Chapter 025: Striking Without Mercy

Seeing Liu Yu gritting his teeth in fury, yet utterly no match for Wei Ba, the richly dressed youths around him could no longer restrain themselves. They shouted and urged their horses forward, ready to ram into the fray, while only the silent youth beside Liu Yu pulled back, grasping Liu Yu’s reins, controlling his horse, and withdrawing a few steps to avoid the battle.

As the warhorses charged, Wei Ba’s heart was tense, but he felt no fear. He trusted that Dun Wu, standing behind him, possessed the skill to keep him safe; otherwise, Dun Wu would have warned him to retreat sooner. Wei Ba stood boldly, unleashing his venomous tongue, relentlessly attacking Liu Yu’s character, and treating the fierce, arrogant youths as if they were mere shadows.

“I say, this is the Chief Minister’s central military camp. Riding recklessly here is already a violation, and now you want to cause trouble? Do you even recognize military law? Truly, you behave like shrews, ignorant of propriety...”

Liu Yu trembled with rage, nearly fainting. He had heard Wei Yan’s son, Wei Ba, was eloquent, but hadn’t expected such skill; his words cut deeper than any shrew’s, yet he never resorted to vulgarity. Ill-prepared, Liu Yu had hoped to humiliate Wei Ba with words, only to be scolded mercilessly instead. Worse, he’d chosen such a public setting—dozens of clerks from various camps stood nearby. If he couldn’t curb Wei Ba’s arrogance, he’d soon become the laughingstock of the entire army.

“Hit him! Hit him for me!” Liu Yu, breathless and sweating, screamed like a girl freshly wronged. Consumed by anger, he’d forgotten any thought of avoiding trouble in the camp; now, he wanted only to tear Wei Ba’s mouth apart, to beat him swollen and teach him that venomous words led to bitter ends.

At Liu Yu’s shrill command, three youths in brocade spurred their horses forward. Wei Ba’s gaze sharpened, but behind him came a low shout. Dun Wu swept past like a gust of wind; chaos filled Wei Ba’s vision. Suddenly, the warhorses reared up, neighing wildly. The three youths, unable to control their mounts, were thrown to the ground, yelping in pain with tears and snot streaming, rolling about until their clothes lost all sheen, leaving them dusty and bedraggled.

In a blink, the dust settled. Dun Wu held the reins of three warhorses in one hand, while his other hand gently stroked the neck of a white steed. His movements were gentle, his expression focused; the horse enjoyed the touch, lapping at Dun Wu’s hand like a well-trained pet.

“Captain, the Chief Minister has ordered: no galloping in the camp. You nearly injured someone. Are you all unharmed?” Seeing Dun Wu’s prowess, Wei Ba felt even more assured. He stepped before Liu Yu, whose face was streaked with tears and shock, and asked kindly, “Captain, are you alright? Did you wet your pants?”

Liu Yu stared at Wei Ba’s smug, sly grin, his fury flaring higher. With a wild cry, he drew his sword and slashed at Wei Ba. He moved so quickly that even the silent youth beside him couldn’t stop him in time; watching the blade descend, the youth’s dark face turned pale, and he cried out, “Stop!”

But Liu Yu, maddened, wouldn’t listen. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t halt now. Wei Ba was startled—he hadn’t expected this delicate youth to be so ruthless, daring to kill in public, especially the son of the General of the North. He instinctively tried to shout, but before he could, Dun Wu charged again, raising both hands: left gripping Liu Yu’s wrist, right grabbing his jade belt. Without visible effort, Dun Wu hauled Liu Yu off his horse and flung him in a wide arc to the ground.

A dull thud rang out, dust flying, scattering the onlookers. As the dust settled, Liu Yu was revealed, curled up like a shrimp, twitching. His pink face was stained with tears and dirt, looking as though he’d been traveling for months without washing. He still clutched his sword, but his arm seemed detached, twitching autonomously like a lizard’s severed tail.

Seeing Liu Yu in such a state, the youths were terrified, rushing to his side. Even the silent youth was startled, tumbling from his saddle, pushing through the wailing boys to reach Liu Yu. He pressed his ear to Liu Yu’s lips, then to his chest, finally sighing in relief.

With the silent youth’s reassurance, the remaining three boys relaxed, then grew furious. They drew their swords and charged at Dun Wu and Wei Ba. The silent youth shouted, “Stop! You’re no match for him!”

Hearing this, the boys recalled their earlier fall, and eyed Dun Wu, standing silently behind Wei Ba. Fear crept into their gazes; they gripped their swords but dared not advance, wanting to retreat but unable to save face, caught in awkwardness.

The silent youth strode over, seized their swords, sheathed them, and commanded, “Go help the Captain to the infirmary!”

Relieved, the three youths shot Dun Wu a fierce, empty glare, then lifted Liu Yu and hurried away. Liu Yu, badly injured, whimpered softly, unable to form a complete sentence—pitiful as a beaten cur with a broken back.

“I am Fu Xing, from Yiyang, a fellow townsman of the General of the North.”

Wei Ba frowned, suddenly recalling a name. “Is your father perhaps General Fu Rong, who fell at Xiaoliang?”

Fu Xing bowed his head in shame. “He is, and my actions today dishonor my forebears. I beg your pardon.”

Wei Ba’s expression darkened. “Since you know you shame your ancestors, why do such things? Brother Fu, your father was a hero—why associate with such spoiled youths? We are both from Yiyang; we should stand together, not aid the wicked or oppose each other.”

“You are right, Brother Wei. I am ashamed.” Fu Xing, deeply embarrassed, apologized at once.

Wei Ba softened, patting Fu Xing’s arm and glancing at Dun Wu. Dun Wu replied calmly, “Captain Liu is merely frail, his arm dislocated. Have a physician set the bone and rest a few days; there will be no major lasting consequences.”

Fu Xing gave a bitter smile. The Wei family was not to be trifled with; a simple quarrel, yet the injury was so severe. If Dun Wu said there’d be no major aftereffects, minor ones surely remained. He looked at Wei Ba, hesitated, saluted, and hurried off.

Wei Ba caught the undertone in Dun Wu’s words. He frowned slightly. “What kind of aftereffects?”

Dun Wu shrugged, spreading his hands. “He must avoid strenuous activity; otherwise, his spine may dislocate again, perhaps leading to paralysis.”

Wei Ba was shocked. “That serious? What counts as strenuous?”

“Riding, fighting, or... bedroom activities.”

Wei Ba sputtered, “That’s harsh!”

“The General taught: strike without mercy, or don’t strike at all.” Dun Wu spoke matter-of-factly. “I controlled my strength. If the General were here, that boy would be paralyzed for life.”

“Heavens.” Wei Ba broke out in cold sweat, about to chide Dun Wu when the tent door lifted. A middle-aged clerk stood at the entrance, surveying everyone before shouting, “Where is Wei Ba?”

Wei Ba started—one troublemaker had just been dealt with, and now another appeared. He hastened forward, saluting. “I am he.”

“Yang the Adjutant wishes to question you.” The clerk shot Wei Ba an annoyed glance, then addressed the crowd, “The Adjutant is busy—why are you making such noise? If you disturb him, can you bear the consequences?”

Those who had been eagerly discussing the recent altercation, speculating on what sparks might fly between Wei Yan and Liu Yan, instantly fell silent. Any more talk, and they’d see sparks from Yang the Adjutant instead. Yet Yang’s feud with the General of the North was even greater; now that the General’s son was summoned, another clash seemed imminent. Would Wei Ba, fresh from victory, maintain his swagger before Yang Yi? Everyone was eager to see.

Wei Ba was unaware he’d become the center of attention, or perhaps the supporting role about to be thoroughly chastised by Yang Yi. Entering Yang Yi’s tent, he sensed an ominous atmosphere.

Cheng An looked troubled, holding his abacus in silence. Yang Yi sat behind his desk, hands pressed to the table, his gaunt face tight. Cheng An’s painstakingly compiled account books lay scattered on the floor, one page marked with a large footprint, its owner unknown.

Wei Ba felt the scorn in Yang Yi’s proud gaze, noted Cheng An’s barely contained anger and the account books on the floor. He realized he’d been too optimistic: his father Wei Yan was difficult, but Yang Yi was worse. His hope for peace was mere wishful thinking.

Wei Ba glanced at Cheng An, who shook his head helplessly. Wei Ba went to him, took the abacus from his arms, and spoke softly, “You’ve suffered, sir.”

Cheng An sighed, “I am incompetent, disappointing the young general.”

“Don’t say such things.” Wei Ba nudged him gently. “Please step outside. I’ll handle this.”

Cheng An hesitated, “Young general, you…”

“It’s all right. I caused this, so I’ll take responsibility. Please wait outside; I’ll join you soon.”

Wei Ba’s resolve settled, Cheng An could only bow and leave.

Yang Yi watched Wei Ba coldly—watched him persuade Cheng An to leave, watched him bend to pick up the scattered account books, respectfully holding them as he stood before him. Only then did Yang Yi sneer, “So, you are Wei Yan’s son, Wei Ba?” ———————Please support!