Chapter Fifty-One: Crisis

The Panther Who Splits Mountains drew a dagger from his belt and stabbed it into the table, then forced open the rich merchant’s mouth with his powerful grip.

The merchant, already pale as a ghost, stared dumbly at the dagger on the table, so scared he’d forgotten even to beg for mercy.

“Lord Panther, if Old Zheng has offended you in any way, let him sincerely apologize and pay some silver as compensation—let’s just let this matter pass. There’s no need to cut out anyone’s tongue, is there?” Meng Wanhe, regaining his composure, hastily tried to mediate.

“Master Meng, I respect you as a wise man. Please, don’t get involved in this business,” the Panther laughed, but his grip on the dagger only tightened, showing he had no intention of backing down.

Meng Wanhe quickly exchanged glances with the other wealthy merchants, who hurried forward to plead for Old Zheng.

Of course, the Panther’s threat to cut out Zheng’s tongue was nothing but a show. He’d overheard from the rooftop that Master Zhao wanted these merchants to hire him for some dirty work. By pulling this stunt, he sought to extract the greatest profit.

He knew Song Xi was out of resources, and he also knew that if he seized Old Zheng, the others were bound to intercede. Even if he did end up cutting a piece of flesh, these merchants—who all had their own skeletons in Song Xi’s closet—would never be foolish enough to call the authorities.

The Panther resolved to squeeze both sides for all they were worth.

“Lord Panther, it’s really not such a big deal. Why hold onto him? Here, name your price. We have more important business to discuss,” Meng Wanhe, seeing through the Panther’s intentions, decided to get straight to the point.

“Since you say so, let’s be done with it,” the Panther replied, finally releasing his grip on Old Zheng’s throat and stretching out his hand before him. “Fifty taels of silver to ransom your tongue—not too steep, is it?”

“Cough, cough… Thank you, Lord Panther… What? Fifty taels?” Old Zheng, clutching his throat and coughing violently, had just been about to express his gratitude for being spared, but the price shocked him so much he nearly choked.

“Isn’t that a bit much, Lord Panther?” Meng Wanhe frowned at the sum.

“Too expensive? Why don’t you pay for him?” The Panther flicked his dagger toward Meng Wanhe.

Meng Wanhe fell silent at once, shrinking back from the glinting blade. The others, seeing this, abandoned further argument and stepped back.

Old Zheng was merely a business partner. They’d fulfilled their obligation with a few words of mediation; paying out of pocket for him would be like slicing off their own flesh.

Old Zheng’s expression shifted several times before he finally gritted his teeth, drew out a banknote, and slapped it down on the table.

“Here’s one hundred taels—fifty for redeeming my tongue, the rest to be put toward Master Zhao’s request. I’m feeling unwell, so I’ll take my leave.”

The Panther took the note, looked it over, and tucked it into his coat with a satisfied smile. He gestured toward the door.

Old Zheng, relieved, hurried out, desperate to escape the place that had left him so traumatized.

“I know why you’re here, so there’s no need to waste words. I can more or less guess who Master Zhao wants dead,” the Panther said as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

“In that case, I’ll be direct,” Meng Wanhe said, glancing at the other merchants and then at the Panther. “The four of us will each put up fifty taels, two hundred and fifty in total. That’s fair payment for his life, don’t you think?”

But the Panther just laughed.

“He’s now the hero who wiped out the bandits in Anqiang, a guest of honor in Magistrate Feng Qinian’s residence,” the Panther replied, putting away his dagger and meticulously cleaning the dirt from his fingers.

“You, of all people, care about such things?” Meng Wanhe looked at him in surprise.

“What I mean is… you’ll have to pay more!” The Panther raised his head and showed five fingers to the merchants.

“Five hundred taels?!” Everyone’s heart skipped a beat. Meng Wanhe nearly leapt from his seat.

“The fifty taels from earlier can be considered a deposit…” one merchant ventured, hoping to count Old Zheng’s ransom toward the payment.

“No, no. I don’t take deposits. Silver in full, no credit.” The Panther rose, stretched, and, yawning, held out his hand to Meng Wanhe.

The room fell silent as the merchants weighed their options.

“You know what you’re thinking? If my price is too high, find someone cheaper. But let me tell you—if you hire someone else, don’t blame me for turning myself in. I keep a ledger of the dirty deeds you’ve all done. Whether you go through with it or not, this business will go forward!” The Panther glared, twirling his dagger menacingly.

The merchants knew they had no choice. One by one, starting with Meng Wanhe, they obediently produced their banknotes.

“No need to look so glum—spend money to avert disaster, isn’t that right? Besides, it’s not like the silver’s all for me—I have hundreds of brothers to feed. With this job, I’ve already thought of where I’ll bury the fellow,” the Panther consoled them insincerely, then with a few swift steps vaulted over the wall and vanished into the night.

Early the next morning, the county constable’s office received a messenger sent by Feng Qinian from Ding’an Commandery.

A-Xin welcomed the messenger warmly into the main hall.

“What word from my master?” A-Xin asked anxiously as she poured tea for the messenger.

“Sir Feng looks to be in excellent spirits—his letter must contain good news,” the messenger replied, sipping his tea and handing over the letter.

A-Xin quickly broke the seal and read, breathing a deep sigh of relief. The letter said that the Commandery Magistrate greatly valued Feng Qinian’s abilities and would not hold past matters against him. Not only would he not lose his post or be demoted, upon his return he would also temporarily act as the county magistrate of Anqiang. Moreover, the commandery magistrate wished him to stay a few more days and instructed A-Xin to bring two hundred taels of silver to the commandery office.

“Master Qi, the master’s letter says there’s an urgent matter requiring me at the commandery office. I won’t be able to host today’s banquet,” A-Xin told Qi Jun apologetically.

“If Lord Feng called you away, it must be pressing business. No need to apologize,” Qi Jun replied, not prying as to why Feng Qinian had written. Truthfully, he hadn’t cared much about the banquet—it was merely a pretext to make Feng Qinian squirm a bit.

By now, Qi Jun’s thoughts were entirely occupied with Panlong Ridge. Had it not been for that poisoned arrow ambush, he would never have waited so long.

“Deng Fang, come here!” After sending A-Xin off, Qi Jun called out across the courtyard to the opposite house.

His and Deng Fang’s rooms were separated only by a small courtyard, with their doors and windows facing each other. At night, when all was quiet, not only could Qi Jun hear Deng Fang snoring from across the way, if Deng Fang so much as let out a loud fart, he’d hear that too.

“Brother Jun, what’s up so early?” Deng Fang propped open his window, squinting with one eye as he poked his head out.

“Hurry up and get ready—we’re heading to Panlong Ridge,” Qi Jun replied, rolling his eyes. “Sleeping so late every day—are you part pig?”

Qi Jun then sent a servant to prepare the horses and notify Sun Jiu. After that, he quickly washed his face.

Truth be told, Qi Jun had been a bit guilty scolding Deng Fang, as he too had just gotten up.

“Brother Jun, your pig brother is here! When do we leave?” Deng Fang was already dressed and waiting at the door. Whenever Qi Jun called him out, he was always brimming with energy as if injected with adrenaline.

The constable barracks were not far from the county office. By modern standards, the county office was like the family compound for the constable barracks—though only the leadership lived there.

Sun Jiu, knowing why Qi Jun had called for him, arrived just as Qi Jun and Deng Fang finished breakfast. Without delay, the three mounted up and sped toward Panlong Ridge.

To be precise, only Sun Jiu and Deng Fang were speeding along. Qi Jun still hadn’t quite mastered horseback riding; though eager, he could only follow behind at a slow pace.

Whenever Sun Jiu and Deng Fang rode ahead and lost sight of him, they had to stop and wait by the roadside. Eventually, Deng Fang, impatient, simply scooped Qi Jun up and plopped him onto his own horse, so that the three pressed onward at full speed, two to a mount, toward Panlong Ridge.