Internal strife!
Fei Sheng reacted instinctively. Across the room, the fight had erupted in full force. Lei Jingzhe’s old wounds left him struggling to parry the ferocious attacks, constantly dodging. The two groups of Scorpions clashed in the cramped quarters; Shen Zechuan could see the curved blades and spiked staves flashing.
Fei Sheng’s fingers itched for action, eager to redeem the honor of the Embroidered Uniform Guards after repeated failures. Providence seemed to have arranged this dog-eats-dog scenario to lend him a hand. He drew his Xiuchun Dao, saying, “Master, let’s take this chance to capture Lei Jingzhe and interrogate him thoroughly!”
“Why rush?” Shen Zechuan replied calmly. “They’re putting on a show.”
Fei Sheng hesitated. Observing Lei Jingzhe’s tense expression, it was clear he hadn’t orchestrated this fight. Both sides were evenly matched, the room echoing with the constant clash of weapons. Glass lamps and jade bottles shattered everywhere. Watching closely, Fei Sheng realized Lei Jingzhe already intended to retreat.
Below, chaos reigned. Smoke rolled up, yet no further sounds emerged. The lamps still hung high, the giant central glass chandelier spinning with colored patterns. The slain attendants had been quietly removed, and the floor scrubbed clean of blood. When the curtains were lifted, fresh attendants entered, carrying trays, smiling as they guided the merchants back to their seats.
A bronze gong sounded suddenly. The young clerk Fei Sheng had seen earlier, now dressed in a crisp new robe, ascended the stage in the hall, striking the gong again and announcing loudly: “Leader Lei Jingzhe of Luoshan, Dunzhou’s Little Scorpion Hai’gu, masters clash tonight—who lives, who dies—place your bets!”
Fei Sheng hadn’t expected such a twist. Even seasoned in Qudu intrigue, he was stunned. “Gambling with lives?” he muttered.
On the fifth floor, bamboo blinds were lifted to reveal seated merchants, calmly sipping tea, fanning themselves, or smoking. Lei Jingzhe attempted to escape through a window, only to find it nailed shut.
“I’ve heard Yan’s sons spare no profit,” Shen Zechuan remarked, “yet they manage to make even this knife-edge business flourish.”
The partition screens slid aside with a swish. Someone counting abacuses moved their fingers so fast it sounded like heavy rain. “Profits come and go; even brothers must settle accounts fairly. Use everything to the fullest!” The man paused, peeked out the window, examined Fei Sheng, winked at Shen Zechuan, and said, “Embroidery Guards are hard to catch. You seem well-built and handsome—perfect for apologizing to Mother Cuiqing later. Shall I sell you, sir?”
Fei Sheng gripped his blade, stepping in front of Shen Zechuan. The man was three or four years older than Ding Tao, with a boyish charm and honeyed eyes that made him almost impossible to dislike.
Lei Jingzhe noticed him too, fuming, trying to restrain his words: “Young master, why deceive me? Just for these few Scorpions, risking conflict with Gedale?”
“Gedale’s far east of the Chashi River!” Yan Heru withdrew his head, saying, “Your uncle owes me 580,000 taels of silver; you owe me 340,000 taels. Repaying debts is only fair.”
Lei Jingzhe snapped a chair leg, dodging in the flash of blades. Having been humiliated by Xiao Chiye before, and narrowly surviving thanks to Li Xiong, he now found himself surrounded again—not by enemies, but by his own people’s trickery.
Yan Heru leaned over the railing, swinging his legs as he watched Lei Jingzhe struggle. He shouted below, “Rarely see a dragon-tiger fight! Place your bets, win double, lose—well, just an evening’s entertainment! In Dunzhou, I, Yan Heru, won’t let anyone leave empty-handed!”
Exhausted, Lei Jingzhe’s small force of thirty was trapped by reinforcements. Though supported by Bian Sha cavalry and with four hundred Scorpions stationed in Dunzhou, he hadn’t anticipated the ones who stole the supplies were Shen Zechuan’s doing.
Iron cages were erected. Lei Jingzhe and the attacking Scorpions suffered heavy casualties. He tried to reason with his attackers in Bian Sha tongue: “Hai’gu, we’re all Gedale’s brothers. Why kill each other here? Tonight, we join forces to escape. Tomorrow, I won’t pursue those supplies!”
But the man remained silent, hair swept back like seaweed, spiked staff raised, and lunged at Lei Jingzhe.
Yan Heru tilted the wine, smirking: “Curious how I knew you’d come?”
“All Six-Ear eyes are priced openly,” Shen Zechuan said, peeling an orange and taking a bite. “Money changes hands, information is traded.”
Yan Heru laughed. “That makes me seem not smart enough—I saw it instantly. Grain from Huaizi to the east all stored in Cizhou. Only you, Shen Zechuan, could field such manpower.”
“Coincidence,” Shen Zechuan replied. “And here we meet.”
“Don’t be modest,” Yan Heru said. “You came to lie in wait, didn’t you? I thought it strange you knew Lei Jingzhe invited me tonight.”
Shen Zechuan finished the orange and stood, signaling Fei Sheng for his cloak.
Yan Heru tilted in his chair, puzzled. “The show’s not over. Why leave now? No need for Lei Jingzhe’s head?”
Shen Zechuan fastened his cloak and replied, “Those four hundred Scorpions won’t be managed by anyone here.”
Yan Heru smiled. “Then you have Cizhou’s garrison deal with them.”
“Apologies,” Shen Zechuan said lightly. “I only brought a dozen men.”
At that moment, the hall doors burst open. Yan Heru peeked out—outside were all the Scorpions, even the last remaining cart from the armory!
Lei Jingzhe climbed the railing, signaling the Scorpions to attack. Yan Heru’s men, though hired, were no match for the Scorpion team trained to oppose the Northern Cavalry. Steel and short blades were smashed aside in seconds.
Inside, partitions clattered; Yan Heru scooped up the golden abacus and tried to flee, colliding with Fei Sheng. “What are you doing? Friendly fire!”
Yan Heru was whisked downstairs, shouting to his allies: “Hai’gu, move! Move!”
Chaos erupted again. Scorpions smashed indiscriminately; Cuiqing shrieked, stained with blood, recalling the carnage years ago when Bian Sha cavalry razed the city. She screamed for her nephew’s help.
Fei Sheng stopped at the third floor, kicking open the window to toss Yan Heru out first.
Caught by the wind, Yan Heru shouted, “Stop! I’m your master!”
Outside, the Scorpions halted. Yan Heru squinted at Shen Zechuan, furious: “Why bring me without soldiers?”
Fei Sheng said, “Master, shops below, across the street, our carriages await!”
Yan Heru struggled, “I won’t take this path! I can’t fight—”
Shen Zechuan ignored him, kicking him out.
Yan Heru’s mouth filled with wind as he fell, but the canvas below held, Fei Sheng catching him, swinging down safely. The Embroidered Guards were strong; the move required little effort. Fei Sheng tossed Yan Heru to subordinates and pulled back.
Shen Zechuan landed lightly on the eaves, stepping onto Fei Sheng’s shoulder, then down to the street. Inside, killing continued. Fei Sheng, avoiding the Scorpion team, escorted Shen Zechuan into the carriage. Horses clattered into the bustling streets.
Lei Jingzhe smashed the window, unable to find Yan Heru. Enraged, he bellowed in Bian Sha tongue: “Don’t spare these traitors!”
The carriage stopped. Silence enveloped them.
Yan Heru hugged himself, gasping, “Everything’s negotiable! Master, don’t be angry!”
Shen Zechuan removed his sun hat, tossing it aside. “Raise the curtain,” he told Fei Sheng.
The moment the curtain lifted, a foul smell hit them. Yan Heru, embarrassed, smiled sheepishly: “I panicked and—well, you know…”
The guards coughed.
Shen Zechuan chuckled. Yan Heru shivered, pressed against the wall. Shen Zechuan’s voice turned gentle: “Strip him.”
“My mother was right!” Yan Heru panicked. “Beautiful men are tigers! Don’t, don’t! I won’t go that route!”
Fei Sheng forced him down, stripping him efficiently, leaving a single pair of trousers. The August night in Dunzhou was cold; Yan Heru shivered.
Fei Sheng reported, “Master, no Scorpions.”
Shen Zechuan cradled Yan Heru, direct: “What’s your connection to the Scorpions?”
Yan Heru wriggled, eyes blinking like a startled deer. “Why are you asking? Shouldn’t it be, what’s your connection to them?”
Shen Zechuan’s gaze darkened. “My connection to the Scorpions?”
Silence fell. Yan Heru looked innocently at him. “I don’t know.”
Shen Zechuan signaled Fei Sheng.
Fei Sheng dragged Yan Heru out. He struggled, calling out: “I really don’t know! Hai’gu! Hai’gu! Tell him!”
From behind the carriage, a man collapsed, gasping. The first attacker on Lei Jingzhe. He had the features of a Bian Sha, black hair and eyes, softer than Hu, Lu, or Hassen. He revealed a Scorpion tattoo on his neck.
Hai’gu, wounded, pressed his hand to his injury, looking toward the shadows behind Shen Zechuan. He said in a low voice: “Gedale’s son.”