Chapter 5
After a musket was fired, the process of reloading and reigniting it took a considerable amount of time. In order to improve the employment of firearms on the battlefield, various formations had to be tested. They were unsuitable as weapons in one-on-one combat, but while a sword slash might not be fatal, a wound inflicted by a musket would likely result in a very gruesome death.
A sharp swoosh cut through the darkness. Yan Yunhe raised the musket with both hands, blocking the incoming blade.
Yu Qin’s techniques, which he learned from who-knows-where, were vicious and ruthless, each move abnormally unpredictable. Yan Yunhe had been trained in the orthodox path, but the battlefield had honed his judgement in moments of crisis. Even surrounded by complete darkness, he was able to parry several lethal attacks through his keen intuition.
They exchanged blows for only a few rounds before the fuse burned to its end. Yan Yunhe clearly heard Yu Qin’s ragged breathing.
As for what exactly Yu Qin might be thinking in the face of death, Yan Yunhe had no clue.
Just then, an aged voice rang out from outside the room. The Yu household’s elderly servant, alerted by the commotion, called out “Young Master!”
On the battlefield, life and death always hung in the balance. Yan Yunhe’s beast-like instincts allowed him to seize countless fleeting moments of hesitation from the enemy. Just a single instant could determine who lived and who died.
The moment he adapted to the darkness, the musket’s bronze muzzle pressed against Yu Qin’s forehead. The faint glow from the lantern the elderly servant was holding outside came through the window paper, shining upon Yan Yunhe’s face. Those golden pupils, constricted with excitement, were clearly reflected in Yu Qin’s eyes.
Yan Yunhe silently mouthed, “Bang!”
All was quiet, save for the sound of the elderly servant knocking on the door. The fuse burned out within the copper barrel, but nothing happened—no thunderous blast, no scene of blood and gore.
In this clash in the dark, there was no life or death, only victory or defeat.
Yu Qin stared silently at Yan Yunhe, his lips slowly pursing into a tight line. Those cold, unfeeling eyes were now vivid and intense, glinting with a hidden fire. This was the first time since their reunion that he had shown Yan Yunhe such raw emotion, even though it was anger.
“It would be such a pity to blow off that fine head of yours, Lord Commander,” Yan Yunhe said with a smile.
The muzzle slid slowly down Yu Qin’s forehead, the ice cold metal brushing against his warm skin in a gentle caress, stopping below his jawline. It seemed like an aggressive provocation, yet also a touch laden with hidden desire. The copper muzzle, which carried the scent of gunpowder, was from the very weapon Yan Yunhe had brought from the battlefield to the capital—this thing had truly killed people. It was stained with his blood, and even after countless cleanings, dark streaks remained etched into the surface.
Yu Qin paid no heed to the deadly weapon pressed against his face. Instead, he told the elderly servant outside the room, “Uncle Wu,1 I’m fine. I just accidentally knocked over the oil lamp. Go back to bed.”
Yan Yunhe furrowed his brow, tapping Yu Qin’s cheek with the muzzle of his musket in resentment. Though he hadn't actually loaded it, the way Yu Qin ignored him was genuinely irritating.
In an instant, Yan Yunhe recoiled, almost retreating to the roof beam above. A row of chilling silver needles embedded themselves deeply into the floor along the path of his retreat. These needles could break through hard bluestone slabs; if they pierced a person’s flesh, wouldn’t the pain cut deep into their bones?
“To think you’d show no regard for our friendship at all. How heartless of you, Lord Yu,” Yan Yunhe sighed, his tone not of dejection, but enthusiasm.
Yan Yunhe waved his hand, and the oil lamp in the room came to life once more. In the flickering candlelight, that pair of beautiful eyes staring back at him remained aloof, devoid of affection. In truth, Yu Qin was capable of affection, but it was reserved for the elderly servant in his residence, for the empress dowager in the palace, and for his loyal subordinates. He held none for him; that was all.
Sure enough, Yu Qin immediately retorted, “Lord Yan, don’t make me laugh.”
The words had just left his lips when a palm strike hurtled toward Yan Yunhe’s face. He barely managed to block it when he felt a chilling gust of wind three inches below his navel. Had it not been for his superior martial arts, he would have lost his manhood right then and there.
“Lord Yu, you're really trying to sever the bloodline of the Yan family!” As he spoke, Yan Yunhe drew the soft sword at his waist and parried the blade with ease.
Yu Qin narrowed his eyes slightly, refusing to waste his breath on nonsense. Yan Yunhe had the audacity to break into the residence of Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard under cover of night. If he were executed on the spot, no one would dare utter a word.
“If I become impotent, I can’t marry. Will Your Excellency take responsibility?” Yan Yunhe moved ceaselessly, blocking what he could and dodging what he couldn’t, fully embodying his usual demeanor: a scoundrel through and through!
They exchanged dozens of blows; several chairs in the already shabby hall were destroyed and shards of tableware were scattered across the floor.
“Lord Yu, with your beauty, taking you as my wife wouldn’t be out of the question. But the Yan family can’t have such a shrewish primary wife.” Yan Yunhe’s palm struck out toward Yu Qin’s left shoulder, fresh grudges and past resentments2 surging in his heart. The internal energy3 stored in his palm was immense. Even if it wouldn't kill a person, it certainly wouldn't be easy to withstand either.
Yet when his palm landed on that seemingly frail shoulder, he was shocked. Like a fish entering the sea, his internal energy was completely absorbed. What came next was a bone-chilling coldness that struck back at him.
His face darkened slightly as he retreated several steps, shedding his flippant demeanor. He stared intently at Yu Qin. “What kind of sinister cultivation method are you practicing?”
Ten years ago, Yu Qin wasn’t skilled in martial arts, but now his internal energy was unfathomable. Yan Yunhe was a rare martial arts prodigy; if Yu Qin hadn’t resorted to unorthodox methods, he never could have held his own against him for so long.
There is gain and loss in everything. The rapid-advancement cultivation techniques circulating in the jianghu4 came at a price paid in blood and tears. Some lead to qi deviation, others to shattered meridians, and others even to the burning of life force itself.
Yu Qin sheathed his blade. “What’s it to you?”
Yan Yunhe’s jaw tightened. He really shouldn’t meddle in others’ affairs. Such an ungrateful, heartless, empty shell of a person wasn’t worth wasting any thought on.
Yan Yunhe went straight to the point. “The imperial censor’s impeachment was Lord Yu’s good deed, wasn’t it?”
Even though he knew the omnipotent, all-pervasive Embroidered Uniform Guard were the only ones capable of such a feat, he couldn’t resist asking. It was as if he needed to hear the man’s confession to finally let it go.
“If Your Excellency were to drink during wartime, military law would inevitably be enforced. His Majesty was benevolent and did not punish you. What else is Your Excellency dissatisfied with?” Yu Qin retorted.
His words sounded like it was actually a pity that Yan Yunhe had escaped punishment. This was a rare instance of Yu Qin speaking at such length to Yan Yunhe, though every single word was unpleasant to hear.
Yan Yunhe had tidied himself up a bit before arriving at the Yu residence to lie in wait for its master. The wound on his forehead needed to be bandaged, which would make him lose face. He told the physician to fold a red cloth into a narrow strip to cover the wound, turning it into a makeshift bandage. At first glance, it could be mistaken for a decorative headband.
Not only that, but Lord Yan wore a brocade robe, a jade pendant at his waist, and even his boots were inlaid with gold and embroidered with silver—a picture of opulence. Not a trace remained of the sorry state he’d been in at the palace that day. If not for the musket in his hand, he’d look like a young nobleman meeting his lover in secret, showing up in such flashy attire.
As Yu Qin sized him up, Yan Yunhe lightly tapped the musket against his palm, sizing up Yu Qin in return. The Embroidered Uniform Guard should have finished their shifts long ago. Why did Yu Qin return home at this hour?
Suddenly, his pupils contracted. He reached out to grab the other man’s collar, but the lord commander knocked him aside with a palm strike. The movement made the lapels of Yu Qin’s official robe loosen a little, revealing a smear of crimson—remarkably similar to the hue of the robe—on his white inner garment.
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