Chapter Twenty-One: The Fifth Watch Drum Beyond Jinling City

After confirming that Anyao had not appeared, Xu You emerged from the secret chamber and walked onto the deck. Only then, seeing the guards sprawled in disarray across the floor, did he realize the ferocity of his battle with Feiyao had far exceeded his expectations. Some sat, some lay down, their limbs weak and dangling, blades and spears abandoned by their sides, their faces still bearing traces of fear that seemed to speak, in another language, of the terror Feiyao had inflicted upon them.

Eight men had perished in this encounter, several more wounded—less than the casualties suffered in the battle with Shaya, yet the psychological pressure and specter of death Feiyao had wrought upon them far surpassed the combined shadows cast by Shaya and Yueyao. That single spear, hurled from the darkness with a shrill, piercing screech and unstoppable force, was a memory none of them would ever forget as long as they lived.

Zuo Wen had already removed the red cloak he’d worn during the ambush on Feiyao. Spotting Xu You, he strode quickly over. Xu You pressed his palms together and bowed deeply, his tone earnest: “Captain, you have worked hard!”

“I dare not accept such praise!” Zuo Wen shifted aside to avoid Xu You’s salute, replying forthrightly, “Had it not been for Deng Tao and the brothers who fought so valiantly to drive Feiyao to the brink of exhaustion, I would hardly have succeeded in the ambush.”

Xu You patted him on the shoulder, saying no more. Led by Zuo Wen, he approached Feiyao’s corpse. Staring down at this giant, robust body, he marveled inwardly. It was often said that people in ancient times were short, but from all he had seen since his arrival in this era, that was utter nonsense.

“You fought him—what level of martial attainment would you estimate he had reached?”

Zuo Wen replied with lingering fear, “It’s hard to say. He’d already sustained internal injuries fighting Deng Tao, and when he leaped onto the mast, his guard was at its lowest. Even so, I gave my all with that crescent arrow, and he nearly dodged it. You know the poison on that arrow kills instantly with no cure, yet after being struck, Feiyao still exchanged a dozen blows with me. All were direct, no tricks—sheer strength against strength. Only then did the poison take its toll and bring him down...”

Zuo Wen’s true ability was at the sixth rank, likely on par with Shaya. Thus, Feiyao must have been at the upper limit of the sixth rank, perhaps a step away from the fifth, on the threshold of the “Little Grandmaster” realm.

Yet, human strength always has its limits; martial prowess alone does not determine victory. With the right strategy, coordinated effort, and a dash of cunning, even someone as formidable as Feiyao had met his end here.

After witnessing Feiyao’s death, Deng Tao had immediately sat cross-legged where he stood, circulating his energy to mend the internal injuries to his meridians. Only now did he finish his breathing exercises and approach, a little pale. “Feiyao’s martial skill was formidable, but if it had been anyone else of similar rank, they would not have been nearly so difficult to handle. What made him truly fearsome was the experience gained from countless brushes with death. No matter how desperate the situation, he could instantly find a way to respond, often turning danger into a counterattack no one saw coming.”

These were words of wisdom. Rank alone defined one’s level in the martial path, but not the outcome of life-and-death struggles. Before Xu You lost his martial abilities, he had reached the sixth rank at fifteen, yet if he had faced Feiyao one-on-one, there was no doubt—he would have died.

A faint understanding seemed to dawn on Xu You—he had grasped something, though he could not name it. All his knowledge of martial arts came from the memories he had inherited, but those belonged to a young noble who had never truly fought on the battlefield, roamed the world, or faced mortal danger. They were not worthless, but compared to what he had witnessed and realized today, it was the difference between kindergarten and a postdoctoral degree.

Zuo Wen glanced at Deng Tao with a furrowed brow, clearly harboring suspicions, but said nothing further in Xu You’s presence, intending to speak with him privately later. In truth, had Deng Tao not exceeded all expectations, they might not have been able to bring Feiyao down. Everyone had their secrets and burdens. Zuo Wen was not envious of talent; as long as Deng Tao had a good explanation, he was prepared to recommend him to Commandant Ye upon their return to Jinling.

Xu You crouched beside Feiyao’s body and, after some searching, found an identical token, inscribed on the front with the words “Grand General.”

Zuo Wen, seeing it for the first time, asked in puzzlement, “What is this?”

Xu You ran his fingers over the token’s edge, his gaze profound and unreadable, and murmured, “I would like to know the answer to that as well...”

Night’s curtain hung low and star-strewn; occasionally, crows and sparrows flitted by, stirring the river breeze. The Yuan family’s great ship sailed steadily along the canal. As Jinling city came into distant view, it was near the hour of the Ox. Feng Tong stretched and yawned, fatigue written plain on her face. “Master Xu, the evening drum has long since sounded and the city gates are tightly shut. We’ll need to anchor outside for the night and wait for the fifth watch’s bell tomorrow to enter.”

Since the Han and Wei dynasties, curfews had been the norm. When Cao Cao served as county magistrate, he had five-colored staves hung by the city gates—anyone caught breaking curfew at night was beaten to death. When Wei fell and Chu rose, and wars raged across north and south, curfews only grew stricter in tumultuous times: “At dusk the gates are closed, and at the fifth watch reopened. Any who trespass in alleys or fields are flogged seventy times; those drunk, resisting arrest, or fighting at night are beaten to death.”

“Dusk closure” meant that once the day’s hours in the bell and drum tower were spent, four hundred drumbeats sounded, the gates were shut, all movement, feasting, and lighting forbidden—this was what Feng Tong called the “evening drum.” “Fifth watch opening” meant that at the fifth watch the next morning, four hundred bell strokes sounded, the gates reopened, and life resumed—hence, the “morning bell.” Of course, exceptions were made for urgent official business, funerals, illness, or childbirth.

Xu You was well versed in these customs and found nothing unusual. “I leave all arrangements to you,” he replied.

The Yuan family’s great ship slowly docked at the quay. Outside Jinling’s walls, there was little danger. Feng Tong, exhausted after the day’s ordeal, could no longer restrain herself and retired to another cabin to bathe. Xu You, though weary from the day’s tension, felt mentally refreshed, though his body was weak and his stomach painfully empty. In his previous life, he was used to staying up late and enjoying midnight snacks. In Yixing, he had dared not indulge, but now the thought crossed his mind, and he joked with Zuo Wen, “Captain, is there an imperial meal to stave off my hunger?”

By “imperial meal,” Xu You meant a midnight snack. The tradition of nighttime feasts had a long history: in the “Annals of Master Yan,” there is a record of Duke Jing of Qi visiting Master Yan’s home to eat and drink late at night. Of course, this was a privilege reserved for emperors—a so-called “imperial meal,” or a fourth meal in the day.

As for why emperors ate four times daily, Ban Gu of the Han dynasty explained in the “White Tiger Compendium: Rites and Music” that because the ruler possessed all four directions, he should partake of four meals, reaping the bounty of every season. By this logic, anyone in Xu You’s previous world who loved midnight snacks was living like an ancient emperor.

As for whether requesting an “imperial meal” might be taboo, the spirit of the age was one of freedom and unrestrained thought. The more eccentric and law-defying one was, the more they were seen as possessing the air of a true gentleman. No one would find such a request unusual.

Zuo Wen now held Xu You in deep respect. An extra meal was nothing; even several more would not matter. He immediately prepared to order his soldiers to arrange it. As a first-rank captain, he commanded authority second only to Feng Tong on the ship—such a small matter was easily within his power.

“Wait,” Xu You said. “If we’re making food, let’s make more. Send some to Commander Deng as well, and to the soldiers on night watch. Let everyone eat their fill.” Deng Tao, injured, was told to rest in his cabin and not stand guard.

“But...” Zuo Wen hesitated.

Xu You met his gaze. “Are you afraid Steward Feng will be displeased?”

“You may not know, master, but the Yuan household has never had this custom. For soldiers to eat three square meals a day is already a sign of our lord’s benevolence and generosity. How could we dare to expect more?”

Whether in times of chaos or peace, for ordinary people, it always came down to getting enough to eat. Xu You replied with gravity, “No matter. If Steward Feng is angry, I’ll smooth things over myself. Even before Lord Yuan, no one would punish us for rewarding these brave men with a hearty meal.”

Zuo Wen gritted his teeth. “Since you have said so, master, it would shame me not to obey. Men, did you hear the master? Why are you still standing there? Go at once!”

When Feng Tong, freshly bathed and changed, passed by and found the men eating and drinking with high spirits, she quickly learned it was Xu You’s idea. Enraged, but with Jinling in sight and business pressing, she chose not to pursue it and returned to her cabin to sleep, not even bothering to see Xu You.

Xu You cared little for her mood. Not only did he eat heartily himself, he had a portion sent to Qiufen as well. Earlier, to protect against the Four Yao Arrows’ assassination attempt, he’d had Qiufen hide among the Yuan family’s maidservants in the lowest hold, which turned out to be the safest place. With the danger past, knowing she was surely worried about him and had not slept, and wanting to take a little more advantage of the Yuan family, he made sure she received a night meal too.

Refreshed and wide awake after eating, Xu You had Zuo Wen order everyone not to speak of the capture and killing of Feiyao. Then he drew Zuo Wen into light conversation. Though a man of arms, Zuo Wen was literate, intelligent, and well-traveled; he and Xu You got along well. So the hours passed until the fifth watch, when the bells of Jinling began to ring, soon followed by the rising tide of voices. Hundreds of boats along the quay disgorged their passengers, and the business of unloading and trading began between the dock and the city.

Xu You took Qiufen ashore and climbed into the ox cart that had already been arranged, rolling slowly and steadily towards Jinling’s gates. It was Qiufen’s first time here; her bright eyes darted everywhere, and she could not help but comment on the differences from Yixing: “...The city walls are a bit low... but the gate arch is quite wide. Oh, look, little master, there’s a watergate—one, two, three, three of them! How odd...”