Chapter Sixty-One: Let's Make a Bet

“I am quite curious, Your Highness. At such a young age, how is it that you are so well-acquainted with the affairs of my sect? Would Your Highness be so kind as to enlighten me?”
Fang La did not beat around the bush, nor did he indulge in empty pleasantries; he went straight to the point.
Both Fang La and Wang Yin were masters of martial arts, so they hardly spared a thought for Lin Chong and Wu Song.
“Since you, Master Fang, worship the Bright Lord, you must be aware of the legend of the reincarnated divine child.”
If you can spin a tale, I can weave a greater one. This is invoking the name of divinity.
Sure enough, Fang La was stunned by Zhao Yu’s words, thinking to himself, “I use talk of ghosts and gods to fool the ignorant, but this brat can spin even better yarns? He even dares to make up a story about a reincarnated divine child.”
With a cold snort he barked, “Nonsense.”
Zhao Yu shrugged and said, “Whether you believe it or not is up to you, Master Fang. But I repeat: think thrice before you act. The Song Dynasty has stood for over a hundred years. Though traitors and sycophants now disrupt the court, it is not so easily shaken by a few crooked schemes.”
“Besides, Master Fang, your ambitions are an open secret. Do you really think you have any hope of success?”
After all that was said, only this last statement struck home with Fang La.
“May I ask Your Highness, what brings you to the South?”
Wang Yin, seeing his leader at a loss, hurried to smooth things over.
“Master Wang, your question is hardly fair. Don’t you know why I’ve come? Rumor in the court has it that I am a Manichean, yet as far as I recall, I have only ever spoken of the sect’s origins to Master Deng. And just who was it that spread this tale?”
As Zhao Yu spoke, he shook his head, as if disappointed in Fang La.
Wang Yin, being Fang La’s chief general, was clearly a man of uncommon intellect. Hearing Zhao Yu’s words turn the tables, he quickly asked, “Does Your Highness truly believe you can change anything?”
“When a dynasty thrives, the people suffer; when it falls, the people suffer still. I will do my utmost and leave the rest to fate. Perhaps I cannot change the world, but I will never, for my own gain, abandon the lives of countless common folk.”
“Master Fang, you will not succeed by such means. The court may be blinded for a time by villains, but it cannot remain so forever. If you would turn wholeheartedly to virtue, I would gladly join hands with you to do something truly meaningful, to seek prosperity for the people of Jiangnan. What say you?”
No sooner had Zhao Yu finished speaking than a cry arose from the rear courtyard: “Assassins! Protect His Highness!”
Everyone in the hall, save Zhao Yu and General Xu, was seasoned in the ways of the world. At the sound of the alarm, none moved.
“Master Fang, believe me or not, but that stone is truly not in my possession. You need not trouble yourself further.”
A diversion, an old trick. The moment Zhao Yu heard commotion in the back, he understood at once.

“Young as you are, your tongue is sharp indeed. I truly underestimated you. But have you considered your own situation? Though you are a prince, you are out of favor with the emperor, shunned by your brothers and ministers. You have gathered a few rabble-rousers—do you really think they can keep you safe? Let me show you a better path: join my sect. With your status and talent, and the support of my followers, you could yet make something of yourself.”
“Enough! How dare you utter such treasonous words? Commander Lin, seize this villain at once!”
General Xu could listen no longer—what manner of men were these, to entice a prince into joining a heretical cult? Such audacity!
Lin Chong too had been silent long enough. From the moment Zhao Yu addressed Fang La as Master, he had guessed their identities, but without Zhao Yu’s order, and for fear of harming him, he dared not act rashly.
Before Lin Chong could move, Zhao Yu waved his hand. “Master Fang is here alone; let us not be inhospitable.”
“Master Fang, shall we make a wager?”
“A wager? On what?”
“Let us set a term of two years. If I cannot bring change to Jiangnan within that time, I will present myself for your judgment. But if I can, you must disband the Manichean sect and serve as a guard in my estate. What say you?”
A wager between friends is a diversion; a wager between kings is but a jest, for neither would ever believe the words of the other.
Yet Zhao Yu was confident Fang La would accept. Their conversation had already sown doubt in Fang La’s heart about rebellion—perhaps he was not yet ready, and would seize the chance to delay.
“Your Highness!”
General Xu, well-versed in court affairs, could not help but interject, but Zhao Yu silenced him with a wave.
Zhao Yu said nothing more, merely holding Fang La’s gaze.
Neither spoke; for a long moment they stared at each other, as if conversing in silence.
“Let us hope Your Highness is as good as your word.”
“A gentleman’s promise!”
“And a swift horse to seal it!”
With that, Fang La gave Zhao Yu a long, searching look, then turned and strode away.
As Fang La and Wang Yin disappeared into the distance, General Xu cried, “Your Highness, why let them go?”
“Heh! Could we have held them?”
Zhao Yu turned to Lin Chong and Wu Song, his expression grave. “Brothers, I fear you’ll have to work harder these days. Take extra precautions.”

Lin Chong said nothing, but Wu Song bowed deeply. “Rest assured, Your Highness. I, Wu Song, swear to defend you with my life.”
For men who despise evil, Zhao Yu’s speech carried more weight than any oath. It was this sense of shared purpose that inspired Wu Song’s loyalty.
Looking at the somber faces around him, General Xu could not help but wonder—had they not agreed to two years? Why so tense?
Born of the court, honest to a fault, General Xu could never comprehend the ways of the martial world...

Fang La and Wang Yin left Zhao Yu’s temporary residence, winding through alleys until they reached an abandoned, uninhabited house. No sooner had they arrived than several men in black emerged from behind a crumbling wall.
“Forgive us, Master—we failed to find what you sought.”
The speaker was none other than Baoguang Tathagata, Deng Yuanjue, with Pang Wanchun at his side.
A stern light flashed in Fang La’s eyes as he said in a low voice, “This boy cannot be allowed to live. If he does, he will become a grave threat to our sect.”
Deng Yuanjue hesitated, about to speak, but fell silent as Fang La turned his gaze upon him.
“Master, send your men to persuade the people to return home. Zhao Yu is right—the time is not yet ripe. We must prepare more thoroughly.”
“Brother Wang, let Brother Lü handle this. As for the experts at Zhao Yu’s side, tell our men to put safety first—avoid exposure and unnecessary fights.”
“Rest assured, Master. I will see to it at once.”
Wang Yin nodded, but even as he spoke, countless dark shapes descended from above—dozens of arrows, loosed without warning.
“An ambush! Protect the Master—go!”
The group parried arrows as they retreated in haste.
“Master Fang, you were not easy to find! Attack! Ten thousand silver taels to the man who kills Fang La!”
At this cry, black-clad men surged in from all directions, weapons drawn, charging at Fang La and his companions.
“Song Jiang! So it’s you, you treacherous dog...”