25 The Death of Pang Cong

As Pang Renmei arrived at the prison, Jing Wei’s eyelids twitched, a persistent feeling that something was about to go wrong.

Jing Lan’s arranged marriage had fallen through, and he had lost two of his top courtesans. Jing Wei had returned home in a foul mood; ever since the ambush on the Crown Prince, it felt as if nothing was going his way. After consuming a dose of Five Minerals Powder, he hurried into Xu Chenying’s room.

Little Cui covered her ears, muttering under her breath, "The little hussy, no shame or modesty, getting worse by the day... Is it really necessary to scream so loudly? Can’t others live in peace? Bah, shameless!"

"Little Cui, watch your tongue. Do not speak nonsense; you are becoming increasingly insolent. If you dare disparage the Prince or the secondary consort again, you shall slap your own mouth," Yang Simin said with a hint of irritation.

"This servant will never dare again," Little Cui replied, lowering her head with a reddened face.

Yang Simin sighed. Ever since Li Lingli had gifted her a set of erotic lingerie, she often found herself wallowing in self-pity in the quiet of the night. In the mirror, her skin appeared fair and delicate; her bosom was full and straining against her clothes, while her hips were round and firm like a full moon. She had even pinched herself a few times, watching the skin spring back instantly—she was quite supple. Yet, she could never seem to capture the Prince’s favor. She had secretly sent Little Cui to purchase two more sets of lingerie, always fantasizing that the Prince might one day visit her room.

After a long while, the door creaked open. Jing Wei departed, not even glancing in her direction.

"Master, I have a feeling we have underestimated Jing Chen. We must pay him serious attention and have him watched closely starting now," Jing Wei said.

"What is your basis for this? Just because you lost the Fengxiao Sword in a gamble?" Dongfang Ying asked, confused.

"I have no evidence, but I feel he is my greatest enemy," Jing Wei insisted.

"My pupil, believe in yourself; you are the best! Do not harbor such a mindset. It is fear—you have already lost to him psychologically. Trust your master: as long as you make no mistakes, your entry into the Eastern Palace is all but certain. You decimated fifteen thousand of the Northern Di elite and quelled the rebels; no one can compare to such merit," Dongfang Ying declared.

"Master, only by knowing both yourself and the enemy can you win a hundred battles without peril. I know too little about my enemy; that is what is truly terrifying," Jing Wei persisted.

"Fine. I will have the Earth Fiends of the Burning Heaven Palace mobilized," Dongfang Ying conceded.

"Has the message been sent to Fulong Ridge?" Jing Wei asked again.

"The best defense is an offense. I have already set the strategy for them to ambush the Third Prince. Whether he returns alive depends on his own fortune," Dongfang Ying said, full of confidence.

Pang Renmei arrived at the prison with food and wine from the Deyi Restaurant. He handed a stack of banknotes to the jailer and said with deep sorrow, "Tomorrow is the day my son is to be executed. As a father, I wish to see him one last time; it is only right to honor our bond."

The jailer replied, "You are a benevolent official, Minister. Please accept my condolences."

Upon seeing Pang Renmei, Pang Cong cried out, "Father, save me! I don’t want to die... Father!"

Pang Renmei retorted angrily, "I have no such rebellious son; do not call me father." Then, he quickly whispered, "If you don’t want to die, listen to me. I have arranged everything... You must never return to the capital. I will have you sent to Youyun Province, where you will live without worry. This is a fake-death poison. Once I leave, swallow it immediately..."

Pang Cong grinned. "Ah, Father, I already knew that. I know what to do. You go back and prepare for my funeral!"

Pang Renmei was stunned. A fleeting thought flashed through his mind, only to be eclipsed by irritation at the boy’s words. *Rebellious child, you’ll be the death of me! What does he mean, prepare for the funeral? If you can’t speak properly, don’t speak at all.*

"Very well, I am leaving!" Pang Renmei shook his head and walked out of the prison.

"I won't eat prison food; I’d better take the medicine quickly. I want to get out of here," Pang Cong muttered to himself. He washed down the fake-death pill with the wine.

Pang Renmei felt something was off. Sitting in his carriage, he carefully replayed the scene. *Wait, why did he say he already knew? Had someone told him beforehand? But he was only sentenced two days ago, and I hadn't seen him to avoid suspicion. And the Second Prince only thought of the 'Golden Cicada Shedding its Shell' scheme recently...*

A sense of foreboding washed over him.

Jing Ming led two thousand elite troops into the Fulong Ridge canyon, where the cliffs stood steep and the wind whistled with an ominous chill. He had studied military classics since childhood and knew that speed was the essence of suppressing bandits. He did not know, however, that the "Grey Harrier" had already received a secret letter from Dongfang Ying and had set an inescapable trap.

Jing Ming was cautious and prudent. This was his first time leading troops, so he was extremely careful. Furthermore, it was reported that there were fewer than five hundred bandits in Fulong Ridge. Even so, he dispatched scouts to probe ahead, advancing layer by layer.

The bandits did not meet them head-on, but instead lured them deeper. Once Jing Ming’s troops had fully entered the narrow pass, rolling logs and heavy boulders were pushed down from the heights on both sides, cutting off his vanguard and rearguard. At the same time, the bandits in front feigned a retreat, drawing the soldiers into a dry area already soaked in lamp oil. Fire arrows rained down, and a wall of fire rose instantly, splitting and burning the unit.

Using the terrain and the cover of thick smoke, the bandits scrambled down from secret caves in the rock face to launch a surprise attack from the flanks and rear. Jing Ming’s troops, unable to retreat or advance, fell into disarray. Though they fought desperately, they were completely surrounded. The bandit leader used fire to block their path, decoys to lure them, and the geography to launch surprise attacks; the layered tactics pushed Jing Ming to the brink of destruction.

Looking at the fewer than two hundred bodyguards remaining, Jing Ming’s eyes were bloodshot. Most were wounded and in a sorry state.

"Leave, Your Highness! As long as the green hills remain, there is no need to worry about firewood. We will carve a path of blood to escort you back to the capital," his guards knelt and pleaded.

"Why? Why? I have two thousand elite soldiers, yet I cannot defeat mere bandits?" Jing Ming was consumed by resentment.

"Your Highness, someone must have leaked the military intelligence..." another general said, his eyes red.

"Impossible. My second brother and I are as close as brothers. It was I who asked him for permission to lead this campaign, and he who recommended me. Let's go! Follow me and break through!" Jing Ming roared.

"We swear to follow Your Highness to the death!" the men knelt and cried in unison.

...

"Something is wrong! Young Master Pang has poisoned himself!" The jailers discovered it during the shift change at the hour of the Dog—seven in the evening.

"Who had contact with Young Master Pang today?" the prison warden asked.

"Minister Pang, Pang Renmei, was here," the jailer replied.

"He is to be beheaded tomorrow; there is no reason for a father to poison his own son. Have the coroner examine the food, wine, and the body," the warden ordered.

After the examination, the coroner reported, "Boss, there is no poison in the food or utensils. The man is dead. It has been recorded."

"Should we toss him into the mass grave?"

"Forget it. Once a man is dead, his debts are settled. He is, after all, the grandson of the Grand Tutor and the son of a Minister. Notify Minister Pang and let him handle the burial properly," the warden said, a smirk playing on his lips. He had already pocketed a bribe of three thousand taels.

Pang Renmei hurried over with his servants and a physician, a lingering sense of unease gnawing at his heart.