Chapter 48: The Courage of a Thousand, the Strategy of Ten Thousand

At that moment, Zhu Cilang’s furious roar rang out: “Fu Rugui, take everyone and charge out!”

Seeing this, Fu Rugui instantly understood that Zhu Cilang was sacrificing himself to save the others. His eyes brimmed with tears as he shouted angrily, “Go! Don’t be a burden!”

Only then did Old Seventeen and the disordered soldiers realize Zhu Cilang’s true plan—it was right here!

More than forty riders galloped wildly, racing eastward along the open road.

The chaotic soldiers, stunned by Zhu Cilang’s actions and lacking any command, were left standing in confusion. Fu Rugui seized the moment, leading his men to break out easily.

Old Seventeen’s eyes nearly burst with rage, but he had no time to worry about Fu Rugui and those escaping. He rushed forward in great strides, his gaze fixed only on the ledger tossed high into the air, Zhu Cilang’s flashing sword, Chen Gaowen’s bloody demise, and Qiao Bosheng, now in mortal peril.

“You want the ledger? Here it is!” Zhu Cilang roared, hurling the heavy ledger toward Qiao Bosheng.

As Qiao Bosheng instinctively reached for the ledger, the sound of rushing wind suddenly assaulted his ears.

His years of battlefield experience kicked in; twisting his waist, he spun left to evade, reaching out with his left hand to grab the ledger and swiftly drawing his Embroidered Spring Blade with his right.

Qiao Bosheng, a seasoned veteran, was steady and skilled in killing. Yet Zhu Cilang’s movements were even faster!

Fresh from slaying a man, Zhu Cilang, radiating a blood-soaked aura, charged in and delivered a brutal elbow to Qiao Bosheng’s left flank, knocking him off balance. Zhu Cilang then spun behind him, and his sword—flexible as a whip—lashed at Qiao Bosheng’s right hand, forcing him to defend and block with his blade.

Clang!

“They’ve escaped, but you’re going to die!” Chen Gaowen was dead, and Qiao Bosheng now fought like a madman.

Zhu Cilang’s face was splattered with Chen Gaowen’s blood, his smile twisted and ferocious. “Is that so?”

Suddenly, Zhu Cilang slowly closed his eyes and slashed his soft sword at Qiao Bosheng’s ledger-holding left hand. Qiao Bosheng saw the sword coming—urgent and quick. Fear and cold amusement warred within him.

He could easily block this slash. Zhu Cilang would waste his chance, making escape impossible!

In a flash, Qiao Bosheng made a ruthless decision: he tossed the ledger aside, swung his blade with his right hand, and struck at Zhu Cilang’s flank, exploiting the moment between Zhu Cilang’s spent force and new attack.

A soft sound rang out.

Zhu Cilang’s sword struck precisely into a page bound with a fine thread. Instantly, a white mist exploded, scattering powder and filling the air within a yard’s radius.

A shrill scream pierced the air. The long blade fell, clattering to the ground.

In the eyes of all the chaotic soldiers who hadn’t yet rushed over, the sword’s flash was especially bright, shining like a star within the erupting white mist.

“Make them fall back,” Zhu Cilang said, his eyes closed, a mocking smile on his blood-stained face, letting the screams ring in his ears.

Old Seventeen froze, his whole body rigid. “Everyone, stop!”

Hundreds of chaotic soldiers surged forward, their rusty or gleaming blades and arrowheads now just a step away from Zhu Cilang.

As the white mist slowly dissipated, the source of the screams emerged at last.

Zhu Cilang had Qiao Bosheng in a chokehold, the tip of his flexible sword pressed to Qiao Bosheng’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled into his armor.

Despite the agony in his eyes causing tears to stream down his face, Qiao Bosheng dared not move, fearful that a flick of the sword would end his life.

“Stop! Stop! Get me cooking oil, lard—quickly, get it!” Qiao Bosheng howled. Hundreds of soldiers, weapons raised, felt a nameless, indescribable terror well up within, followed by deep despair.

Qiao San’er was famed for his valor, respected by these battle-hardened veterans.

Yet such a fierce warrior had been slain before their eyes by a mere youth, who then captured him—even with hundreds armed men present!

How could they not feel a sense of absurdity and profound dejection?

“A hero among thousands… a strategist among tens of thousands… such ferocity…”

Meanwhile, in the Imperial Academy, a student had witnessed everything firsthand. He swallowed hard, stifled his voice, took several deep breaths to calm himself, steadied his trembling body, and, just as the soldiers were lost in confusion and despair, quietly found his escape.

He tiptoed backwards, making no sound, and soon reached the main road, sprinting wildly. In no time, he was out of the Academy.

Once outside, he didn’t head home. His eyes glowed with excitement. “This news… is worth a fortune!”

He immediately raced west, aiming for Lingchun Lane, just west of Chongjiaofang.

He ran west from Dongzhimen along its main avenue, and when he reached Andingmen Street, he arrived at Shuntian Prefecture Street.

Those living near Lingchun Lane by Shuntian Prefecture were naturally the court clerks and officials, especially those whose families had been rooted there for generations, possessing deep connections and formidable influence.

When the student arrived at an inconspicuous courtyard in Shuntian Prefecture, its master was already restless, anxiously watching two men kneeling below, delivering news and rubbing his head in distress.

These two were Wang Rui and Lin Guzhong, clerks from the Ministry of Revenue. Clearly, they felt disaster looming; whether Chen Gaowen’s Zhejiang faction won or Zhu Cilang turned the tide, neither outcome boded well for them, so they sought a way out.

Before them sat their last hope: the elderly Wang Beiguan, chief clerk of the Shuntian Prefecture.

Wang Beiguan seemed unremarkable, his official position nominally that of a mere clerk, but in truth, he was the most influential among the clerks of Shuntian Prefecture, akin to the Minister of Personnel within the world of court clerks—a leading figure among the clerks of the capital’s ministries, temples, and the prefecture.

At this moment, Wang Beiguan was tormented by headache. In his left hand was a secret letter recently delivered by Fu Rugui; with his right, he pointed at Wang Rui and Lin Guzhong, sighing repeatedly. “A great calamity has struck, there’s nowhere to hide. Now even a mutiny has begun—this is a fight to the death. No matter how it ends, the roots of our family’s legacy will change.”

After his sigh, Wang Beiguan made up his mind. He quietly put the letter aside, but then his steward, Wang Jiufu, entered and whispered in his ear.

Wang Beiguan immediately tucked the letter into his robe and ordered the visitor to be brought in.

Wang Jiufu, carrying out his orders, brought the student inside. In just a few breaths, Wang Beiguan suddenly shouted at Wang Rui and Lin Guzhong, “Go to the Ministry of Revenue! If we act too late, generations of accumulated wealth will be destroyed in my hands! Qin Xia… Qin Xia…”

“Jiufu, prepare fifty thousand taels of silver for each of these useless fools! If their families can’t gather enough, I’ll cover it myself!”