Chapter Fifty: The Young Lord

On the side of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the search for Cheng Yuyan was proceeding with great urgency. By a twist of fate, however, they stumbled upon a lead involving Soft-Spun Silk, and this information was immediately reported to the Northern Directorate of Surveillance.

Meanwhile, Su Bai’s luck could hardly be called good.

Under the blazing sun, a square wooden platform stood with a row of wooden stakes—over a dozen in all, each thick enough that it would take two teenagers to encircle one with their arms. Yet these details paled in comparison to what truly mattered: each stake bore a bound captive.

Among them were children not yet ten, young wives from happy families, spirited youths, and even wealthy merchants of local renown. Though their stations in life were vastly different, as they hung bound to the stakes, they were united by an identical fate: death could claim any one of them at any moment.

Our comrade Su Bai was, of course, no exception. In fact, given his recent display (though it was likely Wei Mingyuan being referenced, to outsiders both brothers were anything but ordinary), the lash fell upon him more than upon the others.

His already frail body bore the brunt of misfortune; the welts from the whip left him in agony, unable to sleep at night. Once, after a particularly vicious beating, he slipped into unconsciousness. Were it not for the kindness of a fellow captive—a gentle-hearted young woman—he would likely not have survived until now.

Yet what difference was there between days like this and death? To linger, unable to live or die, had become the perfect embodiment of his last two years.

“Brat, don’t you dare play dead with me!”

With a sharp crack, a fresh welt sprang up across Su Bai’s thigh, and he could not suppress a muffled groan.

“Well, you’re a tough one, aren’t you? After all these days, you’ve still got that look of death about you. I’d like to see how long you can hold out.”

Had he still lived on Earth, Su Bai would have swallowed his pride and endured in silence. But now, with death all but certain, he had no patience left for submission. His eyes, blazing with rage and bloodshot from exhaustion, met the soldier’s gaze with a ferocity that startled all who saw it.

Even the soldier who had just whipped him felt a chill run down his spine, as if a fierce tiger had fixed its deadly gaze upon him. He stood rooted in place, heart pounding uneasily.

But reason soon prevailed—it was clear Su Bai was but a lamb awaiting slaughter. Yet the man’s own moment of weakness left him feeling humiliated, especially as he sensed his comrades’ quiet laughter behind him.

“How dare you glare at me? I’ll beat you to death!” The soldier raised his whip again, and the onlookers could only mourn for Su Bai in their hearts.

Finally, unable to bear the agony that felt as if his very body were being torn apart, Su Bai’s hoarse voice broke into a harrowing scream. The sound alone sent shivers down the spines of those bound alongside him.

A deep, bloody gash opened across his chest, his skin already torn and battered—a single lash had nearly claimed half his life.

When the scream faded, Su Bai’s head drooped, and he fell silent.

“Did you kill him?” Someone nearby, seeing Su Bai unconscious, drew closer with concern.

“Impossible. That kid’s as tough as nails.” As if to prove his point, or perhaps to show off his “skills” before his peers, the soldier struck Su Bai once more.

But this time, there was no response. A heavy silence fell over the scene, broken only by the wind, which seemed to still in its wake.

“Stop pretending to be dead! Get up!” The soldier’s voice wavered with panic.

“He’s a person specifically named by the higher-ups—you’d better not actually kill him,” someone beside him warned.

“What... what do I do?” Now completely at a loss, the soldier recalled how much attention had been paid to this boy—he’d been ordered to extract information from him. If he died under his hands, the consequences would be dire.

“Get him down, quickly!” the other man urged, frowning at the panicked soldier as onlookers whispered among themselves.

“Do you think he’ll survive after a beating like that?”

Glancing at Su Bai’s battered body, another replied, “I doubt it. But that dog Hu Xie has made plenty of enemies—maybe this time he’ll get a taste of his own medicine.”

At that moment, Hu Xie was hurrying through the camp with the unconscious Su Bai slung over his back, desperate to find a physician.

“Faster, hurry!” he muttered anxiously.

A sudden gust of wind kicked up a cloud of yellow sand, blowing directly into Hu Xie’s eyes and blinding him. Even so, his legs never stopped, heedless of anyone in his way.

With a crash, Hu Xie was struck by a tall, powerful horse and sent flying. By sheer luck, he landed face-down on a pile of straw, allowing Su Bai to remain draped across his back.

The collision knocked Hu Xie out cold. Bystanders rushed to help, lifting Su Bai onto a stretcher to carry him to a nearby hut.

But at that moment, the middle-aged man atop the horse spoke: “Who did I just hit? And why was he carrying a hostage?”

The attendants hesitated, not used to such direct questioning. One finally replied, “Reporting to the Deputy Captain, that seemed to be Hu Xie, one of those guarding prisoners in the Tongxuan Camp. As for the child he was carrying, I believe... I believe he’s a particularly important captive.”

“Oh?” The deputy squinted at Su Bai, though the boy was turned away and his features were obscured.

“Would you like to take a closer look, sir?”

The deputy withdrew his gaze. “No. Let’s go.”

“Yes, sir.” Still a bit puzzled, the attendant glanced once more at Su Bai before ordering the men to carry both captives away for treatment.

The days Su Bai spent recovering from his injuries returned once more, though this time, the atmosphere was anything but warm.

Even after two days of care, Su Bai showed no sign of waking, leaving everyone at a loss—especially Wenshan Yuan, who had witnessed the strange abilities of both Su Bai and Wei Mingyuan.

“This boy must not die. I have great use for him,” Wenshan Yuan said anxiously before the assembled group.

The army physicians nodded, but most were only superficially trained. Skilled doctors rarely joined rebel forces; these men, lacking expertise, had only found employment here because their meager abilities were unwanted elsewhere.

They could handle ordinary wounds, but Su Bai’s injuries were another matter. Old wounds plagued him, compounded by repeated beatings and malnutrition—hardly conditions a ten-year-old could endure. The fact that he clung to life was due only to his remarkable constitution; anyone else would have died several times over by now.

At the doctors’ indifferent silence, Wenshan Yuan’s anger exploded. His broad palm slammed the table as he cursed, “Useless fools! How does the army keep you when you can’t even save a child? I should cut you all down!”

A heavy silence fell, broken only by his tirade.

“Cat got your tongues? You all boasted so much before, but can’t treat even superficial wounds now, can you? Do you know how many brothers you’ve let die? The army has no use for pretty faces that are good for nothing. I’m giving you a deadline.”

He drew a dagger from his breast and, in full view, unsheathed it. The cold flash sent tremors through the row of “physicians”; some even lost control of their bowels.

“By tomorrow night—if he isn’t awake, none of you will ever wake again.” With that, he plunged the dagger deep into the table.

The group trembled, some visibly shaken.

“Let’s go,” Wenshan Yuan growled, leaving with a dark expression. Yet, the moment no eyes were upon him, his gaze shone with unconcealed joy.

“Go back to your posts. You needn’t follow me further,” he ordered his guards as he stepped outside.

“Yes, sir,” they replied, turning to go.

Once the coast was clear, Wenshan Yuan mounted his steed and sped toward the rebel camp.

“Unbelievable! I never thought I’d find the young master!” Racing toward the main camp, he could no longer contain his excitement, muttering aloud.

Before long, he arrived at the central command tent on a flat-topped mountain in the west. From there, mist and forest stretched into the distance, deer calls echoing through the air, lending an almost otherworldly peace to the place.

But Wenshan Yuan had no time for such serenity. He was eager to deliver his astonishing news to the general—their leader, Tang Jiuyuan.

As he approached the tent, he was stopped by a pair of men wielding long halberds. These were not high-ranking officers, but the two halberd-wielding attendants who guarded Tang Jiuyuan’s tent.

“Deputy General Wen, what brings you here in such haste?” one of them asked, his tone inquisitive.

Wenshan Yuan bristled at being stopped but, glancing into the tent, knew he could not act rashly. He lowered his voice, “You know who I am—how dare you bar my way? Move aside!” He tried to push past, but they blocked him again.

“Don’t think you’re safe just because this is General Tang’s tent. I have urgent matters to report. If you stop me again, you’ll regret it!” His imposing presence made the two men wince from the force of his inner energy.

“Deputy General, we have our reasons. Please, can’t you wait until tomorrow?”

“Hm?”

Just as Wenshan Yuan was about to rein in his aura and inquire further, a sharp voice rang out from within the tent.

“Enough!”

He immediately understood what was happening inside and cursed himself for his lack of discretion. He’d nearly overstepped his bounds. But there was no going back now.

“At least I have this news. Otherwise, the general would surely punish me harshly,” Wenshan Yuan thought. Times had changed—Tang Jiuyuan was no longer a mere servant of the court, but his direct superior, and would treat him by whim, not protocol.

He had already once stumbled upon Tang Jiuyuan’s “private matters”; surely this new intrusion would count against him.

Sure enough, before Tang Jiuyuan emerged, a dust-covered woman, her clothing disheveled and half her bosom exposed, slipped past the three men. The two guards covered their eyes, terrified of incurring Tang’s wrath.

Wenshan Yuan was the most mortified of all, never expecting to catch his superior in such a moment of “relaxation.” Discovering one’s leader in flagrante was a mortifying and nerve-wracking predicament for any subordinate.

“You two may leave. Deputy General Wen, come in,” came the order.

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison, though Wenshan Yuan’s face was tinged with bitterness.

Inside the tent, an imposing man with unruly black hair and an eight-foot stature awaited him, amber eyes fixing on Wenshan Yuan the moment he entered, sending a chill through his heart.

“Well? What’s so urgent?” Tang Jiuyuan finally broke the silence, easing the awkwardness.

Wenshan Yuan bowed his head and replied quietly, “I found the young master in the camp.”

“What!?” Tang Jiuyuan, heedless of the lipstick marks still on his neck, leapt up in excitement.

“He’s receiving treatment in the prisoner camp,” Wenshan Yuan continued.

Tang Jiuyuan began donning his armor at once, intent on visiting Su Bai immediately.

Wenshan Yuan held out a hand to stop him. “General, now may not be the right time.”

Tang Jiuyuan paused. “What do you mean?”

Seeing his superior reconsider, Wenshan Yuan explained with relief, “The young master was beaten half to death by our men and has yet to regain consciousness. If you visit him now, I fear…”

Tang Jiuyuan nodded thoughtfully, turning his back and masking his excitement with a worried frown.

He asked quietly, “So, should I see him or not?”

Wenshan Yuan had anticipated this and answered promptly, “Given the situation, pushing off responsibility is impossible. Even if we deceive him for a time, the young master knows too much—he won’t be fooled for long. If he turns against us at a critical moment, the cost would be immense.”

Tang Jiuyuan nodded again, still facing away. “What do you suggest?”

“For now, we must ensure the young master’s recovery. When you see him, General, you must be especially careful with your words.” Wenshan Yuan paused, glancing at Tang’s back. Seeing no reaction, he continued, “The young master will be crucial to your future. It’s vital not to alienate him at the outset. Those responsible must be severely punished, but if you have the young master execute them himself, it might backfire. If you punish them publicly, he may think it’s for show, and the men will become disheartened. So I suggest a secret execution—deliver their heads as proof, and if the young master demands it, present them as a gift.”

“Excellent!” Tang Jiuyuan clapped, turning around.

“You’ll handle this. Wasn’t there something else bothering you? Once this is done, I’ll see to it as well.” There was a hint of sly amusement in his tone.

“Yes!” Wenshan Yuan was overjoyed at the promise, knowing Tang Jiuyuan would finally help him achieve the extraordinary—a barrier that had troubled him for over a decade, now likely to be overcome with the young master’s arrival.

As Wenshan Yuan left, his heart full of hope, Tang Jiuyuan’s expression darkened, a cold glint appearing in his eyes. “You dog! Still hoping to climb above me? How foolish.”

As the only transcendent martial artist in the army, Tang Jiuyuan would never allow Wenshan Yuan to rise. His promise was merely expedient—Wenshan Yuan was useful, and many officers were loyal to him. A direct move would only invite rebellion.

But Tang Jiuyuan had long since made his plans.

“Hmph. Once the young master is settled, it’ll be time for you to step aside, pawn.”