Fang Dacheng hurriedly assembled his guards and fought his way out of the surrounded mansion, holding out for the Qiao County reinforcements, but reinforcements would not be coming — the Qiao County Garrison Commander had discovered the countless fire pits by Qianjin Ditch and was too afraid of an ambush to advance.

  Most of Fang Dacheng’s guards died covering Fang Dacheng’s escape and Yao Yangyu had his great victory.

  Yu Liang and the others tried to dissuade the young master from pursuing a desperate foe, but the vigorous youth refused to listen, believing that true military merit came only when the enemy general was beheaded, and so he took a hundred soldiers to chase Fang Dacheng down.

  When Qianjin Ditch came into view, Yao Yangyu hesitated, but when he spotted Fang Dacheng fleeing to the border, his confidence soared. He reasoned that since he himself had come from this direction there would not be an ambush waiting, and so he chased.

  The Qingjin Ditch road was narrow and surrounded on both sides by cliffs, twisting and turning through the mountain and cutting off any line of sight. After chasing down three such turns, Yao Yangyu and his men burst out onto a flat stretch of ground surrounded by countless soldiers. A man stood watching them in indigo armor and a white cape, a warm and gentle smile on his face.

  Above him fluttered a large standard with the huge character “Jin.”


  Yao Yangyu’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately called a retreat, but the man before them was already gesturing.

  A rain of arrows fell on them and half of Yao Yangyu’s soldiers fell to the ground.

  Yao Yangyu knew he had screwed up and retreat was impossible, so with a mighty battle cry, he unsheathed his blade and charged forth.

  Spears twisted and lunged, blades flashed and stabbed, weapons tangling and flesh and blood dripping down into the dirt. Man’s killer instincts roared forth amidst the clangs and screams, and with death certain and no escape possible, battle fury filled hopeless eyes. Strong limbs, supple muscles, and bright vibrant eyes were all cut down by cold, bloody metal until they lay lifeless and ignored.

  The numbers were too great, and Tian Sheng soldiers soon littered the ground with only a few guards tottering in front of Yao Yangyu, protecting their leader. The young master himself was covered in blood, leaning heavily on his blade as he gasped, his back protected by Yu Liang and Haung Baozi. All of them were injured, and specks of flesh and blood dotted their eyelashes.

  The smiling man under the flag had never moved, watching the battle with a mixture of amusement and boredom.

  “Take them alive.”


  The man suddenly called out, pointing out Yao Yangyu and his friends.

  The man’s calm, clear voice cut across the battlefield. Yao Yangyu shut his eyes in shame — Jin Siyi would never have risked himself for a mere battalion; he had come for Yao Yangyu, the son of Tian Sheng’s powerful Minister. His capture would strike another heavy blow to the weakening Tian Sheng morale.

  He had failed to attain merit and was now to be captured, his life used to threaten Tian Sheng. He would be tied up and carried around until the final battle, his shame paraded before thousands and thousands. With such a life, how could he lift his head high and face the world?

  Yao Yangyu chuckled bitterly, tightening his grip on his blade.

  “Brothers,” He slowly began, “I was too eager for success and have dragged you down. Let us……”


  He choked on his words, tears filling his eyes. Yu Liang and Huang Baozi quietly held his shoulders as they had so many times before, and together they finished Yao Yangyu’s sentence.

  “Let us meet in the next life.”


  The three brothers smiled at each other, lifting their blades.

  As he held his cold, gleaming weapon against his own throat, Yao Yangyu’s weary mind once again lamented: “If only Master Wei was here……”


  He smiled sadly, smirking at his own absurdity.

  Their dirty blades reflected their steady, desperate eyes.

  None of their foes had thought these foolish, foppish Dijing young masters would value their lives less than their honor, and shocked soldiers were rushing forward, spurring their horses to ever greater speed.

  Blades touched throats.

  “Clang……”


  A small stone shot out and shattered their weapons, and then the broken pieces floated up and arced through the air, shooting towards the Da Yue Commander-in-Chief.

  Jin Siyu had been so focused on the three young masters as he rode forward to stop their deaths and was completely unprepared for the strange attack he now faced, but even in his shock he remained composed and leaned backwards, flicking his spears up to knock aside the shattered weapons.

  But right as he slapped away the broken metal, a horseman appeared behind him, black robes over black stead, white arrows nocked in a bone-white bow. His attacker had five arrows readied in his hand, and the figure chuckled as he called out: “Watch my chain arrows!”


  Jin Siyu was shocked once more; now that he was off balance from deflecting the blades, a Kung Fu expert capable of shooting chain arrows would destroy him, so he could only push off of his horse and flip away towards his guards.

  He landed and retreated behind his bodyguards as his precious stallion was quickly seized by the three young masters. His mysterious attacker smiled at him, toying with his five arrows as he smirked and asked: “How do you shoot chain arrows?”


  “.……”


  The Da Yue soldiers were too furious to speak, their faces pale with angers.

  The new figure lifted his eyes, his delicate face almost shining in the moonlight. A pair of misty eyes graced his face like the hidden realms of immortal saints, indescribable by earthly pens.

  Jin Siyu glared up at the young man, and when their gazes met, the prince felt as if the sky’s moon dimmed and the autumn winds froze.

  An exuberantly excited shout filled the valley.

  “Vice President Wei!”


  “Who is that?” Feng Zhiwei replied, turning her confused face to eye Yao Yangyu and the others.

  Yao Yangyu and his friends felt as if they were doused with freezing water, immediately sobering and exchanging glances. They carefully examined Feng Zhiwei’s face, confirming that it was in fact Wei Zhi. Then they glanced over at Master Gu and his signature cyan-blue robes, in many ways the symbol of Wei Zhi’s power.