FYM - 29

He was not a man of lofty ideals or detached desires. He had come here with aspirations for fame and glory—not only to carve out his own achievements but also to secure pride and standing for his mother and two sisters. However, this year had been particularly unfortunate. Yesterday’s unexpected mishap had delayed his hunting, and today’s heavy snow made movement difficult. The brothers accompanying him were all scholarly men, offering no help and instead becoming burdens.

At the moment, Song Mingshi’s horse was deeply mired in the snow. Naturally, the others dismounted to assist. He expressed his regret, saying: “I came to Lishan merely for amusement, so being stuck now isn’t a big deal. Let Zi Qiu go ahead—don’t let me delay his important work.”

Another cousin, Song Mingran, nodded in agreement. Unexpectedly, the eldest legitimate son of their father, Song Mingzhuo, who was notoriously lacking in tact, spoke up: “There’s no need to rush at this moment. How many people can draw a bow to shoot an eagle and gain instant fame? Even if we leave Elder Brother here, it’s unlikely we’ll win any glory. In the end, gaining nothing while losing righteousness would be like using precious pearls to shoot sparrows—a poor trade indeed.”

He truly lived up to being the biological brother of Song’s third daughter; his sharp tongue and thinly veiled sarcasm were inherited directly from their mother, Lady Wan. The younger members of the Song family’s second branch, seeing the internal conflict among the first branch, exchanged glances and chose to remain spectators. Song Mingzhen felt resentment but knew his elder brother didn’t wish him well. His face turned cold as he replied: “Lord Fang is extraordinarily gifted and incomparable to ordinary people. I have no intention of seeking overnight success through reckless ambition. This is merely the first step of a thousand-mile journey. Elder Brother has already secured his position, so why begrudge me now?”

His words were too blunt, leaving no room for subtlety. The younger members of the second branch sneered inwardly, their gazes tinged with mockery. Song Mingzhuo’s face darkened, but before he could retort, his younger brother mounted his horse and declared: “Elder Brother is so considerate—I can’t refuse. I’ll take my leave first.”

With that, he spurred his horse and disappeared into the distance.

Though the verbal sparring had been satisfying, the hardships of venturing alone into the deep forest without assistance still weighed heavily on him.

All around him, young men rode confidently, accompanied by servants holding falcons and hounds. Only he was followed by two inexperienced servants from his household, unable to hand him arrows quickly enough when swift beasts darted past. This image was undeniably awkward, drawing teasing remarks from passing noble youths: “Shall I lend you a few wild boars or deer, Lord Song? It’s better than returning empty-handed and embarrassing your family!”

How could Song Mingzhen endure such taunts? Ignoring their jeers, he pressed deeper into the forest. Upon entering the fifth zone, he heard the howling of wolves, sending shivers down the spines of the two servants trailing behind him. But Song Mingzhen, skilled and fearless, kept his bowstring taut, eyes scanning every direction, ears alert. Suddenly, he heard an unusual sound behind him. Instantly, he drew his bow fully and released an arrow. It sliced through the air with tremendous force, striking a gray wolf hiding behind a massive tree right between its eyes. The beast let out a mournful cry, thrashed in the snow for a few moments, then lay still.

The two servants, initially shocked, erupted in joy, thinking the wolf intent on ambushing them was now dead. But before they could retrieve the prey, a pair of green eyes emerged from the distance. Soon after, a pack of wolves appeared from behind the trees, their bloodied mouths filled with sharp teeth, ready to tear apart their quarry.

Seeing this, the two servants collapsed to their knees, trembling like leaves. But Song Mingzhen remained calm. Before the wolves could swarm, he loosed three arrows in quick succession, each striking true, showcasing remarkable skill that left onlookers in awe. Occasionally, a wolf managed to leap near his horse, but he swiftly swung his sword, delivering precise and deadly blows. For such a young man, his technique was both steady and ruthless, nearly every strike fatal.

“Bravo!”

A hearty laugh suddenly echoed from the depths of the forest, followed by thunderous hoofbeats—it was none other than Prince Wei Zheng, leading his entourage. With a single arrow, he pierced the neck of a wolf about to pounce on Song Mingzhen. Then, galloping through the encircling pack of wolves, his swordplay was truly heroic, a stark contrast to… the frail Crown Prince.

His followers soon joined him, and within moments, the wolves were slaughtered. Blood splattered across the pristine snow, a sight both terrifying and exhilarating, sending waves of adrenaline coursing through the men.

“I’ve long heard that Lord Song’s second son possesses archery skills rivaling those of legendary marksmen,” Wei Zheng sheathed his sword, his tone cheerful. “I thought it might be exaggerated, but now I see Song Gong truly has raised a young hero. A scholar’s family producing such talent is rare indeed!”

Song Mingzhen, having weathered the storm of blood and chaos, felt a surge of excitement, though he tried to suppress it. Bowing, he replied: “Your Highness flatters me. These are mere trifles, not worth mentioning.”

“No need for modesty, Lord Song,” Wei Zheng waved dismissively, his tone bold. “I admire those with exceptional martial prowess. Today’s hunt disregards rank—we compete solely on skill. I’d love to test myself against you!”

With that, he tightened his reins and asked: “Would Lord Song care to accompany me?”

Such an invitation was undoubtedly a great honor for an ordinary noble youth yet to hold office. It also resolved Song Mingzhen’s predicament of venturing alone without support. The words were already on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly recalled his father and uncle’s warnings from last night: the situation was tense, and upheaval might be imminent. During such turbulent times, he must avoid entanglement in the factional struggles between the Fangs and Zhongs. Regardless of whom he encountered in the forest, he should keep his distance.

Song Mingzhen’s brows furrowed slightly, his earlier excitement dimming. As he hesitated, Prince Wei Zheng pressed again: “What? You refuse?”

His tone had grown colder. The imperial family’s moods were unpredictable—clear skies one moment, storm clouds the next. Song Mingzhen grew solemn but struggled to find a tactful way to decline. Just then, a gentle voice emerged from the distant trees: “No wonder the fifth zone is so quiet—it seems Qin Wang’s advance party has paved the way for us to enjoy the shade.”

Everyone turned toward the sound. From amidst the white snow and deep green foliage, a group of riders emerged, each exuding an aura of refinement and dignity. They were none other than the Fang family’s young men. The speaker was Fang Yuncong, the eldest son. Fang Xianting trailed slightly behind, silent for now.

Seeing his third brother arrive, Song Mingzhen felt a wave of relief. Beside him, the Prince’s gaze darkened further. Though Fang Yuncong had spoken, the Prince’s eyes were fixed on Fang Xianting as he asked: “So Yi Zhi truly has a close relationship with the Songs—yesterday you saved their fourth daughter, and today you’re even contesting with me over their second son?”

The remark was sharp, but Fang Xianting’s expression remained unchanged. Calmly, he replied: “The Sixteen Guards reported that Your Highness entered a region infested with wolves. Fearing for Your Highness’s safety, I came to ensure your protection.”

Protection?

Prince Wei Zheng, deeply favored by the Emperor, was surrounded by capable generals and accompanied by Zhong Xiaoshenjun. How could he easily face danger? Fang Xianting’s foresight was uncanny—he seemed to know exactly when and where Song Mingzhen would encounter the Prince.

Wei Zheng inwardly sneered but outwardly responded indifferently: “Is that so?” He added mockingly: “But it seems the person you wish to protect isn’t here. My brother truly exhausts himself, unable even to mount a horse yet still obsessing over these forest matters. If he could let go of these worldly concerns, perhaps Father wouldn’t worry about him day and night.”

This was a jab at the Crown Prince’s frailty. His attendants quickly caught on and burst into laughter. The youngest, Fang Si, couldn’t contain his anger, his fists itching to fight. Had his elder brother not restrained him, he might have lunged at Zhong Ji, who was laughing the loudest beside the Prince.

“The Eastern Palace’s dignity requires no elaboration—it is the foundation of the nation, the heart of the realm,” Fang Xianting suddenly declared, his voice stern amidst the derision. “You all should serve it with loyalty and respect it with propriety…”

Pausing, he added clearly: “…and never lose sight of its principles.”

A bird flew past a frost-laden branch, and the forest fell into profound silence.

Fang Xianting, known for his aloof and upright demeanor, was usually taciturn and serious, but rarely had he displayed such sharpness and authority. Everyone present knew he was angered now, and the unique pride and majesty of the Fangs of Yingchuan surged forth like a tidal wave. The military officers who had been snickering beside the Prince stiffened immediately, and even Zhong Xiaoshenjun, ever arrogant, dared not laugh anymore.

Wei Zheng watched, his emotions complex. On one hand, he marveled at the Fang family’s unmatched excellence; on the other, he seethed at their refusal to abandon tradition and pledge loyalty to him. When his gaze returned to Fang Xianting, it carried a deeper meaning—they would eventually reach a decisive moment. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the day after.

Or perhaps… today.

Not far away, a branch burdened by snow suddenly snapped, its sharp crack unexpectedly jarring. Wei Zheng turned his horse and departed, leaving behind a chilling remark: “Today’s兴致 (enthusiasm) is ruined. Forget about traveling together. However, if Lord Song’s second son finds himself isolated in the future… he may always seek me out.”

The cryptic words lingered in the misty white air of the deep mountains as the Prince and his entourage disappeared into the distance. Song Mingzhen exhaled deeply, turning to Fang Xianting with a respectful bow, calling him “Third Brother” with gratitude evident in his voice. Fang Xianting nodded in acknowledgment. Meanwhile, Fang Si, noticing Song Mingzhen’s solitude, grinned mischievously and asked: “Were you squeezed out by your elder brothers again? No matter—join us! With Third Brother here, you’ll surely return laden with trophies to delight your beautiful sisters!”

At that moment, Song Mingzhen wanted to agree, but recalling his elders’ repeated admonishments, he found himself at a loss for words, stammering awkwardly and feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Fang Si didn’t understand, but Fang Xianting and Fang Yuncong grasped the underlying meaning, so neither pressed further.

“The deep forest is perilous, and venturing alone grows more difficult,” Fang Xianting said calmly. “We’ll proceed ahead. Zi Qiu, take care along the way.”

Song Mingzhen felt as though a great weight had been lifted and hastily bowed in response: “Yes.” Watching the Fang brothers ride off into the trees, he felt a pang of guilt. Being caught between two factions was an excruciating dilemma, leaving him restless and uneasy. He hoped the factional strife would resolve soon and prayed he wouldn’t encounter either side’s key figures during his stay at Lishan.

…Yet fate had other plans.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the fenced-off areas became smaller, and the paths steeper and more treacherous. Fortunately, Fang Xianting’s earlier feat of shooting the white tiger had cleared half the forest’s predators. By the time they entered the sixth zone, it was eerily quiet, with no signs of life for a long while. The two servants trembled fearfully, seeing threats in every shadow, while Song Mingzhen grew increasingly bored. As he wandered aimlessly, he suddenly heard hoofbeats. Turning, he realized he had encountered Prince Wei Zheng’s group once more.

Before he could lament this fateful coincidence, he saw the Prince draw his bow while galloping, his arrow aimed skyward. Instinctively looking up, he saw… a golden eagle soaring high above the dense canopy!

A golden eagle!

Its wingspan was immense, its feathers cloud-like, its beak sharp and menacing. Clearly rarer than the white-shouldered eagle Fang Yuncong had shot days ago! Song Mingzhen’s heart clenched tightly, his pulse racing—not just from the intense desire for glory, but from the fiery passion of a young warrior’s ambition. Without realizing it, his left hand gripped his bow tightly, his right hand nocking an arrow aimed directly at the eagle!

Just one shot… if he hit it, he would…

A thousand thoughts flooded his mind. The urgency of competing with the Prince narrowed his focus, making him oblivious to any anomalies in the bird’s behavior. He failed to notice the distant shout from behind him, vaguely hearing Third Brother call out: “Zi Qiu—”

Whizz!

At that moment, he had no idea that this seemingly ordinary arrow… would alter the fates of countless people.