Chapter Forty-Five: Whose Trouble Is It?

As the saying goes, if you climb enough mountains, you’ll eventually encounter a tiger. Hong Xiaoshui had always relied on her skill with the three-handed flying stones, and few dared provoke her on the roads between Chang’an and Luoyang. But at last, she met her match.

When Hong Xiaoshui was thrown from her horse, Yang Chengxian’s shoulder wound seemed to miraculously heal. He spurred his mount straight toward her. Her trusted companions were nearby and rushed to her aid, but one by one they fell—man and horse alike collapsing at Hong Xiaoshui’s side.

Feng Xiaobao dismounted entirely, planting his feet firmly on the ground, and began to shoot arrow after arrow. His marksmanship from horseback was poor, but on foot, his aim was deadly—wherever he pointed, he struck. His strength was considerable, the arrows swift and powerful, impossible to defend against. In the time it took to loose eight arrows, five men and three horses—eight riders in all—were felled at his hand.

The bandits were terrified, and even his own side was astonished. Light bows are easy enough, but a strong bow can rarely fire more than a dozen arrows in an hour; the more powerful the bow, the harder to draw, and after twenty pulls, one’s arms turn to lead. Yet this youth wielded a bow rated at one stone of force, and fired eight arrows in rapid succession with energy to spare—his accuracy was lethal, his firepower overwhelming.

Where others failed, Feng Xiaobao succeeded, stepping over others’ shoulders to fame and renown. The bandits no longer dared approach, instead gathering a dozen riders to exchange fire with him, hoping to hold him back.

“Raise the shields!” came the cry.

The retainers lifted their shields, arrows thudding loudly against them. They had little to fear, for the band of wandering heroes advanced, their strength lying in mobility. The bandits, unable to match the numbers, could only retreat in defeat.

Though the bandits were driven off, it could hardly be called a victory. Nearly a hundred lay dead, and many more wounded. Among them, many were friends; at the sight of their fallen companions, some wept, while the majority wore faces marked by grief.

Had it not been for Feng Xiaobao and his comrades, the bandits would have lost no more than a dozen in their downhill charge. Feng Xiaobao’s group killed fifteen bandits and gained one hundred fifty strings of cash, but most importantly, they captured a chieftain worth eight hundred strings.

Hong Xiaoshui was unfortunate, pinned under her horse. Though she possessed fierce strength, as a woman her power was limited. By the time she nearly freed herself, Yang Chengxian had closed in, dragging her out with his men, binding her tightly with a rope he produced himself. Her head held high, hair disheveled, chest heaving—a style reminiscent of future warriors of the eastern islands, learned with no teacher.

Seeing Feng Xiaobao ride up, Yang Chengxian feigned a question, “Brother, how do you think we should deal with her?”

Feng Xiaobao knew well what was in his heart and would not contest him, replying, “She’s yours.”

Hong Xiaoshui, struck down by Feng Xiaobao, was his prisoner—his ‘private property.’ By yielding his claim, Yang Chengxian rejoiced, “Thank you, brother!”

He stroked Hong Xiaoshui’s chin and said, “If you submit to me, I promise you’ll come to no harm.”

“Little brother, you won’t do, but your friend beside you might! After all, he was the one who brought me down—are you really up to it?” Hong Xiaoshui, accustomed to danger, teased him, even casting a flirtatious glance at Feng Xiaobao.

But she was disappointed; Feng Xiaobao ignored her completely.

First impressions are lasting—a man with a gentle, noble princess at his side could hardly be swayed by Hong Xiaoshui’s fleeting beauty.

“You’ll soon find out if I am or not!” Yang Chengxian would not be drawn into her words. In time, she would know his worth.

As for Feng Xiaobao, he realized that knowing a man’s face does not reveal his heart. Yang Chengxian, the most learned among them, turned out to be a scholarly scoundrel, with a preference for married women!

It was clear that this youth’s mind was more than a little twisted.

Now, it was only faintly apparent, but as his status grew, the trouble he stirred would prove a headache even for Feng Xiaobao.

...

The group reorganized and set out anew. The dead and wounded were tended to by the camp followers, who would transport them back to the main encampment at Mianchi, while the rest continued their journey.

No more bandits barred their path, and their progress was smooth.

---

The bandits were unaware that Sima Chang, upon hearing of Hong Xiaoshui’s misfortune, wished to muster troops for revenge. Yet their leader, Xia Fuyao, stopped him, warning that the enemy was waiting for such a move.

Sima Chang was unable to come, or else another battle would have erupted along the way.

The band of wandering heroes arrived at the foot of Xindu Mountain. The mountain was not especially tall, perhaps five hundred meters, but its slopes were steep and difficult to climb.

From base to summit, there were three gates—so-called ‘gates’ that were in fact merely three walls, not particularly high, around ten meters each, covering a modest area, with a frontage of less than two hundred meters.

Their names were simply ‘First Gate,’ ‘Second Gate,’ and ‘Third Gate,’ owing to their simplicity.

The bandit lair could not withstand a large army; but had the bandits not committed a major crime and drawn the army upon themselves, the three gates would have sufficed for the authorities to leave them be.

Night had fallen, and the troops rested. The government soldiers camped in the front, their fortifications meticulous, unafraid of bandit attacks.

Had they not been in place, a surprise raid by the bandits could have spelled disaster.

Behind them gathered the heroes from all over, with campfires blazing and baskets of flatbread delivered for food. The atmosphere was lively as everyone ate; the wealthier, such as Feng Xiaobao, boiled water, cooked rice, and made soup for a more enjoyable meal.

Though the bread was tasty, a balanced diet was preferable.

Just after finishing their meal, a visitor arrived. The three young men, in high spirits, received him together.

He was a middle-aged merchant with a black beard, introducing himself as Kang Anda, of Hu descent.

His first words commanded the trio’s respect—he was the financier of the expedition, the sponsor, come to deliver their rewards.

For fifteen heads, he handed over a hundred and fifty strings of copper coins, without hesitation.

A patron is always respected, and Feng Xiaobao and his friends greeted him warmly, serving the best tea with enthusiastic hospitality.

“Additionally, for the female bandit leader, our offered price is eight hundred strings. She’s the first captured, and we’re willing to add fifty more. We hope you’ll transfer her to us,” Kang Anda requested.

It was a sincere offer, the price was high, yet Yang Chengxian refused.

Kang Anda was surprised to be turned down at such a price, and looked to Feng Xiaobao for help, “Master Feng, what do you say?”

“My brother’s wishes are mine,” Feng Xiaobao replied without hesitation.

“Then, can we take her three days later?” Kang Anda compromised, thinking they would have tired of her by then.

“No,” Yang Chengxian denied him again.

Kang Anda was disappointed but politely took his leave.

For now, he dared not offend them. Though the three youths were young, their strength was considerable, surpassing even veteran heroes. In the coming battle, their power would be needed.

After Kang Anda left, Yang Chengxian felt uneasy. Because of him, they had just missed out on eight hundred fifty strings—a considerable sum.

Cheng Boxi said boldly, “Money comes second, brothers first!”

Feng Xiaobao, thoughtful, remarked, “There’s something strange about all this.”

“Strange? What’s strange?” Yang Chengxian asked.

“Indeed, very strange,” Feng Xiaobao found much to be suspicious.

No matter how strange, everyone had profited—Feng Xiaobao had gained fame, and they all received bonuses.

After Kang Anda’s departure, Feng Xiaobao said meaningfully to Yang Chengxian, “Brother, the longer the night, the more likely the dreams.”

Heeding this warning, Yang Chengxian hurried to his tent where Hong Xiaoshui was held.

---

Soon after, sounds emerged from the tent—sounds that kept everyone awake.

Hearing them, Cheng Boxi idly asked Feng Xiaobao, “What do you suppose your master would feel if he knew his dutiful son, out on a journey, revealed such tastes?”

“Old Yang would be pleased. His son’s grown up!” Feng Xiaobao shrugged.

Cheng Boxi shook his head, “I think this taste of his will cause us a great deal of trouble in the future.”

“Perhaps,” Feng Xiaobao replied optimistically, “I agree, but he’ll bring even more trouble to others!”

He concluded, “When the trouble he brings to others outweighs what others bring to him, it stops being trouble.”

...

The next morning, the government troops and the band of heroes advanced together toward the First Gate.

The bandits mobilized three hundred men, forming ranks at the gate for a last stand.

All the chieftains were present. Xia Fuyao, clad in bright armor, shone with the bearing of a Tang general. Compared to him, the opposing side seemed mere thieves. At his side stood ‘Serpent Spear’ Zhang Yongping, ‘Ghost Axe’ Qiu Shenyang, ‘Hercules General’ Tian Shi, and ‘Twin Blade’ Tian Anding.

‘Feathered Arrow’ Sima Chang stood atop the gate, commanding archers—over a hundred bowmen and two hundred crossbowmen.

Earlier, Xia Fuyao had wisely prevented Sima Chang from fighting alone; without his cover atop the gate, even Xia Fuyao’s courage would not suffice to open the gates for combat.

He denied Sima Chang’s request for battle, and Sima Chang opposed his own, believing they should simply hold the gate—why risk a fight?

Facing the enemy, they risked death; but holding the height, the enemy attacking uphill, their chances were far greater.

“Don’t you want to know who captured Seventh Sister—Hong Xiaoshui—and avenge her?” Xia Fuyao’s words left Sima Chang speechless, so he sent someone to arrange a duel.

The two sides formed up. Xia Fuyao observed both armies—the government troops were well-ordered but not strong, while the heroes were robust and individually outstanding, though their formation was disorderly and equipment varied.

By contrast, the three hundred bandits formed a solid square. Though few and simply equipped, their morale resembled a true army.

“There are still talents among outlaws—a pity!” said Xu Wenfeng, Right Guard Captain, as he rode forward to speak with Xia Fuyao, who likewise advanced.

“Xia Fuyao, my army is assembled, heroes from all sides are present. Surrender now, lest you bring ruin upon yourself!” Xu Wenfeng declared in grand, official tones.

Xia Fuyao responded obliquely, “Heroes? Is it time to harvest the heroes again? Very well, rest assured—we shall cooperate!”

Cooperate, indeed! Xu Wenfeng immediately turned his horse and called out, “The bandits of Xindu Mountain refuse counsel—prepare to attack!”

Xia Fuyao’s words revealed why the court sent merchants to sponsor heroes and outlaws to fight bandits, rather than deploying troops—a somewhat farcical truth.

Heroes defy the law by force. Though the Tang dynasty prized martial valor and allowed weapons, when wandering heroes grew too numerous and ‘too hot to handle,’ the court would subtly intervene to regulate.

For example, organizing campaigns against bandits, or recruiting men for frontier defense—always seeking ways to expend excess martial power.

The heroes knew full well this was a trap, but the lure was sweet—one willing to strike, one willing to be struck. After all, even heroes must eat.

Now Xia Fuyao made it plain, and Xu Wenfeng was ready to attack.

“Wait!” Xia Fuyao cried, “Before battle, I want to know who captured my Seventh Sister, Hong Xiaoshui!”

“It was us!” Feng Xiaobao and his companions stepped forward proudly.