Chapter 50: The Southern Eight

“Murder?” Lu Hu was startled. “Who do you intend to kill?”

“Of course, Wang Hong and his son.” Li Zaixing pointed to the crowd in front of the Wan’an Temple. “If they come, they’ll find it hard to leave Pingkang Lane alive today.”

Lu Hu was suddenly anxious. This was not part of Li Bi’s plan. Li Zaixing couldn’t simply kill Wang Hong and his son; he was supposed to be captured alongside Wang Xun’s family to create an irrefutable case of Wang Hong framing them. In Li Bi’s design, the key was the injustice suffered by Wang Xun’s family—being of imperial kin, only their plight would provoke the emperor’s wrath. As for Li Zaixing, he was but a supporting character, a mere companion in misfortune, not worth considering.

Perhaps to Li Bi, toppling Wang Hong justified sacrificing even Wang Xun’s household; Li Zaixing’s suffering was inconsequential, just another ordeal. If need be, his life could be forfeit. What Li Zaixing found most intolerable was precisely this: after so long as friends, Li Bi still never considered his interests. Since everyone looked only to their own gain, Li Zaixing decided to seize the initiative and surprise Li Bi.

“My lord, you mustn’t do this.” Lu Hu’s face flushed with urgency. “You’ll ruin the master’s entire plan.”

“A scholar’s rebellion never succeeds in ten years.” Li Zaixing spoke calmly. “Sanlang’s plan may be thorough, but it’s too gentle. Wang Hong might die, but more likely he’ll just be dismissed. If he survives, he could return stronger. Only by finishing him here and now can we deny him any chance to retaliate.”

Lu Hu tried to protest, but Li Zaixing raised a hand to silence him. “Say no more. If you object, go to Sanlang. I won’t listen. Just as you’ve never truly regarded me as your lord. Ah Hu, you’re free now. Go back to Sanlang.”

Lu Hu’s expression shifted; he stood silent for a moment. “So you knew all along.”

“I’m not a fool; of course I knew.” Li Zaixing smiled, waving his hand as if clearing a haze.

Lu Hu lowered his head, bowed deeply. “Take care, Master Li. I’m leaving.” With that, he turned and descended the stairs, never once glancing back.

Li Zaixing was left alone, gazing quietly at Pingkang Lane, listening as Lu Hu’s footsteps faded beneath the bell tower and out of the courtyard. Only then did he say softly, “Aier Madi, you’re free as well. Your slave contract is beneath the pillow—take it if you wish.”

Aier Madi made no sound, as if she hadn’t heard.

Li Zaixing paused, glanced back at her, and smiled. “Since you won’t leave, accompany me to battle. Is your leg still an issue?”

“I can enter the fray,” she replied coolly. “It’s no matter.”

“Good. Prepare yourself. Wait for my signal.”

“Yes.” Aier Madi placed a hand over her chest, bowed in acceptance, and went downstairs. Soon, she returned with Li Zaixing’s prized steed and her own mount, carrying Li Zaixing’s lance and her own armor and weapons. Quietly, they slipped out the side gate of the Bodhi Temple, heading toward the northeast corner and the commoners’ quarter.

Li Zaixing sat alone atop the bell tower, watching silently until a group left Wan’an Temple for the Bodhi Temple. Then he stood, dusted his robes, and descended.

No sooner had he reached the ground than the temple gates were knocked upon. A Left Jinwu Guard, a resolute captain, led fifty guards into the temple. The monks, seeing official troops, dared not neglect their duty and escorted them obediently to the west courtyard. As soon as the guards entered, they spread out with a clatter, surrounding Li Zaixing. Blades drawn, arrows nocked—they treated him as a formidable foe.

Li Zaixing frowned. “What is this about?”

“There’s a case requiring your testimony,” the captain replied, sizing Li Zaixing up with a faint smile. “Will you come quietly, or must we bind you?”

Li Zaixing glanced at the captain in surprise. “Who are you? You seem to know me.”

“Indeed.” The captain made a respectful gesture. “Xie Guanglong is my brother. I am Nan Jiyun of Dunqiu.”

Li Zaixing was momentarily stunned, then smiled. He’d heard Xie Guanglong mention his protector in the Left Jinwu Guard, surnamed Nan, known as Nan Eight, though he never learned his full name. He never expected Nan Eight to be Nan Jiyun. Shouldn’t this man be in Suiyang, not a captain in the capital? But then, Xie Guanglong, skilled as he was, had ended up in the city, surviving by collecting protection fees. Nan Jiyun being a captain was already luckier than Xie Guanglong.

“So you’re Nan Eight—pleased to meet you.” Li Zaixing returned the gesture. “Let’s go, then.”

“Very well. Let’s.” Nan Jiyun made no ceremony, walking beside Li Zaixing. The guards surrounded them tightly, watching every move. Wang Hong had instructed them to be vigilant—Li Zaixing was not someone to be trifled with; if he refused, they were to apprehend him on the spot. Now, seeing Nan Jiyun and Li Zaixing converse amicably, both sides avoided conflict, which was preferable. Still, they remained alert in case Li Zaixing tried to escape; in the darkness, he could slip away and be hard to recapture.

Li Zaixing and Nan Jiyun walked shoulder to shoulder; their statures were similar, though Li Zaixing was more robust and Nan Jiyun slender, with notably long arms—almost simian. Xie Guanglong had said Nan Eight’s archery surpassed his own; Li Zaixing had been skeptical, but seeing those arms, he believed it.

The sudden appearance of such a formidable opponent made Li Zaixing smile wryly, yet he felt no fear—only a surge of fighting spirit. To match skills with Nan Jiyun, a renowned general of this era, even at the cost of his life, would not be in vain. In his previous life, he’d always sought out martial challenges, never shying from injury or defeat. To duel such a master now was a delight. Nan Eight, revealing his connection to Xie Guanglong even while on duty, hoped Li Zaixing wouldn’t resist and risk being bound before Wang Hong. With Nan Jiyun and fifty guards, few in this world could escape.

That was Nan Jiyun’s confidence—and his loyalty.

…

Lu Hu hurried into Mingke Alley in Nanqu, ducked into a quiet side room, climbed the stairs, and bowed to Li Bi, who stood by the window.

“Master.”

“What brings you here?” Li Bi turned, surprised. “At this hour, shouldn’t you be with Li Zaixing at Wan’an Temple?”

“Master, he drove me away.” Lu Hu gritted his teeth, his clenched fists trembling. “He refuses to follow your plan. He insists on killing Wang Hong outright.”

With a loud crack, Li Bi’s teacup hit the floor, shattering into pieces and spilling green tea across the tiles. Li Bi frowned deeply, his voice harsh. “What did you say?”

Lu Hu was ready for this; he recounted the conversation from the bell tower in detail, then anxiously watched Li Bi. “Master, you must act quickly. That brute is too self-assured—if captured, he’ll surely implicate you.”

Yet Li Bi grew calmer. He walked to the door, tapped the frame, and a young maid ascended, glanced about, and silently swept up the fragments, replacing the tea without being asked.

Cradling the fresh cup, Li Bi paced leisurely about the room, nothing like Lu Hu’s agitation. Seeing Li Bi so composed, Lu Hu gradually relaxed. He hadn’t found a solution himself, but he had a deep, innate confidence in Li Bi.

He believed Li Bi would surely find a way to rein in Li Zaixing, that wild bull grown uncontrollable.

He watched Li Bi, unblinking, afraid to miss even a hint of expression.

“It was my mistake,” Li Bi said with a bitter smile. “He’s not one to fight defensively; he prefers to strike first. The arrangement I made didn’t suit his temperament—it’s no surprise he reversed the roles.”

Lu Hu asked gravely, “What should we do now?”

Li Bi shook his head, calm yet tinged with helplessness. “He’s seized the initiative with his sudden move, leaving me no chance to reconsider. All I can do is cooperate with his actions. What other choice do I have?”

“And just let him act recklessly?”

“Recklessly?” Li Bi pondered, then shook his head. “This isn’t recklessness—it’s premeditated. Sending Du Fu from the Bodhi Temple, moving Xie Guanglong, dismissing those three barbarian women—he had it planned. I focused solely on Wang Hong, neglecting his maneuvers, and he’s included me in his calculations. With foresight against my lack thereof, how could I not lose?”

Lu Hu seethed. “Xie Guanglong and the others can leave, but can the Bodhi Temple escape?”

“What harm is there to the Bodhi Temple?” Li Bi sighed, disappointed in Lu Hu. Clearly, Lu Hu’s resentment toward Li Zaixing had clouded his analysis—a fatal flaw for any strategist. “The temple will suffer little; monasteries often host guests, and at most, they’ll be blamed for negligence. As for Juehui, do you think he can’t handle this? Moreover, if we don’t intervene, Li Zaixing won’t spare us. Compared to the Bodhi Temple, we’d suffer far more from his retaliation.”

Lu Hu’s gaze darkened. As Li Bi said, the initiative was no longer theirs. If they failed to ensure Li Zaixing’s safety and let the Bodhi Temple suffer, even endangering his own life, Li Zaixing would surely accuse Li Bi, perhaps even the crown prince—and Li Linfu would welcome the chaos. With the prince’s temperament, Li Bi would likely be sacrificed as a scapegoat.

“So…how do we save him?”

“First, send Chongniang back.” Li Bi stared at the torch-lit gates of Wan’an Temple in the distance, narrowing his eyes. “Regardless of Wang Hong’s fate, we must report him before Li Linfu does.”

“Yes.” Lu Hu replied, descending the stairs.

Li Bi moved to the window, sipped his tea, the smile fading from his face, replaced by a persistent worry.

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