Chapter 132: Brother Du Hui

In these times, common folk faced great trouble when traveling far from home. One had to apply through their village or ward, which would then petition the next level up, eventually reaching the prefecture for approval. The process was tedious and time-consuming.

Under such a system, urgent matters ceased to be urgent. One could only wait for the prefecture's approval.

County magistrates were supposed to enjoy more freedom, yet even they had to notify the prefecture before traveling afar; if the inspector disapproved, the journey was forbidden.

“Going to Xuanzhou?” Liu Qing’s face darkened. “Planning to make a scene at the military governor’s office? Shame on me!”

“You underestimate me, sir,” Yang Xuan said with righteous indignation. “Taiping may be poor, but it is a place with dignity.”

Liu Qing eyed him suspiciously. “If others say that, I might believe it. You… go then. The sooner you leave and return, the better. Spring plowing needs oversight.”

“Yes, sir!”

Just as Yang Xuan was about to leave, Lu Qiang arrived, panting heavily at the door, hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Six counties… six counties…” he gasped.

“Six counties… something’s wrong. We must go,” Yang Xuan said without hesitation and broke into a run.

“Hey! Hey!” Lu Qiang called out, but Yang Xuan was already gone.

“That brat!” Lu Qiang fumed. “Governor, you really should keep him in check.”

Liu Qing slammed his fist on the table. “Damn it! You were the one who encouraged me to indulge this promising young man. What good does complaining now do? You’re just slapping your own face.”

Lu Qiang forced a bitter smile. “This year’s spring plowing is set to expand. We need each county’s magistrate to commit how much land they can clear. Damn it, that brat ran off. When the magistrates of the other five counties arrive in Lin’an and see this, sir, those old fogies will say you’re playing favorites with Yang Xuan again.”

Liu Qing fell silent.

After a long pause, he said calmly, “That brat is obsessed with making crossbows. We can’t help him here. Now that he’s gone to Xuanzhou, he won’t settle down. He’s been a handful to me, but now let the military governor deal with him.”

Lu Qiang responded, “The officialdom is a place of cultivation. Too much fuss invites jealousy. Governor, by indulging him so, aren’t you worried he’ll become a target and meet an early end without achievement?”

Liu Qing smiled. “Look at the great ministers of the Tang Dynasty. Those without a background all climbed from the bottom, each step marked by blood, tears, and hard lessons. People must endure hardship. If the path is too smooth, one wrong step might be the end.”

Lu Qiang shook his head. “We’ve both fallen before. Watching that boy stumble… but one cannot stand firm without toughness.”

Liu Qing glanced at the documents before him.

Slowly he said, “I believe in him, so I must temper him. If he endures, he will surpass me and become great. If not, then he simply isn’t destined. He can take a post in some wealthy place and live out his days in peace.”

Lu Qiang asked, “What if the tempering breaks him?”

“If you’re afraid of everything, you shouldn’t become an official. Better to be a wealthy landowner at home,” Liu Qing’s eyes were steady. “If the tempering breaks him, so be it—that’s fate.”

Outside, someone was peeking in.

Then a roar rose as expected: “Sneaking around like thieves!”

***

The Wang family owned many mines in the northern borderlands; the closest to Taiping lay just west of Xuanzhou. The military governor was stationed in Xuanzhou, so despite being near the frontier, these mines were as secure as a fortress.

Yang Xuan rode slowly with thirty horsemen.

On the ground, last year’s withered grass still lingered, no sign of fresh green, but the air carried an indefinable, mysterious scent.

“That’s the smell of earth,” the old bandit said knowingly. “When I used to rob tombs, I could sniff the soil to know if there was a grave beneath.”

This aging rogue had lately become obsessed with military strategy, never putting down his books.

Wang Lao’er licked his lips, feeling the bundle strapped to his horse’s back.

Yang Xuan said calmly, “One more piece of jerky, and that’s your dinner gone for today.”

“I’m just feeling it,” Wang Lao’er replied.

The old bandit lifted his eyes, weariness etched deep into his face, prompting Wang Lao’er to hope for some praise.

“I don’t know how Chang Sanniang is doing. Such a frail woman—makes me ache with sympathy.”

“Tch!” Wang Lao’er spurred his horse away a bit.

“Why so far?” the old bandit grumbled.

“Better to keep distance in case lightning strikes and drags me down too.”

Even Yang Xuan was impressed. “Lao’er’s improved lately!”

Wang Lao’er nodded proudly. “The old bandit’s books have plenty of advice like that.”

The old bandit smiled modestly.

“What else?” Yang Xuan asked.

Wang Lao’er grinned, “Well… I’m greatly favored, my lord, spare me…”

The old bandit blushed deeply. “Shut up!”

Damn it!

Yang, their leader, thought his crew a bunch of scoundrels. Finally, when a simple soul like Wang Lao’er appeared, these rascals dragged him off course.

The old bandit chuckled awkwardly, then pointed to the right, changing the subject. “My lord, earlier I spoke at length with some scouts. They said a small tribe recently moved in over there. Not many people… They planned to pillage them, but then learned it’s the tribe of the beloved of the Qipo Khan of the northern tribes. Ha ha ha!”

Bandits pillaged indiscriminately. Northern Liao tribes raided the Tang, and the Tang armies likewise plundered the northern Liao.

Such was the reality of the northern borderlands. A single raid could ignite a great war at any moment.

“Qipo? Why would he place his lover here?” Yang Xuan found it unnatural.

The old bandit laughed. “Apparently Qipo fears his wife. After finally finding a lover, someone informed on her. His wife swore to kill the woman, so he hurriedly sent his lover and tribe fleeing to Tang territory, where his wife’s people dare not follow.”

That afternoon, they camped far from the roadside.

The tents were pitched, a bonfire lit.

They roasted a chicken bought earlier, the old bandit carefully brushing it with oil.

Wang Lao’er prepared meat broth beside him.

Jerky and bloody chicken innards went in—everything was ready.

Even the feathers weren’t wasted, cast into the fire, releasing a pungent smell. Wang Lao’er was kicked by Yang Xuan.

The chicken was cooked, the broth rich.

Hoofbeats approached.

“Be alert!”

The pounding hooves sounded like thunder. Yang Xuan, experienced now, said, “About three hundred riders, flanking us. No escape. Stay alert.”

He, the old bandit, and thirty horsemen mounted.

Wang Lao’er, foolish as ever, went back for the roasted chicken, clutching it with burning hands, panting.

“They’re bandits!” someone said.

The three hundred bandits shouted as they encircled them.

“Where are you from, brothers?” Yang Xuan called out, adopting a streetwise demeanor.

A soldier asked, “What does that mean, sir?”

No one knew.

Yet they all wore plain clothes.

The bandits silently closed in.

A black-faced man with loose hair rode forward, eyes like lightning fixed on Yang Xuan.

“Who are you?”

Yang Xuan smiled. “Just doing some small-time business to get by.”

“Where from?”

“From Chenzhou,” Yang Xuan sighed. “Damn those corrupt officials of Chenzhou—they crushed us. Brother Liang Chao knows, right?”

The black-faced man nodded.

Yang Xuan said sadly, “They’re all gone, wiped out. I saw the writing on the wall and fled with my men.”

The black-faced man’s gaze swept over the plainclothes soldiers.

Each glared back, unwilling to yield.

Who were they? Villains from the Sin City!

Had Yang Xuan brought regular troops, this masquerade as bandits would have failed. But this gang of ruthless men radiated the same aura as true bandits.

The black-faced man nodded. “I am Hong Chun.”

“Greetings, Boss Hong! Brother Du Hui,” Yang Xuan saluted. “We’ve long heard of your reputation—your skills are profound, and those tribes stand no chance… let alone the corrupt officials.”

The old bandit secretly admired Yang Xuan’s cool demeanor and sarcastic tone when mentioning “corrupt officials.”

“Good acting, my lord!”

He gave Wang Lao’er a wary glance—time to be cautious.

No choice; even he couldn’t withstand Hong Chun.

Hong Chun was a notorious bandit leader near Xuanzhou, highly skilled himself, commanding three hundred elite riders who roamed freely between Tang and northern Liao, untouchable.

Wang Lao’er whispered, “Run.”

The old bandit whispered back, “We can’t win.”

Never had he felt so desperate, not even with Wa Hai around.

Yang Xuan knew they were outmatched and racked his brain for ways to send Hong Chun away.

“Boss Hong, where are you headed? The sun’s setting…”

Better leave soon, don’t waste time.

Hong Chun looked at the sunset. “We can’t leave today. This place is fine, we’ll camp here.”

Yang Xuan wanted to curse but kept up a friendly tone. “Got food?”

Hong Chun nodded. “Brother Du, don’t be polite. We’ve got some, though short on oil.”

Oil was precious!

This courtesy left a strong impression.

Bonfires flickered nearby, scents of various foods wafted.

Hong Chun’s men camped about ten paces away from Yang Xuan’s group.

“That distance ensures neither side can surprise the other, but they can strike at any moment,” the old bandit said, testing his military theories.

“Stay alert. We’ll take turns keeping watch. If anything’s off, we act,” Yang Xuan was no naive innocent; otherwise, he’d have died on Mount Dongyu long ago.

“We’ll shake them off tomorrow,” the old bandit suddenly remembered, “My lord, weren’t you afraid of being discovered?”

Hong Chun was a legendary expert. If found out, a single slap could end Yang Xuan.

Yang Xuan picked up a dry twig, picturing a movie hero lighting a cigarette, speaking deep lines to a woman, then rolling into his tent to complete the mission.

But beside him was the old bandit.

“Afraid? Of course. But Hong Chun appears aloof yet is actually arrogant. Such men are easily misled by flattery. I praised him, and since my men look fierce, he won’t probe further.”

The old bandit grew curious. “With all your experience, how did you spot Hong Chun’s arrogance?”

Yang Xuan said calmly, “The spring wind is biting. Wearing hair loose and riding fast looks carefree. But bandits rarely bathe. Look at Hong Chun…”

The old bandit looked up. Hong Chun was close enough to see his long hair flowing and surprisingly smooth.

“I saw it. The other bandits have messy hair, but his is sleek and unbound. Why would a bandit leader groom his hair so carefully and leave it loose?”

The old bandit pondered. “Carefree?”

More like putting on airs.

Yang Xuan glanced at Hong Chun.

In that world, men mostly had short hair, but some artists kept long hair—either ponytails or flowing locks.

Hong Chun stood and waved toward them.

Yang Xuan rose, whispering, “Stay alert.”

He walked over slowly; the bandits by the fire also turned toward him.

Their eyes were fierce, defiant.

Like his flowing hair, Hong Chun’s actions were graceful. Most bandits tried to recruit as many as possible to swell their numbers, but Hong Chun wanted only the best.

Three hundred riders roamed the grasslands. Whenever they appeared, those they plundered could only struggle hopelessly, awaiting death.

“Brother Du, sit!” Hong Chun’s speech was blunt.

“Thank you,” Yang Xuan said, maintaining dignity despite the small-time bandit leader status.

Hong Chun sipped from a wine skin, his hair cascading over his shoulders. He brushed it back and said, “You come from Chenzhou, but I see no supplies. You won’t last five days. How do you plan to survive?”

The bandits around sneered.

One, probably a minor leader, sneered, “If you escaped, why is your blade so neat? You think we’re fools?”

I underestimated them!

Yang Xuan looked to Hong Chun, uneasy.

If Hong Chun suspected, why hadn’t he acted?

Perhaps he wanted to display his dominance before his men.

Yang Xuan smiled wryly. “All bought recently from the Washei tribe. To be honest, brothers heard of a wealthy small tribe here and planned a raid. So I bought these blades and bows at high price… but those Chenzhou dogs suddenly struck. Some died, some fled.”

He sighed. “Only thirty of us remain. To rise again, we need money. So I brought my men here.”

“What money?” the bandit leader’s eyes gleamed.

Greed drives men and birds alike.

Yang Xuan pointed right. “I wanted to go solo, but with so few men left, Boss Hong, how about we join forces to raid that small tribe? You take seventy percent, I take thirty.”

Hong Chun studied him silently.

The night wind stirred his long hair.

“You take twenty, I take eighty.”

Yang Xuan lowered his head, contemplating.

“Fine!”

“When do we strike?” Hong Chun asked.

A test.

Yang Xuan said, “The sooner, the better.”

Hong Chun nodded. “Let’s move!”

Three hundred riders vanished into the night.

The old bandit whispered, “My lord, that’s the Qipo Khan’s lover’s tribe. Qipo will go mad.”

Yang Xuan looked at him, surprised. “What does that have to do with us?”

The old bandit was silent.

Ahead, Hong Chun waved. “Brother Du, how far?”

“Not far,” Yang Xuan replied with a smile. “Just beside a small hill.”

Indeed, the hill’s shadow loomed close.

By it sat a tribe of several hundred, their camp deep in slumber.

“Prepare!” Hong Chun raised his blade and swung down fiercely.

Hooves thundered, shattering the still night.