Chapter Thirteen: Blood Feud

The Feng family had always been the undisputed overlords around Baizhou, ruling the area like petty kings. With that single punch, Jiang Feng utterly incited their wrath.

Soon after, Jiang Feng found himself brawling with this group from the Feng family. In the heat of the fight, he lost control for a moment and struck one of them so hard that the man spat blood, was sent flying, and fell unconscious.

The only reason these Feng men dared to bully others was the sheer size and influence of their house—they relied on the family’s accumulated power to do as they pleased. Yet, they weren’t truly Feng family insiders; once they realized Jiang Feng’s strength, they lost their courage, gathered up their gravely wounded companion, and fled back to the Feng residence, groveling and scrambling.

After his anger subsided, Jiang Feng felt uneasy. He’d borrowed money from the Fengs; now he’d gone and beaten their men—he knew he’d crossed a line. After much deliberation, Jiang Feng gathered some rare game meat from the countryside—delicacies seldom seen in town—intending to visit the Feng house to apologize.

But before he could step out with his humble offering, Feng Yuanping arrived with his men.

When it came to arrogance, Feng Yuanping was in a league of his own, far beyond the household retainers. As soon as Jiang Feng saw him, he tried to offer an apology, but Yuanping cut him off with a barrage of insults.

Jiang Feng knew he couldn’t afford to provoke this man, so he swallowed his pride and endured it. Still, he was puzzled. The last time they met, Yuanping had acted affable and polite—why was he now so insufferable?

What Jiang Feng didn’t know was that, during their previous encounter, Feng Yuanping’s younger brother was present, and for the sake of his reputation in his brother’s eyes, he had to feign kindness. Now, as both creditor and avenger, there was no need for pretense, and his overbearing nature was on full display.

Jiang Feng intended to bear it, to focus on earning money to repay his debt and treat his wife’s illness, so that peace might return.

But there is an old saying—every honest man has his breaking point (though here I am, repeating it). No matter how harsh Yuanping’s words, Jiang Feng forced himself to endure them. But then came a threat he could no longer tolerate.

“Here’s how it’ll be: you hurt my men, I’ll give you a chance. Repay your debt in three days—double, two hundred and thirty taels. Otherwise, I’ll notify all the apothecaries and clinics in town not to sell you any medicine. Let your wife fend for herself and see how she fares!”

“You…this is outrageous!”

“Outrageous? You haven’t repaid your debt, you beat my men, and you still think you’re in the right? And you accuse me of being unfair?”

“You—!” Jiang Feng’s lips trembled with fury, unable to find words.

“Hmph! As I said—three days. Remember!” With that, Yuanping turned to leave.

Jiang Feng knew he could never gather so much silver in three days. A dark thought entered his mind: if he dispatched all these Feng men now and disposed of them carefully, perhaps no evidence would remain.

Of course, this was pure fantasy. Even if he could best these men—unlikely, especially since his eldest son couldn’t fight—there was no guarantee he’d leave no survivors. But in his rage, Jiang Feng was beyond reason.

Wordlessly, he hooked a stone with his foot, caught it in his hand, and lunged at Feng Yuanping.

*

A sharp crack split the air.

The bloody spectacle Jiang Feng had imagined did not materialize. Instead, Feng Yuanping had caught his wrist in a vice-like grip.

“Well, well, the cornered dog bares its teeth…” Yuanping sneered, a murderous glint flickering in his eyes.

Jiang Feng, realizing his ambush had failed, swung his free left fist at Yuanping. Yuanping twisted away, knocked the stone from Jiang Feng’s grip, and began his counterattack.

In the brief clash that followed, Jiang Feng quickly realized that Yuanping’s martial prowess far outstripped his own. Even with his son Jiang Zhongqing’s help, they would have stood no chance.

Jiang Feng’s skills were born of battling wild beasts in the mountains—raw, unrefined, relying on brute strength. Feng Yuanping, by contrast, had been trained from childhood by family tutors and had participated in several official missions with the backing of his clan. He was no stranger to real combat, and his technique was solid.

After only a few exchanges, Jiang Feng knew he was utterly outmatched.

…

When Jiang Zhongqing returned home after a day’s hunting, the scene that met his eyes left him frozen, unable to process what he saw in body or mind.

He stood there, dazed, for nearly half an hour before finally regaining his senses and calling out softly, “Father? Mother? Brother…?”

He knew in his heart that his loved ones had been slaughtered. Speaking their names aloud was only a way to force himself back to awareness, to resume thinking.

A piercing scream tore from his throat, echoing to the sky. Anyone who saw Jiang Zhongqing’s eyes in that moment would have seen a wild, savage madness akin to the beasts he hunted.

He knew, without doubt, that this was the work of the Feng family. His home was isolated from the rest of the village; they had no real enemies. If any connection had doomed them, it could only have been the Fengs.

The dead must be honored first. Jiang Zhongqing resolved to tend to his family’s funeral before he even thought of revenge.

But he hadn’t anticipated that the Fengs would remember the Jiang family’s second son. They had done such things before and knew all too well that weeds must be pulled up by the root.

Jiang Zhongqing had barely set up the mourning tent when the Fengs’ assassins arrived. Driven by fury and desperation, he drew his iron sword and met the first wave head-on. Though outnumbered seven or eight to one, his skill and ferocity allowed him not only to survive but to gain a slight upper hand.

But reinforcements soon arrived. After taking a brutal beating, Jiang Zhongqing knew he was outmatched and fled, stumbling, into the city of Baizhou.

…

After hearing this tale, Ye Pei let out a long breath and sighed, “Zhongqing, you’re set on avenging your family yourself, aren’t you?”

*

Jiang Zhongqing clenched his fists and declared, “I must take vengeance with my own hands! They killed my parents and brother—if I do not wipe the Feng family from the face of the earth, I am unworthy to stand beneath heaven!”

Ye Pei grew solemn. “Zhongqing, to be candid, with your level of skill, avenging them alone will be exceedingly difficult.”

Jiang Zhongqing’s expression darkened and he only grunted in reply, saying nothing more.

Ye Pei continued, “How about this: come with me to the Xia Kingdom. I am on a mission to save someone and cannot delay. Otherwise, I’d stay and teach you martial arts here. But time is of the essence. If you travel with me, I can instruct you along the way; you’ll help me while honing your skills. By the time we return, you’ll be strong enough to avenge your family yourself.”

Jiang Zhongqing hesitated. He knew Ye Pei spoke the truth—his strength was lacking. But he still harbored doubts about this man he’d only known for two days. Besides, with his family so newly dead, it felt wrong to leave their souls unguarded and venture off to a dangerous, foreign land at a stranger’s side. And if something happened to him, who would avenge their deaths?

After some thought, Jiang Zhongqing voiced his concerns. Ye Pei sighed and replied, “You are right, but if you stay here to mourn, how long do you think you’ll live? How will you ever avenge them? Let me be frank: I am Ye Pei, son of Ye Linhui, the great general of the realm. I have no reason to deceive you. On the road, I will do my utmost to protect you, seeing your filial devotion. And if calamity should befall you, I swear to avenge your family myself, to grind the Fengs’ bones to dust in their memory.”

Hearing this, Jiang Zhongqing realized that clinging to old rites, staying to mourn, would indeed be unwise. Though Ye Pei wore plain clothes, his bearing was dignified, his skill unmatched, and he exuded the air of one destined to command—there was no reason to doubt his identity. As for revenge, it would likely be a trivial matter for Ye Pei.

In the end, Jiang Zhongqing decided to travel with Ye Pei. It was his only option—he had nowhere to stay, and no other way to improve his martial arts.

That afternoon, Ye Pei and Alan set out once more for the Xia Kingdom, with Jiang Zhongqing at their side.

In terms of martial ability, Jiang Zhongqing had already surpassed his father, Jiang Feng. After several days of training, Ye Pei realized that Zhongqing’s talent was considerable, especially with the sword. After just a few bouts, his progress was astonishing. Had he not already been sixteen or seventeen—past the ideal age for training—his talent would have shone even brighter.

With Ye Pei coaching him daily, their journey slowed somewhat, and it took them half a month to reach the capital of the Xia Kingdom, Starlight City.

As for Uncle Meng’s fate during this half month, there was little real trouble. Though he had assaulted an important figure, it seemed the young lord in black from the Yan clan had other matters to attend to and paid Meng Huaicheng no mind. In the Star River Prison, every cell was solitary, and the cold of the iron walls meant little to a northerner who had trained in martial arts since childhood. His days passed in meditation, not comfort, but at least not in hardship.

However, breaking into Star River Prison would be no easy feat. The prison was entirely underground, heavily guarded, and divided into three sections laid out in a triangular pattern. The wardens in each area were elite, specially trained, and the chief jailers were selected from the top ranks of the military. There were no labyrinthine corridors—only rows of cells—making escape unlikely and guard duty straightforward. Prisoners were moved to new cells at random every month, sometimes even to different sections. Guards served three months each year, with nine months off and excellent pay, but were required to sign a strict oath: if they revealed any secrets about the prison, all former guards and their families would be executed—the men killed, the women sold into brothels, and minors exiled.

This, then, was the nigh-impenetrable fortress Ye Pei was about to face.