Chapter 7: The Real Culprit

Yang Can’s instigation for Leopard-Head to challenge the Suo family served a calculated purpose: if the Suo family’s only response to a full-scale clash was the appearance of Mother Tu, Yang Can could confirm that she was the sole decision-maker for their group. Should that be the case, eliminating her would grant him a significant opportunity to seize control and dictate the situation. Furthermore, intensifying the conflict between the Yu and Suo families offered him only advantages and no drawbacks.

In the Suo family camp on the slope, guards noticed the Yu family’s retainers charging toward them with shouts and clamor, and they immediately grew alert. They signaled to one another and began to converge.

Yu Chengye was the heir of the Tianshui Faction’s Yu family, and his death clearly affected many. Yet, everyone was focused on maneuvering the situation to their own benefit—or at least ensuring it did not harm them. No one felt genuine grief for his passing, not even his bride. Perhaps only one person was an exception, and he was currently on Mount Phoenix.

In Tianshui City, on Mount Phoenix, sat a manor named "Phoenix Villa," named after the mountain itself. The morning sun gilded the upturned eaves of the villa in a vibrant red. Deep within the Yu family mansion, the doors to the ancestral hall stood wide open. The brilliant sunlight slanted inward, illuminating the deep and spacious hall, making the memorial tablets on the offering table seem to glow.

This was the place where the Yu family honored their ancestors. The clan had flourished for three hundred and twenty-seven years, and that glory had been forged by the ancestors whose tablets rested there. Yu Xinglong, head of the Tianshui Faction, cradled a brand-new memorial tablet in his hands, gently stroking the characters he had personally carved and gilded. After a long moment, he let out a desolate sigh, and a tear fell, landing on the tablet and sliding slowly into the groove of the character for "Ye." Yu Xinglong wiped the tear away with his sleeve and placed the tablet carefully upon the altar.

His tear-filled eyes gazed at his son’s tablet: "Spirit Tablet of the Deceased Son, Chengye." Such an inscription was used only when a son died while his father was still alive, unmarried and without offspring. Yu Xinglong was over fifty, his hair streaked with gray. Though he held the immense power of a faction leader, his demeanor was that of a refined, scholarly man. Now, his elegant face was etched with profound sorrow.

Although the messenger sent by Leopard-Head had taken a shortcut, he had not yet arrived, and those sent by Mother Tu were even further behind. Yet, Yu Xinglong had already placed his son’s tablet in the hall, for he knew his son was no longer among the living. He had foreseen Chengye's death before his son had even left for Jincheng to collect his bride. The "bandits" who assassinated his son were men he had dispatched himself. The timing and the manner of Yu Chengye's death were part of a plan the father and son had devised together.

"Father, the poisoned arrow I took earlier has left toxins in my system that I cannot purge. My lifespan is greatly reduced; I will not last more than a year or two," the image of his eldest son seemed to drift through Yu Xinglong’s teary vision. When Yu Chengye had spoken those words, his eyes were chillingly calm, as if he were discussing an autumn hunt rather than his own mortality. "I believe that rather than lingering in a crippled state, it is better to use this dying body to do something useful for our main branch."

He stepped back and knelt before his father: "I beg you, Father, arrange a marriage with a prominent faction and stage an assassination on the way to fetch the bride, framing the Second Uncle..."

"Stop! That is preposterous!" Yu Xinglong had shouted in protest, his entire body trembling. But it was not from anger—it was from fear, for he realized with shame that he was tempted.

"Time waits for no one, Father. If our main branch does not restrain the Second Uncle now, we will never have a chance to rise again," Yu Chengye had said with a bitter smile. "I am already dying, so why not make good use of this opportunity? Since we lack the strength to suppress his branch, we shall borrow the force of others. Use the marriage as a bond and my death as the catalyst. By using one force to strike another, we can suppress his faction while intimidating the others. This will buy enough time for my younger brother to grow."

As he spoke, Yu Chengye chuckled. "Besides, that poisoned arrow I received earlier was likely the work of my dear Second Uncle. Even if I use my death to frame him, it may not be an injustice after all."

"My son, my son..." Yu Xinglong whispered in the darkness, closing his eyes. After a long while, he wiped the tears from his eyes, lit three sticks of incense, and placed them in the burner. The curling smoke blurred the gold characters on the tablet.

...

Leopard-Head and his men stormed into the center of the camp with aggressive momentum. The bandit was tied up, hands behind his back, lying on a cart. He was curled up, half-dead, the dried blood on his clothes turned a dark, bruised red.

"Halt! Who gave you permission to barge in here?" a group of Suo family guards stepped forward, showing no sign of yielding.

Leopard-Head shouted, "I am the commander of Young Master Yu’s guards! I am here to interrogate this bandit, find their lair, and avenge my master!"

A Suo guard sneered, "You cannot have him. The Suo family is responsible for how this man is dealt with."

"The one who died was my Young Master!"

"So what?" the guard lifted his chin arrogantly. "Without Mother Tu’s order, no one comes near!" As he spoke, his hand rested on his sword hilt, his gaze icy.

Leopard-Head was furious: "Shall I assume you are protecting the murderer, intentionally stalling for time so he can escape?" Leopard-Head’s large eyes glinted with menace. Though the Suo family was powerful, he knew his own head was on the line, and he had no room for hesitation.

The Suo guard scoffed, "Trying to frame me? It won't work. Without Mother Tu’s command, no one gets close!"

"Then I’ll take him by force!" Leopard-Head let out a grim laugh and drew his blade.

The shouting and clashing from the slope drifted into the wedding tent on the high ground. "What is happening?" Suo Chanzhi asked lazily, lying on her side on the couch. She hadn't slept well the night before and was exhausted. She had bathed early that morning and hadn't even eaten breakfast; she was now too tired to keep her eyes open. She wasn't worried about the noise; it couldn't be more bandits, could it?

The bandits had already attacked once, and they were prepared. It would be impossible for them to breach the center of the camp again so easily.

"I don't know, Mistress. I will go look," Xiao Qingmei replied.

After her bath, Suo Chanzhi had changed into a thin, soft nightgown, lying on the couch with a light quilt draped over her waist. Xiao Qingmei, seeing her listless state, was full of curiosity but was interrupted by another outburst of shouting outside. Qingmei hurried off as ordered. Suo Chanzhi gave a lazy yawn, feeling profoundly sleepy. She wanted to catch a nap before they set off again.

...

On the slope, seeing Leopard-Head’s fierce prowess, the Suo guard showed no fear. He charged forward, his thumb flicking his blade from its scabbard with a sharp *clatter*. He lunged, caught the airborne blade, and with a shrill whistle of steel, it descended toward Leopard-Head like a wheel of light. It was a fluid, impressive maneuver, but it lacked the raw practicality of Leopard-Head’s style.

With a teeth-gritting *clang*, their blades met. Leopard-Head had countered with a horizontal block; the force of the guard's strike shattered the guard's own sword, the tip flying into the air. Leopard-Head closed the distance and, seizing the moment of the guard's shock, delivered a "Mountain-Crushing Shoulder" strike, sending the man flying backward. The guard coughed up blood in mid-air, his internal organs clearly damaged.

As Leopard-Head left his guard open from the impact, three more Suo guards pounced.

"Good!" Leopard-Head grinned, swinging his blade to meet them.

With a series of harsh collisions, the three guards staggered back, their palms split and arms trembling, their own blades chipped. Though Leopard-Head fought, he dared not kill them, using the back of his steel blade to deflect their strikes. He moved with wide strides, his blade dancing—sometimes striking like a copper whip, sometimes hitting like an iron ruler. He avoided lethal blows but struck where it hurt most. In a blink, seven or eight men were rolling on the ground, wailing.

As the fighting escalated, both sides drew their weapons. The nearby Suo guards rushed in, and the Yu guards at the bottom of the slope, seeing the chaos, joined the fray with shouts of their own. The conflict between the two families had finally been laid bare.