Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Ambush

“I never expected Brother Yang to be both learned and skilled in martial arts. Not only can he craft exquisite verses, but he is also well-versed in music. Truly admirable,” Lin Renzhao expressed his profound respect for Yang Lian. That Yang Lian had been chosen by Zeng Yiling today, and then had outshone nearly everyone, almost matching Zeng Yiling herself, made Lin Renzhao feel proud by association.

Yang Lian’s weathered face showed no embarrassment. He waved his hand with a smile and replied, “It’s nothing.” He thought to himself that although he had been somewhat unruly in the past, he did possess a few talents—reading poetry, playing the zither. These hobbies, once mere pastimes, had unexpectedly become useful now.

Chen Tie, unable to follow the conversation, asked, “Renzhao, Brother Yang writes poetry as well?”

Lin Renzhao smiled faintly. “Brother Yang’s verses are truly masterpieces.” With that, he recited Yang Lian’s recent poem.

The old lands of Min had fallen to the Tang, and for Chen Tie, the pain of a lost nation still lingered. When he heard the line, “The carved balustrades and jade steps must still be there, only the rosy faces have changed,” the wound in his heart was torn open anew, deeper than any Lin Renzhao could feel.

He remembered that battle vividly—all had fought with desperate courage, brothers falling one by one, their blood staining the land. Their numbers dwindled as the enemy’s grew. In the end, after a few brothers had fought to the last, he alone escaped in haste. It was not fear of death that drove him, but the knowledge that he alone could not reverse their defeat. He needed to wait, to bide his time like a venomous snake, lying in ambush for the perfect moment to strike back.

But the outcome broke his heart completely—Min was no more. The palace of marble and jade now had a new master; it would never again belong to Min.

Chen Tie slowed his steps, pondering deeply. He saw Yang Lian in a new light.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps resounded ahead. Seven or eight men clad in black appeared before the three. Each had his face wrapped in black cloth, short blades in hand, and murderous intent in their eyes as they confronted Yang Lian, Chen Tie, and Lin Renzhao.

“Who are you?” Yang Lian was the first to react, his voice low and steady.

“Your executioners,” one of the masked men replied.

Yang Lian sneered. “You’re sent by Li Hongji, aren’t you?”

“How dare you speak the Duke of Dongping’s name so brazenly!” one of them cursed.

Hearing this, Chen Tie flew into a rage, shouting, “So the illustrious Duke of Dongping resorts to such base, despicable methods!”

Lin Renzhao remained silent, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the surroundings. There were no other ambushes; it seemed these men were the only threat.

After that outburst, the leader of the group returned to his senses and sneered, “Even if you know, what can you do? Tonight, none of you will leave here alive.”

Chen Tie rubbed his wrists and grinned wickedly. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper fight.”

Yang Lian laughed coldly. “That someone would dare impersonate the Duke of Dongping and commit murder in the very heart of the empire is a crime beyond forgiveness. Brothers Lin and Chen, let the three of us join forces and capture these vile knaves to clear the Duke’s name.”

The masked men were startled, not yet grasping Yang Lian’s intent, when he suddenly swung his fist at one of them. The punch was swift and fierce; the man tried to dodge but was a fraction too slow, taking the blow squarely on the jaw, tears springing to his eyes from the pain.

Even as he struck, Yang Lian’s other hand was not idle. With a swift motion, he snatched the dagger from the man’s grip. Without hesitation, he slashed out wildly. At such moments, there was no need for precision—only ferocity mattered.

Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie, both seasoned on the battlefield, moved as soon as Yang Lian finished speaking. Chen Tie landed a punch to a masked man’s stomach, while Lin Renzhao skillfully disarmed another, gaining a weapon of his own.

The black-clad attackers were shocked by the trio’s prowess. As the sound of clashing steel rang out, Yang Lian hacked at his opponent. The man hastily raised his blade to block, sparks flying as metal struck metal.

Yang Lian, having grown up brawling, knew that the key to a fight was speed and ruthlessness. He attacked again with brute force, overwhelming his foe. In the confusion, Chen Tie darted in from the side, landing a punch on the man’s back, causing him to stumble and expose a weakness. Yang Lian followed up immediately, slashing the man across the back.

A scream pierced the night, abrupt and chilling.

Yang Lian did not falter; he struck again, severing the man’s head with a single blow. Blood sprayed, staining his once-clean clothes. In that instant, he froze. Though he had been a fierce fighter in his previous life and had even broken a man’s leg, he had never killed before.

Now, he had taken a life. Even if it was an enemy, the shock ran deep.

Lin Renzhao called out a hearty commendation, striking out with his dagger and forcing the attackers back. Thanks to his efforts, Yang Lian and Chen Tie had been able to join forces and slay one of their foes. Seeing their comrade fall, the remaining masked men were gripped by both fear and rage. Just as they prepared to fight to the death, a voice rang out, “Retreat!”

Chen Tie was about to give chase when the sharp sound of a whistle rang out from the street corner. The black-clad men panicked, slashing at Lin Renzhao to drive him back before fleeing into the night. Lin Renzhao tried to pursue, but they had already dashed several strides ahead.

“Let them go,” Yang Lian said gravely. It was not wise to pursue desperate men into the unknown—there was still much uncertainty as to whether these attackers were truly sent by Li Hongji. If this was a trap, charging after them would be reckless.

Lin Renzhao understood and stopped his pursuit.

Chen Tie laughed heartily. “Run, you little bastards! Don’t let me catch you!”

Yang Lian sheathed his dagger. The attack had come as suddenly as it had ended; these masked men had no intention of fighting to the death. Undoubtedly, the curfew whistle had played a role, but their lack of resolve suggested they were likely common retainers, not trained assassins.

A patrol of soldiers soon arrived, lanterns blazing. Upon seeing the three men, they drew their swords and shouted, “Who goes there at this hour?”

Yang Lian smiled and cupped his hands. “Brothers, we are all soldiers of the Divine Martial Army. After an evening at the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, we were set upon by men impersonating the Duke of Dongping’s retainers. That is the cause of this disturbance.”

A squad leader stepped forward, puzzled. “Why would the Duke of Dongping send men to attack you?”

“Indeed, why would the Duke do such a thing? That is merely what these men claimed before dying. Most likely, they are impostors. I hope you will investigate thoroughly.” Yang Lian smiled, still holding the bloodstained dagger, crimson droplets falling to the ground.

The squad leader hesitated. If these three really belonged to the Divine Martial Army, he had no authority to detain them; he must report to his superior.

“Though this man is dead, there may yet be clues on his body. Furthermore, his weapon is military issue. It would be wise to report this to your commanding officer.” The implication was clear enough—if this matter truly involved the Duke of Dongping or military arms, it would be troublesome indeed. Especially now, when the most pressing concern for the Tang was to support the southern campaign. Should this incident draw the emperor’s ire, many would suffer.

As expected, the squad leader hesitated before asking, “Are you truly of the Divine Martial Army?”

Yang Lian smiled, sheathing his dagger, and produced his badge. Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie did likewise.

The squad leader checked their credentials, his expression changing. Two of them were Deputy Commanders, the other a Section Chief—all outranked him by far. He dared not be disrespectful. Memorizing their names, he said, “I understand. I will report this to my superiors. You three are free to go.”

Yang Lian retrieved his badge with a smile. “This is a serious matter. If anything comes up, you’ll find us at the Divine Martial Army barracks.”

“Understood,” the squad leader replied respectfully. These were officers of the imperial guard, and even the lowest among them often went on to high command elsewhere. He would not risk offending them.

“Farewell,” Yang Lian said, dagger in hand, as he and his companions walked away.

The squad leader squinted after them, frowning at the trouble now on his hands.

The Duke of Dongping, Li Hongji, resided in a mansion near the imperial city, by the banks of the Qinhuai River, close to the Confucius Temple where the river met. It was a location of exceptional merit.

Li Hongji, hands clasped behind his back, appeared deep in thought. His troublemaking at the Xiaoxiang Pavilion today had not been without purpose. On one hand, he coveted Zeng Yiling’s beauty, wishing to take her as a concubine. On the other, he suspected something odd about the Pavilion itself.

The Xiaoxiang Pavilion had only appeared in Jinling the previous year. The madam had no known patron but spent lavishly, buying up most of the properties and land in the neighborhood. The entire Anye ward seemed to belong to her. Such swift expansion and bold acquisitions made Li Hongji deeply suspicious that some secret lay hidden behind it all.

He had gone himself today to probe, but an unexpected rival had ruined his plans. With his status, no one in the Pavilion would dare challenge him. Yet Yang Lian had done just that, showing him no courtesy at all.

Zeng Yiling had drawn lots and chosen Yang Lian, who then acted with such assertiveness that Li Hongji suspected there was some connection between the two. He had already dispatched men to seize Yang Lian, confident that with his methods, even the toughest man would eventually spill every secret. Then, the mystery of the Xiaoxiang Pavilion would be solved.

At this thought, excitement stirred in Li Hongji. Another triumph before the emperor would surely improve his chances as heir.