The remaining twenty-four Jinyiwei scattered the instant Commander Mi gave the order.
Some moved in pairs, others in groups of three, and a few chose to run alone. Windows were pushed open. Doors were kicked aside. One man even dropped into a drainage ditch and crawled out like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.
There was no need for further instruction.
Survive.
Escape.
Mi Qianhu did not flee through a window or ditch. He walked straight out the front entrance.
He was a hereditary Thousand-Household Commander of the Great Ming. Even in retreat, he would not skulk like a thief. If he had to leave, he would do so upright.
The moment he stepped outside, he saw a single figure standing calmly in the middle of the path.
Deputy Factory Manager Bin Sheng.
Mi Qianhu's eyes narrowed. "You were waiting for me?"
"I was," Bin Sheng answered evenly.
Mi Qianhu widened his stance, shoulders settling, weight centered.
Bin Sheng's gaze sharpened. "Which faction do you serve? You might as well say it now."
Mi Qianhu let out a cold laugh. "You do not even know who I represent, and you expect me to enlighten you? Your intelligence network must be rather pathetic."
Bin Sheng snorted. "It is not hard to guess. You are one of the Manchu Qing's Wuzhen Chaha, are you not?"
Mi Qianhu's eyes flared.
Wuzhen Chaha.
The Han troops who served the Manchu barbarians.
For a heartbeat he could not even process the insult.
He, Mi Qianhu, hereditary Jinyiwei of the Great Ming, descended from generations who had guarded the imperial court. A Thousand-Household Commander. A Qianhu. Even high officials like Shi Kefa had once held only the rank of hereditary Hundred-Household Commander.
And now he was being mistaken for a Han dog serving the Manchus.
Rage detonated in his chest.
"You are the Wuzhen Chaha!" Mi Qianhu roared. "Your entire family is Wuzhen Chaha!"
Bin Sheng blinked, startled.
He instantly drew the opposite conclusion.
So they know my background. They know I once belonged to Later Jin. They must have been sent specifically to eliminate me. Perhaps they targeted Yanzi as well. Perhaps they came not only to silence a defector, but also to seize the steam vehicle blueprints.
Without another word, Bin Sheng drew his long saber.
Mi Qianhu reached behind him and pulled out an iron staff he had taken from the workshop. It was roughly the length of a Xiu Chun Dao and heavy enough to substitute for a blade in a desperate moment.
"Come," Bin Sheng said coldly. "Let me see how many assassins the Wuzhen Chaha can send."
"Say those three words again," Mi Qianhu snarled, "and I will make sure you die without a complete corpse."
Bin Sheng's expression hardened. "Wuzhen Chaha. Wuzhen Chaha. Wuzhen Chaha. I despise them. What are you going to do about it?"
If the Wuzhen Chaha had treated him well in the past, he would never have abandoned them and remained here at Chang'an.
Mi Qianhu lunged.
The iron staff swept forward in a vicious arc.
Bin Sheng's saber flashed to meet it.
Clang.
The impact rang like a struck bell.
They collided again and again in rapid succession, steel and iron shrieking against each other. One was a seasoned Jinyiwei commander trained in the martial disciplines of the imperial court. The other was a former Later Jin expert who had survived battlefields and betrayal alike.
Their duel was swift, precise, deadly.
Around them chaos erupted.
The former Later Jin men who had become Labor Models joined forces with the factory's Security Department and militia. Orders flew. Lines formed. Groups advanced with shields and staffs.
They sealed the dormitory district from every direction.
This was no chaotic scuffle. It was an organized net tightening.
A militiaman raised his shield just in time to deflect a Jinyiwei dagger. His face turned pale. "He is too fast. I cannot match him."
Another militiaman was kicked backward, tumbling across the dirt. "His martial arts are terrifying!"
"Seize them alive!"
"Do not kill them. We need to know who sent them."
"Over here. Reinforce this side."
"Cast the net!"
Several men rushed forward carrying a massive fishing net. They flung it high into the air, and it dropped over two Jinyiwei at once. The trapped men struggled violently, blades slashing at rope, but the mesh tightened as dozens of hands pulled in unison.
They were pinned, immobilized, breathing hard as the net cinched around them.
Another Jinyiwei burst through two defensive lines, hair whipping wildly, eyes bloodshot with desperation. At the third line a Labor Model swept his staff low against the man's calf. The Jinyiwei crashed face-first into the dirt. Three militiamen immediately rushed in, pressing pitchforks against his limbs until he could no longer move.
The Jinyiwei were like swimmers thrown into an ocean of people.
No matter how strong they were individually, there were simply too many hands, too many bodies, too many weapons.
Within a short span of time, all but one were captured.
Only Mi Qianhu remained standing.
He and Bin Sheng had already exchanged more than thirty blows.
Neither had yielded.
This was the employee dormitory area, close to the family housing. Workers and family members gathered in droves, forming a wide ring.
Yanzi pushed her way through the crowd. The moment she saw her husband locked in a deadly saber duel, her face drained of color.
"Be careful!" she cried. "Be careful!"
"Do not shout," someone whispered urgently. "You will distract him."
Yanzi covered her mouth with trembling hands.
The crowd murmured.
"I never knew Manager Bin was this skilled."
"He never showed it before."
"We thought he was just technically brilliant and hardworking."
"Look at that saber work. He must have trained for more than ten years."
"Yanzi, your husband is formidable."
Yanzi heard none of it. Her eyes were fixed on the flashing blades.
"Why is no one helping him?" she whispered. "Why are you just watching?"
"We cannot interfere," someone explained. "Manager Bin said this man came for him personally. He wants to settle old grievances himself."
"So this is a personal enemy?"
"With skills like that, and yet he chose to work here quietly. Manager Bin must have quite a past."
At that moment the duel intensified.
Bin Sheng slashed downward.
Mi Qianhu countered with a powerful sweep of the iron staff.
Both aimed for vital points.
Halfway through the motion, Mi Qianhu felt a chill.
He was not holding a Xiu Chun Dao.
He was holding an iron staff.
If they both struck cleanly, Bin Sheng's saber would pierce flesh and kill. His staff, even if it landed, would at most break bone.
He would die.
Bin Sheng might only be injured.
A flicker of alarm broke his rhythm.
He withdrew mid-strike and pivoted aside.
That single hesitation cost him everything.
Bin Sheng pressed forward instantly, chaining another attack into a tight combination that disrupted Mi Qianhu's footing. With a sudden sweep of his leg, he knocked the commander flat onto his back.
Mi Qianhu hit the ground hard.
In the next breath, the tip of Bin Sheng's saber rested against his throat.
Silence fell.
"Besides your two dozen men," Bin Sheng demanded, "how many more did the Wuzhen Chaha send? Are there others waiting outside?"
Mi Qianhu spat blood and saliva onto the dirt.
"You are the Wuzhen Chaha," he snarled hoarsely. "Your entire family is Wuzhen Chaha. Tungusic savages. Barbarians. Han dogs raised in wild boar skins."
Before anyone could react, a sharp crack rang out.
Yanzi had rushed forward.
Her palm struck Mi Qianhu across the face with stunning force.
"Who are you calling a savage?" she snapped, eyes blazing. "I am no savage."
Footnote:
In traditional Chinese culture, insults that involve "your entire family" carry far more weight than personal insults. Influenced by Confucian values associated with figures such as Confucius, identity was historically rooted not in the individual alone, but in the family lineage, clan, and ancestral line. A person's honor reflected the honor of their ancestors and descendants.
Moreover, in imperial eras such as the Ming dynasty, collective punishment was a real legal practice. Crimes like treason could result in execution or punishment extending to multiple generations of one's family. Because of this, family and bloodline were seen as a single moral and political unit.
Therefore, when a character says "your entire family is…" it is not casual profanity. It is an attack on lineage, heritage, loyalty, and ancestral dignity. In historical fiction and wuxia narratives, invoking someone's whole family signals that the conflict has escalated beyond personal grievance into a matter of honor and identity.