Chapter Eighteen: Swift Rescue

In the welcoming crowd, an old woman anxiously searched for her grandson, asking everyone in sight, “Where is my third son? Where is my third son?” She pressed, “My third son was the vanguard for Master Ye’s forces, tall and strapping—have you seen him?”

Several who knew her son lowered their heads, unable to meet her gaze. Sensing something amiss, the old woman's anxiety deepened, her inquiries more urgent. At last, she found herself before a row of fallen rebel soldiers, their bodies covered. With trembling hands, she lifted a white cloth, and there lay her beloved son, his face pale yet peaceful—a gentle serenity lingering even in death. The old woman’s body went limp; she seemed to age decades in an instant. Several rebel soldiers rushed forward to steady her.

Ye Feng witnessed the scene, guilt overwhelming him. With a heavy thud, he knelt before her, “Elder, I am Ye Feng. Your son’s death is my responsibility. I have failed you! Please, punish me as you see fit!” He prostrated himself, not daring to rise.

“Master Ye, you mustn’t say that. Even if I am ignorant, I cannot blame you! You are our great savior. If blame must be assigned, let it fall on those monstrous soldiers!” The old woman shuffled forward, helping Ye Feng to his feet.

“Master Ye, I understand—without driving out the fiendish soldiers, we will never know peace. My eldest was conscripted by Wu Renfu two years ago and died from exhaustion at the worksite. The second perished amid chaos during the last rebellion against Wu Renfu. My third wanted vengeance, so he secretly enlisted. Over these days, I’ve come to accept it. I’ve lived a few good days in my life; I cannot let the next generation suffer under the tyranny of monsters.”

She paused, steeling herself, “Master Ye, when I return home, I’ll bring my fourth son, and come to you to enlist him in the army.”

Ye Feng, moved to tears, hurried to dissuade her, “Elder, say no more. The fault lies with my poor planning and careless command, which led our brothers to such loss. Here and now, I vow to you: henceforth, I shall always lead from the front. Though I dare not claim mastery of strategy or victories from afar, I will strive to eliminate the fiendish soldiers and protect the lives of our troops. Only then will I be worthy of the trust you have placed in me, entrusting your sons to my care.”

He knelt again, bowing three times, “Elder, from now on, you are my mother. Your fourth son is my brother! Rest assured, he will be my personal guard, and I shall teach him all I know. While I live, he will live; should I fall, he will carry on!”

The old woman, alarmed, quickly pulled Ye Feng upright, repeating, “You’ll bring misfortune upon me! Please, get up!”

Ye Feng rose, then turned to address the rebel soldiers, “Brothers, you have seen—how deeply the elder mourns her lost son. Tell me, shall we avenge him?”

The soldiers, having witnessed the scene, felt a surge of grief and rage. At his words, their eyes blazed; they raised their fists and answered in unison, “Avenge! Avenge!”

Ye Feng nodded, “Yes, we must take revenge. But do not forget the people’s support. The common folk are our sky, our brothers and sisters, our parents and children. We fight the fiendish soldiers to protect them—and to protect our own kin.”

He turned again and called, “Mother!” Then he said, “Do you see? These are all your sons. Those who fall in the front, we who follow will press forward through blood and sacrifice. We will not fail your expectations; we will drive out the fiendish soldiers and rescue the countless people of the Grand Xia.”

As Ye Feng finished, the soldiers all called her “Mother” as well. The old woman, seeing so many brave rebels, wept tears of relief, “Good children! All good children! A mother sees and waits for this day!”

Ye Feng bid the old woman farewell, mounted his steed, and led the troops back to camp. Along the way, Xu Zhihui followed silently, saying nothing. Nearing the encampment, he rode up beside Ye Feng, “Brother Ye Feng, I have a request—may I ask?”

Ye Feng, still steeped in sorrow, replied, “Speak freely.”

Xu Zhihui hesitated, his face flushed, “Ye Feng… brother, I beg you—please do not mention to our junior sister that I was captured alive by the enemy today.”

“Of course!” Ye Feng thought: Xu Zhihui’s capture was hardly an honorable matter; naturally, it should be concealed. He agreed at once.

“And, about defeating the demon general and capturing Marshal Zhao Liang—I ask that you let me claim the credit. I’ll owe you a favor for it and repay you in the future. What do you say?”

Emboldened by Ye Feng’s swift agreement, Xu Zhihui pressed his luck with further requests. Ye Feng’s anger flared: Had Xu Zhihui not acted rashly, the troops would never have suffered such losses! How shameless to seek credit now!

He rebuked him, “Brother Xu, it’s one thing not to ask for credit, but if you wish to claim mine, let me tell you: If you had heeded my advice and prepared more sulfur and dry grass, the enemy couldn’t have escaped the ravine so easily! Your greed for glory led you to act without orders, and you were captured. If not for rescuing you, our forces would not have suffered casualties!”

Xu Zhihui, shamed and furious, retorted, “Ye Feng, don’t be disrespectful! In war, death is commonplace; how can you lay the blame on me? Besides, despite the losses, we won, didn’t we? What’s the fuss?”

Ye Feng’s anger only deepened, “Brother Xu, have you no conscience? Soldiers are sons and daughters raised by their parents. Did you not see the elder lose her child—how lonely and bitter her fate? How can we speak of glory? The people entrust their children to us out of faith; how can we let precious lives slip away before our eyes?”

Unable to contain his sorrow and rage, Ye Feng spurred his horse ahead, riding like mad toward the camp. Seeing their commander dash ahead, the troops quickened their march and followed.

Xu Zhihui remained alone, fuming, “Little scoundrel, ungrateful wretch! My father and I have treated you well—how dare you humiliate me?” After a while, realizing he was at fault, he muttered, “What’s the big deal? If not for my fondness for junior sister and wanting to impress her, who would care for your paltry achievements?” Instead of returning to camp, he rode alone to the city lord’s manor to report to Murong Yan.

Murong Yan, delighted to see Xu Zhihui arrive first, invited him into the command tent, asking about the battle. Xu Zhihui, emboldened by her inquiry, spun tales, claiming all the merit for himself.

Ye Feng, meanwhile, returned to camp, settled the captives, and escorted Zhao Liang, then went to report at the city lord’s manor. Seeing Xu Zhihui boast before Murong Yan, he neither contradicted nor exposed him, letting matters be.

Yet Xu Zhihui, seeing Ye Feng arrive, felt guilty, his words stumbling and his demeanor unnatural.

Murong Yan, shrewd as she was, saw through Xu Zhihui’s duplicity and said nothing at the time. Later, she investigated thoroughly, learning the true course of the battle and the quarrel between Ye Feng and Xu Zhihui. Her admiration for Ye Feng deepened, and a secret affection blossomed. But that is another tale—let us return to Ye Feng.

Ye Feng noticed that Xu Yaozu and Murong Bao were absent from camp and grew concerned. He interrupted Xu Zhihui’s boasting and asked Murong Yan about their whereabouts.

Murong Yan became anxious, “Master Ye, after you left, my mentor and brother led four thousand troops out of the city to confront the fiendish soldiers. They have yet to return or send word—I am beside myself with worry!”

Ye Feng volunteered, “Chief, do not fret. Let me go to their aid!”

Murong Yan was overjoyed, “If Master Ye goes, that’s best. Take as many troops as you need to ensure their safety.”

Ye Feng replied, “No need. In urgent rescue, a large force only slows us down. I shall go alone, swift as the wind, and lend whatever aid I can.”

Taking command, Ye Feng left the city lord’s manor, summoned his twin whips, and sped northward. Before long, he saw clouds of dust and heard the clamor of battle ahead—clearly, the fight was fierce. He pressed forward, heedless of the cold wind, intensifying his focus as his whips raced across the sky.

In moments, he arrived over the battlefield. Xu Yaozu was locked in combat with a demon general. Ye Feng leapt to the ground, summoning his whips to strike the demon general from above, while his fists targeted the demon’s mount.

The demon general stood over nine feet tall, his face ashen, with a leopard’s head and pointed ears, his visage pocked and fierce. His eyes bulged like copper bells, “Where did this brat come from, seeking death?” He turned his mount, dodging Ye Feng’s fists, then shook his arms, and two more hands grew, each wielding an axe to block Ye Feng’s whips.

Xu Yaozu, exhausted from prolonged battle, was relieved to be replaced, taking a moment to catch his breath. Seeing Ye Feng, he advised, “Good child, you’ve come just in time. Hold him off for a bit while I recover, then I’ll settle the score. I’m old now—if this were twenty years ago, I’d mash him to pulp with a single strike!”

Before he finished speaking, two demon soldiers attacked, brandishing blades and spears. Xu Yaozu bellowed, “Brats, courting death!” He swung his spear, sending a gust that smashed the little demons aside, their bodies and weapons thrown to the ground, blood pouring from every orifice—dead in an instant.

Following their bodies, Xu Yaozu saw Murong Bao beset by two demon generals. His cap askew, clothes disheveled, sweat and dust streaked his face into a grimy mask—he was clearly struggling.

Xu Yaozu shouted, “Ye Feng, hold the line here! I’ll help Bao—he must not suffer!” He charged forward, spear raised, calling out, “Witness my three deadly strikes!” Nearing the fray, he roared, “First strike: Snow covers the crown!” He lifted his spear high and smashed it toward one demon general.

Hearing the wind behind him, the demon general flinched, quickly ducking. With a loud crack, his helmet flew off. Before he could raise his head, Xu Yaozu shouted, “Second strike: Autumn wind sweeps the ground!” A powerful gust swept at his waist. Terrified, the demon general raised his mace in defense. With a clang like thunder on a clear day, sparks flew, and the horse staggered backward several steps.

For a moment, the demon general’s hands shook, arms numb and sore, his shiny head gleaming in the sunlight. “Old man, you’re strong!” startled, he gripped his horse tightly, too shaken to advance.

“Well now, you withstood two of my three deadly strikes—not bad!” Xu Yaozu pressed forward, spear raised for another brutal blow. “One more: Fierce dragon’s return—can you withstand it?” As he spoke, the spear swung for the demon general’s head. The demon general, unwilling to meet the blow, turned his horse to dodge. But as he did, the spear curved, striking his waist. Caught off guard, he had no time to evade—a sharp crack landed squarely. With a scream, he collapsed from his horse, dead.

The demon general fighting Murong Bao, witnessing the scene, shuddered and immediately tried to flee. Murong Bao caught up in three steps, raised his iron rod, and shouted, “Demon general, where are you running?” With a heavy blow to the back of the head, the demon general’s skull burst like a thousand blossoms—dead before he could utter a sound.

The demon general fighting Ye Feng cried, “You’ve slain my two lieutenants—intolerable!” At his shout, he shook his arms, and a dozen more grew, each wielding a weapon—swords, spears, rods, axes, hooks, forks—all hurled at Ye Feng.

“Such power!” Ye Feng exclaimed, hastily retreating. But the demon’s horse was swift, pursuing relentlessly. A series of clangs resounded like beans in a pan. In that instant, Ye Feng summoned his twin whips, deflecting a dozen lethal strikes.

“Feng’er, don’t panic—I’m here!” Xu Yaozu, seeing danger, galloped to aid. Murong Bao shouted, “Scoundrel, cease your cruelty!” and rushed in with his iron rod.

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