Chapter 41: Chapter 40. Holding a sword, standing alone.

Chapter 40.

Thousands of desperate civilians fled to Shaanxi and Xuande, their numbers swelling by the day.

The stationed soldiers, too timid to take decisive action, allowed the masses to break through their lines and vanish into the unknown.

"We must stop them," Yin Chengyu growled, his expression as dark as a storm. Fury flickered in his sharp gaze. "If these plague-ridden people scatter further, the consequences will be unimaginable. Xue Shu, take your men and intercept those heading toward Shaanxi. I'll handle Datong myself."

With no time to waste, Xue Shu bowed and sped off with his men, galloping west. Yin Chengyu rode out of Taiyuan immediately, pushing his horse to its limits.

Three hours later, sweat-drenched and grim, he reached Datong's city gates, only to sense a peculiar tension in the air. Unlike other provinces, where terror and despair kept people hidden, Datong's streets were filled with crowds. They moved sluggishly, fear and unease carved into their faces, but rage simmered beneath their uneasy stares.

“That direction… it’s Weixian,” Yin Chengyu noted coldly. It was the borderland where Datong met Xuande in northern Zhili. Without stopping to enter the city, he spurred his horse onward.

Weixian sat on the northernmost edge of Datong, a critical juncture between provinces. Hemmed in by impassable mountains to the east and guarded passes to the south, the refugees had no choice but to funnel west to Shanxi or north to Xuande.

When Yin Chengyu arrived, he was greeted by chaos. Lines of soldiers attempted to hold their ground at the border, but their hesitation was palpable. The refugees—driven by panic and anger—showed no fear. They hurled themselves at the soldiers' defenses, pressing harder with every moment.

The soldiers, many locals from Shasnxi, wavered. Faced with their own people, their resolve crumbled, and retreat seemed inevitable.

Yin Chengyu’s horse cut through the throng, and General Jiang Xiaowen, the commander of Datong, rushed to meet him. The man was a picture of helplessness, sweat soaking his collar, his body stooped in submission.

“Your Highness, this place is dangerous. Please, retreat to the county hall for your safety.”

Yin Chengyu’s face darkened further. His cold gaze pierced Jiang Xiaowen. “If I retreat, what will you do about these refugees?”

“They’ll tire themselves out eventually…” Jiang stammered, his weak reply betraying his lack of foresight.

“Eventually?” Yin Chengyu’s laugh was biting. “Do you know how many among them carry the plague? If they gather like this daily, the disease will spread like wildfire. Soon, not only these civilians but your soldiers will fall. When our forces collapse from sickness, who will defend Great Yan’s borders against foreign invaders?”

Jiang Xiaowen speechless, his face pale. A second-rate officer thrust into a critical role, he was woefully unprepared for a crisis of this magnitude. He could only bow, muttering, “I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness for my oversight.”

Frustrated by the incompetence surrounding him, Yin Chengyu seized control. Riding to the frontlines, he barked orders to the flag bearer.

“Signal the troops: raise shields, prepare the archers. Anyone who dares break through the line—kill them without mercy!”

The flag bearer hesitated, stunned by the icy finality of the command, but Yin Chengyu’s gaze brooked no defiance. The flags waved. Orders spread like wildfire.

The soldiers regrouped, shields locking together as archers behind them drew taut their bowstrings. Rows of sharp arrowheads gleamed under the fading light, all trained on the swelling crowd ahead.

The refugees faltered. Terror replaced fury as they stared at the line of death before them. For a moment, silence reigned.

Then a voice shattered it. “The Crown Prince is going to slaughter us! He’s here to kill us all!”

Fear and anger erupted once more. The crowd surged forward with renewed fervor, desperation overcoming caution.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze never wavered. His voice was sharp as steel: “Release arrows! Switch to spears!”

The archers loosed their volley. The first wave of refugees collapsed where they stood. Blood sprayed, cries filled the air, and terror rippled through the crowd. The archers fell back as spearmen took their place, forming an unbreakable wall of pointed steel.

The tide of the crowd broke. Fear now outweighed fury. The survivors froze in place, stunned into submission.

As night fell, the dim light cast an eerie glow over the scene. Hundreds of refugees remained, their faces hollow, eyes filled with hopelessness. Yin Chengyu looked at them, his heart cold yet heavy.

This chaos, this despair—none of it should have happened. Shaanxi’s plague was finally under control. How had it all unraveled so completely?

Yin Chengyu closed his eyes for a moment, then ordered the flag bearer, his voice calm yet commanding: “Relay my words exactly.”

The flag bearer struck the bronze gong, his voice cutting through the crowd like a blade. “His Highness, the Crown Prince, declares: the rumors of massacres are baseless lies. The epidemic in Taiyuan Prefecture is under control, and all other regions in Shaanxi will follow Taiyuan’s example. Those infected will be treated at designated facilities. The healthy, suffering from famine and hardship, will receive food rations. Physicians and medicine will be provided to the weak and sick. As long as you obey the government’s orders and stay home unless necessary, His Highness promises no one will be abandoned.”

The flag bearer’s words echoed again and again, hammering the message into the ears of the restless crowd.

The refugees, once silent and despondent, began whispering among themselves. Sensing the moment, Yin Chengyu added sharply, his tone leaving no room for debate: “Return to your homes immediately. Tomorrow, notices will be posted at the city gates, and officials will publicly announce detailed relief plans. Follow the rules, and every one of you will receive food and medicine.”

The restless mob hesitated before slowly dispersing, though a few lingered—families with injured loved ones, unsure whether to stay or leave. They hovered on the edges of the clearing, wary yet unwilling to act.

Only when the square thinned out did Yin Chengyu turn to the trembling Jiang Xiaowen at his side. His voice was cold, cutting through Jiang Xiaowen’s anxiety like a whip: “Send people to check on the injured among the crowd. Bury the dead and compensate their families. Send the wounded to Shanjitang for treatment.”

Relieved to escape scrutiny, Jiang Xiaowen stammered his assent and fled, all but stumbling in his haste.

Once the crowd had fully dispersed, Yin Chengyu methodically reassigned guards to fortify the city’s defenses. Only then did he retreat to the county office for a brief rest.

That evening, Jiang Xiaowen, still visibly shaken, reported back. With resources stretched thin, Yin Chengyu spared him immediate punishment, though his icy glare left no doubt that patience was running thin. “Explain the situation again,” he demanded.

Jiang Xiaowen stuttered out his report, every word steeped in fear.

As it turned out, rumors of massacres had been circulating since the Shaanxi borders were sealed under Yin Chengyu’s orders. Jiang Xiaowen had dismissed the chatter at first, but in the last two days, the whispers had turned into wildfire. Refugees, spurred by fear and desperation, had broken through the lines in the dead of night, spreading chaos.

“And you divided your troops? Let the sick lead the charge?” Yin Chengyu’s sharp question sliced through Jiang’s explanation, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “It’s almost as if someone planned this revolt.”

A riot led by infected refugees?

That wasn’t a coincidence—it was a calculated move. Soldiers, hesitant to engage for fear of contagion, had left a critical gap in the defenses.

After a long, tense silence, Yin Chengyu summoned his trusted agent, Cui Ci. His tone was sharp, clipped. “Investigate. Who’s spreading these rumors? Who’s stirring unrest among the people? Send another team to pursue the fleeing refugees into Xuande and other regions. Deliver my orders: no city is to let these refugees enter.”

Cui Ci, ever loyal, nodded and left to carry out the orders.

By the next morning, Yin Chengyu had returned to Datong to personally oversee the relief efforts. Days blurred into exhaustion, the weight of countless crises pressing on him.

Three days later, Xue Shu arrived with reinforcements, reporting that the fleeing refugees had been intercepted at Baode Prefecture. Alongside them, two agitators, accused of inciting the revolt, had been captured. The refugees were redirected to Taiyuan for resettlement, while the prisoners were sent to Datong under tight guard.

When Xue Shu arrived to meet Yin Chengyu, he unexpectedly crossed paths with Cui Ci, who was in the middle of delivering a report.

Cui Ci, one of Xue Shu's most trusted confidants, personally handpicked and promoted by him, immediately filled him in on the investigation's findings.

After hearing everything, Xue Shu’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. His voice was smooth but commanding as he said, “You may leave now. I’ll handle this matter and bring it directly to His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.”

As Xue Shu entered Yin Chengyu’s study, he found the prince buried in correspondence, his pale face marred by dark shadows of sleepless nights.

After days of relentless pursuit, some of the refugees who had fled Shanxi were finally caught and dragged back. But Zhili wasn’t the vast, desolate expanse of Shanxi and Shaanxi. The moment these slippery fugitives realized they couldn’t breach Xuanfu’s gates, they scattered like shadows into other parts of Zhili, vanishing without a trace. It was as if the sprawling prefectures of Zhili had swallowed them whole, offering them refuge and anonymity.

Now three grueling days have passed, and barely a few hundred have been rounded up.

The rest? Gone.

Scattered to the winds, likely blending into the far corners of Zhili. Their disappearance isn’t just frustrating—it’s dangerous. Yin Chengyu’s mind churned with a dark, gnawing thought: how many of them were already carrying the infection, spreading it unchecked wherever they roamed?

He hadn’t had a moment’s peace in three days, his body and mind wrung dry by the endless wave of grim reports. Fatigue clung to him like a second skin, and no matter how he tried to strategize, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of helplessness.

The weight of the unfolding disaster bore down on him—an epidemic that wasn’t just inevitable but now felt accelerated, triggered by the very chaos he was trying to contain. A catastrophe, spiraling faster than he could grasp, leaving him powerless to halt its march.

Seeing Xue Shu, Yin Chengyu straightened slightly, his exhaustion palpable yet contained. “The situation?”

“All intercepted, and we caught two instigators,” Xue Shu reported. His sharp gaze softened briefly as he asked, “How long has it been since you rested, Your Highness?”

Yin Chengyu’s weary expression answered for him. “I haven’t been able to sleep,” he admitted, his voice heavy with fatigue.

Hearing that the worst had been averted, a flicker of relief crossed Yin Chengyu’s features. He leaned back, shielding his eyes with a hand. “My head aches. Massage it for me.”

Xue Shu stepped behind him without hesitation, fingers threading into his hair to knead the tension from his scalp. His touch was steady, grounding.

———Author’s Note:

“You couldn’t sleep without me around, could you?” Xue Shu teased, his tone playful yet tinged with quiet concern.

Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, though he didn’t lift his hand from his eyes. “Shut up.”