Chapter 111: Posting an Invitation and Hosting a Gathering

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Yang Xiaolin descended as he spoke, approaching Zhao Zhanyuan’s daughter. The woman appeared frightened, and instinctively, as a woman would, she hurriedly covered her swollen belly with her hands.

Zhang Zuoxiang struggled fiercely, trying to stand up, but Biaozi and Sui Bing’s hands held him firmly down. “Behave yourself! Or I’ll blow you apart!”

Zhang Zuoxiang glared at Yang Xiaolin. “Yang, if you still have any sense of honor, come and kill me yourself, but don’t touch my sister-in-law!”

Yang Xiaolin shot him a glare. “Do I look like that kind of person? Someone, bring a chair for the sister-in-law. Don’t let her get tired; wouldn’t want to harm my future nephew.”

A bandit hurried off to fetch a chair. Only then did Zhao Zhanyuan and Zhang Zuoxiang’s expressions relax somewhat. Zhao Zhanyuan pondered briefly and said, “Master Yang, my son Yuting also serves under imperial decree, bound by imperial provisions. If you wish to vent your anger on us, go ahead and strike us down—it wouldn’t matter. But I beg you, please be merciful to my daughter and the thousands of women and children in this county.”

Yang Xiaolin shook his head. “Old sir, you misunderstand. When have you ever heard of me, Yang the Ghost Fighter, killing Chinese people? Honestly, I hold no grudge against Brother Zhang. I just felt it rude that last time I came to see you without even revealing my real name. This time, I came specifically to apologize.”

Such words would fool a child of three at best! Zhang Zuoxiang nearby declared firmly, “Yang the Ghost Fighter, just say what you want! Don’t waste time with these empty words.”

Yang Xiaolin turned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Good! Very good! Then I’ll be straightforward. I want to cooperate with Brother Zhang. The Russians and Japanese are on the verge of war—you know this, Old Master Zhao?”

Hearing Yang Xiaolin’s question, Zhao Zhanyuan glanced sharply at him, as if trying to read something hidden in his eyes.

Seeing him silent, Yang Xiaolin lowered his head and leaned close to Zhao Zhanyuan’s ear. “Old sir, I know you want Zhang Zuolin to gain some reputation once the fighting breaks out, but that’s not a good plan. Frankly, once the Russo-Japanese war ignites, our northeastern compatriots will suffer greatly.”

Zhao Zhanyuan spoke up. “Master Yang, what exactly do you mean? Please speak plainly.”

Yang Xiaolin straightened. “I mean this: please arrange a meeting between Brother Zhang and me. I will also seek out Brother Feng. If the three of us stop fighting among ourselves and unite our efforts, no Japanese or Russian will be allowed to run wild in this land.”

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Zhao Zhanyuan’s chest heaved slightly. Though a landlord and not particularly open-minded, he was not a bad man. His ancestors had lived here for generations; he did not want to see the Japanese and Russians turn this land into scorched earth.

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Zhanyuan said, “Very well. I will convey your words to Yuting. Whether he agrees to meet you depends on how well you arrange things. You must understand, Feng Delin is like a thorn in Yuting’s throat.”

Yang Xiaolin smiled. “Don’t worry, I will arrange a proper way for the meeting so that everyone can come together.”

Zhang Zuoxiang immediately said, “Feng Delin won’t agree. He’s wholly devoted to the Japanese now. The Japanese are like his ancestors!”

Yang Xiaolin said coldly, “Then we’ll eliminate him.”

In the past, such words from Yang Xiaolin would have sounded like bragging, but not anymore. Yang the Ghost Fighter’s reputation now far surpassed Feng Delin’s, and his demonstrated combat prowess earned universal respect. Zhao Zhanyuan believed that if Yang Xiaolin and Zhang Zuolin joined forces, Feng Delin could not possibly win. A smile appeared on his face. “Good! If Feng Delin is eliminated, Liao West will be your territory, and we’ll keep Liao East!”

Yang Xiaolin glanced at him. “That’s a last resort. Please, Old Master Zhao, set that thought aside for now. I am confident I can persuade Brother Feng—after all, he’s a man of honor.”

Zhao Zhanyuan said nothing further but asked gravely, “Master Yang, how do you intend to deal with us?”

Yang Xiaolin replied, “I won’t harm you. I made that clear when I came in. Bring me some food; my brothers haven’t eaten in a day. Once we finish eating, we’ll leave. I’m headed to attack Fengtian.”

Liaoyang was tense, and Fengtian was equally on edge. Zhao Erxun was no fool; he was wary of Yang Xiaolin’s possibility of striking at Fengtian after pointing at Liaoyang. The two cities were not far apart, and Yang Xiaolin could easily launch a sudden attack.

At present, only three thousand Qing soldiers remained inside Fengtian; the rest had gone with Zeng Qi to suppress bandits. Could such a small force hold off those ravenous bandits? Zhao Erxun could not spare more troops. Although the Russians had offered to send two thousand men into the city to assist the Qing troops while waiting for reinforcements from the north, Zhao Erxun refused.

He knew the Russians would not be so kind; inviting them in was easy, but getting them to leave would be difficult. So he resolved to defend Fengtian relying solely on his own forces. He felt confident because Fengtian was not a small city, and the general had already dispatched troops back. If he could hold firm and remain cautious for a few days, it should be fine.

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However, Zhao Erxun faced a dilemma: many refugees fleeing from Liaoyang kept pouring into Fengtian, greatly complicating the defense. He ordered the Qing soldiers guarding the city gates to rigorously inspect everyone—foreigners or Qing alike—requiring proper passes for entry or exit.

By coincidence, the guard at the city gate today was the Qing sergeant named Liu.

This sergeant sat on a chair at the gate, staring vacantly at the newly posted wanted notice for Yang Xiaolin. He wasn’t looking at the reward, but at the portrait. He was certain he had seen Yang Xiaolin before—indeed, he had narrowly escaped encounters with that fiend several times.

A Qing soldier behind him approached with a newspaper. “Boss, here’s the Japanese paper from the day before yesterday. Look, Yang the Ghost Fighter looks fierce in this picture!”

Sergeant Liu glanced at it; indeed, the image was fierce. A chill ran down his spine, as if Yang the Ghost Fighter was standing before him again. Had he really stolen Yang’s money once? And Yang hadn’t shot him? Liu felt incredibly lucky.

“Go! Search the city gates thoroughly! Don’t waste time on this nonsense,” he ordered, snatching the paper away.

The soldier continued, “Boss, do you think Yang the Ghost Fighter will come to Fengtian? If he does, can we handle him?”

Liu glared. “Handle him? All you know is to fight! Five thousand Russians broke through, and you think you can stop them? What are you, going to pull your pants down?”

Liu knew well what it meant to be a soldier just to earn a living. To him, a gun was for scaring civilians, but in a fight with Yang the Ghost Fighter and his men, their marksmanship was no match. The gun felt out of place in their hands.

Just then, a gunshot rang out nearby. Liu hurriedly looked toward the sound, only to see a group of disorganized bandits charging straight at the city gates! (Please support with votes and recommendations!)