Chapter Seventy-Eight: None Shall Survive

The teahouse waiter was still calling out for customers.

The storyteller’s voice flowed smoothly: “On that day, when the Holy Lord was born, the sky was awash in crimson light; Grand Marshal Hong unwittingly released demons, and one hundred and eight demon lords descended into the world, black smoke rising straight to the heavens…”

Cao Yao sipped slowly at a bowl of tea dregs.

Not far off, Liu Chengyun, his bamboo hat pulled low, pushed a cart heaped with dry grass, turning onto a small path near the city gate, close to the steps leading to the upper city, and stopped.

“Hey! Don’t park your cart here!”

A barefoot gate guard lounged on the stone steps, basking in the shade, issuing orders with an air of authority.

Liu Chengyun forced a smile, wiping sweat from his brow. “No hurry, officer, just resting my feet.”

A dozen paces away, Cao Yao fished out several copper coins from his chest, tossed them on the table, and set down his half-finished bowl of tea as the patrons rose from their seats.

Liu Chengyun abandoned the hay cart and headed for the teahouse; Cao Yao set aside his teacup and walked toward the cart.

Both men quickened their pace, step by step.

Sensing something amiss as a group of men strode over with a fierce air, the gate guard tried to rise and call out.

But Cao Yao sprang up the steps in two quick bounds, felled the guard with a single punch, and sent him tumbling down, whereupon Feng Rang, who had drawn a blade from the cart, plunged it into the guard’s heart.

The blade gleamed white, the blood ran red; the teahouse waiter was stunned, mouth agape, unable to scream before Chengyun grabbed him and hissed, “Don’t shout, go brew your tea, and mind your own business!”

The waiter did not call out, but immediately, a group of soldiers retrieved swords, bows, clubs, and shields from the cart. In the blink of an eye, a skirmish erupted atop the city’s inner barbican, and even the local militia were tossed from the ramparts by Feng Rang.

Such an audacious attack could not be concealed. Across the street, a woman shrieked, her voice piercing and desperate.

Chengyun could only sigh and, releasing the waiter, patted him on the shoulder. “Forget it, shout all you like.”

The waiter, face drained of blood, opened his mouth and screamed.

“Murder! Murder!”

At the far end of the street, Liu Chengzong had just reached the county office when he heard the hysterical cries from the city gate and halted.

Cai Zhongpan asked, “What do we do? There’s still some distance to Commander Zhang’s house.”

The county office was nearby; they could hear the chaos at the gate, and so could those inside the office.

“Let him go for now. We save my uncle first.”

No sooner had he spoken than the clamor of assembled yamen runners could be heard from within the county office.

Soon after, the chief constable, mounted and leading a dozen yamen runners armed with staves, iron rulers, chains, and swords, charged out, shouting, “Make way! Make way!”

Cai Zhongpan called out, “There’s been a murder at the city gate!”

Hearing this news in their haste, the constables had no time to scrutinize who wore the official robes.

People only recognized the robe.

They would never mistake him for a thief.

As the two groups passed one another, Liu Chengzong let his arms hang, and from the wide sleeves of his official robe, blades and axes slipped into his hands.

Weapon in hand, he lunged forward, crashing into the crowd like a tiger into a flock of sheep, hacking and striking with both blade and axe.

Behind him, Guo Zhasi, Gao Xian, and the others, each wielding weapons, charged into the fray, cutting down the yamen runners as easily as slicing melons—chaos turned to rout in an instant.

The chief constable of Fushi County, under sudden attack and seeing his men fall, jerked on the reins and spurred his horse toward the office, only to have Cai Zhongpan, who had been waiting on the threshold, bar his path.

Cai Zhongpan had gone to fetch a torch, lit the match cord, and had just loaded his hand cannon when he heard hooves clattering on the stone behind him. Without looking, he turned and fired.

Bang!

The thunderous report startled the constable’s horse, causing it to rear and throw its rider to the ground.

Before the constable could recover, Cai Zhongpan was upon him. In two or three strides, he seized the reins in one hand, pressed the muzzle of the hand cannon to the man’s back, and ended his life.

Meanwhile, Gao Xian and the other border soldiers, blades in hand, had gone berserk, chasing down and hacking at the scattered yamen runners in the street.

Cai Zhongpan shouted, “Lion, leave them! Save my brother-in-law first!”

As he called out, Liu Chengzong was already pursuing several runners to the far side of the street, where frightened townsfolk scattered in panic.

Oddly enough, someone even dashed in from the side to help him restrain one of the runners.

“Benefactor, run!”

Run? To hell with that.

Without bothering to see who it was, Liu Chengzong stepped forward and plunged his blade into the runner.

Only then did he recognize the man as a nameless old soldier he’d once helped a few months ago.

“Do you want to push carts all your life? If you can’t draw a bow, you can still wield a blade. Come with me!”

Liu Chengzong didn’t wait for an answer, kicked the runner’s waist blade toward the old soldier, and plunged into the melee and then into the county office.

The old soldier, his face splattered with blood, looked down at his maimed left hand, missing its thumb, then gritted his teeth, picked up the blade, and followed Liu Chengzong into the office.

Inside, the registrar Zhang Pan had heard the commotion and ran out, just in time to see Cai Zhongpan kill the chief constable at the gate.

Before he could swallow his shock, Liu Chengzong leapt in, blade in hand.

Zhang Pan called out, “Chengzong? Are you mad? This is the county office!”

“Registrar Zhang, this doesn’t concern you. Go back to your room.”

Liu Chengzong raised his blade at the six clerks, herding them one by one into their rooms.

Only Zhang Pan, relying on their acquaintance, tried to reason with him. “Is there no other way? If you’d told me earlier, I could have released Old Fourth for you. If you run now, there’s still time to escape the city. No matter how fierce you are, can you take on the Yan’an Garrison?”

Liu Chengzong shook his head with a bitter laugh. “Too late for that. The law-abiding Liu Chengzong was untouchable, but do you think I’m still law-abiding today? What are these dog officials? Do they really think a robe can shield them?”

At that, the old soldier burst into the hall, followed closely by Gao Xian, both wielding blades.

Liu Chengzong gave Gao Xian a look. “Restrain the magistrate.”

Bloodstained, Gao Xian nodded and charged toward the main hall.

Cai Zhongpan was about to head to the west wing, but a jailer blocked the entrance, barring him from entering. He could only step aside angrily and reload his hand cannon.

Liu Chengzong did not bother to force the door. Seeing movement through the crack, he thrust his short blade into the gap.

A scream sounded from within.

He stepped back, kicked in the door bolt, and rushed into the west wing with axe and knife.

The remaining jailers, terrified, scattered in all directions.

One, trying to scramble over the wall, was seized and thrown to the ground. Expecting death, he screamed for mercy, but Liu Chengzong pressed his blade to the man’s throat and said, “Open the cells and you live.”

The jailer, feeling as though he’d been granted a royal pardon, kowtowed twice, trembling as he grabbed the keys and led Liu Chengzong toward the cells.

No jailers remained inside the dark prison.

Dozens of prisoners clamored and shouted, some trying to break down the wooden bars, but when they saw Liu Chengzong, drenched in blood like a slaughtered gourd, leading the jailer in, all fell silent, eyes full of hope.

Only Liu Xiangyu’s face was ashen with despair.

He’d had a premonition—since the chaos erupted outside, he’d felt it coming.

Now, watching his son command the jailer to open cell after cell, his lips quivered, but he could not speak.

When the cell doors were thrown open, he finally gripped Liu Chengzong’s arm and said, “Lion, I’ve caused you terrible harm!”

“Father, in these times, this day was bound to come. Let’s go.”

Liu Xiangyu knew this was no place for words. He nodded. “Yes, we must leave the city at once. Go.”

The prisoners snatched up discarded chains and staves; even Liu Xiangyu gripped a short club.

They followed Liu Chengzong, shouting as they burst from the west wing, ready to charge out of the compound—only to see Liu Chengzong halt in his tracks.

“Lion, what are you waiting for?” someone called.

Liu Chengzong cocked his head, raising his blade toward the main hall. “Father, since the county magistrate won’t let our family live, I won’t let him live either. None of them will.”