared at Ma Chonghao for a moment, then smoothly slid his sword back into its scabbard. He spoke coolly: "Drop all iron on you. Follow me."

The monk beside him brought his arms forward. Ma Chonghao saw a short axe and a short blade, held reversed and concealed by the monk's wide sleeves — a precaution. As long as Ma Chonghao made no sudden moves, he wouldn't escape.

The scholar's capital-accented Mandarin had shifted to a Xuzhou-accented Mandarin. Ma Chonghao could roughly guess who he was, but at this moment he couldn't afford to dwell on it. He simply stepped back, removed the short blade from his waist and the dagger strapped to his calf, dropped them on the ground, and kicked them over.

"Thank you." He merely nodded slightly.

"Master, what are you…" Behind him, Ma Liu asked frantically. Ma Chonghao's men were completely bewildered.

Ma Chonghao turned back and said loudly: "The situation has changed. Whether we return to Nanjing now or go to the capital, it's a dead end. The Zheng family has offended too many people — they won't let us go. Follow me to Xuzhou; there's still a path to life there. Those unwilling to come with me, don't go back to Nanjing either. Go find your own way to survive!"

The men following him all stood there stunned. They had schemed for a year, gone to Xuzhou with great fanfare to arrest people, clearly intent on total extermination, nearly driving their target to the wall — and then everything had collapsed. They had fled for their lives, finally crossed the river to safety, and now they were supposed to go back? Back to Xuzhou? To seek death?

Ma Liu didn't hesitate. He simply tossed his own short blade and dagger over and walked to Ma Chonghao's side. Of the other four trusted guards, one followed as well. The remaining three looked at each other, then clasped their fists toward Ma Chonghao and said, "Master, take care. We'll be on our way!"

In the current situation, turning and leaving was the most natural choice. Ma Chonghao merely nodded silently and turned back around.

The men who had been waiting by the small boat had already walked over. Without any courtesy, they searched Ma Chonghao and his two men, then pulled ox-sinew rope from their clothes and bound the three men's hands, covering them with their sleeves so it looked as if they were simply holding their hands behind their backs. They picked up the discarded weapons from the ground and escorted Ma Chonghao and his two men toward the small boat.

In the forty-eighth year of Wanli, during the Mid-Autumn season of the eighth month, officials and commoners alike were preparing to celebrate the festival. Just then, express riders from the capital brought word to Nanjing: on the twenty-first day of the seventh month of the forty-eighth year of Wanli, the Wanli Emperor had passed away in the Hall of Exalted Virtue. The entire city of Nanjing donned mourning white. Feasts, gatherings, and all entertainments were forbidden…

On the twenty-first day of the seventh month of the forty-eighth year of Wanli, the imperial city at the heart of the capital was steeped in an atmosphere of gravity unlike any ordinary day.

Though the authorities kept their lips sealed on the matter, the common folk living at the foot of the imperial walls, with their keen ears and quick tongues, had long since spread the true reason: the Wanli Emperor was gravely ill and on the verge of ascending to heaven on the dragon.

Though no one dared spread such news aloud, inside and outside Beijing, people had already prepared themselves mentally for the Emperor's departure. This sovereign had ruled the realm for nearly fifty years. Countless subjects had been born after his enthronement and passed away during his reign. In their hearts, people had long grown accustomed to the Wanli reign title; they could scarcely imagine a day when it would change. Yet that day was finally approaching. The entire capital, the entire empire, held its breath.

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