Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilds Chapter Fourteen: Old Seven Feng
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Dim lights flickered, the stone walls were damp and cold, and the straw exuded the stench of decay.
The dungeon remained unchanged, as though time had stood still.
Of the five prisoners, only three remained.
Old Feng Seven had awakened from his stupor. He lay amid the heap of straw, gasping for breath. Perhaps his grievous wounds had subdued his usual arrogance, rendering him frail and powerless.
Jiang Xiong, since his return to the dungeon, had been bellowing about his miserable fate and his defiant deeds. He hurled curses at Yu Ye, claiming he might have escaped today’s torture but would not survive tomorrow’s torment. Yet, no one paid him any heed, and he could only lie down in disgruntlement and sleep.
Yu Ye kept to himself in the corner. His blinking eyes revealed a thoughtful expression, and within his contemplation, there was a faint glimmer of anticipation.
Night deepened.
Suddenly, a violent fit of coughing echoed through the gloom.
“Cough, cough—”
Old Feng Seven’s body trembled as if he could barely breathe. He coughed fiercely, “Cough… Old Xiong… Brother won’t make it, listen to me…”
Jiang Xiong jolted awake, scrambling over in panic. “Speak—where is the treasure hidden…” His words barely finished before his neck was caught by an iron chain. His face contorted in terror. “Seven… Seven Brother, why like this…”
Old Feng Seven had sat up, the iron chains in his hands tightly strangling Jiang Xiong’s neck. Gone was any trace of weakness; his face twisted with a cruel smile. “Brother, let me ask you a few questions!”
“I dare not hide anything…”
“Lu Kai and Feng Two are dead?”
“No…”
The chain around Jiang Xiong’s neck suddenly tightened, frightening him into changing his answer—
“Lu… Lu Kai and Feng Two were beaten to death and dragged outside the manor to be buried…”
“You betrayed your brothers!”
“Spare me…”
The smile on Old Feng Seven’s face turned icy, his hands applying sudden force.
“No…”
Jiang Xiong tried to struggle, but with a crisp snap, his head tilted and his pleas were abruptly silenced.
“He… Is he dead?”
Such commotion in the dungeon could hardly leave Yu Ye unmoved. He had been quietly observing, apparently too frightened to speak. When Old Feng Seven broke Jiang Xiong’s neck, Yu Ye hurriedly stood up.
“Bah, if he didn’t die, neither of us would survive!” Old Feng Seven spat in disgust, glaring with fierce eyes and growling, “Stop dawdling, quick—”
“Mm, mm…” Yu Ye nodded in understanding, then turned toward the door and shouted, “Someone—!”
It was the depth of night, silent and still.
His shout echoed through the cave.
In moments, hurried footsteps approached, and a burly man appeared at the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes and shouting angrily, “What’s the matter?”
Yu Ye gestured anxiously, “Dead—”
“Who died?”
“Both are dead!”
Inside the dungeon, indeed, two bodies lay motionless, making it impossible to tell if they were dead or alive.
The man did not hesitate, unlocked the chains, pushed open the wooden door, and entered the dungeon. Approaching Jiang Xiong, he saw blood streaming from his nose and mouth, eyes rolled back—clearly lifeless. He quickly checked the other man, but his legs were suddenly struck hard. Caught unawares, he crashed to the ground, and before he could struggle, a pair of iron-like arms snapped his neck.
Yu Ye stood frozen in shock.
A man bound hand and foot, severely wounded, could kill two strong men so easily. Without witnessing it himself, he would never have believed it. What happened next was even more surprising.
“Whew—”
Old Feng Seven pushed aside the corpse, took a long, deep breath, then stood up and said in a low voice, “Follow me—”
Where to?
To escape the dungeon, of course!
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Yu Ye followed Old Feng Seven out. As he passed through the wooden door, he couldn’t help but glance back, a shiver running through his heart.
He had often fantasized about escaping, but only as idle thoughts. Who would have imagined that a thief he despised would bring him a chance amidst his misfortune?
In a blink, Old Feng Seven reached the end of the cave.
Yu Ye lagged several yards behind, dragging heavy chains, fearful of making noise, his steps inevitably slow.
To the left at the cave’s end was the place where the Yan family did their beatings—now deserted.
To the right, a stone staircase.
Old Feng Seven became cautious, signaling quietly, gripping his chains to avoid clattering, then climbed the stone steps one by one.
At the top was a stone chamber.
Perhaps alerted by the noise, someone emerged from the chamber, bumping straight into Old Feng Seven and exclaiming, “Thief—!”
Old Feng Seven allowed no time for alarm, smashing the man down with a single punch and grabbing a long saber. “Open the door!”
Yu Ye entered the stone chamber.
The fallen man’s head was split open, blood and brain matter spilling out, gruesome and foul.
The chamber was likely a guard’s sleeping quarters: charcoal burning, bedding scattered, belongings in disarray. A wooden door was tightly shut, chained and locked.
Yu Ye found a key, opened the lock, unlatched the chain, and pushed the wooden door open.
Outside, the biting wind struck.
Yu Ye felt a surge of spirit.
At last, daylight—just a breath of fresh air felt liberating.
But snow lay patchy all around, trees cast shifting shadows, walls overlapped, and the path was unclear. They had not yet escaped the Yan family’s manor, and it was far from time to rejoice.
“This way—”
Old Feng Seven darted past Yu Ye, beckoning him, then hopped and skipped toward the left.
His strange gait was forced—bound by chains, mobility limited, only by hopping could he move faster.
Yu Ye imitated him, hopping forward.
Beneath the dim night, two figures flailed their arms and legs in wild flight, chains clattering noisily, breaking the silence of the manor.
“Stop—!”
“The thieves have escaped the dungeon—!”
Figures emerged from the darkness, torches flickering, shouts erupting.
Yu Ye ran through the courtyard, around the woods. Ahead was another courtyard, with alleys leading in various directions. The shouting grew louder, torchlight illuminated figures. At that moment, Old Feng Seven stopped, glancing around, wiping sweat from his brow.
Disaster—Old Feng Seven was lost.
Yu Ye, blindly following, grew dizzy and confused.
What now? If caught again, not only would he be beaten, he might truly die in the dungeon.
“The thieves are here—!”
Just as anxiety peaked, two strong men charged from behind, shouting and swinging their blades. Yu Ye dodged in panic, but tripped over his chains and fell flat. As the blade flashed overhead, two sharp clangs rang out, followed by a spray of blood—two heads flew.
Old Feng Seven had saved him, killing both men in one swift motion.
Yu Ye, still shaken, was hauled up from the ground.
“Ten yards ahead, take the alley to the right, over the wall, cough, cough…”
Old Feng Seven’s words broke off in a fit of coughing, perhaps aggravating his injury, his right leg trembling. Still, he waved repeatedly, urging, “Lead the way—”
Lead the way?
Yu Ye took two steps, then turned back.
“You…”
Old Feng Seven was about to lose his temper, but Yu Ye grabbed his arm. Surprised, Old Feng Seven accepted the help and leaned on him, though his injured right leg made him limp.
To escape, a notorious thief and a mountain youth became true comrades.
They supported each other through courtyards and alleys.
Ahead lay snowy ground, thick with bamboo. Through the sparse grove, a wall encircled the area.
Old Feng Seven paused, pointed forward with his saber.
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Yu Ye nodded in understanding, supporting him as they rushed into the bamboo grove.
The clattering chains swept across the snow, trailing a flurry of snowflakes behind them.
“Stop, thieves—!”
Shouts rang out, several figures raced toward them.
Old Feng Seven shoved Yu Ye forward, barking, “Over the wall—”
Yu Ye, unable to stop, staggered into the bamboo grove. The wall was fifteen feet high—impossible for him to climb.
“Clang—”
“Bang, bang—”
Old Feng Seven had not yet reached the grove when three men caught up. He turned, slashing his saber, instantly felling one. The remaining two dodged in panic, yet refused to retreat. More figures appeared from afar, shouting and closing in.
Yu Ye stomped in frustration.
Escaping the Yan family was proving impossible. Would a wall block the path of life and death?
Suddenly, inspiration struck. Yu Ye grabbed a thick bamboo stalk and began to climb.
The bamboo here grew abundantly, towering well above the wall. Climbing up, he could easily leap over. He had been adept at swimming and tree-climbing since childhood, and even shackled, he could ascend with ease.
Hand and foot, he quickly reached twenty feet.
The wall, only a few feet away, lay beneath him.
Yu Ye did not immediately leap, but called loudly, “Old Feng Seven—”
Old Feng Seven was locked in combat with two men, barely holding out. If more Yan family members joined, his situation would become dire.
At this moment of crisis, Yu Ye’s voice echoed from above.
“Haha—”
Old Feng Seven laughed, flung away his saber, and leaped into the bamboo grove, seizing a stalk to climb.
Meanwhile, torches flared and crowds gathered at the bamboo grove.
Yu Ye waited anxiously.
Suddenly, a figure shot up from the grove—it was Old Feng Seven, already high up in the bamboo, shouting urgently, “Jump—”
Looking down, darkness loomed beyond the wall. To leap required real courage.
At the brink of life and death, hesitation was not an option.
Yu Ye hugged the bamboo, gave it a vigorous shake, and launched himself over the wall. As he hung in midair, the twang of bowstrings snapped sharply overhead. His heart clenched, but he could only leave his fate to chance.
“Crack, crack—”
Branches breaking.
“Thud, thud—”
Two bodies landing in succession.
Yu Ye lay sprawled on the ground, mouth and nose full of dust. He spat, slowly got up. The ground was soft, covered in leaves; the heavy fall had not harmed him.
“Ah—”
It was Old Feng Seven groaning. Even under torture, he had not cried out, so his condition now must be dire.
Yu Ye followed the sound.
Old Feng Seven lay on the ground, gasping. “Help me up!”
Yu Ye helped him up, wanting to check his injuries, but in the darkness nothing could be seen. Old Feng Seven said, “Under the tree ahead, there’s a horse I hid earlier. We can’t linger—leave quickly!”
A horse—a horse hidden in advance?
Supporting Old Feng Seven, Yu Ye moved forward, feeling his hands wet, as if stained with blood.
Soon, ahead indeed stood a horse, quietly munching grass, waiting obediently for its master. On its back was a pack.
Yu Ye, too startled to wonder, prepared to help Old Feng Seven mount, but Old Feng Seven halted, about to remind him, when suddenly Yu Ye’s heart sank…
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