Chapter Forty-Three: The Fugitive Is on the Mountain

Inside the county prison, Wu Da’s whip lashed ruthlessly across Old Wu’s back. Each strike landed with solid force, leaving purplish-red welts across a back already marked by scars. In the stifling air, the smell of blood gradually thickened, but though his flesh was torn and bleeding, Old Wu did not utter a single sound.

“Wu Kuishan, you truly are a tough one,” Wu Da sneered, sweat beading upon his brow. He had always preferred to carry out torture himself, savoring the process.

His companion, Huang Bin, let out a cold laugh. “No one has ever proven tough under our hands. We’re just getting started. Don’t tell me you’re holding back already.”

“Exactly. Or else, I’d be happy to take over,” added Zhao Jiliang, equally eager. Like Wu Da, both men served as military inspectors, tasked with overseeing the army at the front lines. This time, they had been given a special assignment—to work with Wu Da and capture the fugitive Han Yuyang as swiftly as possible.

“What are you two joking about?” Wu Da shot back. “I’m not holding back in the slightest. Besides, look at all these scars—do you really think he’s just an ordinary butcher?”

“Those are just wounds from slaughtering cattle gone mad,” Old Wu replied slowly, exhaling a ragged breath.

Wu Da laughed darkly, an amused glint flickering on his grim features. “Do you expect me to be so foolish as to not tell a blade wound from anything else?”

Huang Bin leaned in for a closer look, then sucked in a sharp breath. “These wounds clearly weren’t made in just one or two incidents. You must have seen real battle—dozens of times, at least.”

“Damn it, you’ve got more scars than all of us put together. Who the hell are you?” Zhao Jiliang could no longer restrain himself. He snatched the whip from Wu Da’s hands and lashed Old Wu a dozen more times.

On the sidelines, Wu Da’s confidence swelled. He was certain he had stumbled upon an exhilarating lead, and the secrets hidden within Old Wu would eventually be laid bare.

“So you’ve been to war—that explains it! That’s why you sheltered Han Yuyang. You two must be in league!” Wu Da was about to intensify his torture when sudden news reached them, electrifying the three men like wolves catching the scent of prey on a barren plain.

A carriage had been ambushed on the road. The attackers claimed to be bandits from Tiger Head Mountain. After seizing the loot, they left behind a highly distinctive waist token, which Tang Yong had now brought back to the county office.

Ordinarily, such an incident would have had nothing to do with Wu Da and his companions—bandit attacks were commonplace in these chaotic times. But the appearance of that waist token caught their special attention. When Tang Yong presented it, all three recognized it at once: it belonged exclusively to the Qishan Iron Cavalry. That meant the highwayman had to be Han Yuyang!

Wu Da, waist token in hand, paused to think. “Which way did the bandit go after the attack?” he asked Tang Yong.

“Supposedly toward Tiger Head Mountain. Nearly five hundred bandits are entrenched there year-round—a force to be reckoned with in these parts.”

Zhao Jiliang scoffed. “Just a bunch of rabble. Not worth mentioning. Then again, with only a dozen men in the county office, it’s no wonder you dare not provoke them.”

“But something doesn’t add up,” Huang Bin mused, stroking his beard. “Didn’t our superiors warn us to guard against Han Yuyang fleeing east? Why would he hole up with bandits? It makes no sense.”

“With the gates of Ziyang City sealed, his path east is cut off,” Wu Da reasoned. “He’s taken refuge with the bandits for now, waiting for the heat to die down before making his next move.”

Confident he had everything figured out, Wu Da resolved to head for Tiger Head Mountain and capture Han Yuyang. Little did he know that this was precisely the bait Jiang Chen had set for them, leaving the token as a deliberate clue. Choosing Tiger Head Mountain was no accident—Jiang Chen had his own designs.

Half a day later, three men with straight swords at their waists and murder in their eyes appeared before the gate of Tiger Head Mountain’s stronghold. Intimidated by their fierce presence, the bandit guards opened the gates without a second thought.

When the bandit chief, Huang Sica, heard of the newcomers, he was astonished. “Where did these three swordsmen come from? Are they here to join us?”

By this time, Jiang Chen had already slipped into the ranks of the bandits. His plan was to use Huang Sica’s own hand to eliminate Wu Da and his men atop Tiger Head Mountain. After all, these bandits richly deserved their fate—his own parents had perished at their hands in his previous life.

If both sides could destroy each other, he would simply come out and finish off whoever remained—a perfect conclusion.

Wu Da, Huang Bin, and Zhao Jiliang were all battle-hardened veterans, exuding a fearsome aura. When they explained their purpose to Huang Sica, the bandit chief was baffled. Ordinary folk might have been cowed, but Huang Sica commanded hundreds—he was no ordinary man.

Jiang Chen watched everything unfold from an unremarkable corner, his presence unnoticed.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Zhao Jiliang swept his gaze over the two dozen bandits gathered in the hall, his words dripping with menace.

“Insolent wretches!” Huang Sica snapped. “You come here and demand I hand someone over? Whether or not that person is here, your attitude alone is enough for me to see that you never leave this mountain alive!”

Though a trace of fear tugged at his heart—these three were indeed unusual—Huang Sica saw no reason to back down. Just as Jiang Chen had anticipated, this was a bandit chief who would stop at nothing. A few more words and swords would inevitably be drawn.

As the bandits drew their blades, Wu Da sneered, “Fools. We’ll wipe you out for the county office and then look for our man at leisure.”

In perfect unison, the three drew their swords, and the hall erupted in violence.

Yet, contrary to Jiang Chen’s expectations, the fight did not devolve into chaos. Instead, it became a one-sided massacre.

He had known these bandits were little more than thugs—barely more formidable than ordinary farmers—but the sheer disparity between them and real military officers of the Great Qian was still shocking.

Wu Da lunged forward in a flash, cutting down Huang Sica—flanked by over a dozen of his men—right on the spot.

The surviving bandits scattered in terror, utterly incapable of resistance.