Chapter 53: A Thief Is Always a Thief

“Hyah!”
“Hyah!!”
On the official road, more than twenty horses galloped relentlessly, but as arrows struck men from behind, sending them tumbling from their mounts, the leader’s shouted command forced the riders to rein in their steeds and turn to face their pursuers.

Years of plundering and pillaging had left these bandits a little plump; they all knew, with the Sui soldiers hot on their heels, escape was impossible. Yet, seeing only a handful of pursuers kindled their rage—a cornered beast would still fight, and these men had killed without blinking in the past.

“Kill them!” Zhang Jinchen roared, sword in hand. Leading his twenty-odd followers, he charged on horseback toward the few Sui soldiers.

Fu Zihou, gripping his longbow, fired an arrow as his warhorse thundered forward, striking a rebel in the face and sending him tumbling to the ground. Lowering his bow, Fu Zihou drew the horse lance from his saddle, ducking quickly to avoid incoming arrows.

Facing the rebels, outnumbered, Fu Zihou slowed his horse. As the twenty-some rebels approached, he wielded his lance deftly, parrying one’s attack and counter-thrusting at another.

Back when old Liu taught him spear techniques, there were no horses involved, but the lack only affected his mobility—not his skill or form. Under Liu’s strict guidance, Fu Zihou trained to be not only swift but powerful, never sluggish.

On the official road, as Fu Zihou engaged the rebels, Cao Yong, Xiong Ruixiang, and others fought in similar fashion, riding and slaughtering rebels with long swords and lances.

As Zhang Jinchen’s trusted men, these twenty-plus rebels wore armor far superior to the rear-guard rabble on the battlefield. Thus, unless Cao Yong and his comrades struck exposed areas, a single blow would not kill. Yet, at such close range, it was still easy to target weak spots; those wielding lances, whether thrusting or sweeping, could injure with sheer force, knocking enemies to the ground.

“Kill him for me!” Zhang Jinchen, seeing his numerical advantage, shouted fiercely, sword in hand, urging his men on.

He was now regretting his past indulgence: his confidants all wore swords everywhere, unwilling to wield horse lances regularly. Now, as the Sui officer kept slaying his trusted men, Zhang Jinchen sheathed his sword, grabbed the longbow from his horse, nocked an arrow, and aimed at Fu Zihou.

Years of live target practice had given Zhang Jinchen confidence in his archery. As the arrow was trained on the Sui officer, he almost saw the scene of him falling from his horse.

A cruel, smug smile twisted Zhang Jinchen’s lips.

At that moment, Fu Zihou, holding the lance, blocked a rebel’s sword, then struck down at the man’s face, sending him screaming from his horse. As another rebel slashed, Fu Zihou prepared to parry, but suddenly, his pupils contracted—without hesitation, he vaulted from his mount.

“Die!” Zhang Jinchen released his arrow with a snarl.

At such close range, he was certain the officer would die. But as he let go, Zhang Jinchen watched in horror as the Sui officer leapt from his horse, the arrow barely missing him and striking the distant ground.

“Damn it!” Zhang Jinchen cursed, hurriedly grabbing another arrow, but as he looked again, the chaotic melee had already blocked his line of sight.

Beside him, Zhang Tai, also mounted, witnessed the scene. Though unfamiliar with Fu Zihou, Zhang Tai knew that this Sui officer had personally slain Xu Jinpeng on the battlefield, holding up his severed head and causing the army to collapse.

As Zhang Tai hesitated over whether to urge his uncle to abandon the others and flee, chaos erupted in the crowd.

Fu Zihou stabbed another bandit, who clutched his throat and teetered. Holding his lance ready to throw, Fu Zihou waited for a gap as the bandit slid from his horse, then, seeing Zhang Jinchen several paces away, stepped forward and hurled the lance with all his strength.

Back home, old Liu had often made Fu Zihou practice this move, extolling its lethality: it could be unused, but must not be unknown.

“Uncle, look out!” Zhang Tai shouted as the lance flew.

Zhang Jinchen saw it coming, terror in his eyes. Years of debauchery had weakened him; age dulled his reactions, and now, he could only raise his hand to block.

The moment he did, pain exploded in his head, his face struck by tremendous force. His nose burned, agony seared his eyes, and his mind went blank.

Less than a heartbeat later, Zhang Jinchen felt his world spin and crashed onto the cold earth.

“Uncle!” Zhang Tai tried to rush over.

But as he saw others witness his uncle’s fall—blood streaming, face contorted in pain—fear crept into their eyes.

Zhang Tai was no fool. He knew what kind of men his uncle’s followers were, where they came from, and why they were loyal.

Recalling Xu Jinpeng’s decapitation, terror consumed Zhang Tai. He looked desperately at the Sui officer a few steps away.

“General, I beg you not to slaughter us all! If you spare me and my uncle, I’ll give you all the gold and treasures I possess!” Zhang Tai cried, pale-faced, sword in hand.

He hoped the Sui officer was greedy enough to spare them for wealth and future prosperity.

But the officer gave no answer; instead, he picked up a blade, parried another strike, then chopped at a horse’s leg. As the horse threw its rider, he finished the man off.

Watching men he once laughed and caroused with fall beneath the Sui officer’s sword, Zhang Tai trembled.

Seeing the officer’s blood-streaked face, the sword dripping crimson…

He realized the man cared nothing for riches, so he quickly turned to the other Sui soldiers.

“Brave Sui soldiers, kill this officer and I’ll give you all my gold and wealth! Riches and glory are yours for the taking!” Zhang Tai shouted, praying they would turn for profit.

But after several moments, Zhang Tai lost hope. The blood-crazed Sui soldiers seemed amused by his offer—none showed the slightest interest in gold.

“I’ll give you some advice: I only want Zhang Jinchen. Take the others and leave,” Fu Zihou replied, catching his breath, sword bloodied, smiling at Zhang Tai.

He glanced at Zhang Jinchen, writhing in pain nearby.

“Once Zhang Jinchen is dead, you can take his place. The treasures you mentioned will belong to you all. Choose: gold and wealth, or death…” Fu Zihou finished, his gaze icy as he stared down a rebel advancing.

The rebel, at least thirty, saw Fu Zihou’s blood-streaked face and chilling eyes, and froze in terror.

The others hesitated, exchanging glances.

Compared to Zhang Tai’s offer, Fu Zihou’s proposal genuinely stirred doubt—eyes darted, some furtively glancing at one another.

Looking at the familiar corpses around, and the blood-crazed Sui soldiers, they remembered—they were bandits, not soldiers. Why die needlessly?

Who wouldn’t want to enjoy those days of revelry?

As for Zhang Jinchen…

He was as good as dead; must they die with him?

“Once he’s dead, the riches will be yours!” Zhang Tai panicked, watching the battlefield quiet, seeing men halt, shouting in fear, his voice cracking.

But as he spoke, the ten-odd rebels showed no sign of action. Instead, after exchanging glances, they seemed to reach a decision.

“Go!” one rebel shouted, wheeling his horse and fleeing.

The rest followed, terrified of falling behind.

“Don’t run! You’ve forgotten—” Zhang Tai shouted, sword raised to threaten.

But the next moment, a rebel rode past, slashing Zhang Tai’s throat in one swift motion.

Zhang Tai’s sword slipped from his hand as he clutched his bleeding neck, eyes wide, staring in shock and terror at the Sui soldiers, at the officer.

Under Fu Zihou, Cao Yong, and Xiong Xiangrui’s gaze, Zhang Tai finally collapsed, blood gushing from his neck.

“Killing their own, how decisive! No loose ends left behind,” Fu Zihou wiped blood from his lips, sneering.

He understood their intent: fear that Zhang Tai might survive and seek vengeance.

Fu Zihou approached Zhang Jinchen, who lay groaning, hands bloody. Rather than kill him outright, Fu Zihou cut a horse rope, bent down, and bound him.

Then he turned to Cao Yong and the others.

Fu Zihou knew these men wished to follow him, and none were cowards.

“Remove your armor. Follow me to Liyang,” Fu Zihou said.

Since they were willing to follow, he would not treat them as outsiders. Bringing Zhang Jinchen to Liyang, rather than back to Qinghe County for a reward, gave him more leverage in negotiations with the Xie family.

As for Cao Yong and the others, their credit for pursuing Zhang Jinchen would be limited. The true reward always belonged to Fu Zihou.

“Yes!” Cao Yong and his companions did not understand why they were to go to Liyang, but sensing Fu Zihou’s changed attitude, they were delighted.

Fu Zihou had led them to defeat Zhang Jinchen’s rebel army; they were not fools, and naturally wished to follow him.

…………………………

In Taoxian County.

Within the Li residence, in the main hall.

“What shall we do now…”

“Indeed!”

Cui Hebo, Cui Jinggong, Cui Xiwen, Cui Yunying, Cui Yunzhong, five elders of the Cui clan, along with officials and commanders from nearby towns, all knelt in the hall.

Cui Wenjin supported her weak brother, standing behind the elders.

Listening to the clamorous discussions, seeing the helplessness regarding the siege of Qinghe, Cui Wenjin’s face was gloomy, her heart full of worry.

In the Li residence’s front courtyard.

Li Qiong, pride of the younger generation, famed for her beauty and talent, stood out among the crowd. Young scholars and officials’ sons fixed their gaze on her, eager to marry such a beauty.

Yet, unlike those officials’ sons and scholars, some noble youths seemed to know something. No matter how much they admired Li Qiong, their eyes held traces of wariness and fear.

“At this point, all we can do is pray the northern army arrives soon.”

“Who can argue? But considering the distance, rations, and supplies, the Sui army can’t possibly arrive that quickly.”

“I fear Qinghe County has already fallen.”

Young scholars and officials discussed, shaking their heads, their words full of regret.

They had come for the Cui clan’s favor and promises, but faced with Qinghe’s plight, they were powerless, praying only that Zhang Jinchen might show restraint and not massacre the city.

But considering Zhang Jinchen’s past ruthlessness, all knew that was unlikely.

Under the pavilion, Li Qiong followed her mother, Lady Zhou, pouring warm tea for the guests.

Hearing the discussions, Li Qiong desired the Cui clan’s favor—if she gained it, she might have a chance to avenge the Liang clan of Shuofang.

Yet, regarding Qinghe’s crisis, she too was helpless.

Outside Taoxian County,

A man on horseback sped to the city gates.

Seeing the Cui clan’s token in his hand, the Sui soldiers guarding the gate stepped aside, not daring to hinder him.