"But the question is, will your baiting strategy put me in danger?" Mo Sigui crossed his arms.
Chu Dingjiang raised an eyebrow, "Do you think that person wouldn't come to kill you without this plan? Don't you realize how big a mess you've stirred up?"
Just as Mo Sigui was about to retort, Chu Dingjiang cut him off, "Don't use our Xiao Jiu as an excuse. With your nature of recognizing nothing but The Way of Medicine and disowning even your closest kin, you only care about whether something interests you, not who the patient is! This time, I don't necessarily have to cover for you either."
Hearing it put so bluntly, Mo Sigui couldn't fail to understand. He hated owing favors most of all, so he frowned and said, "What do you want? Better say it clearly upfront. I'll owe money or my life, but never favors! If anyone's owing, it should be others owing me."
"Help me heal the scars on my face," Chu Dingjiang said.
"That simple?" Mo Sigui was skeptical.
"People are selfish. Others' lives might not be worth a single strand of their own hair, let alone their face." Chu Dingjiang had already figured out about sixty to seventy percent of his temperament. Sweet talk would only make him suspicious now, whereas some harsh truths would actually gain his trust.
Mo Sigui neither confirmed nor denied it. "Fine, since that's how you see it, I'll gladly accept."
"How is A Jiu's condition?" Chu Dingjiang asked.
"Which illness are you asking about?" Mo Sigui's peach-blossom eyes lifted slightly as he smiled. "Her ailments aren't just one or two."
"All of them," Chu Dingjiang said.
"Why should I tell you?" Mo Sigui had finally gotten hold of Chu Dingjiang's weakness and wasn't about to let go easily.
Chu Dingjiang laughed carefreely, "I don't necessarily have to know right this moment either."
But Mo Sigui heard the implied threat—that it was only because of their current cooperation that Chu Dingjiang couldn't resort to force, but once this was over, things might be different.
His expression darkened, and with a snort, he turned to leave, just in time to see Lou Xiaowu and An Jiu hurrying over.
Lou Xiaowu was clutching a piece of paper. "Brother Mo, someone sent a message by arrow."
Mo Sigui stepped forward to take it, read it through, then turned and handed it to Chu Dingjiang.
The letter demanded that Mo Sigui come alone to the meeting, or else the Apothecary's apprentice would be killed.
"Pah! Do I look like someone who's easily threatened?" Mo Sigui vented his anger indirectly, fuming, "I'll bring a whole crowd just to spite them! Let's see if I even blink when they kill someone!"
Chu Dingjiang used his Inner Force to shatter the letter into pieces, the fragments swirling like snow in the wind.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Mo Sigui asked him.
"Our deal doesn't include other people's lives," Chu Dingjiang replied.
Mo Sigui fell silent.
The group each returned to their tents. An Jiu, highly enthusiastic about crafting firearms, followed Lou Xiaowu.
Chu Dingjiang initially intended to follow them but then thought Ling Ziyue might need him for something, so he returned to the main tent instead.
Before long, Ling Ziyue indeed came looking for him.
"How are your injuries, warrior?" he asked.
"Nothing serious," Chu Dingjiang replied.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Ling Ziyue got to the point, "Recently, someone sneaked into the camp and abducted the Miracle Doctor's apprentice and medicine chest. Does this mean this person can come and go freely in our camp?"
"Pretty much," Chu Dingjiang said, knowing that the person might not truly come and go at will, but to the Song army, it was already a significant threat—no wonder Ling Ziyue was tense."For him, there are no more secrets here." Ling Ziyue's expression was grave. "The Liao army will likely soon learn that the Song forces lack Raging Crossbows."
Once the Liao army confirmed this, they would launch even fiercer attacks.
This was precisely what Chu Dingjiang had anticipated. "General, you should prepare early."
"What worries me is that the Liao army still possesses over a dozen Raging Crossbows." Ling Ziyue clasped his fists in a deep salute. "Might I implore you, for the sake of the Song people, to lend me your strength?"
Chu Dingjiang quietly accepted his salute but left his response open-ended. "I'll do my best."
"Then my deepest gratitude!" Ling Ziyue bowed again, pausing briefly before coughing awkwardly. "Might I ask... when you could set out?"
He was referring to escorting Lou Xiaowu into enemy territory to dismantle the crossbows.
"Barring unforeseen circumstances, I can take someone to dismantle them by tomorrow evening," Chu Dingjiang replied.
The kidnappers' letter had specified midnight tonight, but Chu Dingjiang preferred to leave himself room to handle contingencies. Moreover, he owed no one an explanation of his movements. That he had even told Ling Ziyue was out of respect for the man's heroic character.
"Your righteousness is commendable." Ling Ziyue rose. "I'll take my leave now."
Chu Dingjiang said, "General, you should return to the main tent tonight. This is a military camp, and it's improper for Chu to occupy your quarters."
Without waiting for Ling Ziyue's reply, his figure flickered and vanished from the tent.
Ling Ziyue clasped his hands behind his back, frowning in deep thought.
After a long while, he strode to the desk, picked up a brush, and drafted an imperial memorial recommending that the Emperor reassign part of the Crane Control Army to frontline battalions.
Ling Ziyue knew full well that once this memorial reached the imperial desk, the fragile trust between the Emperor and himself would shatter instantly. Yet he could no longer afford to care. Having survived countless battles and brushed with death more times than he could count, every day he lived now was a bonus. Since he had long ceased to fear death, why continue tiptoeing around? The Emperor wouldn't appreciate his restraint anyway—better to stake everything and do something tangible for his country and its people.
The memorial flowed from his brush in one continuous draft. He read it over repeatedly before sealing it and summoning a courier to deliver it to Bianjing.
With that done, Ling Ziyue picked up his brush again to write a letter: My beloved wife...
After these two characters, his brush hovered mid-air. Ink dripped, spreading into a dark blotch on the paper.
The Ling family had produced three generations of renowned generals. Ling Ziyue's grandfather had been a fierce commander under Emperor Taizu, leading troops against the Liao even in his late sixties. His father had died from an infected arrow wound sustained in a major battle against the Liao.
Ling Ziyue had joined the army as a youth, only marrying at twenty. His wife was the daughter of a frontier merchant—no illustrious lineage, but they'd shared several years of tender companionship.
Then Ling's mother fell critically ill. He rushed back to Bianjing with his wife and child for her funeral. With the court desperately short of border generals at the time, after his mother's passing, the Emperor posthumously honored Ling's grandfather as Founding General and his father as Guardian General, appointing Ling Ziyue as Grand General to defend the borders—but kept his wife and child in Bianjing to observe mourning for both generals and their wives.
That mourning period had stretched into all these years.
Ling Ziyue felt overwhelming guilt toward his family. The debts were too many, the words too much—how could mere paper contain them all?
My beloved wife, I am currently well...He still wrote a letter home as usual, only this time it was longer. He thought that even if his own life was precarious now, he must do his utmost to ensure the safety of his wife and children. If he failed, all debts would have to be repaid in the next life. For now, there was no need to alarm them with dire warnings that would only cause unnecessary distress.
Midnight.
Torches flickered in the camp.
Mo Sigui and the others left the main camp, heading toward the location specified in the letter.
As they galloped along, An Jiu felt puzzled. Seizing a moment, she exchanged a glance with Chu Dingjiang, only to find amusement in his eyes.
"Didn't Mo Sigui say he didn’t care about the Apothecary's apprentice’s life?" An Jiu whispered.
"Actions speak louder than words," Chu Dingjiang replied without lowering his voice. "You can see it in how he feels about Lou Mingyue. The more he claims indifference, the deeper his affection. In the end, he’s only tormenting himself. Lou Mingyue is determined to walk a dark path to the end, unlike him, who’s torn by hesitation."
These words struck Mo Sigui like thunder, reverberating in his ears.
The most vexing thing in life is the agony of choice at a crossroads. Once a path is taken, doubts linger about whether the other might have been better.
To walk a dark path to the end requires not just courage, but also a certain innate resolve.
In this regard, Mo Sigui was far inferior to Lou Mingyue.
"A Jiu, Mo Sigui and I will go ahead. You stay hidden and attack on my signal," Chu Dingjiang instructed. "If I draw my sword, you can seize the moment to shoot."
An Jiu thought him cunning but had no objections to his plan.
As they neared the location, An Jiu split off from them, finding a high vantage point nearby to conceal herself.
The area had a gentle slope that obscured part of the view, with multiple escape routes.
The wind rustled through the waist-high grass, amplifying the silence of the wilderness.
After waiting for roughly the time it took to drink two cups of tea, something seemed to be moving through the grass. Chu Dingjiang and Mo Sigui could only see the vegetation shaking violently, as if a wild beast were passing through.
But An Jiu, hidden atop the high ground, saw clearly—it was a person. (To be continued...)
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