Chapter Sixty-Nine: Evading the Fierce Tiger by Day, Eluding the Serpent by Night

At that moment, awkward Mandarin sounded from behind the trees.

“Don’t misunderstand. We mean no harm.”

The three generations of the Su family remained silent, seemingly so frightened that they could not utter a word.

After a brief, deathly silence, a large figure emerged from the forest and strode directly toward them.

By the faint moonlight, it was possible to see that he wore the studded cotton armor of a Ming officer, and his boots were the same oxhide as the old man’s.

But atop his head, his hair was gathered into a hawk-beak-shaped topknot, secured with a blue cloth and adorned with a fine eagle feather. This was the typical hairstyle of a Luoluo warrior, known as the Hero’s Topknot.

Yet, at this moment, the ‘hero’s’ appearance was rather tragic: his left arm was severed at the shoulder, roughly bandaged with strips of cloth that were already soaked in blood, which dripped occasionally to the ground.

He was clearly suffering from severe blood loss, his once-imposing figure swaying as he leaned on his sword with his right hand, barely able to stand.

But the trio dared not relax their vigilance in the slightest. As Ming reservists, their hundred-household unit trained militarily during the idle farming seasons; they possessed basic knowledge of battlefield conduct.

So even in their panic, they stood in a triangular formation—Su Lu and Su Youcai at the front with their staves, Su Tai behind with his bow.

“To which garrison household do you belong?” the Luoluo warrior asked.

“Who are you?” Su Youcai mustered his courage and shot back.

“I am Su Xia, a thousand-household commander under the Yongning Pacification Office.” The Luoluo warrior tried to reach for his identification badge, only to remember his left hand was gone. He drew a shallow breath, composed himself, and said, “The situation is urgent, so I’ll be brief. Today, I was escorting my young master to Guizhou to visit relatives, but we were ambushed by the Duzhang Miao halfway.”

“We were caught completely off guard—our forces were wiped out. I fought desperately to protect my young master, fleeing into the mountains, but the Duzhang Miao have tracked us relentlessly, following my blood trail. We can’t shake them.”

He sighed bleakly, “And I can’t hold out much longer…”

With that, he dropped to one knee and pleaded in a hoarse voice:

“I beg you three—please take my young master safely to Lin City, and the Ye family will reward you handsomely!”

At that moment, the distant sound of commotion and flickering firelight approached.

Su Xia’s expression grew tense. Not waiting for a reply, he called out in Luoluo to someone behind the trees, and a small, thin figure finally stepped out from the darkness.

Su Xia whispered a few words to his young master, who shook his head and wiped away tears. Su Xia, however, pushed him toward the Su family, choking back a sob, “I’ll only drag you down—we must split up!”

He turned to Su Youcai, “I’ll draw away the pursuers. All of you, go quickly!”

With that, Su Xia cast one last, deep look at his young master, then stood with his long sword and strode toward the approaching firelight…

The forest clearing fell silent. The three stood dumbfounded, staring at the child Su Xia had left behind—no more than twelve or thirteen, with a high topknot on his head, a face smeared with ash, clothes obviously too large for him, making him appear even smaller and more defenseless.

How had things changed so drastically after a single nap? Su Lu pinched his thigh hard. No, this wasn’t a dream…

“Let’s get out of here first,” Su Youcai whispered.

The three hurried away from the firelight, trailed by their unexpected burden.

“What should we do?” Su Youcai whispered to his son as they walked.

“What does the old man say?” Of course, in such matters, a son always defers to his father.

“It’s too dangerous to take him with us, but if we leave him, he’s dead for sure,” Su Youcai said, torn. “What do the sages say?”

“The sages say, ‘To see what is right and not act is cowardice,’ but also, ‘A gentleman does not stand under a crumbling wall,’” Su Lu replied.

“The sages aren’t exactly clear on this, are they?” Su Tai couldn’t help but grumble.

Su Youcai sighed, “Forget it—let him follow. If we lose him, so be it…”

The poor child, pampered as he was, could never keep up with the iron-shod feet of the Su family, especially after fleeing half a day with Su Xia. In the trackless forest, stumbling through uneven ground, he managed to keep up for half an hour, but soon lagged farther and farther behind.

Seeing the gap widen, Su Youcai sighed, “If we lose him, that’s that…”

---

The old forest of wild privet was thick with the smell of damp, rotting leaves, mixed with all manner of strange, rank odors—breathing it in felt stifling and nauseating. This was the infamous miasma that struck terror into the hearts of people from the Central Plains. Even locals could succumb if they lingered too long.

Ancient trees tangled their branches overhead, while vines hung between them like giant serpents—some hovering in midair, others weaving a dense net on the ground. Underfoot, the leaf litter was half a foot thick, hiding roots and trailing vines that could trip the unwary at any moment.

Su Tai cleared the way with a stick, leading the group. Su Youcai and Su Lu supported the unfortunate child behind them.

At least one and a half of the trio were good men at heart—could they truly abandon him?

A glance back revealed the child’s ankle was swollen like a steamed bun. Su Youcai had no choice but to carry him.

Though the child weighed only seventy or eighty pounds, it was still a significant burden. After just the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Su Youcai was gasping for breath, drenched in sweat.

He and Su Lu then took turns supporting the boy. After another half hour, they were both soaked through.

“Should’ve checked the almanac before leaving home…” Su Youcai wiped sweat from his face and grumbled softly to the boy, “What rotten luck to run into you.”

The boy shrank like a little quail, enduring all complaints in silence.

“Isn’t this area under your Pacification Office’s control? Can’t they even guarantee your safety?” Su Lu, though equally frustrated, decided it was better to gather useful information before making further decisions, rather than vent his spleen.

The boy was silent for a moment, then replied in a soft voice, “It’s a long story.”

His voice, not yet broken, sounded almost like a girl’s.

“Then make it short,” Su Lu prompted.

“Someone wants to capture me and use me to threaten my mother,” the boy said succinctly.

“And your mother is…?” Su Youcai asked.

“Lady She Saihua, the Pacification Commissioner of Yongning.”

“Good heavens!” Su Youcai was startled. The Pacification Commissioner, a fourth-rank official, was one of the four great powers of Yongning, perhaps the most significant person within a hundred miles.

Since the Song and Yuan dynasties, the She family had ruled these lands. After the founding of the Ming, Lady She Xiang’s father, She Luhuan, submitted to the court and was appointed Anfu Commissioner of Yongning. During the Ming campaign to pacify Yunnan, he built roads and bridges for the imperial army, securing their logistics. After the war, the Hongwu Emperor further promoted him to Pacification Commissioner and granted him rebellious tusi territories as reward.

Yongning sat at the juncture of three provinces, a place of strategic importance, deep in the mountains and far from the imperial center. Over time, the court grew uneasy and established three major garrisons—Yongning, Luzhou, and Chishui—on the Pacification Office’s land, driving in three nails to keep the tusi in check and guard the critical route from Sichuan into Yunnan and Guizhou.

Fortunately, the She family had always been model tusi, loyal to the throne and country. Though there were frequent frictions, relations never broke down, and both sides even cooperated to suppress the Duzhang Miao and Sheng Miao uprisings.

After a century of adjustment, a coexistence developed: the Pacification Office and the garrisons interlocked, each managing their own peoples, neither interfering with the other.

Thus, though Erlangtan was within the Pacification Office’s domain, ordinary soldiers rarely felt the presence of the tusi.

Of course, just because you couldn’t feel its presence didn’t mean it didn’t exist—sometimes it was simply because you were too insignificant to be noticed.

So when Su Lu heard the boy’s mother was the Pacification Commissioner, he immediately stopped questioning.

“No need to say more.”

“Aren’t you curious who’s trying to capture me?” the boy asked.

“Not interested,” Su Lu replied coldly. “Your Luoluo affairs are no concern of us Han.”

“You really don’t want to know who I am?” the boy pressed.

“No interest. Knowing who your mother is is enough—I’ll just deliver you to where you belong.” Su Lu thought the boy a bit slow—he’d already revealed his background, what was left to guess?

The boy seemed to want to speak further, but Su Lu glared at him. “No more talking. Focus on the walk—your foot’s better, isn’t it?”

The boy, silenced, hung his head and trudged along.

Su Youcai seemed about to say something, but seeing Su Lu shake his head slightly, he too held his tongue.

And so the four of them struggled through the mountain forest for half the night, all inevitably collecting scrapes and bruises. Su Tai banged his head on a low-hanging vine and developed a large bump. Su Youcai and Su Lu’s limbs were scratched raw by thorns, but apart from his twisted ankle, the boy suffered no new injuries.

---

They dared not pause even momentarily, but pressed on southward. Fortunately, Su Tai, accustomed to roaming these mountains, was skilled at keeping his bearings.

When the moon was hidden, Su Tai navigated mainly by the flow of water. He knew that most of the mountain streams here eventually ran southeast into the Chishui River.

So he led the group downstream. This had several advantages: it guaranteed their water supply, following the flow would eventually bring them to a main road, and it would wash away their scent and tracks, making them impossible to follow even with dogs.

There were drawbacks, of course. The first was the coldness of the stream. At first, wading through the water was refreshing—the heat and sweat were quickly washed away. But before long, only biting cold remained, creeping up from their feet to their knees, stabbing into their bones like countless icy needles. Su Youcai’s legs cramped; the poor child shivered uncontrollably.

By dawn, Su Lu noticed the boy’s lips were purple, his teeth chattering, but he stubbornly bit his lip and made no sound. Su Lu thought to himself: a tough one, this kid.

As for Su Lu and Su Tai, these two sturdy lads handled the cold stream with little trouble.

The second problem was the lack of any path. The stream cut straight down the mountain, always seeking the easiest route—regardless of whether it was walkable. From time to time, sheer slopes blocked their way.

The most treacherous was a slope nearly twenty feet high, slick with moss and spattered with spray.

Su Tai scouted both sides, then returned, saying, “It’s the same everywhere. No safe route.”

“Expected,” Su Lu nodded. Karst terrain was all cliffs and drops—gentle slopes simply didn’t exist. He volunteered, “I’ll go down first to scout.”

The young master dearly wished to go himself, but he weighed nearly twice as much as Su Lu. Reason prevailed.

The three joined their belts and leggings into a makeshift rope.

“Still not long enough,” they said, turning to the unfortunate child. “What are you standing there for? Undo the cloth from your topknot!”

The child hesitated, but obediently unwound the strips of cloth from his hair. His long black hair tumbled down, covering his slender, pale neck. The dust on his face and neck had long since been washed away. Embarrassed, the boy lowered his head.

But the Su men were busy tying the rope together, not paying him any heed. Only Su Youcai couldn’t help remarking, “Truly pampered—so pale, like a little girl.”

With the rope secured, Su Tai carefully lowered Su Lu down the slope.

Once Su Lu reached the bottom and signaled it was safe, Su Tai did the same for his father and the child.

When it came to his own turn, Su Tai simply tossed the rope down, and, with no protection, climbed down by gripping rock crevices, slowly inching his way.

Pebbles slid constantly underfoot, making Su Youcai and Su Lu’s hearts race, but Su Tai reached the ground safely. As soon as he did, Su Youcai twisted his ear, “Why didn’t you use the rope, you rascal?”

“No one to untie it for me, Dad,” Su Tai grinned. “Don’t worry—I’ve climbed steeper slopes than this.”

“Don’t take such risks in the future,” Su Youcai sighed. Then, pointing to a faint trail, trampled out by man or beast, he exclaimed, “There’s a path here!”

“Then we’re almost down,” Su Tai whispered. “But we must be extra careful now—our pursuers might be lying in ambush below.”

At his words, the three all held their breath and followed him onward.

When the first rays of dawn touched the sky, they finally reached the forest’s edge. Through the branches, they saw a wide road ahead, bustling with activity—a long column of people, both imperial soldiers and Luoluo warriors.

The officers and chieftains, having finished their instructions, were preparing to search the mountain.

The ‘unfortunate child’ stared at the column for a moment, then tugged Su Lu’s sleeve in delight.

“They’ve come to find me!”