Chapter 109: Fortune

Wei Ba believed Jin Dongliu’s words not because he trusted him, but because he had already harbored the same suspicion.

The method used to kill Zhuge Qiao was to strike him hard in the sternum with a heavy punch, then slit his throat with a short blade. That was precisely the martial technique Wei Ba used most often. His boxing was based on spearwork, emphasizing a direct thrust through the center line. A powerful blow to the sternum could throw the victim’s heartbeat into disorder or even stop it altogether; in severe cases, it could kill outright. Later generations would call this move “the black tiger plucks out the heart.” It was an exceedingly common technique, but common did not mean weak. On the contrary, it was adopted by schools and sects everywhere precisely because it was simple and effective.

There was no doubt that killing Zhuge Qiao in this manner had been intended to frame him. But to approach Zhuge Qiao, who had already begun behaving abnormally, and launch such a ruthless attack without giving him even a chance to retaliate, the killer had to resemble Wei Ba in certain respects—particularly in build. It had been dark that night, and there were differences in their facial features that Zhuge Qiao might not have noticed. What he would have seen first were the killer’s clothing and physique.

Since Peng Xiaoyu had been able to take Wei Ba’s jade pendant, he could just as easily have taken his clothes. To wear them convincingly and deceive both Zhuge Qiao and his attendants, the killer’s physique must have been extremely close to Wei Ba’s.

Finding someone so similar to him was no easy matter. Wei Ba had inherited his father Wei Yan’s imposing frame, and a man of comparable build was difficult to find. Someone like that would stand out immediately in a crowd. In theory, such a man could hardly serve as a spy whose work required him to conceal his identity and avoid attracting attention.

That was why Wei Ba had never been able to make sense of it—until he saw this spy, watched him strike, and finally heard him reveal his identity. Only then did he realize that Sima Yi had solved the greatest difficulty in the world of espionage with remarkable ingenuity.

Division of labor. Brilliant.

Wei Ba resolved to kill the man for more than merely impersonating him and murdering Zhuge Qiao. He feared that, having tasted success, the man would impersonate him again and commit further crimes. With such formidable skill and a face resembling Wei Ba’s, killing even his father was not beyond the man’s ability. Whatever the cost, this source of trouble had to be eliminated.

Having obtained the information he wanted, Wei Ba dispatched the spy captain with a clean thrust of his blade. Then, without concerning himself with Jin Dongliu’s presence, he began stripping off his clothes and putting on the burly man’s garments. He also slashed open the man’s face.

“He’s already dead. Is there really any need to mutilate him further?” Jin Dongliu asked, forcing down his urge to vomit.

“I’m not mutilating him,” Wei Ba said as he worked. In truth, his own urge to vomit was even stronger than Jin Dongliu’s, but he had to suppress it in order to complete the task. Perhaps it was because he had lived two lives, but he discovered that his ability to restrain himself was extraordinarily strong—so strong that even he found it astonishing. At the same time, he realized that he seemed to possess a taste for blood. Rather than recoiling from such cruelty, he felt an almost perverse exhilaration. “I can’t let anyone recognize him. The only way is to make him even harder to identify.”

“You want him to die in your place?”

“Yes. If I don’t die, Chancellor Zhuge won’t let my family off. I have no idea how far this will go.” Wei Ba finished his work, stepped back, and inspected every detail once more before continuing. “Once I’m dead, the matter can be brought to an end. Everyone involved is clever. Since there’s no conclusive proof that I must be killed, no one will keep haggling over it. If there’s a problem, they’ll deal with it next time.”

“Then why not take him before Zhuge Liang and tell him you were framed? That would spare you from becoming a fugitive who can never again see the light of day.”

Wei Ba turned to look at Jin Dongliu and suddenly gave a cold laugh. “Zhaoming, do you really think Zhuge Liang would believe me?”

A flicker passed through Jin Dongliu’s eyes. He lowered his gaze. “Then you’ll never return?”

Wei Ba’s expression darkened, and he fell silent for a long while.

“I’m a son born to a concubine. It’s enough that my elder brother inherits our father’s estate. Whether I live or die makes little difference. If I get the chance to carve out a world of my own, that may not be a bad choice. If by any chance…” He stopped halfway, then turned his head away.

One corner of Jin Dongliu’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Then come with me to see the Flying Cavalry General. With your talents, he will certainly value you. And even if he does not, you once saved my life. I can help you.”

“Sima Yi?” Wei Ba sneered. “He’s nothing but a scholar—and a defeated opponent of mine at that. How could I serve under him? If I’m going to seek protection, I’ll find someone with real power.”

“Who, then? Xiahou Mao of Chang’an?”

“He won’t do either.” Wei Ba smoothly avoided Jin Dongliu’s probe. It was difficult to say whether Jin Dongliu’s seemingly casual questions were intended to test his true intentions. In any case, Wei Ba could not show the slightest interest in Chang’an, nor could he allow Jin Dongliu to sense anything amiss. “I want to go to Luoyang. It’s far from Hanzhong, and there will be more opportunities there.”

Jin Dongliu said nothing. He could not possibly believe Wei Ba completely, but Wei Ba’s plans sounded natural enough, and there were no obvious flaws in them.

After securing the scene and resting for a long while, Wei Ba set off eastward with Jin Dongliu. With the two spies eliminated, he felt considerably more at ease. At least his life was temporarily safe. Moreover, without those two spies, Jin Dongliu could rely only on him to escape. Unseen, Wei Ba had taken control of the situation.

They continued for another two days. On the mountain road north of Chenggu, Wei Ba dragged the utterly exhausted Jin Dongliu onward with great difficulty. After three days of relentless travel, even Wei Ba felt fatigue weighing on him, to say nothing of Jin Dongliu, whose health had always been frail.

“I can’t go on.” Jin Dongliu leaned against a tree, both legs trembling uncontrollably. Cold sweat poured from his forehead, soaking through his tattered winter clothes. He had sweated so much over the past few days that a layer of white salt had formed inside the garment, matching the gray pallor of his face.

“Hold on a little longer.” Wei Ba stopped, licked his cracked lips, and drew two deep breaths. He was exhausted as well, longing to find somewhere to lie down and never rise again. But compared with Jin Dongliu, who was on the verge of collapse, he could still endure. He pointed toward a valley ahead. “Once we reach there, we can rest. If we’re lucky, we may even find help.”

“Help?” Jin Dongliu was clearly slow to react. “What help could there be?”

“I told you—it depends on luck,” Wei Ba replied, panting.

“What kind of luck?”

“You’ll know when we get there.” Wei Ba shook his head weakly. “I can’t be certain myself.”

Dizzy and disoriented, Jin Dongliu’s exhaustion and aching muscles had severely impaired his judgment. He could only follow Wei Ba onward.

After covering another dozen or so miles, Wei Ba reached the banks of the Mian River. He had Jin Dongliu hide nearby while he crept toward a small black-canopied boat concealed beneath the trees along the riverbank.

He moved with great caution, using waist-high weeds for cover. It took him nearly half an hour to reach the boat. Lying in the grass, he immediately saw Dunwu dressed as a boatman in the cabin, with Ma Su concealed behind him.

Wei Ba raised three fingers, turned his palm over twice, then pointed toward the place where Jin Dongliu was hiding behind him, indicating that Jin Dongliu was thirty paces away. Hu Ji, hidden in the shadows inside the cabin, nodded and lowered his voice so that only they could hear.

“We saw the two spies you encountered while staying in the cave,” Ma Su whispered. “The Chancellor was very pleased with how you dealt with them. He has already declared you dead and closed the murder case. Aside from the Chancellor and your father, only the three of us know that you are still alive.”

Wei Ba nodded, but his spirits sank. The secrecy was necessary, yet he was certain that his elder brother Wei Feng, his younger brother Wei Wu, his mother Madam Deng, and the little girl Lan’er would all be devastated by the belief that he was dead. He sniffed and forced himself to shake off his sorrow. Then he told Hu Ji that Sima Yi had arranged two spy teams in Hanzhong, operating under the codename Black Fish, and that they might well be connected to the Peng family.

He had not dared leave the information in the cave. Jin Dongliu had been sitting right beside him, and Wei Ba could not risk revealing the slightest clue.

Ma Su listened carefully, then shook his head regretfully. “Although we haven’t moved against Li Miao, we have intensified our surveillance. We haven’t seen anything unusual. If our guess is correct, they cut off contact with Li Miao before taking action.”

“That bastard is cautious,” Wei Ba cursed helplessly.

After waiting a while longer, Ma Su quietly slipped into the water from behind the boat. Only then did Dunwu emerge from the cabin, pretending to meet Wei Ba. Wei Ba hurried back, and Dunwu brought Jin Dongliu out of hiding and carried him aboard.

Jin Dongliu had seen everything clearly from his hiding place and knew that this young man was the “luck” Wei Ba had spoken of. Gratefully, he said, “Thank you for saving my life, brave sir. May I ask your name?”

Dunwu remained silent. He stepped out of the cabin and began rowing, sending the little boat downstream.

“He’s one of my personal guards.” Wei Ba opened a bundle prepared inside the cabin, took out some food, and handed it to Jin Dongliu, who was ravenous. “When I sent for your help, I didn’t place all my hopes in your side either.”

Jin Dongliu devoured the food so greedily that he nearly choked. Wei Ba picked up a jar of water and poured a few mouthfuls into his throat. Then he shook several travel documents in his hand and laughed. “Look. My father prepared these for me. From now on, we can travel openly and without fear.”

Jin Dongliu stared at him. “Your father knew you weren’t dead?”

“Not yet. I don’t know whether he’ll be able to recognize that the corpse is a fake.” Wei Ba sighed. “But since my personal guard never returned, he should be able to guess something. No one knows a son better than his father. Other than him, who could possibly understand me?”

Only then did Jin Dongliu understand what Wei Ba meant by luck. It was the luck born of a father’s love for his son. Wei Yan had ultimately refused to abandon the son who had killed a man and had made preparations for his escape. That was Wei Ba’s good fortune—and his own.

He nodded, turned over, and lay down on the small bed prepared inside the cabin. Then he closed his eyes.

Far behind them, Ma Su quietly climbed ashore, shook the water from his clothes, and watched the departing boat as he let out a long breath.