Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilds Chapter Twelve: The Yan Family

The stone coffin had been pried open, and Jiang Xiong and his companions were either howling in pain as they fell to the ground or scrambling to hide wherever they could. At that very instant, more than a dozen robust men burst from the entrance of the burial chamber, some brandishing torches, others gripping crossbows or gleaming blades. The leader, a middle-aged man, looked furious. With a sharp wave of his hand, a volley of arrows whistled forth like a swarm of locusts.

The Yan family’s men?

It must be that the Yan family had discovered the tomb robbery, called their men together, and rushed over. And with such a rain of arrows, it was clear they meant to leave no one alive!

This was bad—Yu Ye was now counted among the thieves!

Faced with this sudden chaos, Yu Ye had no time to think or be afraid. In a flash, he darted behind a stone tripod for cover.

Arrows hissed past, barely missing his head.

A torch, dislodged by an arrow, spun through the air and crashed against the tripod, scattering sparks.

Yu Ye crouched, not daring to move.

Amid the bedlam, screams rang out one after another. Yet after only a few breaths, the vast tomb chamber fell suddenly silent, save for the flickering light of torches and the heavy stench of blood that hung thick in the air.

Were all the thieves dead?

Yu Ye risked a furtive glance. Suddenly, a figure leapt from behind the stone coffin, roaring, “Brothers, fight your way out!”

It was Old Seventh Feng, fierce and wild as ever. Hot on his heels, several other men sprang up, swinging their weapons in a desperate bid for escape.

But just then, a gust of wind kicked up dust, and with a series of thuds, Old Seventh Feng and the others crashed to the ground.

What on earth had happened?

Sensing danger, Yu Ye scrambled to retreat, but with a heavy thud, he fell—something like a fishing net had tangled him fast. Before he could struggle free, a sharp blow struck his head, and he lost consciousness.

He was not entirely insensible, though. In a daze, he felt his limbs suspended above the ground; evidently, he was being carried out. Through two courtyards and into a mountain cave they went, where the clanking of chains echoed, his wrists and ankles were shackled, and finally he was thrown roughly to the ground…

He did not know how many hours passed before the murmur of voices filtered into his awareness.

“Seventh Brother, why do you think the Yan family left us alive…”

“You want to die?”

“Of course not…”

“Jiang Xiong, if you’re scared, just beg for mercy…”

“Heh, maybe the Yan family will spare your life…”

“Rubbish! When have I, Jiang Xiong, ever feared death? I just want to know the reason. Out of fifteen men, only four of us remain. Oh, and that boy—damn it, he’s got the devil’s own luck…”

The creak and bang of a door sounded.

Yu Ye felt a sharp pain in his back—a kick, surely—and was jolted awake. His limbs were stiff, chains rattling with every movement.

His wrists and ankles were locked in iron cuffs, connected by thick chains over a foot long.

The cave was three to five yards wide, its floor strewn with rotting straw that reeked of mold. Oil lamps hung from the damp stone walls, casting a feeble glow. A row of wooden stakes, thick as a man’s thigh, barred the entrance like a palisade, with a door set in the middle.

As the door swung open, two burly young men entered, followed by a lean, sallow-faced middle-aged man with black whiskers, sunken eyes, and a cold, forbidding expression. This man, Yu Ye recalled, had been present at the tomb. He wore a robe of deerskin and stopped, surveying the prisoners.

“I am Yan Shu, head of the Yan family,” he said icily. “You remain alive because there is one thing I do not understand.”

Yu Ye shifted uneasily, propping himself up against the wall.

There were four others in the cave: Jiang Xiong, surprisingly unharmed; Old Seventh Feng, bloodied and in tattered clothes; and two more, likely Lu Kai and Feng Er. All of them were shackled, looking equally disheveled, though their expressions varied.

No one responded to the Yan family head. After a moment, Jiang Xiong forced a smile and said, “So it’s the family head himself. Forgive our intrusion. May I ask what troubles you? I, Old Xiong, am willing to help.”

Yan Shu nodded slightly, stroking his beard. “My ancestors’ resting place is unknown to outsiders. Even most descendants of the family cannot approach it. Yet you found your way directly to the tomb. Tell me honestly—who sent you?”

Jiang Xiong’s eyes darted as he forced a grin. “My brothers and I are but wandering fortune-seekers. We stumbled upon this place by chance, seeking our livelihood. No one sent us.”

Old Seventh Feng, Lu Kai, and Feng Er only shook their heads in silence.

Yu Ye, huddled in a corner, thought the questioning had nothing to do with him, but Yan Shu suddenly fixed his gaze on him as well. Yu Ye shook his head frantically.

“If no one sent you, why did you steal the Purple Ginseng Fruit?” Yan Shu’s anger flared. “That fruit is useless—indeed, deadly—to ordinary people. It is a spiritual treasure left by my ancestor, preserved only because none among us are worthy to cultivate it. Yet now it’s been stolen! Speak the name of your master, return the fruit, or else…”

Jiang Xiong appeared bewildered and looked to Old Seventh Feng.

The other two also shook their heads, their surprise plain. It was a silent answer.

Yu Ye’s plight was different from the others. He sat with head bowed, as if trying to hide from his own fear. He sighed inwardly, powerless to change his fate.

He believed Yan Shu must be right—the thieves had indeed been sent by someone else. Yu Ye had hoped Jiang Xiong or Old Seventh Feng would confess, clearing him of suspicion. But when Yan Shu mentioned the Purple Ginseng Fruit, Yu Ye felt as though he’d been kicked again; his mind spun with anxiety.

There could be no doubt—the fruit he’d eaten earlier must have been the Purple Ginseng Fruit.

He had become one of the thieves by circumstance, but eating the fruit cemented his guilt. Now, with the Yan family head pressing for answers, he dared not reveal the truth. Even if he told them what had happened, who would believe him? Yan Shu had already said that mortals who eat the Purple Ginseng Fruit die. Yet Yu Ye was unharmed—how could he explain that?

“A pack of cunning, slippery scoundrels!” Yan Shu finally lost patience and swept out of the cave.

The two young men seized Jiang Xiong and dragged him outside.

“Wait, wait! This can be discussed—let’s talk…” Jiang Xiong shouted, struggling in vain.

When the heavy door thudded shut and locked, the three men disappeared into darkness.

The cave fell silent. Old Seventh Feng, Lu Kai, and Feng Er sat motionless, eyes wide, saying nothing. They seemed to fear for Jiang Xiong’s life, or perhaps they were divining their own fortunes.

Moments later, distant screams rang out.

It was Jiang Xiong’s voice, rising in agony and fury, then breaking into heart-wrenching sobs.

Lu Kai and Feng Er glanced at each other.

“They’re beating him to death.”

“The Yan family is ruthless. Jiang Xiong won’t survive.”

Oddly, Old Seventh Feng appeared more relaxed. He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and called out, “Boy, get over here!”

Yu Ye pretended not to hear, remaining curled in the corner.

“Damn it!” Old Seventh Feng cursed. “You’re young, but you’re wily enough!”

“Was it him who stole the Purple Ginseng Fruit?”

“Little brat, are you looking to die…” Lu Kai and Feng Er glared at Yu Ye, their faces turning savage.

Yu Ye had no choice but to raise his head, looking anxious and uneasy.

Against his will, he’d become a thief and now a prisoner. After much regret and inner turmoil, he could only face the truth. Since he’d eaten the Purple Ginseng Fruit, he might as well admit it. He wouldn’t live long anyway—why drag others down with him?

But Old Seventh Feng snapped, “When did I say he stole the Purple Ginseng Fruit?”

Lu Kai was taken aback. “Old Seventh Feng…”

Feng Er thought for a moment, embarrassed. “That’s true, you never said that, but just now…”

“Hmph!” Old Seventh Feng grunted. “I meant the boy’s wit and nerve are beyond his years—otherwise how could he have survived?”

Lu Kai understood and sneered, “He’s just lucky, that’s all.”

Feng Er agreed, “A mountain boy like him, even if he stole the fruit, it’d do him no good. And who noticed what that fruit even looked like?”

“We were only interested in gold and silver at the time…”

“Was there someone behind this job…”

“Old Seventh Feng, you and Jiang Xiong know this place well—could it be…”

Old Seventh Feng ignored them, closed his eyes, and drifted into a doze.

Yu Ye took the opportunity to turn his back, avoiding further suspicion from Lu Kai and Feng Er. Facing the cold stone wall, a trace of confusion mingled with his worry.

The screams from outside ceased.

After a while, the heavy door was thrown open. The two men dragged Jiang Xiong back in and tossed him to the ground, leaving behind two clay jars and a bamboo basket before locking the door and departing.

Old Seventh Feng, Lu Kai, and Feng Er hurried to help.

Yu Ye, too, couldn’t help crawling over.

Jiang Xiong lay sprawled, his robes torn, his face bruised and bloodied. The three helped him sit up, checking his wounds. He groaned and gritted his teeth. “If I, Old Xiong, make it out of this dungeon alive, I’ll kill Yan Shu myself…”

Old Seventh Feng chuckled. “Ha, you’ll live.”

Jiang Xiong’s injuries, though severe, weren’t fatal. Enraged and humiliated, he growled, “What good is it if they beat me to death? I don’t know who’s behind this, I never saw any Purple Ginseng Fruit. Whoever did it, I won’t let them off!”

Yu Ye edged away, chains rattling as he moved.

One clay jar held clear water, the other was for waste. The battered bamboo basket contained five dark, coarse cakes.

So the Yan family’s dungeon at least provided food and water.

As Old Seventh Feng predicted, death wouldn’t come so quickly.

Might as well eat a cake to stave off hunger.

Yu Ye reached out, but the basket was snatched away—Lu Kai took two cakes for himself and tossed the rest to Feng Er, Jiang Xiong, and Old Seventh Feng, then glared at Yu Ye with open hostility.