Chapter Forty-Seven: Bamboo Grove Villa

On the other side, Left Arm Qingcheng was locked in a bloody struggle, surrounded on all sides and in grave danger, his body covered in wounds.

"Stop!" Lin Feng, mounted on his horse, held his long spear aloft, the jeweled crown of Mu Hong impaled upon its tip, appearing as a god of slaughter incarnate.

"Those who wish to live, fall back!"

His furious roar sent terror through the ranks of the Great Qian soldiers; a few of the more timid lost control of their bladders on the spot. When even their general had been slain, who among them had the courage to continue fighting? Their morale shattered, they fled in panic toward the gates of Wei Tiger Pass.

"Brother Zuo, are you all right?" Lin Feng, gripping the reins tightly, rushed to Zuo Qingcheng's side, concern etched on his face.

"I'm fine, ha! These cowardly fools still dare call themselves the Tiger Army? Brother Lin, one day your name will be known across the realm!" Zuo Qingcheng’s admiration for Lin Feng was sincere; Mu Hong’s reputation had long spread throughout the four kingdoms, and his very name made many generals frown.

"Let's go, brother Zuo. The hundreds of thousands of soldiers within Wei Tiger Pass are not to be taken lightly. While they're still disorganized, we must escape." Lin Feng brought over a riderless black horse, helped Zuo Qingcheng mount, and slapped the horse’s flank. The steed sped away, bearing Zuo Qingcheng to safety.

Above Wei Tiger Pass, Che Zhonglou’s conjured Vajra White-browed Ape was still locked in fierce combat with Bi Rong’s Blood-Victor King. Each time their weapons—Ruyi Cudgel and Vajra Scepter—clashed, the very air trembled. Below, soldiers clutched their heads in agony, blood streaming from their seven orifices. Even Che’s true form could not easily defeat Bi Rong’s avatar, a testament to their ferocity.

"These two are evenly matched; they won’t settle the fight quickly. Better to find a place to lay low and plan our next move." Lin Feng tied Mu Hong’s corpse to his horse, picked up the fallen weapons, and mounted up.

But then—neigh! The Red Gale steed reared, throwing him off and bolting away. Lin Feng, still gripping the reins with one hand, was dragged dozens of feet, fury overtaking him. He dropped his spear and halberd, grabbed the horse’s neck, swung himself onto its back, and, channeling his strength, forced the beast to its knees. After a dozen yards the Red Gale finally collapsed on the field.

"Beast! You dare defy me?" Lin Feng slapped the horse’s rump. It let out a miserable whinny, struggled to its feet again, eyes wide with fear and humiliation.

"Go!" He gathered the reins, collected the pear blossom spear and Gouchen halberd, and glanced at Mu Hong's corpse—now a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Urging the Red Gale westward, Lin Feng soon adjusted to the horse’s gait, tightened his legs, and headed north—toward the realm of Dream Liang.

"Brother Lin!" Zuo Qingcheng and Ye Ziyin waved to him a mile ahead, and the Black Steed howled at the moon in greeting.

"Move quickly! The golden armor and iron boots on Mu Hong are no ordinary goods; strip them, they may serve us yet." Thus the once-mighty guardian general met a pitiful end, his body picked clean and left to rot in the wild until his soldiers recovered the remains days later.

The Gouchen halberd, passed among them, revealed an unusual trait: this divine weapon could separate into three sections, making it easy to transport.

The group fled north under cover of night, sticking to wild paths and remote villages. Dream Liang was now a mortal enemy of both Autumn Pond and Great Qian; if the border guards found them, there would be no questions asked—only a hail of arrows.

Among the four kingdoms, Great Qian soldiers excelled in spear and sword, while Dream Liang was famed for its divine bows and crossbows. Bamboo groves dotted the landscape, and even commoners practiced archery; the martial spirit here surpassed the other three nations.

"Brother Lin, the Dream Liang border is about five hundred miles ahead. How will we cross?" Zuo Qingcheng worried aloud. Though they’d escaped Wei Tiger Pass, Dream Liang’s Southern Garrison awaited, with at least three more checkpoints ahead.

"No rush. Let's find a place to rest. At dawn, we’ll wait for Elder Che to join us and plan our next move. For now, be vigilant in this no-man’s land..." Lin Feng was cut off mid-sentence by a sudden sense of danger. His horse halted, ears twitching.

"Brother, there’s someone in the bamboo!" The Black Steed’s warning had barely reached Lin Feng’s ears when torches blazed to life on both sides. Warriors armed with fine bows and steel crossbows surrounded them, cold lights glinting in the darkness—poisoned bolts poised to strike.

Given the situation, they had no choice but to wait and see. The party stood back to back, eyes fixed on their unexpected assailants.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" From the ranks of warriors, a young woman stepped forward. By torchlight, her delicate, spirited face was revealed; beauty laced with a martial aura, her black hair tied back, glowing red in the firelight, eyes bright and alert as they lingered on each of the strangers.

Zuo Qingcheng clasped his fists and replied, "We are travelers passing through to Dream Liang to visit family. This is Young Master Ye, and this is the friend we met on the road, Brother Lin. Please, let us pass; we will be eternally grateful."

The maiden in green advanced with graceful steps, first examining Ye Ziyin, then shifting her gaze to Lin Feng and his horse. "Young Master Lin, you are fortunate indeed to possess such a steed as the Red Gale. Xia Tong is truly envious."

"Red Gale?" Lin Feng realized too late his slip; how could he not know his own horse’s breed?

Xia Tong laughed lightly and stepped closer. "As I recall, General Mu Hong of Wei Tiger Pass also had such a steed. Tell me, was yours a gift from the general?"

A surge of killing intent rose in Lin Feng’s heart. This Xia Tong’s familiarity with Mu Hong suggested a close connection. Concerned for Ye Ziyin and the others, Lin Feng knew he needed a careful plan.

"Capture the leader first—if I act swiftly, I have an eighty percent chance. Yes, seize her and think later."

Regaining composure, Lin Feng smiled coolly. "You jest, miss. I have no special relationship with General Mu. This horse was a gift from a friend."

"Oh? Then, would you care to visit my Bamboo Courtyard Manor for a chat? My father enjoys meeting heroes of the martial world. Will you do us the honor?" A flicker of cunning shone in Xia Tong’s eyes as she gestured for her warriors to lower their weapons.

Lin Feng nearly seized her then and there, but restrained himself. So long as they meant no harm, he would not provoke them. These people seemed neither brigands nor barbarians—perhaps there was opportunity here.

With exchanged glances, the group followed Xia Tong and her retinue through the bamboo groves, past another contingent of guards, then mounted up and rode a dozen miles to the gates of Bamboo Courtyard Manor, nestled against the mountainside.

"Miss!" Four sword-bearing guards bowed at the entrance. Lin Feng looked up to see dozens of watchtowers arrayed along the manor’s walls, silhouettes barely visible above. From these towers, one could survey the grounds and, in times of crisis, rain arrows upon intruders.

Two large red lanterns flanked the gate, their flickering flames especially conspicuous. Even before entering, a wave of delicate fragrance greeted them—subtle, refreshing, and soothing.

"Please, come in." Upon crossing the threshold, Xia Tong called out, "Father! We have guests—distinguished guests!"

A dozen burly men emerged from the inner courtyard, swords at their waists, lining up in two rows. "What distinguished guests? Tong’er, are you playing tricks on your father again?" A scholarly middle-aged man in yellow strode forward, white-faced, long-bearded, with an air of refinement. His eyes swept over the group, a warm smile on his lips. "I apologize for not greeting you sooner. I am Xia, your host. Please, come in."

The guests returned his courtesy and entered in single file, quietly observing the unique and mysterious manor. Lin Feng stayed at the rear, ever vigilant.

"Young Master Lin, surely you don’t mean to bring your Red Gale into the hall as well?" Xia Tong’s teasing tone made her father’s face change; only now did he notice the remarkable steed, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Ha, you jest, Miss. The horse is stubborn, I’m afraid those who tend it must be patient." Lin Feng patted the horse’s neck, handing the reins to Xia Tong. As his hand brushed her soft, warm fingers, his heart gave a jolt—but he quickly regained his composure.

Xia Tong laughed, handed the horse to a retainer, and led the guests through the front yard, down two corridors, and into the main hall, where they were seated and served tea and pastries.

The hall’s chairs and tables were all crafted from bamboo, incense wafted in the air, and above hung a painting of "Ten Thousand Horses Galloping"—all steeped in ancient elegance.

"It is an honor to welcome you to my humble home," the master of Bamboo Courtyard Manor said, gently blowing the floating green leaves in his teacup. "May I ask your names?"

"Father, this is Young Master Ye, that is Young Master Lin, and I have yet to learn the names of the others," Xia Tong introduced, sitting at the head of the left side, with Ye Ziyin and Zuo Qingcheng beside her. Lin Feng sat on the right, next to Liu Yun and Liao Kai.

"My name is Zuo Qingcheng, house steward to Young Master Ye. These two are Liu Yun and Liao Kai. Forgive us for disturbing your rest, Master Xia."

Master Xia waved his hand with a laugh. "No need for apology, sir. I greatly enjoy meeting heroes of the martial world. You do not appear to be ordinary men. If you would honor me by staying a few days, it would be my pleasure."

"Your hospitality is most generous, but the decision rests with the young masters," Zuo Qingcheng replied, sipping his tea and saying no more.

"Young Master Ye, what say you?" Master Xia turned to him.

Ye Ziyin glanced at Lin Feng, who merely smiled, then replied, "It would be discourteous to refuse such kindness. Bamboo Courtyard Manor is so beautiful, it’s hard to leave. We gratefully accept your hospitality for a few days."

"Excellent! It is my great fortune to host such guests. You must be tired from your journey—rest tonight, and tomorrow I shall prepare a banquet to welcome you properly. Steward, show our guests to their rooms." Master Xia rose and gave his orders.

The guests thanked him and were escorted to the guest quarters in the rear courtyard.

"Father, did you see anything unusual about Young Master Lin?" After the guests left, Xia Tong and her father conversed quietly in the hall.

"He is a master—his skill rivals my own, and I cannot see through him. Did you notice his horse? For Mu Hong’s famed steed to fall into his hands, they must be connected." Master Xia stroked his beard, a look of thoughtful wisdom in his eyes.

"Father, isn’t he strange? Did you notice his dog? It seemed almost sentient. And he never lets go of his spear; he’s clearly wary of us," Xia Tong analyzed keenly.

"Indeed. He carries a strong aura of death. Go and probe his background. Meanwhile, I’ll send someone to Wei Tiger Pass to learn whether Mu Hong still lives. If we play this right, we could win great merit with the lord."

"Shall we investigate the others’ names as well?" Xia Tong suggested.

"Yes, though I suspect they’re using false names. Still, it’s worth checking. I’ll handle it. Go rest—it’s late."

"Yes, father." Xia Tong bowed and left the hall. Master Xia, standing before the great painting on the wall, pondered for a long time before finally departing.