Volume Two: Outlaws in This Place Chapter Eighty-Four: Killing Should Be Done Like Old Yellow Leaf

The Northern Territories have revered martial strength since ancient times.

A warrior should marry the most beautiful maiden; only thus would a pearl not be left to gather dust.

And so the tradition of the challenge platform endured. Yet as civility spread, warriors became more willing to treat it as little more than a matter of appearances.

After all, if one truly slipped and lost, was he then expected to hand over his own wife?

Would that not be... putting horns on himself?

Liang Ji had the platform set up by noon, right in the center of Saddlehorse City. Upon it stood a vacant seat reserved for no common man, awaiting its true master.

Men opened the way on both sides. Du Zhaolin supported Ma Hui as they slowly made their way to the seat of honor. Behind them came Liang Ji’s father, Liang Mian, and his mother, Yan Ci, along with friendly commanders from the army... and only at the very end did Gongsun Twelve help her mother take her seat.

That fierce general of Saddlehorse stood reining in his mount beneath the blazing sun, clad in gleaming silver armor. In the eyes of the townspeople, his radiant figure overflowed with gallantry and grace.

A cultivated warrior under the Grand Marshal’s banner indeed. What a handsome young man!

The girls in the first bloom of youth hid their envy and cast sour, covetous looks toward Gongsun Twelve upon the dais.

Her face was not lacking, they admitted; looked at closely, she even possessed a certain bold elegance. As for her figure... curse it, how could it be so full?

Their gazes soon curdled into jealousy, and with jealousy came whispers, all of them maligning that vixen’s supposed wantonness.

None of this concerned Liang Ji in the least. His mind was full only of how, on their wedding night, he might thoroughly humiliate Gongsun Twelve.

“She’s nothing but a lowborn bastard girl,” he murmured. “Sooner or later, I’ll make her learn what I’m capable of.”

Yet the smile on his face did not change in the slightest. His gaze remained fixed upon Gongsun Twelve, making him seem deeply devoted, steadfast to the point of infatuation.

Who knew whether someone, in the privacy of the heart, had already praised him as peerless in looks and talent?

Only one thing was certain: Gongsun Twelve would not look at him.

Liang Ji’s comrades laughed and cursed at him in jest, exchanging coarse banter as they mounted the platform one after another. In the blink of an eye, each of them had theatrically feigned defeat and withdrawn.

Perhaps no more than a few grains of dust from the shadows had touched his armor.

“General Liang is indeed valiant. That makes seventeen victories in a row, does it not? Truly fine skill,” Ma Hui said with a smile to Liang Ji’s stern-faced father, peeling a golden tangerine and handing the largest segment to Du Zhaolin.

Liang Mian waved a hand, but all his humility could not conceal the pride on his face. His family was, after all, one of the Northern Territories’ old literary and noble houses. They had rendered the merit of supporting Ma Hui’s rise to power, and now they were the family in Saddlehorse City that had gained marriage ties with the Grand Marshal. For a time, their glory was unequaled; no one in their place could have helped but grow arrogant.

Ma Hui said no more. A faint curve touched his lips as he turned to speak with Du Zhaolin. By chance he caught sight of the group from Mount Si among the crowd, and the smile on his face deepened further.

At last, the fun had arrived.

Liang Ji dismounted, bracing himself on his long spear with one hand. In the full flush of youthful triumph, he gave the spear a flourish and shouted, “Do you all submit to this general’s martial skill?”

The defeated commanders still wore smiles, each exaggerating his praise. “The general’s skill is unmatched! A fierce warrior seldom seen in the Northern Territories! Given time, he will surely dominate, surely dominate!”

Liang Ji’s head bobbed ceaselessly beneath the red tassel on his helmet. At last the young man simply tossed aside his spear, pointed down toward the platform’s foot, then gestured through the air toward Gongsun Twelve.

“If any hero below refuses to submit, come up and trade a few moves with me! If you win, this flower-like beauty shall be yours to pluck!”

The crowd burst into laughter. They cried that such a blessing should naturally belong to the general alone, though the lewdness in their minds flashed mostly over Gongsun Twelve.

Ma Hui’s expression darkened somewhat. It was not that he felt any injustice on Gongsun Twelve’s behalf; rather, this plaything had been bestowed by his own hand. For a mere Liang Ji to speak so wildly and show so little care for it—how could that be tolerated?

Liang Mian glanced at the warlord and offered hollow murmurs of assent, but inwardly he sneered again and again. This bandit from the grasslands truly took himself for the lord of the northern border.

Among all those present, aside from the fading beauty of a woman who bit her lip hard, not one person felt wronged on Gongsun Twelve’s behalf.

“It’s all right, Mother.”

Noticing her mother’s distress, Gongsun Twelve took her hands and gently stroked them, resting her head against her mother’s breast like a meek white cat soothing the wound of one weaker than herself.

Liang Ji stood there swelling with pride, his spear point seeming almost to leap with exultation, as though he truly believed himself the foremost fierce general of the Northern Territories.

“What you said just now—does it count?”

The voice came abruptly, the tone even more decisive.

Beneath its calm lay fury.

Liang Ji shot him a glance and curled his lip in repeated sneers. Was there truly some fool in Saddlehorse City who did not fear death?

“Words spoken before all these witnesses—how could I take them back? But once you step onto the platform, blades have no eyes. In matters of life and death, each must accept his fate!”

“Good.”

Amid the uproar, Xu Yong strode onto the platform. He came barehanded, with not a trace of weaponry on him.

Gongsun Twelve had been disdainful, thinking him some coarse brute inflamed by lust. She lifted her chin and looked down, proud as a swan, upon this sordid creature whose heart harbored filthy desires.

But in the instant their eyes met, pride turned to astonishment.

Xu Yong bowed deeply in Gongsun Twelve’s direction. He was offering an apology. When he straightened again, the apology faded with the motion, leaving only calm indifference behind.

“Even if you apologize now, it’s too late to be of any use,” Liang Ji said, narrowing his eyes. Xu Yong happened to be standing between the two of them, making it look as though that bow had been offered to him.

Xu Yong did not so much as glance at him. He walked to one corner of the platform and adjusted his collar at his leisure.

“Please.”

At that note of provocation, Liang Ji’s spear tore forward with dust and wind in its wake, charging from the past straight to Xu Yong’s face.

Yet when the grim spear point came within three feet of the dust on his robe, it met something colder still, a denser and deeper frost. Beneath that chill severity, all the curses and obscenities of this little patch of heaven and earth fell silently away.

Three feet of ice are not formed in a single day’s cold. But a gentleman’s intent to kill may be born morning and night alike.

Below the platform, the generals from Mount Si swallowed hard.

Good heavens. Old Mute was truly enraged this time.

The men of Mount Si all had nicknames remarkably alike: whatever the variation, each one carried the prefix “Old.” Xu Yong, who spoke little, was Old Mute. Qi Yong, hard one moment and soft the next, was Old Second. As for Lü Liang, people kept calling him Old Wang. Rumor had it this was because his mother had given birth to him after only three months of pregnancy, and before she was formally married, the next-door neighbor had happened to bear that surname...

A grave tension spread across Liang Ji’s face, even a trace of fear. The cold gathering on his spear point grew increasingly strange; in no more than an instant, a whole patch of space had turned blank and white.

Could this man really mean to kill me? We have no grievance between us—what would he gain from it?

Liang Ji groaned inwardly. The more panic rose in him, the fiercer his malice became. He shot a look toward his comrades below the stage, signaling them to attack together.

But very quickly his darkened face turned deathly pale. More than a dozen fierce-looking men had already surrounded his comrades, and at their head stood a handsome youth grinning coldly at him without pause.

Liang Ji was no iron-willed man. Clenching his teeth, he flung aside the long spear furred with frost and was just about to beg for mercy—only to find that no sound would come from his throat.

He looked up in alarm.

Heaven and earth had changed color.

Black and white dimmed before his eyes. Amid the frost coating the spear, a tiny shard had suddenly burst apart the moment he threw it down, and with perfect precision it had pierced his throat clean through.

The spotless point of ice was stained with blood.

Like a coincidence arranged with exquisite care.

“You dare, you wretch!”

The change had come too quickly. Only when blood from the corpse had already spread across the ground did Liang Mian come back to himself. His eyes were bloodshot, his whole body trembling. After quivering there for a long while, he collapsed unconscious.

Ma Hui’s smile vanished. He gave Gongsun Twelve a deep look, then said to Du Zhaolin, “He’s killed one of my great generals. How should this be handled?”

Du Zhaolin pointed at Xu Yong and shouted sharply, “How dare you cause such a disturbance before the Grand Marshal! Guards, seize this villain at once!”

The wording from this worthy gentleman was rather interesting. He did not mention a single word about the man having killed Liang Ji; he spoke only of offending the Grand Marshal’s dignity.

Lin Changkong leapt onto the platform and, without a change of expression, placed himself before Xu Yong. Folding his hands to Ma Hui, he said, “Grand Marshal, would you allow me a private word in your ear?”

“Whatever you have to say can wait until after the man has been taken,” Ma Hui said with a casual wave, not even bothering to lift his eyelids.

Yet amid the clamor, Lin Changkong rose into the air. Vital force rippled around him, whipping his robes. Swift as if crossing rivers and seas in a single bound, he casually sent several guards flying, landed before Ma Hui, pressed a hand over the one reaching for his blade, and smiled slowly.

“Grand Marshal would do well to hear me out. For you, it is entirely a matter of wishes fulfilled.”

Ma Hui’s face showed neither joy nor anger. Though this bandit had affronted him face-to-face and still wore a saber at his waist, it did not prevent him from sipping the hot tea in his cup.

“I grant you the time of three sentences. After the third, not one brigand from Mount Si present here will leave alive.”

“Grand Marshal, such magnificence,” Lin Changkong said with a smile. “But one and a half sentences will be enough. Why would I need so many?”

He bent to Ma Hui’s ear, murmured a single line in a low voice, and straightened at once.

The hot tea spilled upon the ground, painting a picture in water—silent, yet eloquent.

With all eyes upon him, Ma Hui closed his own, then gave a slight nod.

Lin Changkong made a courteous salute, turned, and returned below the platform with an expression of utmost trepidation. Dropping to one knee, he said, “Grand Marshal, you are wise enough to see clearly. This challenge platform, from beginning to end, was arranged solely by General Liang Ji himself. It was also from his own mouth that the words came: in life and death, each must accept his fate. What is more, it was plainly that shard of ice, by sheer accident, that took General Liang’s life. How can the blame be laid upon us?”

“What you say does have some reason in it. Zhaolin, tell the men to withdraw,” Ma Hui said, half-lidding his eyes and waving a hand. No one could guess what was on his mind.

Liang Mian, who had just been revived with a splash of water, was still shaking his head when he heard what seemed to him such outrageous nonsense from Ma Hui. Instantly he flew into a rage. Forgetting the difference in status, he pointed and cursed.

“You, a grass-born bandit, the lowest issue of a bastard line among the ancient seven noble houses! If my Liang clan had not supported you with the strength of our entire family, what ability would you have had to sit in the seat of one of the Three Marshals of the Northern Territories? And now—”

He never finished the sentence.

A thin seam opened across his throat. More and more scarlet burst from it, and once again his head struck the ground with a heavy thud.

Du Zhaolin sheathed the long sword at his waist, his face full of contempt. Bending toward Ma Hui, he joked, “Grand Marshal, this sends father and son to their reunion.”

“You, honestly.” Ma Hui shook his head with a soft laugh. “They were our benefactors, after all. Why stop at reuniting father and son? Send his mother down as well. Let the whole family be together.”

He paid no heed as Du Zhaolin, before his very eyes, ran through the woman who had collapsed in terror with a single thrust upon the platform.

Ruthless. Truly ruthless, Lin Changkong thought to himself. Yet on the surface he looked as coarse and carefree as ever.

“Grand Marshal, there is still one more matter. Liang Ji wagered his woman in this contest. Now that he has become a ghost in the underworld, then by rights—”

Ma Hui narrowed his eyes and looked at Lin Changkong coldly. “She is only a woman. If you want her, take her. But what was promised must be weighed carefully.”

Lin Changkong gave no verbal reply, only smiling and nodding. Instead, he busied himself cleaning up the mess on the field, as though Ma Hui’s threat meant nothing to him at all.

“What a spectacle today has been,” he sighed, then called out to the townspeople below the platform, who were already stunned senseless. “All of you, disperse quickly. Wouldn’t it be better to keep your heads on your shoulders and go live your own small lives?”

The common folk still stood rooted in place, not one of them moving a foot.

“Well, this really is...”

Lin Changkong struck a pose as though to draw his blade. Before he had even fully pulled it free, the crowd surrounding the platform scattered like startled birds and beasts.