by Fred Yu
Iron Spider approached Feng with a smile, holding the captured flag in her hands. Feng grabbed a torch from one of his men and held it under the thin fabric. The flames ate away the fibers, and in a second the flag glowed with fire.
“Run!” Feng shouted. He spun around while lifting the burning flag, then grabbed Ming by the hand and dashed toward the river. His men followed, the flames from their torches streaking behind them.
Then, the thunder of charging cavalry emerged from behind. Zeng Xi had reacted to the destruction of his siege weapons and sent his five thousand knights all at once.
“Run!” Feng shouted again. His men heard him, and they knew the heavy cavalry was upon them. They threw aside their helmets and spears and sprinted forward as fast as they could.
The cavalry was far away and disorganized, and the frenzied horses pulling the flaming wagons were barreling into them. Feng squeezed Ming’s hand and ran harder. The river came into their sight. They would be safe once they crossed. Feng lifted the flag higher, swinging it from side to side as he ran, making every effort to taunt his enemy with the insult.
Just before reaching the river, Feng glanced back and his heart pounded in excitement. He expected it, but he couldn’t believe it. Leading the charging cavalry was Zeng Xi himself.
Feng and Ming leaped into the river hand in hand, running across knee-deep water. The horses thundered behind them, closing the distance; the obscene shouts of the angry knights could already be heard. Feng and Ming reached the other side and turned to look. They stood in wide-open terrain with five thousand armored horses barreling down their backs. Zeng Xi and his cavalry had already entered the river. Feng continued to run.
At the first sounds of horse hooves pounding dry land, Feng lifted his face and shouted, “Sand bags!”
One of his men lifted a horn and emitted three short blasts.
The sound of rushing water ripping down the riverbed entered the air. The men hiding upstream had pulled the sandbags, unleashing the water and turning a calm river into an angry, roaring rapid. The horses already crossing were immediately washed away as the current dragged them into the riverbed. The rest of the cavalry on the other side of the bank twisted to a screaming halt, unable to enter the river. Some were pushed into the water by the forward momentum of so many soldiers behind them. They were also washed away.
Zeng Xi and no more than two hundred men had already crossed the river when suddenly they were cut off from the rest of the army. There was no retreat.
“Pikes!” Feng shouted.
One thousand pike men lying on their stomachs and waiting to ambush leaped to their feet and charged with the spearheads on their pikes pointed directly at the enemy horses. The heavy cavalry were armored, but so many spears jabbed at them all at once that the horses began to fall, dismounting their riders. The enemy fell into a state of panic.
Dust flew everywhere, and against the shimmering torchlight Feng identified the blurred figure of the enemy general. He pointed at him. “Zeng Xi!” he shouted. “Do you know whose sister you murdered?”
Zeng Xi leaped off his horse, sword in hand, and launched himself into the battle. He slashed away a line of spear thrusts, slipping through them and breaking their enclosure. The pike men surrounding him fell like flimsy wooden sticks swept away by a flood.
Ming and Iron Spider flew toward Zeng Xi, their poison darts and knives streaking through the air.
“Wait!” Feng called. Zeng Xi could not possibly survive a coordinated charge of a thousand pike men. Why would Ming confront him herself?
Because she wants to kill him with her own hands.
Feng realized he wanted the same. If he allowed his army to kill his sister’s murderer, he would regret it forever.
Zeng Xi maneuvered around the onslaught, striking down the throwing weapons and slipping past them. Ming was upon him, slashing and stabbing as though she were possessed. Feng drew the Dart and rushed in, searching for an opening where he could force Zeng Xi to turn his back to Ming. Iron Spider launched needle after needle, but Zeng Xi avoided them. He moved like a hurricane, twisting, turning, and spinning around his opponents while slashing at them from all directions at once. In a moment he kicked Ming across the chest and sent her flying back.
Feng slipped behind Zeng Xi to attack him at close range. As soon as their weapons collided, his entire arm felt numb. The Great Prodigy’s strikes were so powerful that every blow was crushing. Feng felt the pressure build around him; he thought his enemy was everywhere at once. He clenched his teeth and fought back. His own sword techniques were strange and unpredictable. The Dart was silent and almost invisible at night. After a few minutes it became clear Zeng Xi could not overpower him either.
Ming recovered, picked up her sword, and slipped in from the side. Zeng Xi spun around to engage her, his own sword moving even faster. He shifted away from Feng and attacked Ming with a pounding flurry of sidearm strikes. Ming stumbled back and collapsed. Feng saw his opportunity and threw an entire handful of needles at close range, all of them aimed for the face.
Zeng Xi did not expect the enemy general to also use needles. He evaded them just in time, and Feng launched himself upon the Prodigy. The Dart made soft contact with his sword, sticking to it and then twisting it away. Zeng Xi reacted with a sharp elbow, striking Feng’s sword arm. Both men lost their weapons.
Feng circled around him and unleashed a whirlwind of palm strikes, his Infinity Palm picking up speed with every step. Zeng Xi’s eyes widened in sudden shock and panic. Feng broke through Zeng Xi’s defenses, crushing his collarbone and sending him stumbling back. Feng lurched forward, and his palm strikes poured down like a collapsing mountain. He suddenly changed speed and direction. Zeng Xi froze. Feng struck him again and again, pounding through his armor. Zeng Xi reeled backwards.
The general could not recover. His helmet dropped. Feng saw the opening and struck his face, eyes, and nose, crushing his jaw and cracking his cheekbones. Zeng Xi’s head jerked back with a snap. Blood poured out of his nose, and his eyes rolled back. With a gasp, as if life itself had left his body, he crumbled to the dust.
Most of the remaining cavalry were dead. A thousand pikes surrounded the few still fighting on horseback and stabbed them over and over again.
Feng lowered his arms and stood over his opponent. Screams of fear and pain and suffering echoed in his ears. He listened, mesmerized by the voices of men who knew their lives were ending, who wanted to live yet wanted the agony to end. Their tortured cries reminded him of animals being slaughtered. He stood in the middle of the death and destruction that only a war could ignite and wondered how many more people would have to die, generation after generation, before they could learn to live with each other.
Feng turned back to the man who ordered his sister’s execution. “Do you know who I am?”
Zeng Xi was already fading, shock and fear frozen on his fractured face. He could barely speak. He lifted a trembling finger and pointed to Feng. “You . . . You use the Infinity Palm. You’re the Commoner!”
He choked as a stream of dark blood gushed from his mouth, nose, and ears all at once. He became limp.
A wave of cold ripped through Feng’s body. “What did you say?” He stepped forward and shouted, “What did you say?”
Zeng Xi was already dead.
Feng could no longer hear the screams of dying men, could no longer hear the horrible sounds of people being butchered. He thought he felt Ming take his hand.
“Han . . .” Feng whispered. “Han is famous for the Infinity Palm. Han is the Commoner.”
The sound of an approaching horse charging at high speed brought him out of his thoughts. It was one of his scouts.
“Message!” the soldier shouted, dismounting before the horse could stop. He ran up to Feng in a state of panic.
“General! Disaster! General Yang has been assassinated!”
Feng felt his heart stop. His hands turned cold, and he began to shake. “How?”
“Sir, he
was killed by the Commoner! The Commoner opened the gates, and now the invasion is pouring in.”
Feng lifted his face and screamed. He grabbed the Dart from the ground, leaped onto the messenger’s horse, and slapped it as hard as he could. The mount flew forward.
“Feng!” It was Ming’s voice, but he could not stop for her. She had warned him his father would be targeted by an assassin he would never expect. Han was his sworn brother. He would greet Feng’s father and talk about their time together, and the old general would lower his guard. Now it was clear. The Commoner had a plan all along.
Feng could not pass through the Glimpse of Sky with Zeng Xi’s main army still in front of it. Even if he routed through the southern hills and remained on the well paved Major Pass as long as possible, he would still be delayed by at least a day. Every minute he delayed would bring his father that much closer to death.
Another horse galloped behind him, and he didn’t need to turn and look. Ming was following.
Feng continued to whip his horse, urging it forward at breakneck speed.
He thought of Han testing the poison on himself before permitting Feng to use it on civilians, how he had suffered through the night while enduring the pain without a grimace. It didn’t make sense.
By the time Feng reached Major Pass, his horse was foaming at the mouth. He needed a fresh horse. There was a town a short distance away, and he knew of stables there. He was close enough to the City of Stones, where he knew the roads and villages well. If he could change horses only two more times, he would be able to reach his father by the following evening.
The owner of the stable was still outside when he arrived. Feng leaped off his weary mount and rushed over with a gold coin in his hand. His purse had been fully replenished after becoming a category-two general.
“Another one?” the horseman asked.
Feng paused. “Someone came to change horses at this time of night?”
“He just left. He asked me how to get to the City of Stones and where he could change horses along the way.”
Feng grimaced. “A tall, handsome man with his hair tied back, and . . . and he was carrying a black saber?”
“That’s him. That’s a big saber. A friend of yours?”
Feng grabbed his hand and placed the gold in his palm. “I need a fast horse. I need a fast horse!”
“Come this way,” the man said with a smile. “He gave me almost as much. I’ll be rich tonight.”
“There’s a girl behind me in a red dress. She’ll need to change her horse too.”
“You’ve paid enough for four horses.”
Chapter 16
Feng rode like the wind. His father surfaced in his mind over and over again. The shame gnawed at him—remorse for hating his father, for suspecting the old general’s intentions for abandoning his sister. Tears streamed down his face, and he allowed the wind to carry them away. He stayed away from home like a brat, hating his father for something he blindly assumed, and now his father was in danger. There was a chance he might not arrive in time.
Feng thought of Han and pressed harder down Major Pass. His sworn brother—someone he trusted and admired as a man of honor and integrity, a true hero—had deceived him. Now, the Commoner was rushing to his home to assassinate his father.
By the time he reached the next stable, the sun had risen. The stable owner told him the same thing. A tall man with a large black saber passed by earlier to change his horse. Feng was in a state of frenzy. He grabbed the fresh horse and took off, never looking back to see if Ming was behind him. He rode in a hard gallop without stopping for water, and soon the horse began to foam and resist his whipping.
He brought it to a trot and wondered why he hadn’t caught up with Han yet. Why was Han changing horses at the same rate and rushing to the City of Stones? If Feng was riding his horses to complete exhaustion, Han would be doing the same. Assassins preferred to arrive in silence, in disguise, and wait for their moment to strike. Something didn’t make sense.
The next stable was not far away, so Feng urged his horse on. It didn’t matter why. It didn’t have to make sense. His father was in grave danger, and he was out of ideas, even if he could get there in time. He could only count on his father to be cautious of everyone, even his own son’s sworn brother.
Feng changed horses and pushed forward, turning once when he reached higher elevation. There was no sign of Ming.
By late afternoon he could already see the City of Stones in the distance. He whipped his horse to move faster, his heart pounding with anxiety and anticipation. He knew Han was still ahead of him, and the thought of confronting his sworn brother, a man he almost worshipped, brought a wrenching anguish to his heart.
Feng didn’t slow down when he reached the South Gate. He drew his bronze plate, and the messenger pass of General Mu flashed in the sun. But the guards didn’t step aside. “Stop!” one of them shouted. They drew their swords and lined up in front of the gate.
Feng pulled his horse to a screaming halt. “Don’t you see the pass?”
“It’s Commander Mu!” someone said. “Sir, we thought you were dead.”
“I need to get to my father!” Feng shouted. He kicked his horse and pushed forward. The men stepped aside. Feng charged into the square when a dreadful feeling nagged at him. He pulled on his reins to turn the horse around.
Feng stopped in front of the nearest guard. “When did my father come home?”
“He just arrived, young master. A few days ago.”
“What happened when he was in Mongolia?”
“Nothing, sir. Everything was quiet.”
Feng turned his horse to face the city and charged through the streets, the awful feeling in his heart already becoming worse. His father had been tricked into leaving the City of Stones. What was in the city, which he guarded, that the Judge was free to find while he was away? It was only a guess, but in his gut Feng was already certain. The second banner the Judge acquired was his father’s.
Feng’s horse stormed through the now empty northern marketplace and past the closed gates of the general’s mansion, heading for the small trap door he used as a child. He would enter unnoticed, maintain stealth in case Han was already inside, and seek out his father first. It was early afternoon, and the general would be in his study.
Feng leaped from his horse, the Dart swinging by his side, and pulled himself through the little trap door.
The patrols were nowhere to be seen. How could the guards be away at a time like this?
Feng ran with all the strength he had, despite the overwhelming cold and fear. Someone must have killed the patrol guards. There could only be one man with that ability. He couldn’t worry about stealth anymore. “Father!” he shouted. “Father!”
The doors to the study stood ajar. Sweat streamed down his forehead. He charged through the doors into the middle of the room and froze. On the floor, lying in a pool of blood, was his father. Han was crouched next to him.
Feng’s vision blurred. He was trembling. He thought he would faint.
Han looked up, a surge of emotion on his face. “My brother . . .”
Feng couldn’t move. He couldn’t think, couldn’t understand what this meant.
“Feng, come help me. I can’t stop the bleeding.”
So, Han didn’t come to kill his father—he rushed here to save him. Feng no longer knew where he was or what he was doing. Long streams of tears trickled down his face while he continued to tremble.
“I’m sorry,” Han said. “I couldn’t get here in time.”
General Mu lifted a hand and reached out to Feng. “Come here, Feng.”
Finally Feng resumed control of his body. He rushed forward, dropped to his knees, and took his father’s hand. A long dagger jutted out of his back, buried to its hilt. Feng recognized the dagger.
“Who? Who stabbed you?” Feng asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Your Uncle Shu.”
Feng’s jaw dropped. His mind raced throug
h so many thoughts, his shaking body enduring so many emotions all at once. He felt utterly powerless. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed. “Why?”
General Mu turned to Han. “I need to talk to Feng alone.”
“Of course, General,” Han said with a bow. He rose to his feet and headed for the door.
“Han!” Feng called after him. Han paused.
“Are you the Commoner?”
Han released a deep sigh as if the world was about to collapse on him as well. “That’s what they call me. We have a lot to talk about, Feng.” He walked out of the door without turning.
“Feng,” General Mu called.
“Father, let me call the doctor. We need to stop the bleeding—”
“I don’t have time. Why did you come back here? I made it very clear I didn’t want you to come home.”
“I couldn’t stay away, Father. I knew you were in danger. I—”
“Listen to me, Feng,” General Mu said. His voice was harsh. “I want you to hide somewhere. I want you to protect yourself and stay alive—”
“Father!” Feng said, raising his voice. “The Orchid Farmer . . . his entire family . . .” He could not go on. The raw mix of emotions he had endured for the past two weeks overwhelmed him, and he choked on his own words. But he needed control now more than ever. He could not allow his emotions to dictate his actions. With a single thought and a single wish, Feng broke through the images cluttering his mind and refocused on the situation he was forced to confront. His father suffered from a lethal wound. There was little time left.
A wondrous smile crept onto General Mu’s face. “You know about the banners. Then you must know who the enemy is.”
“My worst enemy is myself. That’s what you taught me.”
The old general’s smile brightened. “Yes. If you conquer yourself, you will have no opponent. You’ve finally learned. I’m so honored to have been the one to raise you and teach you. Your Uncle Shu found the banner while I was away. He gave it to the Judge. She helped him find it. It was all meant to be.”
“She? Who is she?”
General Mu shook his head. “I want you to hide, but you’ll never listen to me. I want you to stay away, but you’ll walk into battle like a great general. I can’t stop you, Feng. It’s no longer my role to protect someone more powerful than me.”