Chapter 859: Chapter 515: Daoist Priest, Time to Take You Killing (6k)
In the forest, by the campfire.
Zhao Douan held the blackened end of a tree branch, frowning as he asked the court tribute who had run back, "What’s going on?"
Tang Jinzhong was still holding a bundle of dry branches:
"There’s a squad of soldiers in the forest chasing someone. Without your orders, we didn’t dare to recklessly reveal ourselves, so we came back to report first."
A chase in the forest? This time, not only Zhao Douan, but Mo Chou and even the meditating priest Yu Xiu opened their eyes.
Voices drew near, and everyone looked in the direction of the sound. They saw shadowy figures approaching from the woods ahead on the left, moving very quickly.
The person fleeing in front was slender, wearing coarse clothes, with a straw hat on her head. One of her shoulders was injured and bloodied, and she was desperately fleeing—remarkably, a young woman.
Behind her, about twenty soldiers in soft armor, armed with swords, and wearing iron helmets pursued her fiercely. Their dense breaths formed a hunting formation, their heavy boots occasionally splashing up patches of water that hadn’t yet evaporated from the forest vegetation.
Tang Jinzhong, Song Jinxi, and other escorts stopped what they were doing, formed a circle to protect Zhao Douan and the others in the center, instinctively holding onto their waist knives in a wary defensive posture.
"It’s the soldiers of the Linfeng military mansion." Zhao Douan squinted his eyes, recognizing their origin from the style of their armor.
Court soldiers? How could they be here?
Who are they chasing?
There clearly is still some distance to reach the Prefecture... Mo Chou was stunned, visibly perplexed.
"Sir, should we help capture them?" Song Jinxi, who was keenly observant, asked.
However, Zhao Douan suddenly turned his head, looking at Yu Xiu with a cheerful smile, "Would the priest be so kind to intervene?"
Yu Xiu closed his eyes again with an indifferent demeanor:
"This humble priest does not get involved in royal family disputes."
Mo Chou became a bit anxious, urging him, "Don’t waste time. Let’s stop them first and ask about the situation. I feel something’s not right."
Reasonably, since it’s the court soldiers acting, they should help, but Mo Chou keenly sensed something amiss.
She planned to first control the situation and find out the details.
"No rush," Zhao Douan looked again at the rapidly approaching pursuers and pursued, suddenly eager, saying, "No need to engage. Watch as I handle it with archery."
He stood up tall, right hand open, and immediately an escort handed him a horn bow. Everyone was curious, ready to witness Mr. Zhao’s archery skills.
Zhao Douan bent his bow and nocked an arrow, standing upright. In the sunlight, the arrowhead reflected a cold light, locking onto the fierce soldier in black armor closest to the fleeing woman, about to catch up.
According to the "trajectory," this iron arrow would land ahead of the soldier’s feet, forcefully stopping both sides.
"Whizz—"
The bowstring suddenly loosened, and an arrow trailed a shadow, appearing instantly amid the dappled tree shadows.
The pursued Martial World woman panted heavily, seeing Zhao Douan in the distant camp bending his bow, feeling a stroke of joy, but in the next second, her hair stood on end. The arrow brushed past her scalp, splitting her straw hat with a "bang" into two halves that fell to the sides, her jet-black long hair cascading down like a waterfall.
The arrow’s momentum unabated, it "thwacked" into a tree trunk, embedding halfway, its fletching still vibrating!
"Ah!" Mo Chou jumped in fright, turning with astonishment to look at Zhao Douan.
Recalling when she sent Zhao Douan off to the Divine Mechanism Camp for assignment, where he missed his archery target on the training field.
He missed it... He tried hard to maintain the pose of a martial arts expert, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, as he tossed the bow to a guard, "This bow is damp, the aim is off. I’ll tune it later."
Everyone: ...
At this moment, the soldiers were shocked, instinctively slowing their steps, drawing their knives in defense. The woman, seizing the opportunity, fled near the camp, finally collapsing from exhaustion, blood gushing from her shoulder, staining her outer garment, her voice weak, "Save... me..."
Tang Jinzhong glanced back at Zhao Douan, who nodded, signaling a guard to drag her into their protective circle.
Meanwhile, the black-armored soldiers also rushed out, surrounding them. Both sides faced off, one dressed in sturdy armor, the other merely in escort attire, the contrast in strength obvious.
But upon closer look, one would find that the escorts, who were supposed to be trembling in fear, were actually calm and composed.
While the supposed confident officers were agitated and uneasy.
"Hand her over!"
A black-armored officer in the lead stepped forward, blade in hand. Half-covered by a face armor, his eyes in the holes were sharp and chilling.
As if any disagreement would lead to slaughter and bloodshed.
Zhao Douan brushed his robe and slowly sat back down on the small stool by the fire, dressed like an Aristocratic Young Master, commanding with a gesture:
"Whom do you belong to? Do you know my identity? Didn’t Sun Xiaozhun inform you of the prohibition against attacking civilians within the jurisdiction?"
In theory, since Linfeng had become a war zone, these soldiers should have been deployed to Taicang Prefecture, under the jurisdiction of the Taicang Magistrate, Sun Xiaozhun.
Back during the Taicang Silver Mine case, Zhao Douan was deeply impressed by that dark and lean, decisive magistrate.
"And who are you? State your identity! We are capturing rebel spies, and anyone harboring them will be treated as rebels!"
The black-armored officer, half his face covered, bellowed in a muffled voice, his hand gripping the sword, veins bulging, quietly exerting force.
Zhao Douan maintained a stern face, "Oh, now you’re interrogating me. I haven’t even suspected you of being rebels yet..."
"Take action!" He didn’t finish his sentence, as the black-armored officer’s crow’s feet suddenly tightened, and he shouted in a deep voice, already pouncing.
His military boots propelled him forward, armor clanging, the thick, sharp long saber in his hand whistling, slashing toward Zhao Douan.