A unit of fifty riders, galloping swiftly across the grasslands near the Liang-Mang border toward a heavily guarded pasture. The Northern Liang’s emphasis on cavalry is unparalleled in the world. Each rider in this unit carries a saber and a crossbow, and their steeds are all of the highest quality—clearly an elite force. Without a doubt, they are Northern Liang’s renowned roaming scouts.
Among the eighty types of Northern Mang horse scouts, aside from the elite Crow Scouts cultivated by Dong Zhuo with countless gold and silver, no other scouts are feared by these roaming scouts. This is not mere arrogance, but a confidence built through countless brutal skirmishes in close combat. Among them, the White Horse Scouts are considered the crème de la crème. To put it plainly, any single rider among them would compel even a regular border general to respectfully yield the road—without question or hesitation.
This unit, once part of the Xiaoxue Camp’s roaming scouts, had recently earned enough battle merits to be fully promoted to White Horse Scouts. They were specially permitted by Northern Liang’s Commander-in-Chief Chu Lushan to visit the Qianli Pasture and personally select their warhorses. If these fifty riders do not deserve pride, then who in the world could dare to stand proud before them? In last year’s raid that left the Southern Court riddled like a sieve, this unit led the way for the Eight Thousand Dragon and Elephant Army and the Great Snow Dragon Cavalry, destroying over ten Northern Mang signal towers and killing no fewer than two hundred enemies. Of the fifty scouts who ventured deep into enemy territory, only four survived: the Battalion Chief Li Hanlin, his deputies Lu Dou and Li Shiyue, and the squad leader Fang Hutou.
The remaining forty-six new riders were mostly veteran scouts, but some were skilled fighters transferred from the Northern Liang border forces to the Xiaoxue Camp, such as the youngest squad leader and the youngest scout in the unit, a boyish-faced youth nicknamed “Flea.” Once a cavalryman of the Dragon and Elephant Army, he had personally participated in the Hulu Pass campaign, killing four enemies—an impressive, but not extraordinary feat. However, he had also slain eighteen horses, a feat so astonishing that even the official recording his military merits was left speechless. This boy, whose ancestors were all border herders, was a source of both amusement and frustration. He refused to accept any commendation, instead sitting beside the corpse of his beloved warhorse, wailing in grief. His outburst even caught the attention of Yuan Zuozong and He Zhonghu, the deputy commander of the cavalry. Elder General He Zhonghu knelt beside the child, trying patiently to console him, but to no avail. Enraged, the old general slapped the boy’s head and angrily ordered his personal attendant to bring over a newly acquired steed. The boy, without showing any gratitude, reluctantly accepted the horse, wearing a defiant expression as if to say, “I’m only accepting this to save your face.” Had Yuan Zuozong not intervened, the hot-tempered He would have kicked the brat.
No one in the unit calls the boy by his real name. Since he has two warhorses, they call him “Little Flea” and “Big Flea,” and simply refer to him as “Flea.” If anyone dares to touch Big Flea, the boy will fight to the death—his reaction fiercer than if someone had touched his wife. This is no joke. When he first became a scout, his squad leader Hong Run learned this the hard way, ending up with a face beaten into a swollen mess by the boy, whose martial skills are a chaotic blend of unorthodox techniques learned from unknown sources. Especially his horsemanship, so refined he can sleep on a galloping horse’s back. In the unit, only Battalion Chief Li Hanlin is allowed to touch Big Flea. As for fighting, even the red-eyed Lu Dou could easily throw the boy around, but the boy’s stubbornness and refusal to give up—even after countless defeats—make it impossible for Lu to seriously harm him. Eventually, only Li Hanlin could “enjoy the privilege” of handling the boy.
As they approached the renowned Qianli Pasture, the air was thick with the scent of horse manure. All fifty riders simultaneously sniffed the air, their faces filled with delight. Many of them, even when lying atop soft-skinned women in pleasure houses, had never felt such pleasure. Standing atop Big Flea’s back, the young squad leader seemed as if his feet were nailed to the horse, scanning the surroundings and making a unique hand signal of the Xiaoxue Camp scouts. Receiving the signal, Deputy Li Shiyue chuckled, “Flea, you’re so eager for battle you haven’t even tasted a woman yet. You’re a healthy young man. Last time, Battalion Chief Li finally brought us to a pleasure house. The rest of us were calling for girls, afraid of embarrassing the Battalion Chief’s reputation. Even Fang Hutou called for three ‘sisters.’ He didn’t worry about Li’s purse not being heavy enough. But you? You crouched by the door saying you were on watch. Don’t you feel ashamed?”
Fang Hutou, fierce-looking but gentle by nature, grinned and rubbed his lips proudly.
Flea scoffed, “Sisters? Calling them aunts would be too young. The old squad leader used to say, ‘Old bulls eat tender grass.’ But Fang here eats old grass. What a waste! It’s like a foal chewing roots. And you’re mocking me? I’m the one who feels ashamed!”
Fang Hutou grinned sheepishly.
Li Hanlin chuckled softly, “That pleasure house in Liangzhou’s borderlands wasn’t too bad, but compared to the ones back in my hometown of Lingzhou, it’s like comparing heaven and earth. If I get the chance, I’ll take you all to Lingzhou for some ‘horseback riding.’ Plump ones, slim ones, tall ones, petite ones, with delicate chins, shapely hips, and ample bosoms—you name it, we’ll have it.”
“Horseback riding” is a Northern Liang military slang. Behind Li Hanlin, the forty-odd riders all wore expressions of drooling anticipation, with Li Shiyue even wiping his mouth. Only Flea rolled his eyes, saying, “You fools can have your fun. I’ve got Big Flea. If I ever fall in love with a girl, I’ll marry her properly.”
A bald rider sitting cross-legged on his horse, chewing a sweet grass stem, teased, “Flea, you don’t prefer men, do you? What about me? Big Brother here is two hundred pounds of muscle, stamina, and spear skills. If you don’t like it, you can return me.”
Though Flea was a novice in many ways, he had heard every kind of crude joke in the army. He gave the bald rider a sidelong glance and said, “Xie Gong, you just keep riding your mare. No wonder we hear your horse ‘Xiaozao’ neighing in the stable every night. Be gentle with it. Respecting our warhorses is a strict Northern Liang rule. If Xiaozao gets hurt because of you, even Battalion Chief Li won’t be able to protect you.”
Li Shiyue, Fang Hutou, and the other rough riders burst into laughter. Xie Gong didn’t mind, shaking his bald head and laughing to himself as he patted his horse’s back. This man, who once gouged out a Northern Mang scout’s eyes with his fingers and ate them, spoke in an unusually gentle voice, “Xiaozao, don’t take offense at our squad leader. When a superior officer bullies you, there’s no justice to be had.”
The unit originally had no habit of giving their horses nicknames, but Flea gave each of the fifty horses a name—like Xie Gong’s Xiaozao, Fang Hutou’s Dayuan, Li Shiyue’s Meier, and Kang Zhen’s Laizhangfu, among others. No one escaped the trend. Eventually, everyone accepted it as normal.
Suddenly, Flea shouted, “Battalion Chief!”
Li Shiyue rolled his eyes, “You and your bladder. Big or small? Can’t you hold it just a little longer? We’re almost at Qianli Pasture.”
For once, Flea looked embarrassed, “Small.”
Li Hanlin snapped his fingers. In an instant, fifty riders dismounted and lined up, pulling their Northern Liang sabers behind them and unfastening their belts. The fifty horses simultaneously halted, turned their heads, and slowly lined up behind their masters.
In Northern Liang’s thirty thousand iron riders, their warhorses are their true companions—more obedient and loyal than any real wife.
How many Northern Liang riders died on the battlefield, and how many horses starved themselves to death after their masters fell?
“Battalion Chief, I heard you and Deputy Lu and Li went up north to the Northern Mang signal towers, and you liked using the barbarians’ heads as urinals?”
“Nonsense.”
“Battalion Chief, don’t be so modest. Everyone in Xiaoxue Camp says so, even the Commander didn’t deny it. Deputy Lu, isn’t that right?”
“Shaozi, you’re too young and naive. Asking Wooden Head Lu is useless. You should ask me, the wise, valiant, and handsome Deputy Li. Let me tell you the truth…”
“Deputy Li, your pants are wet.”
“What? You bastard! You’re daring to mock your deputy after just visiting a pleasure house? Take this!”
“Damn it, Deputy Li, are you serious? Why did you pee on me? You should’ve peed on Shaozi!”
“Enough! The usual rule: whoever pees the farthest gets to stable their horse first and feed it grass. Who won today?”
“Battalion Chief Li!”
“Right, definitely Battalion Chief Li. That pee could reach Northern Mang!”
“Exactly! Only Battalion Chief Li can pee with such flair. Who else? Let the shameless one step forward! I’ll beat him first!”
“Damn it, I can tolerate flattery, but Gao Changhong peed the farthest. At least he’s a squad leader. Show some dignity! Battalion Chief Li, even if he peed the farthest, he should be last. So it’s still you, no doubt!”
Lu Dou, the man with the double pupils, rubbed his forehead, exasperated by his shameless subordinates.
Battalion Chief Li Hanlin maintained a stern face, nodded solemnly, fastened his belt, and mounted his horse.
After the brief laughter and playfulness, the fifty White Horse Scouts all remounted. No one stood or sat carelessly anymore. They all sat straight, and the fifty riders successively “charged” through the gates of Qianli Pasture. Just fifty men, fifty sabers, and fifty crossbows—but the arrogant aura of “anyone who blocks us dies” was fully displayed in their silent, deadly charge.
The soldiers in the watchtowers of the pasture stared at the mere fifty riders, their hearts stirred, their faces filled with genuine admiration and awe.
※※※
A group of people ascended to the beacon tower atop Luohu Hill. Among them were the elderly Grand Chancellor Sun Xiji, the green-robed scholar Cao Changqing, still ranked fourth in the world’s martial arts rankings, Jiang Ni, who carried a sandalwood sword case on his back, and over a dozen exiles from the Red Deer Cave, mostly descendants of those who had retreated into seclusion with their fathers decades ago. These young men, in the prime of their lives, were about to become the pillars of the Western Chu’s restoration efforts. The youngest among them, not yet of age, carried four swords on his back. He was Lü Sichu, grandson of the last great sword master of Western Chu, Lü Dantian. His descent from the mountain was more for wandering the martial world, and no one expected him to involve himself in the restoration. He had once spent some time with Li Chungan in the Red Deer Cave, though he didn’t know at the time that the old man planting rice in a fur coat was the Sword God himself. Regretting it deeply, he had secretly come down the mountain this time, determined to make a name for himself before returning.
The boy’s gaze kept stealing glances at the Princess ahead, his eyes flickering away quickly but repeatedly. However, the elders around him had no time to care about a child’s budding emotions, and Jiang Ni, ranked among the top three beauties of the Vermilion Lip Rankings, never acknowledged the boy, whom she considered immature and unformed.
As they climbed the mountain, Pei Sui, a descendant of the Pei clan—one of the Ten Great Aristocratic Families of the Spring and Autumn Period—spoke softly, “The puppet-like Prince of Huainan, Zhao Ying, has already stationed his troops at Huas Mountain. The six thousand riders of the Jing’an King Zhao Xun are also approaching Gaoyao Lake. As for the thousand soldiers under Prince Yanta’s heir Zhao Zhu, their whereabouts are currently unknown. In my opinion, if our Great Chu is to advance into the north, we must first deal with these ‘Pacification Armies’ claiming to suppress rebellion, to eliminate future threats. Once they are weakened, the local powers under the various feudal lords will rise in rebellion. I believe even the Prince of Guangling, Zhao Yi, won’t risk his life and fortune by rebelling alongside the other lords.”
A veteran general, broad-shouldered and battle-scarred, nodded in agreement, “Grand Chancellor, Master Cao, Pei Sui’s words are sound.”
Climbing the mountain was difficult for the elderly Sun Xiji, his breath labored, seemingly indifferent. Cao Changqing gazed toward the mighty Guangling River below Luohu Hill and smiled, “Xie Xichui, what do you think?”
Xie Xichui was a young man, slender and only four or five years older than Lü Sichu. He spoke slowly, “If we do this, our forces will be too scattered, exactly what Lu Shengxiang wants. We may gain temporary local advantages, but it will harm our overall strategic position in Central Plains. This is a trap set by the Yangyan court. The bait is the repeated rebellions of the remnants of the Spring and Autumn states, making us believe we have an opportunity. But in reality, when it comes to real warfare, can any of those fallen states truly match the elite tiger and wolf armies under the Zhao dynasty? Twenty years ago, they couldn’t. Twenty years later, it’s even worse. Only our Great Chu still has a chance. If even warfare is unreliable, then we can’t expect much from them in the grand game of seizing the world.”
Pei Sui, publicly refuted by someone younger, did not become angry but instead fell into thought.
Xie Xichui, the only one among the group from a humble background, was unshaken. He stopped walking, extended his finger, and traced a line from west to east, saying solemnly, “According to the strategic theory of Gu Dazu, the most renowned general of Southern Tang, the terrain of the world is generally higher in the northwest and lower in the southeast, with mountains and rivers mostly running east-west. This makes north-south confrontations usually favor the north, especially in the southeast, where the sea blocks further retreat, leaving little room for maneuver. Being in a lowland position makes it difficult to attack uphill, so they often adopt a defensive stance. Many southern regimes prefer to rely on great rivers and water forces to resist northern cavalry. But the Guangling Circuit in the central north-south axis is different. It has the natural advantage of defending the river, as well as the valuable foundation of strategic terrain linked with the Huai River strongholds. If we fail to defend the river, we can retreat to defend the Huai River. If that fails, we still have the last resort of defending the Yellow River, preventing a total collapse. Since we have such geographical advantages and the support of the people, we shouldn’t waste them. There are two things we must do: one is to strike. We must concentrate our forces, seek opportunities, and decisively defeat Lu Shengxiang, Yang Shenxing, and Yan Zhenshun in one decisive blow. We must shatter their morale and confidence. The second is to endure. We have four major strongholds along the Yellow River and six along the Huai River, all currently under our control. Let those feudal lords’ personal armies come attack us. What can they do?
Cao Changqing neither agreed nor disagreed with Xie Xichui’s words, but instead softly chuckled, saying, “Go on, I know you’re nicknamed Half-a-Sentence Xie.”
Xie Xichui nodded and continued, “As for the matter of being defeated, it’s not that Xie Xichui looks down upon heroes across the land, but truly our Great Chu holds the overwhelming advantage, so it’s nothing to worry about. Back then, when the Xu family’s iron cavalry marched southward in great force, our general guarding the river betrayed us. However, the two defensive lines along the Huai and Yellow Rivers still gave Xu Xiao quite a hard time. The fierce battle at Princess’s Tomb, the Great Halberd Corps defending Jing River, and finally the decisive battle at Xilei Wall—each of these conflicts were fought until nothing was left but bones. At that time, it almost reached the point where Xu Xiao would give Chu Lushan three thousand soldiers in the morning, and by nightfall they would all be wiped out. If it weren’t for Chen Zhibao’s mastery of troop deployment to the finest detail, and if Yuan Zuozong hadn’t won several crucial battles with his excellent strategic vision, Xu Xiao might not have managed to swallow Xilei Wall like a snake devouring an elephant…”
As the young man spoke, Grand Chancellor Sun Xiji suddenly sighed, “Alas, history has no ‘ifs.’ The victors are kings, and the defeated are bandits. The mighty Great Chu became the fallen Western Chu, while Liyang rose to become the ruler of all. At that time, Great Chu viewed Liyang just as Liyang now views the Northern Desolate—mere barbarians yet to be civilized. Even dressed in the robes of scholars, they were still unworthy of mention.”
Xie Xichui, showing deep respect for the elder, waited a moment before continuing, “Now, as the great war between Liyang and our Great Chu is about to begin, the Zhao clan’s ambitions know no bounds. They believe themselves destined to win and seek to win on two separate chessboards at once—first defeating us, and secondly dominating the entire realm. But we needn’t go to such lengths. Liyang wants to use the blade of Great Chu to kill its enemies and snuff out the last breath of the remaining Spring and Autumn remnants. We must see whether they have the skill to hold that blade firmly. Therefore, our strike must be swift, precise, and ruthless. In Taian City, there are only two shields left: one is Gu Jiantang’s aging faction, long since relocated to the borderlands of the Two Liaos in the north; the other is the new power led by Lu Baijie and Lu Shengxiang, the Twin Lus of the Ministry of War. Gu Jiantang is constrained by the Northern Desolate, while Lu Shengxiang’s wings are not yet fully grown. Now he leads his troops southward—why not strike now, if not now, then when?”
Pei Sui frowned and asked, “Lu Shengxiang was originally a senior figure in Guangling Spring Snow Pavilion. He is no stranger to us. Won’t he have countermeasures prepared?”
Xie Xichui shook his head. “Knowing about Lu Shengxiang is one thing; whether he can act upon it is another. Take the Ministry of War alone—he is merely the Left Vice Minister, not even a Book of Documents. How can he command seasoned generals like Yang Shenxing and Yan Zhenshun, veterans of the Spring and Autumn Wars? Besides…”
Pei Sui smiled. “Half-a-Sentence Xie, you don’t need to say the second half—I already understand. The Son of Heaven of the Zhao clan is arrogant beyond measure. Perhaps he even intentionally allows us to taste a bit of sweetness. As you said, those various royal armies are merely bait. Since the Liyang court dares to harbor such contempt, why don’t we gladly climb the ladder they’ve offered?”
Xie Xichui smiled knowingly.
Sun Xiji entered the beacon tower, climbed the stairs, and reached the top, gazing at the mighty river rolling eastward below. Except for Cao Changqing and Jiang Ni, the others, intentionally or not, had all stepped back.
The old man spoke calmly, “The court has sent me back here to serve as the Governor of Guangling Circuit—nothing more than the four-character idiom ‘invite the guest into the pot.'”
Cao Changqing softly replied, “The forces of Zhulu Mountain and Huang Sanjia’s spies around Guangling are all under our control now.”
The elder turned to face the Confucian Sage, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Changqing, Great Chu has dragged you down with us.”
Cao Changqing shook his head. “Elder Chancellor, you know my aspirations, and you know I have no regrets.”
The old man placed both hands on the brick wall.
The young watchman on duty at the Luohu Qiu beacon tower, seeing such a gathering of great figures on the top floor, could only stand with his halberd in hand, shrinking into a corner, though he could not suppress his excitement. To see the Grand Chancellor, Master Cao, and the Princess in one lifetime—just seeing any one of them would have been worth it!
When the watchman saw the woman with the sandalwood sword case walking toward him, he stood frozen like a wooden chicken.
The peerless beauty, famed for her sword mastery over Taian City, gently extended her finger. The watchman’s sword leapt from its sheath into her hand. She gazed at this ancient blade, newly retrieved from the armory and long unseen by the world. With her finger, she wiped away a few strands of rust invisible to ordinary eyes, then struck it lightly with her knuckle. A series of clear, melodious notes rang out, like a pleasant wind chime.
The watchman didn’t even know how he took his sword back from the Princess’s hand, his entire being entranced.
Sun Xiji and Cao Changqing exchanged a knowing smile.
Jiang Ni softly said, “I will go see Xilei Wall once more.”
Cao Changqing nodded.
The young woman brought her two fingers together, swept them forward, and the Great Liang Dragon Sparrow sword rang out as it left its sheath. She stood atop the blade, drifting as if about to ascend to the heavens, and soared downward, then sharply turned, following the surface of the great river toward the ancient battlefield of Xilei Wall.
Lu Sichu hurried to the edge of the tower, gazing longingly at that figure. He had seen the Princess before in the verdant mountains and clear waters of Jiangnan’s Red Deer Cave, but back then, the young Jiang Ni had been lazy in her sword practice, her cultivation not yet profound. She had only learned that one technique of sword riding, and even then, she could barely hover a few feet above the ground, wobbling unsteadily. The youth had heard that after she visited the Northern Liang and Northern Desolate, her cultivation soared skyward, leaving him far behind. He could only look up to her then, and even more so now. He sighed, wondering what kind of man Jiang Ni would come to love in the future—but surely not him, Lu Sichu.
Suddenly, Sun Xiji lowered his voice, filled with indignation. “What virtue or merit does that Xu boy possess to deserve our Princess?”
Cao Changqing’s eyes were gentle as he softly replied, “It began without knowing why, and will end without knowing where.”
The old Grand Chancellor was still seething, letting out a cold snort.
Cao Changqing kept one sentence to himself.
Xu Fengnian, if one day I, Cao Changqing, shift from Confucianism to Overbearing, and even after twice reaching the realm of a terrestrial immortal in my lifetime, I still cannot protect the Princess, do not let me down!
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