Chapter 105.

As chaos engulfed Wuchang City with deafening cries of battle, He Shan and Ying Hongxue had already led their troops into Wangtuo Ridge, reaching the base of Phoenix Mountain.

Phoenix Mountain, the main peak of Wangtuo Ridge, loomed high and steep. Its eastern and northern sides faced treacherous waters, while its western flank was a sheer cliff. Only the southern face offered a path up—a narrow route that was easily defensible and nearly impossible to breach.

This was where the spies from the Eastern Bureau proved their worth. While scouting the mountain, they discovered a long-abandoned plank road clinging to the steep cliffs of the rear mountain. Barely wide enough for three men to walk abreast, this precarious path led directly to the mountain’s rear, guarded by a lone tower manned by a single bandit. Having been neglected for ages, the rear tower's sentinel was lax and inattentive.

Ying Hongxue split her 3,000 troops into six teams, sending a small squad of elite soldiers—ten men in all—to scout the plank road ahead.

Silent as shadows, the scouts crept up the path and spotted a vague figure atop the tower—a lookout. Nearby, bandits sat around massive iron pots propped on wooden frames, the flames beneath them blazing fiercely. Ten or so bandits gambled and drank, their weapons casually within reach. Further off, a large alarm gong and sharpened bamboo spikes hinted at preparations for defense.

The scene was starkly different from what the spies had described.

The scouts refrained from alerting the enemy, quietly retracing their steps to report the discrepancies. "There's a lookout in the tower, and we’ll be spotted if we expose ourselves. Also, the defenses are tighter than expected."

Ying Hongxue frowned and demanded confirmation from the Eastern Bureau spy. "Are you sure the rear was only guarded by a single bandit before?"

The spy, though confused by the sudden changes, insisted, "The defenses weren’t this tight before!"

After a moment’s contemplation, Ying Hongxue shot a meaningful glance at He Shan. Their long-standing rapport needed no words. She gestured for the rest to wait in place and pulled He Shan aside to speak in hushed tones.

“Something’s off. I suspect there’s a mole—someone in Wuchang City leaked our plans for a night assault.”

The intelligence provided by Xue Shu’s men had always been reliable, leaving little doubt that the tightened defenses were due to forewarning.

He Shan’s gaze instinctively swept over their troops. “If there’s a mole, how do we proceed? We don’t even know if they’re in the city or among our forces.”

Ying Hongxue considered for a moment. “To be safe, let’s take only our most trusted men up the mountain. The rest will stay behind and await orders.”

Their handpicked soldiers from the capital were unlikely to betray them, unlike the local troops.

“I’ll take out the lookout first,” she said, her hand brushing the crossbow slung over her back. “Then you lead the others up. There are only ten or so guards. If we move quickly, they won’t stand a chance.”

Her crossbow, specially made for her by the Imperial Armory, was light yet deadly accurate. While she lacked the strength for heavy bows, this weapon suited her perfectly. Knowing the dangers of this campaign, she had brought it along.

With the plan finalized, they regrouped and selected a hundred elite soldiers to ascend the mountain, leaving the rest to hold position below.

The hour was late, the night its darkest. He Shan took point, with Ying Hongxue close behind. The men formed a long, silent line, pressing themselves against the cliff as they climbed the treacherous path.

Near the end of the plank road, He Shan signaled for a halt. Ying Hongxue moved to the front, her sharp eyes scanning the lookout tower. The lack of light in the tower worked to their advantage, as the roaring flames below provided just enough illumination.

She raised her crossbow, blending into the shadows as she patiently awaited the perfect moment.

The shot had to kill instantly, without drawing attention.

Her arrow gleamed faintly as it took aim at the back of the lookout’s neck. The instant he turned, she pulled the trigger.

The arrow sliced through the air and found its mark. The lookout’s lifeless body crumpled silently, his fall masked by the drunken chatter and laughter below.

Ying Hongxue swiftly swapped places with He Shan, who led the men forward, slipping unnoticed into the shadows and underbrush.

He Shan’s soldiers climbed the rest of the way without a sound, hiding among the trees and rocks at the summit. Meanwhile, Ying Hongxue, aware of her limitations in close combat, stayed behind, crossbow ready to pick off targets from a distance.

When all hundred men were in position, He Shan signaled the attack. They swarmed the unsuspecting bandits, who, caught in their drunken stupor, were no match for the trained soldiers. Half were dead before they realized what was happening.

One bandit bolted for the alarm gong but was swiftly felled by a precise shot from Ying Hongxue’s crossbow.

Within moments, the bandits were wiped out, and Phoenix Mountain’s rear defenses fell silent, the night reclaiming its eerie calm.

In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen mountain bandits lay lifeless, wiped out without so much as a struggle.

He Shan strode to the cliff's edge, leaned over, and pulled Ying Hongxue up with one swift motion. With a sharp whistle, he summoned the men waiting below. The command was clear: regroup and prepare for the next move.

Once everyone had assembled, He Shan sent scouts ahead to the main stronghold to survey the path.

The main camp’s defenses mirrored the rear mountain—fortified but oddly sparse in manpower. Compared to the forces He Shan brought, the numbers were laughably insufficient.

A crushing numerical advantage left no room for hesitation. Confirming there was no trickery like an empty fort strategy, He Shan led the charge. Though the bandits had prepared for resistance, He Shan's relentless ferocity broke through. Combined with the mysterious absence of the majority of their forces—leaving fewer than 500 men—the camp was utterly overrun. Huā Lín Stronghold fell under He Shan’s crushing assault.

As his men scoured the mid-mountain storage for stolen grain, He Shan personally interrogated a handful of captured lieutenants, demanding to know where the rest of the bandits had gone.

Their clueless ramblings boiled down to one thing: the bandit chief had taken his forces down the mountain for “a big job.”

Spitting in disgust, He Shan muttered, “What fresh hell are these scum planning now?”

Ying Hongxue, sharper and more calculating, felt a chill run down her spine. A sinister theory clawed its way into her mind before she pushed it aside. Calling a covert operative from the Eastern Bureau, she gave a terse command: “Return to the provincial city at once. Investigate carefully. If anything seems amiss, report back immediately.”

The spy caught her hidden implications and paled.

He Shan scowled, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You think these mountain rats would dare target the provincial capital?”

Ying Hongxue shook her head, her expression grim. “I hope it’s just my paranoia.”

*

Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu, disguised as Zhou Zhiling’s servant, perched at the front of the carriage. His thick cotton collar shielded most of his face from prying eyes. Xue Shu and five others, dressed as guards, rode alongside. Their modest convoy arrived at the east gate just as dawn's faint light touched the horizon.

The gatekeepers, bandits themselves, unsheathed their blades and barked a challenge as the carriage approached.

Zhou Zhiling, calm and composed, lifted the curtain to reveal his face. He presented a token bearing Bandit Chief Fan’s seal and addressed the burly gatekeeper with familiarity: “Brother Jiang, Chief Fan has an urgent task for me outside the city. Kindly open the gate.”

Brother Jiang, one of Fan Hu’s trusted adopted sons, recognized Zhou Zhiling from frequent meetings with the chief. Unaware of the treachery brewing behind closed doors, he merely inspected the carriage before signaling for the smaller side gate to be opened.

The group slipped out smoothly.

Ten miles from the city, they abandoned the carriage, freed the horses, and continued their journey on horseback, heading straight for Phoenix Mountain.

By sheer coincidence, they crossed paths with the Eastern Bureau spy returning to the provincial city.

The spy, upon recognizing Yin Chengyu, dismounted and greeted him with a grave report: “Has something happened in the provincial city? Has it fallen into chaos? We stormed Phoenix Mountain but found only a skeleton crew—fewer than 500 men. The rest are unaccounted for.”

Xue Shu’s expression hardened. He simply ordered, “Lead the way. We’ll discuss this at Phoenix Mountain.”

By the time they reached the mountain, daylight had fully broken.

Ying Hongxue emerged from the grain storage operations, her face darkening at the sight of the group. “So, it was a diversion all along?”

Yin Chengyu nodded solemnly, turning to Zhou Zhiling. “Where are the private soldiers kept? Do you have a means of contacting them in emergencies?”

Zhou Zhiling pointed toward the cavernous grain depot. “They’re hidden inside the natural caves. The maze-like network has many entrances and exits. As for signaling… we have an old system. If the mountain faces trouble while the men are out, we send up three red fireworks. That’s the recall signal. But it’s never been tested.”

Yin Chengyu’s voice was cold and sharp. “Then we’ll try it. But first, we wait for news from Yuezhou.”

If luring the crowd back with a dazzling fireworks display could do the trick, it would save them a hell of a lot of trouble.

But if that failed? No big deal.

Once the reinforcements from the Yuezhou Guard stormed in, there’d still be a fight waiting to take the city back, and they’d be ready to bring the heat.

By dusk, reinforcements arrived—5,000 soldiers from the Yuezhou garrison, personally dispatched after the commander verified the imperial seal.

With their support secured, the recall fireworks were launched—three brilliant red flares streaking through the darkened sky, exploding above Phoenix Mountain in fiery urgency.

From their positions in the provincial city, the bandits saw the signal and immediately faltered. Chaos erupted among them.

They had spent the last 24 hours ransacking every corner of the city in search of their target. Exhaustion and mounting losses from skirmishes with the rallied city guards left them fractured and desperate. Now, the red flares above Phoenix Mountain cast doubt over their every move.

Their ill-fated gamble was coming undone.

The so-called bandits, who were really nothing more than private militia disguised as outlaws, may have boasted greater numbers and fought more fiercely than the disorganized rabble they claimed to be, but let’s be honest—they were still just a gang of untrained misfits who couldn’t handle the real taste of war.

At first, they had their small-time leaders barking orders, keeping them in line. But once Fan Hu suddenly went silent, the chain of command unraveled. Their captains, panicking and scrambling to find him, abandoned their duties, leaving the rank and file to stew in confusion. With no leadership and no sense of direction, their morale took a nosedive, and the thought of retreat began to fester in their minds.

And when the signal for retreat shot into the sky, all pretense of resolve crumbled.

Fan Hu’s adopted son, Jiang Kang, along with a few other leaders, gathered in a tense meeting to decide whether to stay or flee.

Jiang Kang, stubborn and unwilling to go against Fan Hu’s wishes, argued for continuing the search. He was worried about what might’ve happened to his adoptive father.

But the others had no interest in risking their necks. Their concern lay squarely with Phoenix Mountain, their home base. If the stronghold fell, years of looted grain and carefully built operations would be lost.

In the end, the majority ruled. They cut their losses and ordered a retreat back to Phoenix Mountain.

Like a swarm of locusts, the thousands of so-called bandits swept through the city, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake, only to vanish just as quickly.

“Report! The bandits have pulled out of the city and are heading back toward Phoenix Mountain!” A scout rushed in with the news.

“Are the ambushes set up?” Yin Chengyu asked sharply.

“Yes, sir. The troops are lying in wait. As soon as those bandits step foot on the mountain, we’ll crush them.”

The Yuezhou garrison didn’t bother pursuing them into the mountain’s upper reaches. Instead, they laid a deadly trap at the foot and halfway up the slopes. Meanwhile, the forces already stationed on the mountain were preparing to stage a brilliant empty fortress ploy. Once the bandits reached the summit, they’d be caught in a merciless pincer attack.

This critical battle was under the command of He Shan and Xue Shu, while Yin Chengyu and Ying Hongxue remained in the central hall, awaiting updates.

The fighting began at dusk and ended two hours later. By the time the last echoes of battle faded, it was past midnight.

Only Jiang Kang showed any real fight, stubbornly refusing to surrender. But the rest of the broken remnants, seeing the inevitable outcome, quickly threw down their weapons and begged for mercy.

When the dust finally settled, the night was nearly spent. Yet the work was far from over. The camp buzzed with activity—captives were processed, supplies secured, and the remaining bandits in neighboring areas were swiftly eliminated.

He Shan led troops to clear the nearby peaks. The Yuezhou commander escorted the confiscated grain back to the city, while Ying Hongxue oversaw the counting of prisoners and the inventory of the spoils.

By the time Yin Chengyu finished organizing everything, dawn had broken.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Despite the caffeine coursing through his veins from endless cups of tea, his weariness was etched across his face, the dark shadows under his eyes telling a tale of sleepless nights.

Xue Shu, coming to deliver his report, took one look at Yin Chengyu’s drawn expression and changed his tone. “Your Highness, I noticed a hot spring tucked away behind the mountain during my inspection. Given your recent recovery, it might do you some good to soak and unwind. Overwork in this bitter cold will only worsen your health.”

Yin Chengyu wasn’t one for indulgences, but the chill had seeped into his bones, and the relentless fatigue gnawed at him. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Prepare it.”

Xue Shu lost no time. He ordered screens and supplies to be brought to the secluded spring. Hidden in the rugged terrain, the natural pool was no more than four or five feet wide, fed by the earth’s steady warmth. Its steam rose like a defiant challenge to the icy winter snow that blanketed the surroundings.

The setup was swift. Screens blocked the harsh winds, food and tea were placed on trays to keep warm in the bubbling water, and the servants were dismissed.

Xue Shu, his voice low but firm, stepped forward. “Your Highness, allow me to assist you in your bath.”