Chapter 048: Killing Zhao Baiming

“Wanting me dead isn’t so easy,” Zhao Baiming suddenly roared, unleashing an even more powerful aura as he took Ye Qingyun’s blow head-on. In the next instant, he flashed toward Ye Hongxiu, who was not far away—intending, in his final moments, to kill Ye Qingyun’s daughter and let him taste unbearable loss.

“Hongxiu, get out of the way!” Ye Qingyun shouted in alarm. He hadn’t expected that Zhao Baiming’s final counterattack would target his own daughter, and so he could only pursue while calling out in desperation.

“Kill—”

Yet Ye Hongxiu, turning to face him, did not dodge or retreat. Instead, she drew the long sword at her waist and lunged forward. At that moment, Zhao Baiming’s strength was rapidly waning, dropping to that of an ordinary first-rate fighter.

A clear sound rang out as they passed each other. Zhao Baiming’s broken blade fell to the ground, and suddenly blood spurted from his abdomen. His body collapsed heavily to the earth.

It turned out that before Ye Hongxiu set out, Fang Xian had entrusted her with the Mortal Star Sword for protection. Thus, when faced with Zhao Baiming’s attack, she did not evade but seized the opportunity to slay him with the legendary blade.

“A divine weapon,” Huang Yuantao muttered from the distance, his gaze sharpening. He had never known Ye Hongxiu possessed such an artifact—Ye Qingyun himself didn’t even have one.

“Zhao Baiming is dead! Will you not surrender?” Ye Qingyun’s shout echoed for miles around. All the bandits of Hidden Tiger Stronghold dropped their weapons, while their families, scattered below the stockade, grew anxious and fearful.

“Gather up everything in Hidden Tiger Stronghold—anything useful is to be taken. Everyone will move with us to Qingyun Stronghold. Those who refuse can stay and fend for themselves.” With that, the people of Qingyun Stronghold began directing the bandits to collect all usable goods, and then, with their families in tow, commenced the migration.

An hour later, the relocation began. Hidden Tiger Stronghold was set ablaze, reduced to ashes. The column of migrants stretched for several kilometers, watched over by Qingyun’s soldiers as they made their way to their new home.

When they were still a few miles from Qingyun Stronghold, Zhou Boxiong and Fang Xian, having received the news, led a party out to welcome them and help hasten their arrival.

“Proceed according to the plan—everyone to their assigned quarters, and soldiers to assemble in the barracks.” The leadership of Qingyun Stronghold had already discussed how to manage the newly annexed people. Ordinary folk were scattered among the original residents, preventing them from forming their own factions, which made governance easier and curbed collusion.

Furthermore, the treatment of these commoners would be differentiated. Adult men and women would earn their food through labor, while children would be gathered for education, gradually fostering their loyalty to Qingyun Stronghold.

Prisoners of war—those who had fought—were first confined to barracks for a period of ideological education, then trained alongside Qingyun’s soldiers. They’d be assigned randomly to different units, and those who performed well would be selected for further training, giving them hope for the future.

The combined population of Hidden Tiger Stronghold and several surrounding villages totaled over three thousand—about equal to Qingyun’s original numbers. With their arrival, the stronghold became more vibrant, but its consumption of resources increased drastically.

If not for the generous supply of food and goods from Marshal Hong, and the spoils previously seized from Hidden Tiger Stronghold, Qingyun could not have fed so many people. Even so, resources were stretched to the limit.

However, in just over a month, the sweet potatoes that Fang Xian had led everyone to plant would be ready for harvest. The yield would be enough to feed five or six thousand people for a year, so food was not a pressing concern.

But with six or seven thousand mouths, Qingyun Stronghold had reached its capacity. Any further population growth would require expansion—a matter Fang Xian had been pondering of late.

It would take at least three months for Qingyun Stronghold to fully absorb and integrate the three thousand newcomers from Hidden Tiger Stronghold. After the great battle, aside from attending a few meetings and offering suggestions on governance, Fang Xian and Ye Hongxiu returned to training new recruits and surveying the surrounding terrain to draw up detailed maps.

Half a month later, one day as Fang Xian and Ye Hongxiu were mapping out the area atop a mountain peak, the Tiger King emerged from the dense forest. It had just returned from visiting its cubs at Flying Phoenix Ridge.

With a rustle, the Tiger King approached Fang Xian and spat out a bundle wrapped in layers of leaves. Inside was an oil-paper packet containing a letter from Feng Ling.

In her letter, Feng Ling emphasized how much their son missed his father, urging Fang Xian to visit Feng Jiutian if he could. She also reported the recent appearance of unfamiliar scouts near Flying Phoenix Ridge, seemingly gathering intelligence about the place.

“Sister Feng is too much—she clearly misses you herself, yet blames it on the child,” Ye Hongxiu remarked with a laugh after reading the letter, then her expression grew serious. “Could the ruse we used to help Flying Phoenix Ridge defeat those five hundred cavalrymen have angered the Ninth Prince? It seems you’ll need to make a trip to Flying Phoenix Ridge.”

“Why don’t we go together? You should meet Tian’er—he’s sure to endear himself to you,” Fang Xian suggested.

“I’d better not. There’s still much to do in the stronghold. Take Li Daqi and the others with you. If the Ninth Prince really sends powerful men to attack, you’ll need some strong cards in hand,” Ye Hongxiu replied, shaking her head. She knew full well that Fang Xian’s visit would comfort Feng Ling, and her own presence would only make things awkward.

“That’s fine. The four of them have been idle for too long anyway. I’ll take them for a stroll,” Fang Xian agreed.

That afternoon, Ye Hongxiu returned to the stronghold, while Fang Xian set out for Flying Phoenix Ridge with Xiong Banxia, Liu Erleng, Zhao Banqian, and Li Daqi. Before setting off, he disguised them all as ordinary soldiers.

As they neared Flying Phoenix Ridge, Fang Xian noticed traces of the scouts but did not alert them. Instead, he took a detour up the back of the ridge. Patrol leader Liu Wu spotted them and was overjoyed.

“Master Fang, you’re finally here!” Ever since the scouts were discovered, the atmosphere at Flying Phoenix Ridge had been tense, especially as no one knew that Feng Ling had already broken through to the Grandmaster level.

“How is everyone? How’s Tian’er been lately?” Fang Xian asked with a smile.

“All’s well. Tian’er has grown stronger and often asks after you. Now that you’re back, everyone feels reassured,” Liu Wu replied with a grin.

“Let’s head back. These four are my close attendants—please arrange for them to stay nearby,” Fang Xian instructed. Together with Liu Wu, he led the group back to the settlement, arranging for Li Daqi and the others to stay near the edge of the ridge.

“Father!” As soon as Feng Jiutian saw Fang Xian, he threw himself into his arms, his small mouth quivering as he tried not to cry.

“Tian’er, a real man doesn’t cry. Look what gift I brought you!” Fang Xian had come prepared: a wooden sword he’d made himself, and a toy pistol carved from wood.

Feng Jiutian’s tears vanished, replaced by delight. Feng Ling picked up the wooden pistol, studying it curiously. “What kind of toy is this? It looks so strange—I’ve never seen one before.”

“It’s just something I made for fun. See how much Tian’er likes it,” Fang Xian replied, evading any explanation of what a pistol was.

A young tiger cub then emerged from behind a rockery, letting out a warning growl as it watched Fang Xian from afar, hesitant to approach.

“Little Tiger, come here. This is Father,” Feng Jiutian called, waving. The cub wobbled over, sniffed Fang Xian, and, recognizing the familiar scent of its mother, nuzzled him affectionately. Stroking its head, Fang Xian asked, “Tian’er, is Little Tiger well-behaved? If not, I’ll have its mother teach it a lesson next time.”

“Don’t! Father, Little Tiger is very good. I love playing with him,” Feng Jiutian quickly defended his companion.

“Alright, go play with Little Tiger. Your mother and I have something to discuss,” Fang Xian said, sending the boy and the cub off to the courtyard to play. The servant girls stayed far back, none daring to approach the little tiger.