Chapter 39

Shao Qing and the others felt their hearts tighten, and they immediately began to watch for any signs of danger.

After a brief moment, Wang Jing shook his head and said softly, “There are no brothers of ours in the vicinity.”

The Qingzhai Guards, who were tasked with keeping close surveillance, were nowhere to be seen. This implies that neither the Pu tribe nor Yuan Hong were in the area—and Kou Yue wasn’t carrying any poison either.

Shao Qing didn’t know how he was so certain, but if he could say it, it must be true. She felt relieved; after all, those Pu tribes were adept at poison, and she had absolutely no intention of getting even the slightest trace on her.

“Yue Niang, Yue Niang?”

While they were talking, Kou Yue ran over. Her tear-streaked face, hidden by her hand, drew curious glances, yet she paid no attention to anything else until Shao Qing called out to her twice, and then she realized something was amiss.

“Madam, madam! Yuan Lang is missing!”

“Yuan Hong, when did you last see him?!”

Amid her crying, Kou Yue didn’t register any fault in the question. Instead, her emotions suddenly burst forth: “Madam, you don’t understand! Yuan Lang isn’t dead! Sob It’s the eldest brother—it’s the eldest brother…”

“The eldest brother deceived me—Yuan Lang isn’t dead!”

It was a relief that no one was hurt. Right next to the alley stood the county office’s main gate. Shao Qing quickly steadied herself, grabbed Kou Yue by the arm, and pulled her up the steps into the building. As they entered, Shao Qing frowned and asked, “What happened? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Sob— Yesterday, Yuan Lang came to see me, and he…”

It turned out that last night, as darkness was falling and the shop was about to close, Kou Yue had excused herself from her duties as the shopkeeper and headed for the county office. But just as she had walked a short distance, she heard someone calling softly from a side alley, “Yue Niang, Yue Niang!”

That caller turned out to be none other than Yuan Hong—the very man sent down the mountain by the Pu tribe. Overjoyed at discovering that her lover was still alive, Kou Yue was about to take him back to share the good news when, unexpectedly, Yuan Hong, in a panic, yanked at his sleeve to reveal a scabbed wound. He explained that Kou Xuan did not wish to have his sister married to him and intended to take his life.

Kou Yue didn’t believe him at first, but as Yuan Hong recounted, one by one, all the details of how he got into danger—and everything made sense. In contrast, Kou Xuan’s claim—that he hadn’t been able to bring Yuan Hong’s corpse back because Yuan Hong had been shot and had fallen off a steep cliff—proved to contain a glaring inconsistency.

Kou Yue’s mind was in utter turmoil. She had no choice but to promise Yuan Hong that she wouldn’t reveal that he was still alive—and first find a place to lodge him.

In the back courtyard of the clothing shop, an embroiderer was sleeping, so that was not a suitable place to settle Yuan Hong. Moreover, since Yuan Hong did not possess his household registration permit, he couldn’t register to stay at an ordinary inn. Caught in a bind, Yuan Hong suggested at the right moment, “Why don’t you let me stay at the salt post by the water?”

In Pingtao, where water transport was extremely developed, there were various official relay stations near the docks, the largest of which was the Pingtao Salt Post. The official relay station was managed by the deputy in charge and fell under the jurisdiction of the Pingtao County Magistrate’s Office. The salt post’s deputy made several visits to the county office and even met Kou Yue in person. She happened to be the chief clerk’s younger sister, and he always went out of his way to curry favor with her.

Kou Yue wasn’t particularly fond of such flattery; it was just that if she took someone there, they would undoubtedly be allowed to stay without needing a registration permit.

It had to be done that way.

Sure enough, without Kou Yue even having to come up with an excuse, the deputy warmly welcomed Yuan Hong inside and arranged an upper room for him.

“I’ve thought it over all night—our elder brother would never harm Yuan Lang; there must be some misunderstanding here! I planned to ask Yuan Lang in detail today, but who would have thought… the deputy just said he left early this morning!”

He only handed Kou Yue a text message, saying that staying in Pingtao any longer would jeopardize his life and that he had to leave with great regret. He feared that this farewell might mean they would never meet again in this lifetime, and he urged Kou Yue not to worry about it.

“Madam, madam, you see, our elder brother wouldn’t harm Yuan Lang! I must go and find him!” Desperate to locate him as soon as possible, she had no choice but to return to the county office for help.

“Madam, …”

“What are you searching for? Do you have any idea what Yuan Hong intends to do by entering the salt relay station?!”

Shao Qing sharply interrupted Kou Yue’s words. At the mere mention that Yuan Hong was planning to lodge at the salt relay station, her heart skipped a beat. It seemed as if she was beginning to grasp the Pu tribe’s conspiracy.

Yizhou is rich in salt and iron resources, and in Pingtao the three rivers converge—a critical juncture for saltship transportation. Passing salt ships would always stop here for resupply, including those bound for Gaoling.

Such stops sometimes lasted several days, sometimes only one night. Yet Yuan Hong was scheming to gain entry into the salt relay station and then vanish without a trace by the next morning.

The Pu tribe excelled in using poison. Salt—its influence and implications spread widely.

Even though Shao Qing knew that the Qingzhai Guards were constantly watching Yuan Hong, her heart continued pounding furiously as if it might burst out of her throat. Without a moment to spare, she ordered someone to keep a close watch on Kou Yue and then dashed off, her steps quick and determined as she rushed in.

Shao Qing grabbed someone to ask—Wei Jing was in the external study—and she hurried over without pausing.

“Madam sent me here!”

“Without the lord’s orders, no one but madam shall be allowed to pass.”

It turned out that Chunxi was still entangled with the outermost guards—with the Qingzhai Guards being exceptionally meticulous. Seeing that the number of guards outside the study had increased severalfold compared to before, Shao Qing’s nerves were on edge. She couldn’t waste time with any more talk and rushed forward without hesitation.

Finding the way clear, she abruptly braked in front of the external study. Pushing the door open, she quickly secured it behind her with a swift motion and was just about to step inside.

“… Lord! As soon as the poisonous salt flows into the market and triggers an outbreak, with Dong Du and Bao Zhong locked in conflict like the snipe and the clam, we shall profit as the fisherman!”

Clearly, with the crisp sound of a kneecap striking the ground, Han Xi urgently exclaimed, “Lord, the great breach of the Yellow River is bound to occur next year. Should we miss our chance now, it may never come again!”

Shao Qing was shaken and cried out, “Husband!”

——

After descending the mountain, Yuan Hong headed straight for the clothing shop. Taking advantage of Kou Yue’s smooth check-in at the salt post—and in light of the events that occurred during the night—Han Xi reported to Wei Jing at daybreak.

At that time, Shao Qing was still deep in sleep under the medicine’s influence; quietly, he rose, donned his clothes, and went to the external study.

“My lord, Yuan Hong has taken the secret poison, and last night at You hour, he checked into the Pingtao Salt Post.”

How Jia Han managed to make him comply was not clear to the Qingzhai Guards on the perimeter, but it likely wasn’t difficult. Once that coward was separated from the Pu tribe who were leading him, he immediately put on a mournful face and clawed at his throat—surely he must have been given something.

“Secret poison?” Wei Jing asked in a low tone, “Do we know its potency? And has Na’ang given any word?”

Meng Mo then sent another message, saying that it is highly probable the Pu tribe is using their internal secret poison in their scheme—but he wasn’t clear about its toxicity or the specific plan.

As for Na’ang, he is the youngest son of the three elders of the Pu tribe. The “three elders” refer to that patterned man Meng Mo mentioned, who oversees the tribe’s poisons.

Wei Jing did not like being on the defensive, nor did he appreciate keeping everything under wraps. Once it was determined that the Pu tribe was plotting, he immediately ordered a search for a breakthrough.

Among the Qingzhai Guards, there was a specialized tracking unit. They carefully followed the defeated Pu tribe and successfully located their settlement deep in the mountains. With strict surveillance in place—and after nearly half a month of close observation—they finally identified a suitable vulnerability.

That was Na’ang. Enamored with the flourishing splendor of Han culture and the gentle charm of Han women, this arrogant young man seized the moment when his clan’s attention was fixed on Yuan Hong’s descent from the mountain. Once again, he secretly slipped down the mountain—to sleep among the blossoms and rest beneath the willows—only to be caught by the trailing Qingzhai Guards.

That cowardly bully from his own faction, having suffered some punishment the previous night, proceeded to spill every detail of the secret poison’s toxicity as clearly as one might dump beans from a bamboo tube.

“Concocting the Pu tribe’s secret poison is painstaking work. There is only one vial in the clan, and it must not be used except in the most desperate circumstances. Although the dose is small, its range of effects is extensive—the poisoning is akin to an epidemic. Anyone who ingests it will suffer from a relentless high fever, a swollen, painful throat and tongue with foul-smelling breath, severe chest and abdominal pain, and violent coughing. There is no antidote for this poison, and its peculiar pulse symptoms defy any diagnostic method.”

An artificially created false plague?

Wei Jing immediately recalled that, in recent days, the Pu tribe had already instigated several similar outbreaks near the Pingtao Salt Post.

Jia Han had dispatched one of his trusted men to the vicinity of the salt post. That man dined at a small tavern and then left, but afterward, seven or eight people in the establishment fell ill—including the tavern owner.

He furrowed his brows and asked, “What about Yuan Hong? Has he lodged at the salt post? What did he do last night?”

…

Time rewinds to an hour earlier.

Pingtao Salt Post.

In the latter half of the night, dark clouds obscured the cold moon, and a gentle drizzle began. A gust of biting wind crept in through the cracks of the window, and Yuan Hong shuddered violently from the sudden chill. He hadn’t slept a wink all night—he’d been lying there, watching. He ran a hand over his throat; the icy sensation of the poison pill sliding down his esophagus still lingered, and he didn’t want to die!

But he was terribly afraid. Even at midnight, soldiers patrolled the salt depot, and he never dared take even a single step outside his room.

If he didn’t act soon, daylight would break. After trembling as though shaking out the chaff, he finally, with quivering steps, pushed open the door.

Spending the entire night lying in wait wasn’t futile; at least he figured out the soldiers’ patrol patterns. He snuck around furtively, bypassing the front wing area. Beyond that, in the salt depot’s courtyard lay a large dock where more than a dozen big salt ships were quietly moored along the shore.

The early morning watch had already sounded, and outside both sets of walls, soldiers were patrolling. Their footsteps echoed sharply in the silent night. Yuan Hong felt a shiver run through him—luckily, having already infiltrated the salt depot, the only obstacle he faced was a few guards stationed at a sentry post on the way to the dock.

Prepared for anything, he carefully produced a small piece of something resembling spice, then took out his fire-striker, lit it, and tossed it away.

In the time it took to sip half a cup of tea, the guard went down.

Yuan Hong’s heart pounded like a drum as he dashed forward. A guard tripped him and he tumbled hard to the ground. A small blue porcelain bottle he was holding fell from his arms and bounced a few times with a heavy clatter.

Not daring to cry out—or even have time to—Yuan Hong scrambled over to pick up the bottle.

Fortunately, it hadn’t shattered. He exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Clutching the small bottle tightly as if it were laced with needles, Yuan Hong used both his arms and legs to get back on his feet and tiptoed stealthily toward the salt ship.

The ship whose gunwale was coated in brown paint was the Gaoling Salt Ship. Widening his eyes, he scanned the area and discovered that the third ship on the left was the one he was after.

Yuan Hong cautiously climbed aboard the ship along the gangway. Inside the cabin, two guards were dozing off, and he repeated his old trick by taking them down. He headed straight for a row of salt compartments and opened one, revealing it filled to the brim with official salt. Quickly, he retrieved a cloth pouch and a fire striker from his pocket.

After lighting the fire striker, he opened the cloth bag. Inside lay a very peculiar device—a slender tube connected to a pile of brown, leather-like strips.

Yuan Hong unfastened the apparatus, discovering that it was, in fact, a very large oxhide pouch. He marveled at how the craftsman had managed to make it both so light and so thin. He dashed outside to fill the oxhide pouch with water, then climbed to the top of the salt mountain. Carefully, he retrieved the small blue porcelain bottle, pulled out its cork, and tossed the bottle and contents into the pouch.

His legs grew weak—the water-filled pouch was heavy and cold, and burdened by this concoction of poison, he nearly couldn’t climb. Yet, his survival instinct ultimately prevailed; he clumsily scrambled up, holding the pouch with its nozzle facing downward, and began to squeeze it.

The specially modified spraying device emitted a hazy, umbrella-shaped mist that, illuminated by the faint light of the fire striker, silently showered the salt mountain below.

Between the salt mountain and the ship’s cabin lay a passage as wide as an arm. Yuan Hong inserted the tube into the passage and sprayed it throughout.

From one oxhide pouch of poisonous water, he managed to cover half of a salt compartment. Even if dispensed one liter at a time, it would be sufficient for over a thousand transactions.

Finally, Yuan Hong discarded the oxhide pouch in a secluded corner, then crawled and rolled down the salt mountain, quietly slipping away. Before departing, he positioned the two guards so that they appeared to be still asleep.

By the time the sky lightened with the pre-dawn hues, he had returned to his lodging. As soon as the salt depot’s doors opened, he quickly escaped.

“My lord, Yuan Hong has been captured!”

At this point, the Pu tribe’s conspiracy has been completely exposed.

Although the epidemic is false and non-contagious, who could suspect it is a salt issue? Once it erupts, no matter where it occurs, it will be severe, and Gaoling will immediately trace the source of this ‘epidemic.’

Epidemic symptoms had previously appeared near the Pingtao salt depot. Yet, Wei Jing, the county magistrate of Pingtao, did not pay adequate attention and even allowed the salt ships to receive their normal supplies. He would bear the primary responsibility, and Bao Zhong—the man who promoted him—would be equally to blame. Dong Du would certainly seize this divinely bestowed opportunity to completely crush the second young master He of Anyang Commandery, ensuring they never recover.

Having successfully avenged a great grudge, Jia Han was forced to choose between Bao Zhong and Dong Du; in this situation, he opted for the one he despised even more—Bao Zhong.

“My lord, Bao Zhong has long harbored deep enmity against Dong Du. The enormous severity of the toxic salt case is sufficient grounds to execute him immediately and report afterward. If, when he gives orders, we disclose this information to Dong Du, the two will surely engage in a life-or-death struggle!”

Dong Du and Bao Zhong each control half of the military forces in Anyang Commandery. Should they clash, if we manage events astutely and force Bao Zhong into a dangerous predicament that compels him to urgently call on his loyal subordinate counties for reinforcements, then Wei Jing can be dispatched openly with full authority to Gaoling.

With his lord’s capabilities, there is no doubt he will smoothly bring Gaoling under control.

“Thus, we can capture Anyang Commandery before the year ends!”

Han Xi places only his lord’s interests first, with all other matters relegated to the background. Wei Jing, burdened with a deep-seated blood feud, knows that the breaking of the Yellow River is imminent, and he desperately needs to seize Anyang Commandery. Now that an excellent opportunity has finally arisen, Han Xi’s face lights up in joy.

“My lord!” He brings his hands together in respect and holds his breath, waiting for Wei Jing—seated behind the desk—to give the order.

But what awaits Han Xi is only a long, profound silence.

As dawn gradually breaks, the room remains unlit; only a small patch of dim morning light filters through the window screen, plunging Wei Jing’s profile into a vast gloom.

He says nothing. Instead, the large palm resting on the armrest of the Grand Master’s chair slowly clenches until the blue veins stand out starkly.

…

Burdened with a deep, blood-soaked vendetta—and has vowed to spare no effort to avenge his mother and elder brother, even at the cost of his own life—Wei Jing is desperate. With the breaking of the Yellow River looming, he urgently needs to secure Anyang Commandery. Facing such a prime opportunity, Wei Jing believed that he would issue his command without any hesitation.

But in reality, at this moment, his emotions surge like a tidal wave. His knuckles, gripping the armrest, grow white with tension; though he summons every ounce of strength, no syllable escapes his lips.

The scene of him leading his troops for the first time to repel the Tatars in triumph suddenly flashed before his eyes. In the frontier town, men, women, and children lined the streets to welcome him; faces, weathered and cracked by the bitter north wind, shone with brilliant smiles. Many were brought to tears as the sound of their tearful cheers still echoed in his ears.

Wei Jing’s throat convulsed heavily. He had thought that he had long forgotten that image—but it hadn’t left him at all.

But—so what?

Time has passed, and who now remembers his blood-soaked struggle?!

He had suffered a brutal betrayal and endured an overwhelming disaster. In the darkest days, even as he used his very flesh and blood to protect the people, those same people eagerly collaborated with the authorities to capture him.

All for a bounty worth ten thousand gold coins, all for the promise of ennoblement.

That burning, heart- and lung-searing agony surged up in anger once again. Wei Jing looked upward, gasping for breath.

“Have you forgotten how my mother and brother met their tragic end? Have you forgotten the deep-seated blood feud? Once I fall behind, I may never be able to put an end to my enemies in this lifetime!”

The memory of his mother and brother’s bitter blood feud was still vivid before him, while his enemies continued to arrogantly survey the world from their high perch!

“My lord!”

At that moment, Han Xi’s urgent voice rang out: “The great breach of the Yellow River will surely occur by next year. If we lose this opportunity, it may never come again! My lord!”

Wei Jing gritted his teeth so hard that they audibly clicked; his eyes turned bloodshot, and with a sharp “teng,” he suddenly sprang to his feet.

He was about to give his order. And at that very instant, the sound of rapid footsteps approached. The door swung open, and a woman cried in surprise, “Husband!”

His eyes, burning red, immediately turned toward the sound.