Chapter 69: Kill One Every Ten Steps

“You don't know anything,” the man spat disdainfully. “Something big is about to happen. The crispbread vendor on West Street told me that when he delivers to the Governor’s Office, he’s often seen Turks coming and going. And have you noticed they haven’t been rounding up young men lately?”

At that moment, someone whispered in fear, “Wan the Landlord is coming. You’d all better shut up.”

The others paled and hurried to busy themselves, not daring to utter a word. Down the street strode a man with a menacing face, his robe open at the chest, trailed by more than a dozen henchmen, collecting protection fees from door to door. How much he took depended entirely on his mood; even if he cleaned someone out completely, no one dared protest.

When he reached Old Xue’s stall, a beggar suddenly rose unsteadily and staggered toward Wan the Landlord. The distance was so short that even Wan’s thugs couldn’t stop him in time. In that instant, a cold glint flashed in the beggar’s eyes. A short sword slid from his ragged sleeve and, in a flash, slit Wan the Landlord’s throat. Blood spurted everywhere, drenching the beggar.

“He’s killed Master Wan! Kill him! Kill him!” Wan’s lackeys screamed in panic, brandishing their blades as they charged at the beggar.

But the beggar was no longer the pitiful, shivering figure he'd been a moment ago. His eyes brimmed with murderous intent. He parried the incoming blades, and with ruthless efficiency, killed with every movement. In the blink of an eye, seven or eight men had fallen. The remaining henchmen, terrified out of their wits, howled as they fled.

The beggar made no move to pursue. He wiped the blood from his face and, expressionless, strode out of the market, vanishing swiftly from sight. Only then did the merchants on the street find their voices, crying out in terror. Some abandoned their stalls and ran for their lives. A subordinate of Prince Changle had been slain—surely the market people would be implicated. Naturally, everyone wanted to escape before they could be dragged into the disaster.

The beggar made his way through several locations, changing clothes along the way. He appeared among the crowd in various disguises, and finally, dressed in a tight, foreign-style outfit, entered an inn. Upon his arrival, someone greeted him with a nod. “Master Bao, you’re back early today.”

“Yes. Where’s your master?” the beggar asked calmly.

“He’s in the courtyard. He said you should go straight to him when you return.”

The beggar walked directly to the courtyard. The small inn was heavily guarded, with men posted every few steps.

In the courtyard, a scholar was reading. Seeing the beggar enter, he looked up, somewhat surprised. “So early today?”

“I greet you, Lord Yuwen. I received some news and returned ahead of time,” the beggar replied with measured respect.

“Splendid! Please, sit. What news have you brought?” The scholar’s face lit up with delight.

“These days, I’ve infiltrated as various people. The Governor’s Office is indeed acting strangely. Turks come and go frequently. They’re harboring many deathsworn warriors. Our brothers at the camp outside the city also report that the garrison is stockpiling a huge amount of weapons and grain. Even the street vendors have begun to suspect treasonous intent.”

The beggar sneered. After all the times they’d attacked the Cai family’s caravan, he had counted them as sworn enemies. He hadn’t expected that Li Youliang would dare to plot rebellion as well; clearly, the man had grown tired of living.

“It would seem I was right not to take up my post,” Yuwen Shiji said with a wry smile. “Had I gone, I’d likely have found executioners waiting behind the curtain.” Emperor Taizong had sent him to assume the acting governorship of Liangzhou, but seeing trouble brewing, he had wisely avoided the Governor’s Office.

By chance, he’d met Meng Baolai, who was investigating the attack on the Cai family’s caravan in Liangzhou, and learned that Cai Cong’s men were actually instructors from the Left Guard. Yuwen Shiji immediately sought Meng Baolai’s help, leading to this present alliance.

“You’re not mistaken, Lord Yuwen. Today, I heard the common folk talking: a county magistrate surnamed An was beaten so severely in his office that he vomited blood, and his daughter was seized, disgraced, and killed. If you were to walk into the Governor’s Office unprepared, I fear your fine head would soon adorn Prince Changle’s banner.”

Meng Baolai’s words sent a chill down Yuwen Shiji’s spine. Though he had made preparations, he had only a hundred men at most—hardly enough to face the Governor’s might.

“The troops of Liangzhou can no longer be trusted,” Yuwen Shiji said gravely. “I must send someone to Longyou to borrow forces from General Cheng. During this time, Meng, I ask you to be my eyes and ears—watch Li Youliang’s every move. I entrust everything to you and your men.”

He spoke courteously, marveling inwardly at how Cai Cong could have trained such a group. Each seemed unremarkable, yet all were exceptionally capable—impossible to guard against.

Back at the Governor’s Office, Li Youliang violently kicked over the messenger who’d returned, fuming with rage. Over a dozen men couldn’t defeat a single beggar, and his own steward had been slaughtered in the street—how could he endure such humiliation?

“Useless fools! You can’t even handle a beggar! Why should I keep you alive? Drag him out and execute him!” Li Youliang, though over fifty, was still robust and sharp-featured, with a savage glare that few dared meet.

“Send men to search every house!” he snarled. “Find that man! I want everyone to know that crossing me is a death sentence.”

Just then, as his retainers prepared to leave, a scholar stepped forward from the crowd, smiling. “My lord, may I offer a word?”

“Master Bieshan, do you know this man?” Li Youliang asked, his fingers casually tightening around a tri-colored ceramic horse.

“I have never met him,” Master Bieshan replied unhurriedly. “I merely wish to ask whether your designs are on Liangzhou, or do you aim for Chang’an itself?” The question hardly needed asking—Li Youliang’s ambitions were no secret in Liangzhou.

“What of Liangzhou? What of Chang’an?” Li Youliang finally set down the ceramic horse, his tone courteous.

“If you wish only to rule this corner of the world, then find the man and have him executed in the street, to cow the officials and people of Liangzhou. But if your ambition is the whole realm, then find the man and publicly grant him office and wealth. If you can spare such a talent, even after he’s killed so many of your men, the world will see you as a wise lord. Once you’ve paid a king’s ransom for talent, heroes everywhere will come to your banner. Then, all under heaven will be within your grasp.”

Master Bieshan spoke with utter conviction. Li Youliang, delighted, rose and said, “I never imagined you had such insight! Please, take the seat of honor. I’ve neglected you before—please forgive me and lend me your counsel in the future.”

“My lord, do we still search for the man?” someone asked.

“What search?” Li Youliang shouted, kicking the speaker to the ground. “Find him and tell him I bear him no grudge—I intend to make him an official!”

“No, no—if you search too aggressively, he’ll only go into hiding,” Master Bieshan interjected, waving his hand. “Instead, issue a proclamation and post it throughout the city. That way, he won’t be afraid, and your reputation for virtue will spread.”

“Did you hear what the master said? Go post those proclamations at once!” Li Youliang bellowed, then turned with a smile to Master Bieshan. “Come, sir—let me introduce you to a few friends.”

Master Bieshan nodded with reserved pride, cast a haughty glance at the others, and followed Li Youliang from the room.