24: Chapter 24 Road Trials

The carriage traveled for most of the night before stopping in front of a ruined temple to rest.

Yang Yuan didn't sleep; he leaned against the carriage shaft, closing his eyes to rest. Cheng Ying and the child were fast asleep inside the carriage, while Lu Wushuang huddled in the corner, breathing evenly.

When the sky was just turning light, the old driver got up to harness the horses. Yang Yuan opened his eyes and glanced around—the wilderness, no one in sight, it was safe.

"Let's go."

The carriage set off again, traveling east along the main road. The sun climbed up from the distant mountains, illuminating the main road brightly. The fields on both sides of the road were desolate, overgrown with wild grass, and no people had been seen for a long time.

"This area isn't peaceful," the old driver said in a low voice. "Mongols came through a couple of years ago; most of the village was burned, and those who survived ran away."

Yang Yuan grunted, saying nothing.

He knew. In the original story, the Southern Song Dynasty was already in jeopardy at this time, and the Mongols could head south at any moment. The Jiangnan region seemed peaceful, but there were undercurrents.

The carriage traveled for another hour, and a forest appeared ahead.

The road passed through the middle of the forest. The trees on both sides were dense, their branches and leaves blocking the sky, keeping the sunlight out, making it gloomy.

Yang Yuan's hand pressed onto the hilt of his blade.

"Once we pass this forest, the pier is just ahead," the old driver said. "Another half a day's travel—"

Before he could finish, a group of people suddenly rushed out from the forest ahead.

There were over a dozen of them, dressed in rags, holding knives, spears, and clubs, cursing as they blocked the middle of the road.

"Stop the carriage!"

The leader was a bearded man, burly, shirtless, with a ghost-head blade in his hand flashing with cold light.

The old driver was startled and quickly reined in the horses. The carriage stopped, and Yang Yuan sat on the shaft, looking at the group expressionlessly.

"Leave the carriage and the money, and get lost," the bearded man roared. "If you dare say half a word of refusal, I'll chop you down!"

Yang Yuan didn't move.

He heard the sound of the carriage curtain being lifted. Lu Wushuang poked her head out, took one look at the group of bandits, and her face turned pale.

"Cousin-in-law..."

"Go back." Yang Yuan's voice was very soft.

Lu Wushuang shrank back.

The bearded man didn't see Yang Yuan's expression and just assumed he was a soft persimmon. He grinned and shouted back at his men: "Go, see what good things are in the carriage!"

Two bandits approached and reached out to lift the carriage curtain.

The curtain was lifted, revealing Cheng Ying inside. She was holding little Xue Jian, her face pale, but she didn't scream, just sitting quietly.

The two bandits saw her, and their eyes lit up.

"Yo, a beauty!" one of them grinned. "Boss, this haul is a profit!"

The bearded man walked over, and upon seeing Cheng Ying's appearance, his eyes widened too.

"Beauty..." He licked his lips. "Leave the woman, kill the man."

Yang Yuan's eyes narrowed.

He stood up.

His movements were not fast, but very steady. He jumped down from the carriage shaft and landed on the ground with almost no sound.

Only then did the bearded man notice him, frowning: "Who are you?"

Yang Yuan didn't answer.

His hand pressed on the hilt of his blade, but he didn't draw it. Dealing with this bunch, using a blade would be a waste.

"Scram."

He only said one word.

The bearded man was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

"What did you say?" He took a step forward, raising the ghost-head blade in his hand. "Say it again?"

Yang Yuan looked at him, his gaze very cold.

"I said, scram."

As the words fell, he moved.

No one saw how he moved—they only saw a shadow flash by. The bearded man's ghost-head blade flew out, and he was kicked over, falling a zhang away, unable to crawl up for a long time.

The remaining bandits were stunned.

"Attack! Attack together!"

Someone shouted, and seven or eight bandits rushed up, waving knives, spears, and clubs wildly.

Yang Yuan stood in place, unmoving.

When the nearest blade was about to strike, he dodged to the side and took the opportunity to punch the man in the chest.

The sound of bones shattering.

The bandit flew out, landed on the ground, and didn't move again.

Yang Yuan continued to walk forward, his pace not fast, but every step was very steady. When someone slashed over, he dodged to the side and slapped the other person's shoulder with his backhand—another sound of bones shattering.

The Yue Maiden Sword Technique was not just swordplay; it was a killing art.

He incorporated sword moves into his punches and kicks, with every strike aimed at vital points. Fast, accurate, ruthless, and unsparing.

In less than ten breaths, seven or eight people were lying on the ground.

The remaining bandits were terrified, their weapons shaking in their hands, and they retreated.

Yang Yuan stood amidst the wailing, a little dust on his clothes, but no blood—he hadn't even drawn his blade.

"Who else?"

His voice was very soft, but to those bandits, it sounded like the King of Hell calling their names.

No one dared to move.

The bearded man had crawled up at some point and was kneeling on the ground, kowtowing with loud thuds.

"Hero, spare my life! Hero, spare my life!"

His forehead was covered in blood, his face as pale as paper, with none of his previous arrogance left.

"I was blind; I didn't recognize Mount Tai—"

Yang Yuan looked at him, his expression indifferent.

"Are you the leader of the bandits in this area?"

"Yes... yes..."

"Any news recently?"

The bearded man was stunned for a moment, not understanding why he asked this, but he dared not refuse.

"What does the hero want to hear?"

"The Mongols," Yang Yuan said. "What are they doing in the Jiangnan region?"

The bearded man shivered, as if remembering something terrible.

"There... there is news that..." He swallowed his saliva. "The Mongols have been recruiting experts recently, seemingly to do something big. I don't know the specifics, just heard... heard they are looking for someone."

"Looking for whom?"

"I really don't know..." The bearded man kowtowed. "I'm just a runner; how would I dare inquire about the affairs of those big shots..."

Yang Yuan stared at him for a few seconds, confirming he wasn't lying.

"Get lost."

The bearded man felt like he had been granted an amnesty and scrambled away. The remaining bandits followed, scrambling and crawling, running faster than rabbits.

In the blink of an eye, only Yang Yuan remained in the forest.

He stood for a while, confirming the bandits had really left, before turning back to the carriage.

The old driver was terrified, sitting on the shaft shivering, looking at Yang Yuan as if looking at a deity.

"Dr. Yang... you... what kind of martial arts did you learn?"

Yang Yuan didn't answer, just glanced into the depths of the forest.

"Let's go, don't delay."

The carriage continued on its way.

Cheng Ying lifted the curtain and looked at him, her eyes filled with worry: "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Those people..."

"They ran away." Yang Yuan sat on the shaft. "Don't worry about them."

Cheng Ying didn't ask again, just lowered the curtain.

Lu Wushuang huddled in the corner, her eyes rolling around, not daring to speak.

The carriage left the forest, and the road ahead became much smoother.

The sun hung high, illuminating the main road brightly. The shadow of the sea could be vaguely seen in the distance; the pier was not far.

Yang Yuan breathed a sigh of relief and looked back into the carriage—Cheng Ying was holding little Xue Jian; the child was sleeping soundly, her little mouth slightly open, a little drool on the corner of her mouth.

Lu Wushuang leaned against the carriage wall, also asleep, with a hint of exhaustion on her face.

He withdrew his gaze and continued to look at the road ahead.

The Mongols were recruiting experts and looking for someone—this news made him uneasy. In the original story, the Mongolia did have movements in the Jiangnan region, but not this early. It was only the Kaiqing era now, still several years away from the Mongols heading south.

Why was it early?

Was it because he, the butterfly, flapped his wings, or was there another reason?

Yang Yuan thought for a while, couldn't figure it out, and decided not to think about it.

Anyway, when soldiers come, block them; when water comes, cover it with earth. First, send Cheng Ying and the child to the destination, then make plans.

The carriage traveled a bit further, and a fork in the road appeared ahead.

The old driver stopped the carriage: "Dr. Yang, the left path goes to the pier, the right path is a detour, further, but safer."

Yang Yuan glanced at the left path—passing through a small grove, leading directly to the pier. The right path was a detour, requiring another hour of travel.

"Take the left."

He wanted to end this journey as soon as possible.

The old driver nodded and set off again.

The carriage turned into the left path, and the trees on both sides gradually increased, blocking the sunlight completely.

Yang Yuan's hand pressed onto the hilt of his blade again.

The road ahead didn't feel right.

It was too quiet.

There wasn't even the sound of birds; the wind blew through the treetops, only the rustling of leaves could be heard.

He narrowed his eyes, looking ahead—

Nothing.

But he always felt someone was watching them.

The carriage traveled for a quarter of an hour, passed through the small grove safely, and stopped by the pier.

The pier was not large, with a few fishing boats docked, and a covered boat, looking like it was waiting for someone.

Yang Yuan jumped off the carriage, helped Cheng Ying and the child down, and then turned back to help Lu Wushuang.

"We're here."

Lu Wushuang looked left and right, asking in a low voice: "Those bandits... they won't chase us, will they?"

"No," Yang Yuan said. "They wouldn't dare."

Lu Wushuang said "Oh" and didn't ask again.

The boatman of the covered boat walked over and sized up Yang Yuan: "Young Master Yang? Island Master Huang gave instructions to let me take you to the island."

"Thank you for your trouble."

Yang Yuan moved the luggage onto the boat and looked back in the direction they came from.

The pier was empty, with nothing there.

But he still felt someone was staring at them.

The boat started, traveling along the current.

Yang Yuan sat at the bow, looking at Peach Blossom Island getting closer in the distance, his mind still thinking about what the bandits said.

Who are the Mongols looking for?

Looking for him?

Or someone else?

He took out the map fragment and the short sword from his bosom, looked at them for a while, and stuffed them back.

These mysteries could only be solved slowly.

The boat traveled for most of the day and docked at dusk.

Yang Yuan's family disembarked and walked into the small courtyard arranged by Huang Yaoshi. The courtyard was not big, but it was kept very clean, and one could tell it had been carefully prepared.

"Let's stay here first," Yang Yuan said. "We'll talk about other things tomorrow."

Cheng Ying nodded and carried the child into the room to settle down.

Lu Wushuang followed them in.

Yang Yuan stood in the courtyard, looking at the distant sea, and took a deep breath.

The sea breeze was salty and damp, with a chill.

Finally arrived.

He walked into the house and started to tidy up things.

He untied the bundle and put away the clothes and miscellaneous items. Suddenly, his hand paused.

In the interlayer of the bundle, there was an extra note.

He didn't remember putting this note there.

Yang Yuan took out the note and unfolded it.

There were only a few words on it, the handwriting sloppy—

"Beware of the Mongols, they have noticed you."

Yang Yuan stared at those words, frowning.

Who put this there?

When was it put there?

He flipped the note over; the back was blank, with nothing on it.

Yang Yuan folded the note and stuffed it into his bosom.

This note came suspiciously, but he believed the words on it.

The Mongols were indeed noticing him—the words of those bandits were not groundless.

He must become stronger as soon as possible.