Chapter 287: The Bandit Series – Kidnapping the Bride (Part III)

The following day, Ye Yuzhu, Gan Zhao, and Qian Chuanzi officially set up a temporary base at Shulong Fortress. Using Old Monster Xiong’s large mahogany table, they mapped out the basic plan for the kidnapping. However, a significant problem remained: Lady Xue’s father’s dilapidated ancestral home was located outside the city. When Marshal Zhao came to claim his bride, he would likely lead the procession personally, accompanied by a large contingent of militia.

“Given who we are, it’s best if we avoid too much conflict with government troops. Once we snatch her, we retreat immediately,” Gan Zhao suggested.

Qian Chuanzi nodded vigorously. “Young Master Gan is right. Those soldiers fall under Marshal Zhao’s command. If we snatch the bride and wound his men, he’ll definitely seek revenge later. Gentlemen, have the two of you… w-what happens after we snatch her? Have you discussed that part?”

The question left Gan Zhao and Ye Yuzhu staring at each other. Both were in the prime of their youth, full of vigor but lacking the comprehensive foresight of the slightly older Qian Chuanzi. Driven by hot-blooded impulse, they had focused entirely on snatching the bride without anticipating the aftermath.

Gan Zhao was the first to recover. He cupped his fists toward Qian Chuanzi. “Chuanzi, you are older than us. What is your esteemed opinion on this matter?”

Qian Chuanzi pressed his palms together and bowed back to Gan Zhao. “Oh, please, I don’t deserve such praise! It’s hardly an esteemed opinion. It’s just that Lady Xue is an unmarried maiden. If we snatch her from the bridal sedan, where do we put her? We’re all men; we can’t exactly hide her here in a bandit fortress, can we?”

Ye Yuzhu stood up to speak, but Gan Zhao immediately pressed him back down. “Not the Ye family home! If you bring a woman back out of nowhere and try to hide her, your father would be merciful if he only beat you to death.”

Forced back into his seat, Ye Yuzhu leaned one hand on the table, feeling a massive headache coming on. Silence fell over the group for a long moment. Finally, Ye Yuzhu slammed his fist on the table and snapped his fan open. “At worst, I’ll just tell my father the truth. It’s nothing more than a severe thrashing. Even if my skin is flayed and I’m bedridden for six months, I, Ye Yuzhu, will take responsibility for my own actions. I won’t drag my brothers into this.”

Before he could finish, Gan Zhao reached out and grabbed Ye Yuzhu’s wrist. “Don’t talk so pessimistically just yet. There’s still room to maneuver. Neither of you can handle housing her, but I can. I just remembered that my late father bought half an acre of land outside the city. It’s just a thatched cottage, but once it’s cleaned up, it will be a suitable temporary residence. We should settle Lady Xue there first while we figure out our next move.”

“Good, good! Master Gan, that’s a solid plan!” Qian Chuanzi clapped in approval, then leaned in to ask, “But Master Gan, why did you say only you can do this?”

Gan Zhao glanced at Ye Yuzhu. “Your Eldest Young Master Ye’s superb light-body techniques are famous not just in the Central Plains, but throughout the entire greenwood. Even if he wears a black mask and robes, any of Marshal Zhao’s soldiers with a bit of experience would recognize him. Since both you and Yuzhu are tied to the Ye family, you can’t sever that connection, so there’s a risk of discovery.”

Old Monster Xiong, draped in his mink cloak, nodded as he stroked the beard on his chin, listening intently.

Gan Zhao concluded his explanation. “So, as long as we hide Lady Xue well and ensure Marshal Zhao has no evidence or person to find, the Ye family’s influence is enough to ensure that even a domineering Marshal won’t be able to stir up much trouble in Linying. However…”

He turned to Ye Yuzhu and patted his shoulder. “However, our little tricks won’t escape your father’s sharp eyes. So, Yuzhu, you’ll still have to endure a bit of physical discipline.”

Hearing this, Ye Yuzhu rose, grabbed a large jar of yellow wine from the table, and poured himself a full bowl. Seeing him raise the bowl, Gan Zhao and Qian Chuanzi naturally stood up with him. Old Monster Xiong, having never learned such etiquette, took a moment longer to react.

“This is a matter of great importance. I, Ye Yuzhu, toast you brothers with this wine. Regardless of success or failure, we shall give our all.” With that, Ye Yuzhu drained the bowl in one gulp.

Gan Zhao and Qian Chuanzi immediately poured their own bowls. Old Monster Xiong hurried to follow suit and poured one for himself. Gan Zhao said, “With our sincere cooperation, we will surely overcome every obstacle and achieve complete success.”

With that, the three of them drank together.

A month passed in the blink of an eye, and soon the third day of the month arrived. The Marshal’s wedding procession set out from the city with horses and mules, accompanied by a matchmaker and flanked by soldiers carrying rifles. Gongs and drums filled the air with clamor, and from before dawn the suona^[1] had been blaring its lively tunes. The group marched all the way to the dilapidated house of Lady Xue’s father.

Marshal Zhao wore a military uniform that sat crookedly on his frame, a strange mix of local and foreign styles. He slouched in his saddle, a Luzi tucked into his waist and an opium pipe in his mouth. Anyone seeing this display couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. The rumors were true: this man was a rising local warlord, not a proper soldier.

Soon, the matchmaker led a young woman out of the house. She was bound tightly with ropes and dressed in bridal red. A veil covered her head, but her frame was thin and frail. It seemed she hadn’t been fed in a long time, so weak she could barely stand.

At a nod from Marshal Zhao, the matchmaker pushed the young woman into the sedan chair. As soon as the curtain fell, the music struck up again. Someone shouted, “The bride is departing!” and the procession began its swaying march once more.

As the sun rose higher, the wedding party entered a stretch of high mountain forest. A cool breeze rustled the bamboo leaves. It was a rare, bright winter day, and surrounded by his men, the Marshal was lulled into laziness by the warm sun.

Just as he closed his eyes to enjoy his tobacco, a sudden, unnatural wind whipped up. Volleys of arrows whistled out from the surrounding bamboo groves. In an instant, over a dozen soldiers were struck down, killed on the spot. Startled by the sound of tearing air, the horses began bucking wildly. The musicians scattered in terror to save their lives, and the wedding procession was instantly thrown into chaos.

To his credit, Marshal Zhao was indeed a hardened veteran of battle. He tossed aside his long pipe, yanked the reins, pulled the Luzi from his waist, and fired a shot into the air. “Don’t panic!”

A sudden silence followed, as if there would be no further movement after the volley of arrows. Holding his gun in one hand and steadying his horse with the other, Marshal Zhao shouted into the woods, “Which hero of the greenwood is out there? Today is my, Zhao’s, wedding day! What do you want? Do you dare show yourselves!”

The words had barely left his mouth when a streak of silver light grazed Marshal Zhao’s ear. His horse let out a sharp neigh and bucked him off. As soldiers scrambled to help the disheveled Marshal Zhao to his feet, they saw two red-tasseled throwing knives embedded three fen deep into a bamboo stalk. The blades had split the wood clean through, a testament to the formidable skill of whoever threw them.

Before Marshal Zhao could even catch his breath, countless masked outlaws armed with knives and spears leaped down from the cliffs above. They let out earth-shaking war cries, charging toward the wedding procession like a rising tide. These bandits were seasoned killers and thieves, and they handled their weapons with lethal efficiency.

Seeing his ranks broken and his few soldiers no match for the swarming outlaws, Marshal Zhao immediately cast aside his heavy gear. He decisively yanked open the sedan chair curtain, intending to take the woman and flee. But in that instant, he caught sight of a flash of red: a masked figure was already carrying the bride on their back, using the chaos to vanish into the depths of the bamboo forest.

The motive behind the attack gradually became clear to Zhao Shuai. He grabbed the reins of a panicked horse and galloped after the figure, raising his gun and firing. The shot struck the person in the leg, sending them collapsing to their knees.

Just as Zhao Shuai thought he was about to capture the bandit leader, a bamboo stalk ahead suddenly bent low across the path. Unable to stop in time, the horse tripped on the bamboo, throwing both horse and rider to the ground. The horse broke its leg, struggling a couple of times before growing still, as Zhao Shuai’s gun flew from his hand in an instant.

His face covered in blood, Zhao Shuai stared at the person who had descended out of nowhere, clutching a handful of dirt into a tight fist as his teeth ground in sheer hatred. The skilled warrior stepped down from the bamboo and paused beside him for a long moment, seemingly harboring an equally bitter loathing for him. Ultimately, however, the stranger walked over to help the shot comrade up. Taking the bride with them, the two vanished into the mountain forest together.