Chapter Seven: Fanning the Flames in the Mist, War on the Horizon

The night fog in Blackwind Fort was so thick it resembled unyielding ink; beyond five feet, neither man nor beast could be recognized.

Beneath the watchtower, two bandits huddled with their necks drawn in, rubbing their hands together. The white breath they exhaled was devoured by the fog almost instantly, leaving only blurred shadows swaying in the gloom.

“Damn this ghostly fog! My eyes are as good as blind,” spat the scrawny, monkey-like bandit, spitting onto the ground—his saliva dispersed before it touched earth. “Can’t see a thing, what’s the point of standing guard?”

Beside him, the short and stout bandit blew into his hands, lowering his voice, “Did you see how the Third Chief looked when they came back? Like a beaten dog, even the horses limped and the hammer’s handle broke in half! Heard he got played by some pretty boy!”

“Pretty boy?” The monkey bandit’s eyes lit up, forgetting the cold. “Where did this pretty boy come from? Dares to mess with Blackwind Fort?”

“Who knows!” The stout one gestured toward the fort, where only a dim outline of the gates remained in the mist. “Third Chief’s been smashing things in his tent all afternoon—I vaguely heard him cursing the Yun family, Yun Tian Manor or something…”

“Yun Tian Manor? Yun family?” The monkey bandit paused, puzzled. “I only know the Deng family, the Generals of the East Town, from Yun Tian Manor. Never heard of this Yun family. Could they be tough?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The stout bandit curled his lip. “When have our chiefs ever suffered like this? If they’re so riled up, these Yun folks must be trouble.”

“I heard from the kitchen lads that while Third Chief was cursing, he said that pretty boy claimed to be from the Yun family and demanded Blackwind Fort kneel and apologize!”

The stout bandit added, his voice tinged with malicious glee.

High above on the old locust tree outside the fort, Wen Changning balanced lightly on a branch. Her red-tasseled spear leaned against the trunk. A bead of water dripped from the spear tip into the leaves, vanishing into the mist.

Her phoenix eyes narrowed as she gazed into the unfathomable darkness.

She had predicted this fog.

With Blackwind Fort nestled between two mountain cliffs, sounds in the mist twisted and multiplied—three people shouting could sound like a hundred. Those straw dummies clad in black and holding wooden clubs, blurred by the fog and animated by the wind, paired with echoing cries, were perfect for stalling the bandits and covering the villagers’ escape.

Wang Yu stood on a lower branch, his robe damp with mist, hands trembling as he held a copper gong.

Below, Sun Changzhu paced back and forth, gripping his sickle, grinding a small pit into the muddy ground with his feet.

Meanwhile, Wang Yaozu and ten constables had joined forces with Wen Zhenshan, rallying the villagers of Meng Village to evacuate toward Qingxi Town.

“Brother Wen, when are we striking?” Sun Changzhu asked for the umpteenth time, voice low as a mosquito’s hum but eyes blazing. “Meng Chang smashed my father with that damn hammer. I’ve sharpened this sickle till it shines, just waiting to split him open!”

Wen Changning remained silent, fingers unconsciously stroking the red tassel on her spear.

She was waiting—for the signal from Meng Village.

Though the thick fog obscured vision, it could not muffle the sharp crack of a signal flare; the sound would ricochet through the valley, magnifying the chaos.

Sun Changzhu’s words stuck in his throat, face flushed red, neck strained as he pressed forward: “I know you’re waiting for the right moment, but this fog is too thick. If we wait till dawn…”

“Changzhu, patience,” Wang Yu finally spoke, unable to contain his anxiety. He glanced toward the fort. “Brother Changning, not to question you, but just the three of us… plus some straw men—will that really work?”

Wen Changning replied crisply, “Stick to the plan.”

A sharp sound suddenly pierced the fog, echoing against the cliffs.

She turned toward Meng Village, unable to see the light but recognizing the signal by its penetrating force.

The villagers had begun their departure.

Her lips curled quietly. Wen Changning drew a deep breath, her voice carried like a stone wrapped in wind, striking the opposite cliff and rolling back in layers of echo:

“Listen up, Blackwind Fort scoundrels! The Yun family of Yun Tian Manor is here! Meng Chang, Liu Qiang, get out here and kneel before me!”

“In the past days, you robbed our medicines and killed our guards. Tonight, I’ll settle the score with interest!”

Her voice rose, sharp as a blade. “Don’t hide in your holes like cowards—come out and face me! I’ll let you have three moves. Survive them, and the Yun family will never set foot in Blackwind Fort again!”

“I’ve brought two hundred brothers, surrounded the mountain—if I don’t raze this sorry fort tonight, I’m not worthy of the Yun name!”

Even before her shout faded, Wen Changning slipped through the mist, darting past the watchtower’s blind spot. She lit a firecracker, flung it toward the gate.

On the watchtower—

Thunderous explosions erupted, followed by waves of deafening battle cries.

The monkey bandit snapped upright, squinting into the mist, “Damn, what’s going on?”

The stout bandit panicked, pointing at shifting shadows outside the gate, “Look! What are those? So many moving figures!”

By the scattered firelight in the fog, they saw dark shapes rising and falling beyond the fort walls—some wielded wooden clubs, others crouched by the cliff, swaying wildly in the wind, accompanied by the layered cries of battle, creating a terrifying spectacle.

“My god! Someone’s attacking the fort!” The monkey bandit’s legs buckled, nearly tumbling from the tower. “Quick! Sound the alarm! Tell them the Yun family’s come with heavy troops for revenge!”

Wen Changning watched as the two scrambled into the fort, silently following through the mist they scattered.

The pair stumbled along, shouting, “The fort’s under attack! The Yun family is here for revenge!”

The fog shredded their cries, perfectly masking the silence of footsteps behind them.

“Damn Yun family bastards,” a stout shadow swung a rusty cleaver in the mist, “They want to take our base? So we stole a few carts of their medicine—is this necessary?”

“Take what, idiot!” barked the tall, skinny shadow, staggering deeper into the fort. “Let’s get to the armory, haul out more gunpowder barrels. We’ll blow them to bits! Dare to challenge Blackwind Fort—must be sick of living!”

Wen Changning raised her brow, toes barely touching the ground as she shadowed them, following their path toward the heart of the fort—the armory.

Inside the main tent of Blackwind Fort—

The candle flames shuddered in the draft, casting crooked shadows.

“Reporting, Chief!” The two bandits burst in, shoes missing, “There are lots of people down the mountain! They’re shouting to raze the fort, demanding Third and Fourth Chiefs kneel and apologize! They’re from the Yun family, coming for revenge over the medicine!”

Lei Xiaotian gripped his skull-headed saber in the chief’s seat, the sheath thudding against the table, his eyes deep as a pool, unreadable.

Qian Tong flicked his abacus beads, the rattling echoing in the tent. Searching through accounts, he accidentally knocked the inkstone—black ink spread across the ledger.

“That damn pretty boy again!” Meng Chang smashed his broken hammer onto the ground, sparks flying, burning tiny holes into the mud. “Does he think I’m easy prey? Dared to fool me in broad daylight, now brings his Yun family to wreck the place? I’ll bash his skull flat!”

His words were fierce, but his grip trembled.

He recalled the nimble youth from earlier, slippery as an eel, always thrusting the spear at his weak spots. Sweat chilled his back.

Liu Qiang stroked his chin with a cold laugh, teeth grinding, “If we weren’t afraid of alerting the Deng family from Yun Tian Manor, we’d have chopped him up for the dogs already! Never thought they’d come knocking first—do they think Blackwind Fort is a pushover?”

He glanced at the tent door, voice dropping, “I say he’s bluffing, trying to lure us out for an ambush.”

Confident words, but his heart pounded.

That pretty boy moved oddly, spear cunning—if they fought head-on, he might not win.

Liu Meimei applied crimson polish to her fingertips, nails blood-red, scoffing, “Just a brat, hiding behind the Yun family name. I didn’t like his looks earlier!”

She paused, voice faltering, “If it comes to a fight, my poisoned ice needles will have him begging for mercy. Dare to play tricks on me, he’ll pay dearly!”

But the polish smeared her sleeve; she hurried to wipe it, only making it worse.

She remembered how the youth had effortlessly flicked her ice needle aside—her fingers went cold.

“Why don’t you face him yourself?” Meng Chang turned, eyes challenging. “Fifth Sister, your ice needles are so powerful, surely you’ll have him kneeling.”

Liu Meimei rolled her eyes, “Third Brother, that’s unfair. I’m just a girl, not as strong as you. Besides, he’s slippery—you can chase him, I can’t.”

“Fourth Brother is clever,” Meng Chang tossed the task to Liu Qiang, “Why not lead a team out yourself?”

Liu Qiang’s face darkened, “Third Brother, you’re mistaken. You should go yourself. Your twin hammers can flatten any pretty boy.”

They argued, each boasting of the other's courage, but none willing to move.

The candle flickered even more wildly, casting their shadows onto the wall—like fighting cocks, fierce in appearance but only fluttering in place.

“Done squabbling?” Lei Xiaotian suddenly slammed his saber onto the table, embedding it half an inch deep.

Meng Chang stiffened, wanting to retort, but a cold glance from Lei Xiaotian silenced him.

Lei Xiaotian swept his gaze across them, finally landing on Qian Tong. “Second Brother, take a team to the gate. Don’t let them trample our pride.”

No sooner had Lei Xiaotian spoken than Qian Tong’s abacus hand froze.

He gripped the beads, heart pounding like a trapped rabbit.

These three usually fought for credit, but tonight they shrank back as if stung. Anyone could see something was wrong!

If the enemy were easy, they’d be rushing out to show off, not shoving responsibility around.

Cold sweat trickled down Qian Tong’s neck. If he faced the pretty boy and lost, his reputation would suffer—worse, he might lose his life!

His lips trembled, barely forming words, “Big Brother, it’s pitch black, the fog so thick—out there…”

“What’s there to fear?” Lei Xiaotian raised an eyebrow, saber thumping the table again. “Take enough men, see which deity dares cause trouble here. If the Yun family wants war, don’t be polite—show them Blackwind Fort’s strength!”

Qian Tong tried to protest, but Meng Chang egged him on, “Second Chief, are you disobeying? With fifty brothers at your side, even if he brings men, they’ll think twice! They’re probably a rabble, bluffing in the fog to lure us out and snatch the gate!”

He sounded bold, but secretly hoped Qian Tong and the pretty boy would fight to the death.

Liu Qiang nodded, “Go ahead, Second Chief. We’ll wait for news here. If it comes to blows, we’ll support you! If the Yun family wants to step on Blackwind Fort, let’s see if we agree!”

Cornered, Qian Tong could only reply with a mournful, “Alright, I’ll face him.”

He shuffled to the tent entrance, but before he could lift the curtain, a thunderous explosion rocked the fort. Dust rained from the tent roof, candles flickered, nearly extinguished.

“What’s happening?” Lei Xiaotian leapt up, saber drawn, its cold gleam flashing inside.

Meng Chang and Liu Qiang lost their bravado, panic overtaking them.

Liu Meimei clutched her sleeve, nails digging into flesh.

The sound didn’t come from the gate, but from the armory!

Outside, chaos erupted—bandits screamed, wailed, weapons clanged, like a hornet’s nest just struck.

A young bandit staggered into the tent, face pale, “Chief! Bad news! The armory… it exploded! Flames are shooting skyward! I heard the Yun family sneaked in and started the fire!”

“What?!” Lei Xiaotian’s eyes bulged, kicking over the table—tea cups and ledgers scattered. “How did it explode?”

Qian Tong forgot his task, knees shaking, “Big Brother, it’s… it’s an ambush! The Yun family means business! They’re not just seeking revenge—they want to destroy us!”

That explosion was Wen Changning’s handiwork.

After receiving confirmation that Meng Village had evacuated safely, Wen Changning’s firestarter ignited within the armory.

Sparks sizzled in the air. She spun, darted out, leapt onto the stable’s low wall. Behind her, an explosion sent barrels flying, flames and smoke soaring into the night sky.

She landed lightly on the eaves, red-tasseled spear flashing in the mist, arrowing toward the gate.

Sun Changzhu and Wang Yu, waiting under the old locust, saw her emerge from the fog and hurried to meet her.

“Let’s go.”

Wen Changning spoke a single word, spear raised toward Yun Tian Manor. “Time to finish the act.”

“Go? Just leave?” Sun Changzhu’s grip on the sickle tightened, knuckles white, eyes wide. “Brother Wen! Why won’t you let me in? That explosion was huge—perfect chance to kill Meng Chang! My father’s vengeance—”

“Mhm.” Wen Changning turned, eyes reflecting distant firelight, her tone casual and cool. “Go ahead and try—see if your sickle is tougher than his hammer. Who was left coughing blood by his kick at the carriage yesterday?”

Sun Changzhu stiffened, ready to argue, but her sharp gaze silenced him.

He remembered Meng Chang’s hammers—bigger than his head—and the ache still lingering in his chest. His hold on the sickle slackened, shoulders drooping like a deflated ball.

“Don’t rush, Changzhu.” Wang Yu stepped forward, stroking his beard in approval, though his eyes were thoughtful. “Those explosions have already thrown Blackwind Fort into chaos.”

“These bandits are violent by nature; now they’ll be bloodthirsty for revenge. If they really try to storm Yun Tian Manor under the Yun family’s name…”

He paused, voice firming, “Yun Tian Manor has the Deng clan, formidable in arms. They won’t tolerate any disorder.”

“When that happens, we won’t need to lift a finger—Blackwind Fort will crash into an iron wall. Not just Meng Chang, but the entire bandit scourge could be wiped out.”

Sun Changzhu swallowed, not retorting.

Though straightforward, he recognized the truth in Wang Yu’s words. Still, the memory of his father’s death beneath Meng Chang’s hammer stung; he spat fiercely, following in silence, stomping through the mist and splashing mud.

The trio soon vanished into the fog, the flames and cries of Blackwind Fort slowly swallowed, leaving nothing but hazy outlines.