In the Long Yao Prefecture of the Northern Desolate, the southern dynasty’s first mighty fortress, Wa Zhu, stood strong. Close behind were three other strongholds—Jun Zi Pavilion, Li Gu, and Mao Long—which together formed an impregnable defensive line, capable of both offense and retreat. The Northern Desolate poured countless resources and manpower into these military garrisons, yet they were crushed like a broken sieve by the combined might of ten thousand Long Xiang cavalry and the Snow Dragon Riders. Fifty to sixty thousand elite southern soldiers either perished in battle or were slaughtered mercilessly after surrendering. The once-thriving The Courier’s Path (postal roads) and Beacon Tower (beacon towers) were reduced to ruins, with over ninety percent destroyed. Southern court officials fell silent in fear, and the once arrogant generals lost their former confidence.
The astonishing combat prowess of the Bei Liang cavalry created both a favorable and an unfavorable situation. Fortunately, Hong Jingyan of the Chess and Sword Bureau emerged from retirement to command the Ru Ran cavalry from the three fallen garrisons, offering the southern dynasty a vital assurance amid the chaos. Unfortunately, a certain fat man surnamed Dong rose in prominence within the southern border forces of the Northern Desolate, his authority now rivaling that of the great generals and the Military Governor (Jie Du Shi). According to the Empress’s words, “That fat Dong has yet again been promoted, damn it!” It is said that this Dong fellow, always eager to boast, grinned mischievously at the southern court and said to the Empress, “Your Majesty, yes, yes, I finally got promoted, damn it! Actually, if you gave me all the military power in the south, that would be even better.”
There was no follow-up reprimand from the Empress, who neither scolded Dong for his impertinence nor punished him for his gluttonous behavior, nor did she allow the audacious fat man to climb any further up the ladder. However, she did leave behind the Imperial Tutor—Grandmaster Tai Ping of the Chess and Sword Bureau—to support Dong. As a result, those few individuals in the southern court who could potentially rival Dong, such as Huang Song Pu, Liu Gui, Yang Yuan Zan, and the Jie Du Shi of Long Yao Prefecture, all prudently avoided confrontation.
Today, on the ruined postal road between Wa Zhu and Jun Zi Pavilion, a fat man in light armor over a second-grade general’s uniform squatted, holding a handful of sand. The postal road beneath his feet remained unrepaired. Meanwhile, the two nearby garrisons of Li Gu and Mao Long, being closer to the western capital, had already been largely restored thanks to the Empress’s secret southern inspection, with over twenty thousand laborers working at an astonishing pace. This man, though large, was not flabby but instead solid and powerful. He was none other than Dong Zhuo, the southern counterpart to Bei Liang’s Chu Lu Shan, and the newly appointed thirteenth Grand General of the Northern Desolate. Dong had no personal guards beside him, only a group of elite Raven Barracks (Crow Scouts) patrolling around him in a disciplined rhythm. Immediately after gaining power, Dong’s first action was not to spend lavishly on recruiting soldiers or seizing strongholds, but to expand the only force in the Northern Desolate capable of matching the Bei Liang White Horse Scout (White Horse Scouts). According to conservative estimates by those who paid attention, the number of Crows had doubled from its original thousand without a significant loss in combat effectiveness.
Dong muttered to himself as was his habit. When Dong was still a chubby child, he was often mocked and ridiculed. He had no friends, and no one ever believed he would amount to anything. Thus, Dong could only talk to himself, and over time, he developed a tendency to speak in a strange, eccentric manner. After joining the army, this behavior only intensified. After every battle, he would whisper to the corpses, and it was hard to imagine how such an incomprehensible freak could rise so quickly through the southern court.
Dong muttered to himself, complaining about an old man who stubbornly refused to relinquish the honorary title of Southern Court King. “What are you waiting for? Are you paving the way for Hong Jingyan? You old stubborn bastard, why won’t you just hand it over to me? I’m not the kind of person who holds grudges, you know. We’re not enemies or anything. So what exactly are you afraid of, Huang Song Pu? Are you trying to do a huge favor for the Chess and Sword Bureau so you can retire peacefully?” Dong tilted his palm, letting the sand fall between his fingers. Sighing, he muttered, “I really miss my two wives. But right now, my eldest wife, who’s become a princess, is busy dealing with chaos from her family, so she can’t come back. My younger wife is obsessed with seeking revenge against the new ruler of Liang, and she’s not as cheerful as she used to be.”
Fortunately, he had a little girl with him, which helped lift his spirits. Dong turned his head, gazing tenderly at a young girl leading a bright red foal in the distance. Her name was Tao Man Wu, the orphaned daughter of Tao Qian Zhi, Dong’s sworn brother from his early days in the army. Dong had no children of his own, and he doted on this little girl as if she were his own flesh and blood. He had even told both of his wives outright that even if he had his own children in the future, he probably wouldn’t love them as much. His eldest wife, ever understanding, accepted this without complaint, but his younger wife, who had joined the Dong household later, was so upset that she refused to let him sleep in their bed for half a year.
As Dong watched Man Wu, her delicate features seemed to hum a little tune. The foal was a playmate Dong had specially found for her, and she had never dared to ride it. On this journey south, even the young foal was allowed to ride comfortably in Dong’s spacious carriage.
Dong stood up, wanting to go talk to Man Wu to cheer her up, when he suddenly saw the girl turn her head sharply, staring intently at something. Dong, ever perceptive, narrowed his eyes and followed her gaze, but saw nothing. Confused, he gave up trying to figure it out and hurried over to the girl. He saw Man Wu wiping her eyes, her eyelids slightly red and swollen—whether from tears or the harsh wind, he couldn’t tell. Dong crouched down and gently asked, “What’s wrong?”
The little girl slightly shifted her gaze and shook her head. Dong, who had spent every day with her, knew she was lying, but what did it matter? If Man Wu didn’t want to say, Dong wouldn’t press her. Instead, he placed his thumb on his nose and made a pig face to cheer her up. Man Wu reached out, took Dong’s finger, and gently rubbed his face, saying seriously, “Uncle Dong, the big brothers from the Crow Scouts say you’re a high-ranking officer now and can’t misbehave anymore.”
Dong chuckled, “What does that matter? Even if I grow old and can’t ride a horse or wield a spear anymore, I’ll still make faces for little Man Wu.”
Man Wu forced a smile and glanced into the distance, softly saying, “Uncle Dong, I want to sing that song. Do you want to hear it?”
Dong laughed heartily and lifted Man Wu onto his broad shoulders. The girl sang loudly:
“Green grass grows next year, geese come and go.
Spring wind blows this year, will the young master return?
Green stone paths and green grass, green-robed young man on the bridge, humming the Jinling tune.
Whose daughter smiles with her head down?
Yellow leaves fall this year, another year passes.
Will the autumn wind rise next year, will the lady be there?
Yellow River, yellow flowers, yellow flower girl in the city, chasing yellow butterflies.
Whose young man has a sword in the sheath?”
Dong sighed inwardly. Man Wu must be thinking of that young master—was he an enemy or a benefactor?
Perhaps inspired by the girl’s song, the nearby Crow Scouts, known for their unmatched individual combat skills, began humming a small tune of their own—the anthem of Dong’s seven thousand soldiers:
“Dong’s men ride to battle, swords and spears in hand.
Fall in battle, die beside their steeds.
Don’t let the girls at home cry their hearts out.
Another Dong boy will rise again…”
Perched on Dong’s shoulders, Man Wu looked toward a distant point, hesitated for a moment, then, with red eyes, quietly waved her slender arm as a silent farewell.
※※※
The Ru Ran Mountains served as a crucial natural barrier for the southern court of the Northern Desolate. Centered around Ti Bing Mountain, three military garrisons—Rou Xuan, Lao Huai, and Wu Chuan—were established. At its peak, the Ru Ran cavalry numbered no more than ninety thousand, yet it was a mighty force renowned across the land. During last year’s war between Liang and the Northern Desolate, the Ru Ran cavalry did not participate due to the sudden death of Wu He of Ti Bing Mountain. Southern officials were convinced that this force could have matched the Bei Liang Long Xiang cavalry with a fifty-fifty chance of victory.
Ti Bing Mountain still bore the name of the strange clan of Wu, but the Ru Ran cavalry now followed the surname of Hong, the master of the Ci Pai Ming Lou Zi. Although the Northern Desolate did not place as much emphasis on lineage as the Central Plains, it revered martial prowess above all. When Hong Jingyan, the fourth strongest man in the world, took over the Ru Ran cavalry, there was no resistance or unrest. The Lou Zi master, who had single-handedly suppressed Ti Bing Mountain, had never visited the Wu family, nor had he appeared near Ti Bing Mountain in recent times. Especially after Wu He’s daughter, the thirteenth Grand General Dong Zhuo’s wife, took control of the weakened Ti Bing Mountain, many said that Hong Jingyan had chosen to avoid the mountain altogether to prevent any suspicion.
The endless Ru Ran Mountains, on the way there, were covered in wheat fields. The green shoots were just beginning to sprout, caught between seasons. The summer harvest was still some time away, so the fields remained in this state.
A sudden gust of wind blew through the wheat fields, and without warning, a tall, imposing figure appeared at the edge of the field. His silver eyes, terrifying to behold, locked onto a distant traveler moving from south to north.
His hair was still gray and white, though compared to his earlier appearance in Qing Cang City, the black streaks had grown longer, and the white frost had lessened. This man, regarded as the likely successor to Tuo Ba Pu Sa as the Northern Desolate’s martial arts pillar, stood in the north, blocking the path of this unexpected traveler. This was completely unexpected for Lou Zi. In Hong Jingyan’s eyes, who had always been blind to the world, the Bei Liang cavalry might be the strongest in the world, but limited by the Northern Desolate’s geographical and logistical advantages, the Bei Liang could only defend while the Northern Desolate advanced. There was no way the Bei Liang could ever march north. Thus, Hong Jingyan had never imagined that one day this person would lead troops into Ru Ran. Whether the northwestern gate of the Central Plains could be defended depended entirely on the Northern Desolate’s patience.
Seeing him, Hong Jingyan recalled the spear-wielding man who had been granted a new surname by the Butcher. Not long ago, during their encounter while escorting Zhong Liang back to the Northern Desolate, Hong, despite his arrogance, had been completely outmatched. This defeat had subtly shaken his mindset, which had always been focused solely on Wang Xian Zhi and the Northern Desolate’s martial god. To recover his former peak, Hong knew he had to defeat martial experts like Deng Tai A and Deng Mao. Normally, upon encountering this Fantasy Journey (shen you) traveler, Hong would have attacked immediately, but now he worried that this figure might be a tempting bait, with Liu Yan Bing, Wang Xiu’s junior apprentice, waiting in the shadows for a fatal strike.
The young Fantasy Journey (shen you) traveler, now a celestial being, wandered through the green wheat fields. Wherever his thoughts led, his body followed. He did not dare approach the murderous Hong Jingyan too closely, stopping a hundred zhang away in the wheat field. He reached out and gently touched the unripe wheat, provocatively asking with a smile, “After losing twice to Luo Yang and Xu Yan Bing, have you fallen so low that you’re afraid to fight? With this mindset, not only will you never rival Wang Xian Zhi, who is unmatched in the mortal world, but even I might surpass you within a year.”
Hong Jingyan replied calmly, “What’s the point of verbal sparring?”
Their voices were not loud, yet each word was clearly audible to the other.
The Fantasy Journey traveler nodded and smiled, saying, “You were born with too much talent and always believed that being the strongest was your birthright. You became ambitious for the court early on, which led you astray from the beginning. As for the future of the martial world, I’m afraid there’s no place for you anymore.”
Hong Jingyan sneered, “Xu Feng Nian, even though you can Fantasy Journey and attempt to integrate the three teachings, trying to reach the threshold of a Celestial Immortal of the Earth (Lu Di Shen Xian), do you really have the qualifications to judge me?”
Xu Feng Nian shook his head, his gaze passing over Hong Jingyan toward the northern Ru Ran Mountains, “I’ll be waiting for you and the Ru Ran cavalry to come die. Now, step aside.”
Hong Jingyan’s lips curled slightly, “You know that once I’ve locked onto you, I won’t move, so you can’t go north? When did you become so self-aware, Xu Feng Nian?”
The young Fantasy Journey traveler, standing one foot in the Celestial Phenomenon (Tian Xiang) realm and the other in the Celestial Immortal of the Earth (Lu Di Shen Xian) realm, stretched out his hands. Two swords—Guo He Zu and Chun Lei—flew from Xu Feng Nian’s waist thousands of miles away, instantly appearing in his grasp.
It seemed that if Hong Jingyan refused to move, there was no choice but to fight. Whether Hong, who had already tasted defeat twice, believed in the saying “three strikes and you’re out” remained to be seen.
Hong Jingyan furrowed his brows, then relaxed them. He turned sideways, indicating to the young traveler to continue northward.
The Bei Liang was beneath his notice. Even the promise of the Northern Court King from Murong Bao Ding did not move him. What was Xu Feng Nian compared to that?
Xu Feng Nian vanished in an instant, leaving behind mocking laughter that struck Hong Jingyan’s heart like a hammer.
Hong Jingyan, whose heart was as solid as a rock, was not shaken by Xu Feng Nian’s laughter. He simply stood there, gazing into the distance, pondering, “Can one not have both the title of the strongest and the ruler of all?”
※※※
On the imperial plaza of the Northern Desolate, where the Grandmaster Tai Ping Ling had arranged the Empress’s plans, a flickering figure suddenly appeared.
The imperial city trembled.
The figure stepped into the sky, walking to the top of the grand hall, standing with his hands behind his back, as if gazing toward Tai An City. After a while, the figure vanished like smoke.
The Empress, upon hearing the news, looked up at the spot where the figure had stood. She did not grow angry but instead smiled slightly with a hint of pity, softly saying, “Foolish child, the tide of fate is unstoppable. Even if the Northern Desolate cannot swallow the entire Central Plains, a small Bei Liang is nothing. What can you do, even if you are the strongest in the world? At best, you’ll be another Cao Chang Qing.”
※※※
The border of You Zhou was barren and desolate. The harsher the land, the harder the labor, leaving no room for slack. If one wanted to wrest a living from the jaws of fate, every drop of sweat was precious. A family of five or six generations toiled in the oasis fields, young and old alike, drenched in sweat. Now, nearly everyone in Bei Liang knew that the Northern Desolate was preparing for a massive southern invasion. Wealthy families had already begun quietly relocating their valuables east or south, but those with the means to escape were few. Most were like this family—poor and helpless, left to the mercy of fate. They could only stay where their fields were, guarding their crops and harvest, placing their hopes on the young new feudal lord to withstand the tide of the Northern Desolate’s iron cavalry.
The old man had no great regrets. He had lived over twenty years in peace, but he worried about his children. An old farmer with white hair looked at his grandson working alongside the elders and couldn’t help but smile. The boy learned to read just like his father, who had learned from him—none of them had a head for books, but the old man still believed that each day of study and each new character learned was worth the effort. He gently patted his grandson’s sunburned head and told him to rest in the shade. The boy grinned and ran to the edge of the field to take a break, only to see a handsome young gentleman appear. He rubbed his eyes, and the figure vanished. Rubbing again, he saw him once more, leaving him puzzled until the man finally approached and sat beside him on the field ridge. The boy realized he wasn’t seeing ghosts and bravely asked, “Want some water?”
The figure, whose presence was scattered in the south but gathered in the north, smiled and shook his head. Gazing at the laborers bent over their work, he softly asked, “Will this year’s harvest be good?”
The boy hesitated, then said naively, “The snow was heavy at year’s end, so it should be good.”
The young gentleman asked, “Does anyone in your family serve in the army?”
The boy looked embarrassed and said, “Not yet. My dad wanted to join before, but he wasn’t chosen.”
Afraid of being looked down upon, the boy said earnestly, “When I grow up, I’ll definitely join. I’ll kill the northern barbarians, earn lots of money, and send it home. I’ll protect our family too. Oh, and I’ll tell you a secret—Ah Mei from our village is really pretty, but she never talks to me. When I grow up, I’ll marry her because her older sister married a soldier on the border. I saw him once a few years ago, and he was so cool! So I’ll go to war too!”
The young gentleman nodded, and the two of them stole a moment of peace to gaze into the distance.
When the boy finally came to his senses, the young gentleman was gone.
The boy, realizing it too late, jumped up and shouted to his grandfather, “I saw a god!”
The old man smiled, straightened his back, wiped his sweat, and muttered, “This child.”
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