In winter, Nan'ao Island felt like a cooler summer; a single layer of clothing was enough to endure the cold. Where the flames touched, clothes turned to ashes, skin first reddened from the heat, then erupted with translucent blisters—some as large as eggs, others as small as soybeans—spreading downward from the collar.
Hearing the screams and seeing Wu Ping's face contorted in agony, Wang Daxia felt no satisfaction from revenge, only the pain of confirming his father's death.
Over the year-long pursuit of the culprit, Wang Daxia had countless times imagined the possibility of his father surviving to comfort himself. Now, even that last hope was gone—his father had perished in the icy Yangtze River a year ago, leaving no trace of his remains.
Torturing his father's killer could not heal the pain in his heart. As Wu Ping let out piercing shrieks, Wang Daxia remained unmoved, even finding the noise irritating.
When the fire reached the lower abdomen, even the chest hair was singed off one by one. Seeing the flames about to spread below the navel, threatening to turn him into a smoked chicken, Wu Ping could bear it no longer. "I'll confess! I'll confess everything! Just give me a quick death!"
Wu Ping had not only killed Wang Commander, an imperial official. As early as the forty-first year of the Jiajing era, he had guided Japanese Pirates for a cut of the "brokerage fee." Acting as an insider, he helped the Pirates sack his hometown of Zhao'an, where townspeople were slaughtered and plundered, and the stationed commander Zhou Hua was also killed by the Pirates.
With blood debts piling up, Wu Ping knew he couldn't survive and only sought a swift death to minimize his suffering.
Wang Daxia doused the flames with a bucket of water.
The informant was the owner of a dockside inn in Yichun, Jiangxi. It was a shady establishment, not engaged in legitimate business, but well-informed about both lawful and underworld affairs. Wu Ping, bringing men and tools to replicate his old tactics and loot the vulnerable Jiangxi area for New Year funds, went there to ask the owner about local wealthy households to target efficiently.
The owner first mentioned the most famous figures in Yichun's Yuanzhou Prefecture—the retired Yan Family father and son.
After returning to their hometown, the Yan Family expanded their residence, renovated ancestral graves, and even their chamber pots were said to be gold. Rumor had it that the burial of the daughter discarded by Duke Yansheng was extravagantly lavish; just digging up the burial goods would sustain several lifetimes. They were the wealthiest in Yichun.
Wu Ping, cautious, first scouted the Yan residence and confirmed its immense wealth. However, they kept over a thousand guards, nominally household staff but recruited under stricter standards than the military, well-armed and robust. Raiding them would be challenging. Though the prize was tempting, the defenses were tough, and failure could lead to dire consequences.
Wu Ping gave up. The owner offered a second option: a Large official ship was coming from Nanchang, ostensibly carrying officials returning home but actually transporting silver for a bank under official guise, as mountain bandits and road robbers only dared attack civilian and merchant ships, fearing officials.
Given the Yan Family's proven wealth, the innkeeper's tip seemed reliable. Wu Ping gathered men and boats to ambush the Official ship. This time, they successfully seized the vessel but found it was indeed an Official ship, not a Silver ship. Moreover, the cargo hold below had been blown open, letting river water flood in. They couldn't move all the crates in time before the ship sank.
The operation ended in loss, so Wu Ping decided to attack Jiujiang County to recoup the damages. Recalling how just seven Japanese Pirates had once captured a county town, he thought this attempt should be feasible.But he had miscalculated once again. Three years later, the garrison soldiers defending the city remained appallingly incompetent in combat, though they had at least mastered basic skills like archery and firearms—unlike before when they would abandon the city in terror after just a few assaults by the Japanese Pirates.
Wu Ping had failed again.
"Wait!" Wang Daxia interrupted. "The explosion that blew a hole in the bottom cabin of the official ship—wasn't that done by your people infiltrating the cargo hold?"
"Of course not," Wu Ping replied. "We decided to rob the ship on impulse. How could we have had time to plant our own men aboard? Besides, we thought it was a silver ship at the time. Silver is heavy—if the ship springs a leak and sinks quickly, all the silver would end up feeding the fish, and we'd get nothing."
Wang Daxia drew his dagger and pierced one of the crystal blisters on Wu Ping's scalded skin. "Who blew up the ship?"
Wu Ping shook his head desperately. "I don't know! Everyone on board died. Perhaps they figured there was no escape anyway, so they chose to burn their boats—sinking the ship to deny us any gain, even if it meant dying together!"
"After our failed attack on Jiujiang County, we immediately retreated. Passing through Yichun, I went to the innkeeper to demand my money back for the intel—his terrible information had cost us dearly. But when I arrived, the inn had been reduced to ashes. They said a guest in one of the rooms had ignited the curtains while trying to warm themselves with charcoal, setting the whole inn ablaze. The innkeeper had been drinking that night and slept too soundly to hear the shouts—he burned to death inside."
With the man dead, there was no hope of recovering the money. Wu Ping had no choice but to lead the Japanese Pirates back to Guangdong and resume his old trade, recruiting followers and rebuilding his forces. The golden seal plundered from the official ship was too risky to use, so he gave it to a subordinate to take to Macau, specifically to trade with foreign merchants who collected such official markers. A stamped official seal was far more valuable than a plain gold bar melted down from it.
A single character—"greed"—had unexpectedly become Wang Daxia's only clue in hunting down his father's killer. It began with greed, and it would end with greed.
After twists and turns, the trail led back to the Yan Family.
This was a scheme of killing with a borrowed knife, step by step pushing Wang Commander toward his death. Wu Ping had obtained the information from a shady inn in the Yan family's hometown, and he had even scouted the Yan residence beforehand. The explosion in the bottom cargo hold during the Japanese Pirates' attack clearly indicated a mole aboard the official ship—and this mole wasn't one of the pirates.
This insider knew that Wang Commander's retinue had the ability to resist the Japanese Pirates and feared the large official ship might break through the encirclement, so they blew up the ship first to prevent its escape.
With collusion from within and attack from without, Wang Commander was doomed—and with the Japanese Pirates taking the blame, no one would suspect a mastermind pulling the strings behind the scenes, manipulating even the ruthless pirates as mere pawns.
The shady innkeeper had likely been silenced by this mastermind.
Such practiced methods, meticulous planning, post-facto elimination of witnesses, absolute eradication of evidence, and the sheer malice driving the urgent desire to eliminate his father—it could only be Yan Shifan!
Killing intent blazed in Wang Daxia's eyes. He handed Wu Ping over to Qi Jiguang and Yu Dayou for disposal and set out for Jiangxi that very day.
Only one thought consumed Wang Daxia's mind: Kill him! Even if the heavens themselves tried to protect him, I will kill him!
Wang Daxia rode day and night without rest. At each relay station, his horse would collapse from exhaustion, and he would mount a fresh one and continue, eating his meals in the saddle.Arriving at the Yangtze River, the south was warm, and in the depths of winter, only a thin layer of ice had formed along the riverbank. The river itself was not frozen and remained navigable. He hired a boat to head for Jiangxi. As soon as he boarded, exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he fell into a deep sleep.
In a daze, the festive melody of "The Phoenix Seeks His Mate" began to play, with the suona's notes particularly delightful, almost tearing the drifting goose-feather snowflakes into shreds.
Wang Daxia heard Lu Ying knocking at the door, "Hey, are you ready? The auspicious hour is almost here—don’t delay fetching the bride. Stop looking in the mirror; you won’t magically blossom into a flower. The newlyweds take precedence today, and you’re surely the most handsome man, even I have to admit defeat."
Wang Daxia, dressed in his crimson festive attire, opened the door and asked his superior and best man, Lu Ying, "Is my hat straight?"
Lu Ying was also clad entirely in red, wearing a black gauze hat with a large red silk flower pinned on each side—truly living up to his reputation as the dashing scar-faced gentleman.
Lu Ying never adorned his hat or gauze with flowers, but he made an exception as Wang Daxia’s best man, embracing the festive spirit.
Wang Daxia had draped over his left shoulder a large red-patterned silk tapestry with blooming flowers, which extended all the way to the hem of his robe—a wedding tradition where the groom dons red decorations to welcome the bride.
He wore a black gauze hat, with two golden flowers pinned on either side of the crown and a pair of vibrant, arm-length peacock feathers.
Lu Ying remarked, "Your hat is perfectly straight, but you’ve overdone the accessories. A pair of golden flowers would suffice—why add unnecessary peacock feathers?"
"Because they look good," Wang Daxia spun around in place. "And they’re eye-catching—Caiwei will spot me right away."
Without another word, Lu Ying plucked the peacock feathers from the hat. "With these towering feathers, you’d have to duck through doorways. If they brushed against the frame and fell off, wouldn’t that be awkward? Besides, the bride will be holding a feather fan to cover her face the entire way—she’ll see the fan, not you."
Wang Daxia, initially focused on his own appearance, had forgotten this detail and reluctantly agreed, setting out with just the pair of golden flowers.
The bride lived next door, a short distance away, but the rituals could not be skipped. Wang Daxia rode a white steed, while his best man Lu Ying rode a bay horse, heading to the neighboring house to fetch the bride.
There was door-blocking, demands for red envelopes, and overcoming various challenges, including improvising a bridal urging poem on the spot—something Wang Daxia was incapable of. Lu Ying stepped in each time, fluently reciting poems composed by their family’s advisors.
Finally, the bride, Wei Caiwei, emerged in her crimson wedding gown, holding a feather fan to shield her face, and entered the bridal sedan. Wang Daxia was so overjoyed that his smile seemed to stretch all the way to the golden flowers on his hat. From today onward, he and Caiwei would be officially married.
The two proceeded to the wedding hall to pay respects to heaven and earth.
The master of ceremonies announced, "First bow to heaven and earth!"
The couple bowed toward the entrance.
"Second bow to the parents!"
They turned and bowed to Wang Commander seated in the place of honor.
But the moment they turned, the once-living Wang Commander had transformed into a spirit tablet inscribed, "In Memory of the Deceased Father, Wang Boda."
What was happening?
Wang Daxia rushed over, and as his fingers touched the spirit tablet, everything around him vanished. The wedding hall turned into a mourning hall, the wedding attire became mourning attire, and only the suona’s piercing melody remained unchanged—shifting from "The Phoenix Seeks His Mate" to "The Grand Funeral Procession."
"No! No!" Even in his dream, Wang Daxia could not accept his father’s death and jolted awake with a cry.When he awoke, his body burned like charcoal, his throat felt as if sandpaper had scraped it raw, and every bone in his body ached. The moment he tried to sit up, the world spun violently before his eyes, and he collapsed back onto the pillow, utterly devoid of even the strength to rise.
A crew member from the boat approached with a bowl of porridge. "Sir, you're ill. Have some porridge."
Wang Daxia had no appetite. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Have we reached Yichun yet?"
"Not yet," the crewman replied. "It's pouring outside, and the Yangtze is raging with wind and waves. It's also nighttime, so we didn't dare continue. We've docked at the port and are now at the Inn. You were so ill we couldn't wake you, so we carried you here to rest. We'll set sail again once the heavy rain stops. Sir, you're seriously ill and need to see a doctor right away. Don't let a minor illness turn into something worse."
Wang Daxia, completely drained and unable to hold out any longer, stopped resisting. He fished out a silver coin and handed it to the crewman. "Hurry and fetch the best doctor you can find. Keep the change as your tip."
He had to recover—only then could he seek revenge against Yan Shifan. In his current state, he could barely manage to kill a chicken.
The crewman, money in hand, went to find a doctor. Just as he reached the main hall downstairs, he spotted a banner proclaiming "Miraculous Hands Restore Health." A traveling physician was hunched over a bowl of fish noodles, and on the table beside him rested a Tiger Crutch.
Author's note: The two Xias reunite.
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