Chapter Twelve: An Unexpected Treasure

He raised his hammer as if to charge at Zhao Hu.

"Enough! Third Brother!"

Lei Zhentian suddenly stepped forward, spreading his fan-sized hand and pressing Meng Changchang’s shoulder down with an iron grip!

The force was immense, carrying an irrefutable authority, pinning the furious Meng Changchang where he stood.

His brows were tightly furrowed, his expression deliberately composed and grave.

His voice was low and weary:

"What are you losing your head for? Find Fifth Sister first, question her face to face before you act!"

He swept his gaze over everyone, maintaining an air of cold righteousness.

Yet, his calculations beneath the surface were cold as steel.

Hand over Fifth Sister, and the chaos would subside.

Just then—

A minor leader from Blackwind Fortress, clutching a bleeding arm, pushed his way to the front, panting heavily.

"Chief! Second Chief! Third Chief!"

"I... I just led a search, and... couldn't find Fifth Chief!"

"Yeah! Where is Fifth Chief?" another bandit looked around, bewildered. "When we rushed out just now, I didn’t see her either!"

"Right! I didn’t see her either!"

"Fifth Chief isn’t here!"

Murmurs swiftly spread.

Suspicion and speculation grew rampant among the battered remnants of Blackwind Fortress, like a plague.

Leaning against the stone wall, Liu Qiang suddenly looked up.

He understood now...

It was all Liu Meimei.

All the pain and injury was instantly replaced by a resentment and despair so intense it could no longer be contained.

He looked at Lei Zhentian’s feigned composure, at Meng Changchang’s guilty rage, at the cunning glint in Qian Tong’s eyes.

He glanced at his companions, still searching for Liu Meimei, and suddenly let out a few harsh, sharp, mocking laughs:

"Heh..."

His laughter was cold, full of biting irony and hatred. "Big Brother, what are you searching for?"

His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise with chilling clarity, carrying a weariness and coldness that made one’s heart shudder.

"From the very first alarm bell, when the brothers grabbed their weapons and rushed out to fight for their lives,"

"I never saw Fifth Sister!"

He paused. "She abandoned us—the so-called ‘brothers’ who fought for her—long ago and fled on her own!"

"Brotherly love? Ha! That cowardly wretch! She cares only for herself!"

At his words, Meng Changchang seemed struck by lightning.

His short frame staggered, the blood draining from his face.

The heavy bronze hammers crashed to the ground.

The sheer sense of betrayal and despair nearly suffocated him.

He shook his head violently, his voice distorted by disbelief:

"No! That’s nonsense!"

"Fifth Sister isn’t that kind of person! She... she must have gone for reinforcements! Yes, that’s it—reinforcements!"

"Just wait! She... she’ll come back! She’ll bring help to save us! She will!"

Zhao Hu sneered, "If she could blow up the armory, why wouldn’t she run?"

With that, Lei Zhentian’s gaze turned instantly vicious, his reason drowned by fury at being played for a fool. He roared, "Search! Turn the place upside down—if alive, bring her here!"

"If dead—!"

He nearly burst his eyes with rage. The final word was forced through clenched teeth: "Bring her corpse!"

...

Meanwhile.

Qingxi County, at the county yamen.

Within the vermillion gates, the main hall felt even more stifling than the black clouds gathering outside.

"County magistrate of Qingxi, receive the edict!"

The sharp, shrill voice of the imperial attendant exploded in the silent hall.

"Your humble servant receives the decree!"

Magistrate Wang Yu and his constables dropped to their knees with a thud.

Their foreheads pressed tightly to the cold blue bricks; they hardly dared to breathe.

The attendant slowly unfurled the imperial edict, squinting as he surveyed the prostrate figures below before reading in a drawn-out tone:

"Bandit troubles in Blackwind Fortress in Qingxi County are minor. With unrest ongoing in the northern frontier, the national treasury is greatly depleted, and the army’s deployment leaves no room for diversion. The magistrate of Qingxi County is hereby ordered to eradicate the bandits independently and ensure the people’s livelihood... Thus decreed!"

The phrase "independently eradicate the bandits" struck like a red-hot iron on everyone’s hearts.

Everyone knew—the court was shirking responsibility and sending them to their deaths!

"...I accept the edict and thank Your Majesty for the grace."

Wang Yu raised his hands, his voice trembling.

A cold smile curled on the attendant’s lips as he handed the decree to Wang Yu.

"Lord Wang, His Majesty’s intent could not be clearer. The peace of Qingxi County rests entirely with you now."

He paused, raising his voice deliberately: "His Majesty is waiting in the capital for good news. Don’t disappoint him by proving you’re all useless layabouts only fit for drawing salaries!"

Behind them, Wen Zhenshan knelt, his knuckles digging into the hilt of his sword, the cords biting deep into his skin.

He stared at his huddled shadow on the floor, while his mind was assaulted by images:

Villagers dragged off by bandits, wailing in despair.

Homes reduced to ruins, blackened by fire.

He could feel Captain Zhang trembling beside him, unable to suppress his anger.

But none dared utter a word. The men from the palace could take their heads with a single order.

Seeing no one respond, the attendant smoothed his robe, turned, and left with his retinue.

The scrape of boots on the blue bricks was painfully sharp. At the threshold, he tossed back:

"All you officials, you’d best hurry. I hear the Blackwind Fortress bandits have been ‘borrowing’ grain again lately."

Before the words had faded, the party was gone.

Outside, the sound of hooves and wheels quickly followed, the dust rising and seeping through the cracks in the door.

Only when the sound finally disappeared down the alley did Wang Yu lift his head, his face ashen, chest heaving.

He stared at the decree in his hand, then suddenly flung it onto the desk, overturning the inkstone.

"Outrageous!"

He trembled with rage. "The court has abandoned Qingxi County! Hundreds of bandits, and just the twenty-odd of us at the yamen? Why not just tell us to go die!"

Captain Zhang shot to his feet, veins bulging on his forehead: "Sir, the Blackwind bandits are demons! Last month even the soldiers the court sent were wiped out! With our numbers, we’re just fodder for their lair!"

Wen Zhenshan gritted his teeth so hard his jaw twitched.

He thought of the villagers slaughtered by bandits, of his wife’s old grief—a fury, mingled with helplessness, surged to his head.

But what use was anger?

The order was given. As minor officials, they had no choice but to comply.

Master Liu sighed. "In my opinion, the only thing left is to post notices and recruit able-bodied men."

At these words, the room fell silent.

...

As the constables exchanged looks, each knew all too well: the people of Qingxi County lived hand to mouth, their men the pillars of their homes. Who would be willing to send them off to fight bandits?

...

Within half an hour of the notice being posted, an uproar erupted at the yamen gates.

"Why should our men go risk their lives? Where are the imperial soldiers?" bellowed a vegetable seller, gripping her basket, her voice louder than a gong.

"Exactly! We pay every coin of our taxes, and now that bandits come, the court washes its hands?" a man in coarse cloth jabbed angrily at the notice, shaking with rage.

The crowd swelled, threatening to beat the drum of grievance, pelting the stone lions at the gate with rotten leaves until they were stained green.

The stench of rot, mixed with despair, hung heavy over the entrance.

Magistrate Wang slumped in his grand chair, face ashen.

His eyes were fixed on the edge of the "independently eradicate the bandits" decree.

Wen Zhenshan stood in the shadows, haunted by thoughts of his frail son.

"Report!"

A yamen runner burst in, so agitated his voice broke: "Sir! Sir! Wonderful news! Outside… there are so many carriages!"

"The formation... it looks like the court’s men have returned!"

The court’s men—returned?

A fierce light blazed in the dead eyes of Magistrate Wang.

He sprang from his chair, so violently he knocked over his teacup without noticing.

His voice was hoarse with wild joy: "Heaven bless Qingxi! His Majesty is wise! He’s changed his mind!"

Salvation’s joy flushed his face with feverish color.

Wen Zhenshan’s chest heaved, his clenched fists loosening just a little.

Outside the yamen.

The crowd parted like the tide.

A procession of carriages approached, led by several guards in standard leather armor, their eyes sharp as hawks.

Their steps were synchronized, exuding a silent, deadly aura that instantly subdued all noise.

Behind them followed a seemingly ordinary, yet unmistakably distinguished, black-canopied carriage.

Trailing behind were ten more wagons, covered in thick oilcloth, wheels deep in the ruts, each one heavy-laden.

Magistrate Wang, overwhelmed by the sight, fell to his knees before the approaching retinue, his forehead striking the cold stone steps.

"I... I am Wang Yu, magistrate of Qingxi County. Welcome, honored sir!"

His voice was choked with emotion.

The guards remained impassive, silently clearing a path.

The black-canopied carriage halted at the steps.

A slender, fair hand drew aside the curtain.

A "young man" in pale blue cotton robes leapt nimbly down.

He stood tall as bamboo, features striking, lips red and teeth white—it was Wen Changning, disguised as "Wen Changkong"!

Wen Changkong?

Constable Wen’s son?

Magistrate Wang’s joy was doused as if by a bucket of ice.

The light in his eyes faded visibly: "Changkong, dear nephew? Why... why is it you?"

Wen Zhenshan’s heart seized at the sight of his child.

This boy!

Why, at such a critical moment...

Had he run out from the academy?

Landing lightly, Wen Changning caught sight of her father’s suddenly ashen face and alarmed eyes, a pang of anxiety tightening her heart.

Would her disguise be seen through by her father today?

She drew a slow breath, composed herself.

Straightening her back, she emulated her brother’s tone, speaking out clearly:

"Lord Wang, fellow villagers! There is no need to fear the bandit threat!"

All eyes turned, full of doubt.

Magistrate Wang waved wearily, his voice hoarse and exhausted, tinged with irritation: "Changkong, spare us the empty comfort. The imperial edict is clear—we must fend for ourselves..."

Captain Zhang looked at Magistrate Wang’s despondence, sighing and forcing his spirits up.

But his gaze, with a subtle hint of reproach and moral pressure, fixed on Wen Changning:

"Dear nephew, your heart is in the right place! But right now..."

"Alas, goodwill alone is not enough! Lord Wang is right—we must recruit able-bodied men! You are Constable Wen’s son, one of our own! Young and strong, you should lead by example! Set a model for the villagers! Isn’t that right, everyone?"

He raised his voice, putting Wen Changning on the spot with the words "set a model."

The crowd immediately echoed, "Yes! Captain Zhang is right!"

"Young Master Wen! Your father is a constable! You should take the lead!"

"Exactly! If not you, then who?"

"If the officials’ sons won’t go, you expect us common folk to die instead?"

Wen Zhenshan’s heart trembled violently.

Let Changkong go? That would be sending him to his death!

His lips quivered, wanting to defend his son, to refuse in outrage.

But seeing Magistrate Wang’s devastated face, and the twisted, desperate hope in the villagers’ eyes around him,

It was as if an invisible hand strangled his throat—he couldn’t utter a word!

Wen Changning heard Captain Zhang’s pressure and the villagers’ jeers, a heavy ache settling in her chest.

How could they not know that recruiting men to fight the bandits meant sending them to die?

Let alone her brother—a frail scholar who’d never killed a chicken, let alone bandits.

Thankfully, she had already resolved everything.

Facing the burning gazes, Wen Changning’s eyes were as calm as a star-reflecting lake.

Her voice was clear and commanding, every word striking home:

"That won’t be necessary!"

"Won’t be necessary?"

Magistrate Wang’s anger flared, his head snapping up.

Captain Zhang’s brows knitted, his tone sharp: "What do you mean by that? As the constable’s son, you shrink back from battle?!"

The crowd erupted.

Wen Changning’s voice suddenly rose:

"I say there’s no need to worry! No need to recruit men! Because Blackwind Fortress, Scarlet Flame Fortress, Flying Eagle Fortress, Wild Fox Fortress, and Ironwall Fortress have all suffered heavy casualties. The bandit threat in Qingxi is already mostly eliminated!"

Her words dropped like a stone into a pond—instant silence.

"What?!"

"All five fortresses devastated?"

"Nonsense! What does a scholar know?"

"Even the imperial court couldn’t do it! Who do you think you are?"

"Wen family brat! Is this a joke about human life?"

"Boasting in the face of danger—shame!"

Magistrate Wang, utterly disappointed, closed his eyes, too weary even to scold, merely shaking his head.

Wen Zhenshan, desperate, could no longer care for decorum, stepping forward sharply to drag his son away.

...

"Grandma! Mother..."

A hoarse child’s cry broke out.

From the farthest carriage, a small, dirty hand flung back the curtain.

A scrawny, filthy little head poked out, its features unrecognizable—save for the huge eyes, wide with hunger and fear, scanning the crowd.

It was Hu Tou—the boy everyone believed long dead after being abducted months ago!

"Hu... Hutou?"

Aunt Zhang was thunderstruck.

She froze, her dim eyes wide as saucers, searching for the voice.

"My grandson! My Hutou!"

She staggered, shoving through the crowd without care.

"Mother! It’s Hutou! Over there."

Madam Liu, recognizing her son, swayed violently, face white as paper, crawling toward the carriage.

And then—

More familiar figures, staggering and helping each other, emerged from the wagons!

"Father! Mother! Your son has returned!"

A ragged man, dragging a bloody, mangled leg, shouted with all his strength.

He limped toward a pair of elderly parents, already weeping with joy.

"Wife! Child!"

A young woman, clutching a nearly lifeless, silent baby, stumbled through the crowd, searching for her husband.

"You’re alive! Heaven has eyes!"

A woman cried out, hurling herself like an arrow at a battered but upright man.

The rescued villagers, wild with joy, rushed into their relatives’ arms!

The long-restrained sobs, cries of reunion, and shouts of relief tangled together.

Wang Yu, watching these tearful reunions, was left speechless.

Wen Zhenshan’s mind was blank.

He subconsciously raised a hand, as if to check his own face and see if he was dreaming.

Captain Zhang trembled with excitement, his voice breaking: "They... they really came back? All... all returned?"

"Changkong, tell us! How... how did you do this?"

All eyes turned to Wen Changning once more.

But this time, their gazes were full of awe and elation.

Wen Changning’s expression was calm:

"I disguised myself as Liu Meimei, Fifth Chief of Blackwind Fortress, infiltrated the stronghold, sowed discord, and set the five bandit fortresses against each other."

"In the chaos, I rescued the imprisoned villagers and brought the stolen goods back to Qingxi."

A few brief words—each one thunderous.

Impersonating a bandit chief? Turning five fortresses against each other?

Each feat was a brush with death, a journey through fire and blade.

Wang Yu, trembling with excitement, bowed deeply to Wen Changning, "Changkong, my worthy friend! Accept my humble... no! Accept the gratitude of all Qingxi! This kindness and virtue—Qingxi will never forget!"

"Righteous hero!"

"Savior of Qingxi!"

"Living Buddha!"

"Hero!"

Cries of gratitude and admiration surged like a tidal wave.

Wen Zhenshan, watching this scene, was overwhelmed with emotion.

He stepped forward, voice quivering with an undercurrent of inquiry, his gaze locked on his "son’s" face:

"Changkong, how... how did you all return safely? Truly unimpeded on the way?"

Wen Changning met her father’s searching gaze, her lips curving into a subtle, meaningful smile.

Her gaze shifted to the black-canopied carriage: The Prince Su was noble by birth and held military power; after the ordeal, Qingxi’s people were destitute. If he could be moved by the people’s gratitude and help rebuild Qingxi, the county could truly find peace.

Praising him now, before all, was both honesty and a shrewd bid for Qingxi’s future.

She spoke slowly, her tone sincere, with just the right hint of cunning and respect:

"We were fortunate to meet a great benefactor on the road. Without his brave and valiant guards, who cleared the way and protected us, we could never have returned safely."

She paused, voice ringing out: "This benefactor is none other than Prince Su himself—a lord who loves his people, a hero among men, with the welfare of the people at heart."

The last words were as clear and weighty as gold.

As if in answer to her call,

The curtain of the black-canopied carriage was swept aside by a slender, jade-adorned hand.

A tall, elegant figure stepped down, calm and composed as moonlight itself.

His moon-white brocade robe was spotless, his black hair loosely bound with a jade crown, stray locks falling over his brow—not disheveled, but lending a certain languid nobility.

His eyes were deep as star-lit pools, features striking and refined.

He exuded an effortless authority, commanding the room without a word.

Dead silence.

A silence so thick it was suffocating.

Even the cheers seemed choked off by an invisible hand.

Prince Su?

The name exploded in everyone’s mind.

Magistrate Wang’s legs buckled; he fell heavily to his knees, forehead pressed to the cold ground.

His voice trembled with reverence: "Your servant—Wang Yu, magistrate of Qingxi County—greets Your Highness! May Your Highness live ten thousand years!"

The others, as if waking from a dream, knelt in unison.

Xiao Heng’s expression was indifferent, his gaze calmly sweeping over the kneeling crowd, nodding slightly.

Yet those deep, starlit eyes settled, with interest and precision, on the lone figure standing tall—Wen Changning.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

It never reached his eyes, but was full of knowing amusement.

The jet-black jade ring on his finger glimmered darkly in the setting sun as he idly stroked it.

This little fox...

Such meticulous scheming, such boldness and vision—truly...

Irresistibly intriguing?

So many layers of calculation, every step carefully placed, all just to shield the people from being sent as cannon fodder?

Truly... more fascinating with every turn.

This journey to Qingxi—

It seems he’s found a rare treasure.