Chapter Forty-Nine: An Unexpected Gain

Seeing a soldier clad in fine-scaled armor charging toward them, the scholar was slightly startled. Their own force numbered fifty, while the enemy had no more than twenty. Yet this man dared to rush forward alone?

“Kill him!” the scholar ordered.

Yang Lian pressed himself low against his warhorse, reducing resistance to gain speed. The horse galloped swiftly; in an instant, the distance of seventy or eighty paces shrank to just over fifty. The wind howled past his ears, stinging his cheeks. As the gap closed, Yang Lian could already discern the scholar’s features—a long-bearded, refined-looking man whose narrow eyes gleamed with piercing intensity, as chilling as a winter wind.

At the scholar’s command, several Wu-Yue soldiers brandished their weapons and surged forward, attempting to encircle and destroy the lone attacker. Yang Lian sneered, undaunted, gripping his long blade tightly. In a clash of armies, the brave prevail; now was the time to fight with all his might.

He sought an opening, an opportunity to strike down the scholar, but the man was protected by at least seven or eight guards, tightly clustered around him. Chen Tie rode close behind Yang Lian, his lance poised for battle.

With a sharp clang, Yang Lian’s blade collided with a Wu-Yue soldier’s weapon, sending a tremor up his arm. Though he failed to kill his foe, his warhorse barreled onward.

“Die!” Chen Tie shouted, thrusting his lance at a Wu-Yue soldier who had just escaped death. With a sickening crack, the lance shattered the man’s arm, blood spurting as the force broke bone. Before he could scream, Chen Tie’s lance swept again, driving him from his horse.

Yang Lian didn’t linger. He pressed on, hiding his body beneath the horse’s neck while scanning his surroundings. Stealthily, he unfastened the spear from his horse’s tail and gripped it firmly. Several Wu-Yue soldiers moved to intercept, but Chen Tie caught up and blocked them, with Lin Renzhao joining in, hacking furiously. The three of them became a sharp knife, stabbing into the enemy’s heart.

As they charged, Yang Lian suddenly straightened his arm, gathering strength. Using the momentum of his speeding horse, he rose and hurled his spear, which traced a graceful arc through the air, flying straight toward the scholar.

The scholar, surrounded by his personal guards, couldn’t see clearly ahead. Suddenly, several guards spotted the incoming spear and hastily raised their shields to cover him.

With a dull thud, the spear pierced the foremost shield, the force so great it tore the shield from the guard’s grasp, splitting his palm and sending blood streaming. The spear, still powerful, struck the second shield. Though much of its force was spent, it nearly knocked the shield from its bearer’s numb hand.

“Kill!” Yang Lian roared, tightening his grip on his long blade as its bloodthirsty edge slashed downward.

Clang! Using the momentum of his mount, Yang Lian sliced through a soldier’s weapon, splitting it in two. Before the man could react, Yang Lian’s blade flicked upward, then slashed down at an angle. The blow carved a deep gash in the man’s chest armor; had it not been for the armor, the victim would have been cleaved in half.

Another enemy rushed in from the flank, spear aimed at Yang Lian. Chen Tie saw it clearly and swept his lance across the man’s back, toppling him from his horse.

Yang Lian caught this from the corner of his eye and nodded slightly in thanks, then pressed forward. The three plunged into a furious melee. A dozen soldiers gathered around the scholar, with a few more still guarding him. The scholar’s narrow eyes flashed with cunning; these Southern Tang scouts were truly audacious.

The remaining Southern Tang scouts rushed in, clashing with the Wu-Yue soldiers, easing the pressure on Yang Lian, Lin Renzhao, and Chen Tie. Still, they were surrounded at the center of the fray. Yang Lian’s blade rose and fell mechanically, slicing through flesh or scraping across armor. He no longer had time to tell which—he simply fought desperately, cutting his way toward the scholar.

On the plain at the foot of Mount Yu, blood spattered the earth, soldiers fell one after another, and riderless horses roamed in search of masters who would never rise again.

Yang Lian lost count of how many he had killed. There was no time for such thoughts. Wu-Yue soldiers dropped constantly; five or six of his own comrades had fallen, and the rest were wounded to varying degrees. Yang Lian himself had taken a blow, but his fine-scaled armor saved him. His face was smeared with blood, making him look terrifying.

In the chaos, Yang Lian glanced at the scholar again, finding him staring back, calm and collected. Any ordinary official would have fled long ago. To capture the bandit, seize the leader first—especially since the Southern Tang soldiers were outnumbered.

“Follow me!” Yang Lian growled, swinging his blade to force back nearby foes. He spurred his horse, charging once more at the scholar.

Chen Tie and Lin Renzhao exchanged a glance, understanding Yang Lian’s aim. They spurred their horses, flanking him to shield his advance.

By now, fewer than ten men remained at the scholar’s side; the rest were embroiled in the battle. Seeing Yang Lian approach, several personal guards blocked the way. Yang Lian raised his battered blade, slashing left and right with reckless fury. Blood spurted wildly, making hearts tremble.

In the midst of combat, Yang Lian took a blow to his left shoulder. The blade split flesh to the bone, an appalling sight.

“Die!” Yang Lian snarled through gritted teeth, swinging his sword back and striking his attacker’s neck. The head flew from the body, blood gushing from the severed artery in a crimson fountain, drenching those nearby.

“Death to any who stand in my way!” Yang Lian bellowed again, channeling his pain into rage.

The remaining Wu-Yue soldiers, awed by Yang Lian’s ferocity, faltered. Chen Tie’s lance struck another Wu-Yue soldier, the tip piercing armor and heart. Gripping the lance, Chen Tie twisted viciously; the victim howled in agony before collapsing as Chen Tie pulled the weapon free.

The Wu-Yue soldiers exchanged fearful glances. Even the scholar, his gaze sharp as ever, could not withstand the pressure. With a desperate shout, he spurred his horse and fled.

The rout was complete. The scholar’s flight crushed the morale of the remaining Wu-Yue soldiers. Lin Renzhao struck another down at just the right moment, and the roughly twenty Wu-Yue soldiers panicked, wheeling their horses to escape.

“After them!” Yang Lian sneered. This scholar was clearly of high rank; capturing him would be a great achievement.

Chen Tie, though soaked in blood, was largely unhurt. Seeing Yang Lian gallop off, he followed close behind. The ten remaining Southern Tang scouts joined the pursuit, while three gravely wounded soldiers stayed behind, tended by a lightly wounded comrade.

As the scholar fled, he glanced back frequently, disturbed by the sight of Yang Lian’s blood-streaked, murderous face. Who was this fearsome man, and how had he appeared here? After all, it was eighty li from Suzhou to Changshu, and over a hundred li from the Southern Tang camp. These men had come a long way across enemy lines.

But the scholar had no time to ponder. The pressure was overwhelming; the Wu-Yue soldiers behind him were terrified. Yang Lian, Chen Tie, and the others loosed arrows as they rode, felling Wu-Yue soldiers one after another. After seven or eight li, only five or six remained with the scholar.

The relentless chase exhausted the horses. Suddenly, the scholar’s mount stumbled with a pained cry and collapsed. Caught off guard, the scholar was thrown heavily to the ground. Yang Lian saw clearly that the horse had stepped in a rut—this was a gift from heaven, not to be squandered.

He gave a cold snort and fired the last of his arrows. The remaining Wu-Yue soldiers, wanting to save the scholar, were driven back by the arrows. Exchanging glances, they made the same decision: to flee. Nothing was more precious than life. The Wu-Yue men spurred their horses and fled headlong. Yang Lian, seeing his greatest prey fallen, did not bother pursuing the rest.

Several horses stopped beside the scholar. He raised his head, his eyes still sharp but now tinged with panic.

“Who are you?” Yang Lian demanded. In his heart, he fervently hoped this was Qian Wenfeng, given the number of bodyguards. Yet it seemed unlikely; Qian Wenfeng was known for his horsemanship and archery, and would not be dressed as a scholar even if out inspecting.

Sure enough, the man slowly stood and replied, “I am Fan Mengling, advisor to the Command of Central Wu.”

“So, merely an advisor,” Yang Lian thought, somewhat disappointed, but still satisfied with the capture.

“Tie him up and take him back to camp,” Yang Lian ordered.

Fan Mengling cupped his hands, his expression unchanged. “Is this how your general treats prisoners?”

Chen Tie sneered and snapped his whip. “So, you know you’re a prisoner! Then act like one.” He leapt from his horse, tied Fan Mengling securely, and tossed him over his horse’s rump.

The group turned back. At the foot of Mount Yu, they severed the heads of the slain Wu-Yue soldiers as proof of merit. When this was done, they loaded their own fallen comrades onto horses for the return journey.

“This time, twenty of us set out; six have fallen, three are gravely wounded. We few survived by luck alone. I propose we share part of the merit with our fallen and wounded brothers. If we receive any reward, half will go to the families of the dead. If any of you object, you may speak,” Yang Lian announced before departure. Without their comrades’ desperate defense, they could never have prevailed.

Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie, who had long worked with Yang Lian, regarded him as a man of deep loyalty. He had always treated them well, and they had no worries over money. They nodded at once. “Commander Yang, you are truly righteous. We both agree.”

“We agree as well,” others echoed.

“The gravely wounded need not contribute,” Yang Lian said. He glanced at the sky; it was already late, and there might be more Wu-Yue soldiers nearby. In their current state, they could not withstand another fight. It was best to withdraw as soon as possible.