Chapter 83: Zhao Yinling Is Dead?

"Kill!"

"Kill all these dogs!"

"Protect Master Biao, hurry, protect Master Biao…"

"Brothers, let's fight these country bumpkins to the end…"

In the blink of an eye, the situation on the front lines became clear. Though Biao and his men were greater in number and more robust and ferocious, they found themselves pinned down by Mao Xiaocao’s musket fire from the front and the back-to-back grenades thrown by Zhao Zengjin from behind. At this point, almost every one of them was wounded; many were already incapable of further resistance. With Zhao Zengjin’s reinforcements swiftly joining the fray and Zhang Kun and his men breaking through to support from the front, the battlefield had transformed into a one-sided slaughter.

But at this moment, Li Yuanjing had no mind to care for the front lines. Like a nimble wildcat, he darted through the darkness, fierce and focused, and spotted—a familiar figure, terrified out of his wits, stumbling and fleeing toward the outskirts of Quanzi Village.

With the scale of tonight’s events, how could Li Yuanjing possibly let him escape? In just a few quick strides, he was upon him, pouncing like a hungry tiger and bringing the figure crashing to the ground.

“Ah?”

“Scholar Li?”

“No, Master Li, Master Li, spare me…”

Recognizing Li Yuanjing, the man was so terrified he nearly lost his soul, desperately begging for mercy.

“Master Wang, who would have thought we'd meet again so soon,” Li Yuanjing pressed the man down, a cold smile curling at his lips as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. This was none other than Wang Baotian, Wang Youdao’s trusted steward— the very man who had once handed over provisions to Li Yuanjing near Daguo Village.

“Master Li, I’m innocent! I swear I’m innocent, please—”

Wang Baotian was clearly terrified out of his mind, pleading incessantly. But as he begged, his eyes suddenly widened in horror, as if he’d seen something unspeakable behind Li Yuanjing, his voice choked off in panic.

Li Yuanjing, seeing his expression, immediately grew alert. Yet he did not turn around; instead, he shifted his weight and drove a vicious elbow straight into Wang Baotian’s face.

The blow nearly knocked Wang Baotian unconscious, his mouth and nose streaming with blood. Only then did Li Yuanjing roll away and quickly check behind him.

But there was nothing—no one was there. Instead, Wang Baotian’s hand now gripped a dagger that had not been there before.

Li Yuanjing’s lips curled with a wry, knowing smile. “So, Master Wang, you really are a wily one. Unfortunately, you don’t realize I invented these little tricks.”

Before he finished speaking, Wang Baotian let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered, as Li Yuanjing’s foot came down mercilessly on his knee. Against such a treacherous man, Li Yuanjing showed not the slightest mercy.

...

“Master, are you all right?”

Not long after, the battle at the front was completely over. Zhang Kun, Zhao Zengjin, the old village chief, and the others, having heard Wang Baotian’s screams from Li Yuanjing’s interrogation, hurried over.

“I’m fine,” Li Yuanjing replied coolly, relieved to see his people. “Tie up this cur and bring him up to the hill!”

“Yes, sir!”

With Wang Baotian securely bound and taken away, Li Yuanjing joined the old village chief and others to inspect the battlefield.

Nearly twenty men had come with Biao; fourteen or fifteen lay dead, and even Biao himself had been nearly decapitated—he was long since dead. The two survivors fared little better, both wounded by grenade shrapnel and unconscious; they were unlikely to survive the night.

Quanzi Village had won, and decisively, but at a cost. Two men were gravely wounded—one, Liu Quan, had been struck by a flying axe that pierced his tattered cotton jacket and lodged deep in his chest near the heart. Though still breathing, he seemed unlikely to last the night. The other man had suffered a crippling leg wound, a permanent injury.

“Take good care of Liu Quan and the other; if there’s any hope of saving them, spare no expense. I, Li Yuanjing, will cover all the costs!” Though he’d never been one for grand gestures, at this moment, Li Yuanjing saw no other choice.

“Master…”

“Boss, boss…”

At his words, every man present—Zhang Kun, Zhao Zengjin, and all the rest—had red eyes. In the past, their lives had been worth less than nothing; when had anyone ever shown them such care?

The old village chief gripped Li Yuanjing’s hand, wanting to speak, but the words would not come.

Seeing their faces, Li Yuanjing’s own eyes reddened. A thousand words surged up in his heart, but in the end, they dissolved into a deep, unspeakable silence.

What could he say? What words could possibly suffice?

No wonder that in later generations, military experts would say: “In the age of firearms, the yellow race is the finest source of soldiers.” For all kinds of reasons, their endurance, courage, diligence, and especially their discipline—how could mere words ever do them justice?

For a long moment, Li Yuanjing composed himself before turning to the old village chief. “Uncle, how is the north gate holding up?”

The old chief replied quickly, “Don’t worry, Yuanjing. They only burned a few piles of wood, lost three houses—no one was hurt!”

Li Yuanjing nodded. “Uncle, things are still uncertain. I must ask you to remain vigilant—don’t let anyone leave or enter the village tonight.”

“Understood. Yuanjing, you can rest easy,” the old man assured him, knowing well that in the darkness of night, this was no time for questions. He immediately called for men to stand watch; all would be discussed in the morning.

After settling Zhang Kun, Zhao Zengjin, and the others, Li Yuanjing had Wang Baotian brought to his temporary office.

“Master Li, have mercy, please! I was forced by my master, I swear—how could I dare oppose you otherwise?”

By now, Wang Baotian had already been doused with cold water by Zhao Zengjin and the others outside. On seeing Li Yuanjing, he dropped to his knees, trembling, begging for his life.

“Did my Uncle Wang Youdao send you?” Li Yuanjing sneered and kicked him hard in the shoulder. “Do you take me for a child to be fooled?”

He called out, “Bring in the wooden skewers! If we don’t teach this cur a lesson, he’ll never confess!”

Zhang Kun and his men entered at once, pinning Wang Baotian down, especially his hands. Zhang Kun picked up a freshly sharpened skewer and, with a cold laugh, pressed it toward Wang Baotian’s fingers. “You wretched bastard, our master gave you every courtesy, and you still dare play games? Let’s see how you like my methods!”

Before the words were finished, Zhang Kun drove a skewer deep under Wang Baotian’s fingernail.

Wang Baotian’s scream was beyond description. He pleaded desperately, but Li Yuanjing didn’t even glance at him. With a heavy step, he strode out the door. Only at the entrance did he call back, “If this cur is ready to talk, call me!”

“Yes, sir!”

As Li Yuanjing slammed the door, Wang Baotian’s agonized cries rang out again.

Just as Li Yuanjing finally allowed himself a breath, Chen Chunyan came running, pale and trembling, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. “Master, master, something terrible has happened… Second Madam Zhao—Miss Zhao Yinling—she… she’s dead…”

“What?!”