Chapter Twenty-Eight: Visiting the Mighty Tiger

“Oh? What seems off about him?”
Wang Jinhan replied, “He’s even more enthusiastic than some of our old brothers. Boss, unless he’s someone who owes you a great debt, he must be a spy!”
Hearing this, Zhang Zuolin chuckled. He had noticed it too over the past few days—this Yang San was indeed remarkably proactive. Moreover, Yang San demonstrated real skill in setting up camp and organizing the march. Yet, to jump to the conclusion that he was a spy was premature. Wang Jinhan’s suspicion was clearly rooted in his fear that Yang San might become a threat to him in the future—this little scheme of his did not escape Zhang Zuolin’s sharp eyes.
“Just mind your own business. The brothers have truly worked hard these past days. The mountain paths are exhausting enough, and with those troublemakers stirring things up, a good rest is necessary. I’ll handle things appropriately.”
Seeing the expression on Zhang Zuolin’s face, Wang Jinhan said no more. “Alright, Boss, I’ll leave it to you. I’ll go order the men to set up camp. Should we send a team to keep an eye on them?”
Zhang Zuolin shook his head. “No need.”
He genuinely felt there was no need. Among the fifty men under Jin Dadao and Yang Xiaolin, he had already planted several informants—more than one, in fact. If those two made any moves, these eyes and ears would report back at once.
Most crucially, the official portrait and Tang Yulin’s misleading words had largely dispelled Zhang Zuolin’s suspicions toward Yang Xiaolin and Jin Dadao.
“Hurry up! Set some traps at the camp entrance! And make sure the camouflage is done well—stuff those straw men thickly, make them look real! If bandits come at night, those dummies might just save you from a bullet!”
Yang Xiaolin’s performance was outstanding; some of the methods he used to set sentries made Zhang Zuolin nod in approval. In less than an hour, while Wang Jinhan’s men were still struggling with the camp, Yang had already set up a perimeter of defenses and was now working on the outer lines. Truly a capable man! Zhang Zuolin watched with a glint of admiration in his eyes. If this man truly pledged himself, he would be an invaluable asset in the future. But if he turned out to be an enemy, he would certainly be the most formidable foe. Was he friend or foe?
Zhang Zuolin’s mind raced. His hand unconsciously rested on the butt of his pistol, his finger tapping as if debating whether to draw it.
At that moment, Yang Xiaolin hurried over again. “Commander, I’d like to split the men into two groups. Leave twenty at the gate for sentry duty, and send the rest—over thirty—into the grove on the opposite hillside. That’s the highest ground. If bandits come again tonight, they’ll surely enter that woods. Even if not tonight, whenever they scout our camp, they’ll have to go through the forest.”
Zhang Zuolin responded, “Do as you see fit. By the way, Yang San, where’s your family from in Shanhaiguan?”

Yang Xiaolin was briefly stunned by the sudden question. The truth was, Captain Yang’s family hailed from a small village in northwest Zhili, with no connection to Shanhaiguan.
His mind spun quickly, but a smile appeared on his face. “There’s no real home anymore. When I was five, my village was struck by famine. Yang Er and I went out begging together. We’ve returned a few times since growing up, but could never find it again. Later, my brother and I did small business on both sides of the pass. Shanhaiguan was convenient, so we bought a couple of grass huts to live in, nothing more.”
Zhang Zuolin nodded. “I see. In that case, don’t go back. Stay with me.”
Yang Xiaolin nodded. “Alright. Commander, you’re a righteous man. My brother and I would gladly give our lives for you. I’ll get back to work.”
With that, he turned away. Zhang Zuolin’s eyes were fixed on his back, his hand unconsciously reaching for his waist again, but before touching his gun, he let it fall away.
Yang Xiaolin, his back to Zhang Zuolin, had no inkling of the tangled thoughts running through Zhang’s mind at that very instant—nor did Zhang realize this was his last chance to turn the tables.
Yang Xiaolin was ready. He had delayed Zhang Zuolin because Biaozi had already made contact with Gu Tianming’s group. From the signals Biaozi left, it seemed Gu Tianming and his men had fared well these past days.
Though they’d had several close calls with government troops, Zhao Yansun dared not launch a rash attack, and the Qing soldiers lacked the courage to advance alone. Thanks to their knowledge of the terrain, they’d escaped danger every time.
Now, Gu Tianming had brought his men to join Biaozi. They only awaited a suitable opportunity from Yang Xiaolin, and then, in concert, they would eliminate Zhang Zuolin’s forces.
Yang Xiaolin approached Jin Dadao and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, said, “Just now, Zhang Zuolin asked where our family is from. I doubt he’ll give us much more time.”
Jin Dadao was startled. “What should we do?”
Yang Xiaolin scanned the area. “Even if he’s not suspicious, we must act. If we give him a few more days and let him join up with those Qing troops, we may lose our chance. Has Tang Dahu come to see you?”
The only thing holding Yang Xiaolin back was Tang Dahu. The man’s attitude was truly puzzling—since entering the mountains, he had cooperated with Zhang Zuolin’s march with all his might, yet clearly knew Yang Xiaolin and Jin Dadao’s true identities and did nothing to expose them, as if the whole affair was none of his business.

He could pretend indifference, but Yang Xiaolin couldn’t afford to ignore him. Those two hundred quick-firing rifles could be turned on anyone, and that would determine whether Yang Xiaolin could successfully eliminate Zhang Zuolin.
Jin Dadao shook his head. “No. He’s seen me a few times, but never said a word.”
Yang Xiaolin thought for a moment. “It seems we need to pay him a visit.”
Tang Dahu’s and Zhang Zuolin’s teams marched one after the other, separated by no more than three hundred meters, always within easy visual range. Though called two teams, they were more like one: Zhang Zuolin in the lead, Tang Dahu bringing up the rear.
Whenever Zhang Zuolin stopped, Tang Dahu’s team halted as well. In terms of setting camp, Zhang Zuolin’s militia was clearly more disciplined than Tang Dahu’s men, whose encampment looked rather disorganized and whose sentries were posted in a conspicuously obvious fashion.
Zhang Zuolin gave no warning—he rather hoped Tang Dahu would suffer some losses on this mountain expedition, which would further the plans Zhao Zhanyuan had laid out for him.
Yang Xiaolin walked to the entrance of Tang Dahu’s camp. The bandits stationed there recognized him as one of Zhang Zuolin’s men, and a minor boss quickly approached. “Brother, what brings you here?”
Yang Xiaolin clasped his fists. “Would you please notify your boss? I come on our commander’s orders to speak with Master Tang.”
The small boss gave him a sharp look, but then warmly threw an arm around his shoulders. “No need to be so formal! We’re all brothers here. Come, I’ll take you.”
With his arm around Yang Xiaolin, he led him straight to Tang Dahu’s tent and called out, “Boss, someone’s here from Fifth Brother—says he has something to discuss with you.”
Tang Dahu’s voice sounded from inside the tent, “Let him in.”