In the midst of the Spring and Autumn Wars, scouts, serving as the most sensitive extensions of an army, rarely operated in large groups of half or even a full unit. However, along the border between Liang and Man, the opposite was true. Scouts seldom ventured alone to gather intelligence. The reason was simple: both sides had elevated the use of scouts to a level of mastery. In terms of importance placed on them and the rate at which they were lost, the scale far surpassed that of the Central Plains, reaching a degree that Central Plains generals considered absurd. When the two sides met, it often meant one side was destined for total annihilation. When individual combat skills and team coordination were roughly equal, numbers decided who would carry vital intelligence away from the battlefield.
The northern Liang border army was famous for its roaming archers, but the Man side was no less formidable. Zhuo Zhuo’s Raven Scouts, Huang Song Pu’s long-range scouts that he personally trained in his youth, and the Black Fox Scouts, hailed as the adopted sons of General Liu Gui, were among the most elite scouts in the world. Zhu Geng, the leader of the Roaming Archers, led fifty riders deep into the heart of the desert. It was both luck and skill. After deducing intelligence through observation, they were ambushed by a unit of Black Fox Scouts on their return journey. Not only did a second unit quickly join the pursuit, but upon hearing the report, General Liu Gui, one of the southern Man border commanders, immediately deployed three hundred light cavalry nearby, determined to capture this escaping fish.
The wind howled and the war banners flapped as a heavily guarded military camp stood in the cold. Inside the grand tent, General Liu Gui frowned deeply. He squatted beside a pot about to boil. Lately, he had barely glanced at the map of the Liang border, painstakingly drawn with the blood and lives of countless spies. It wasn’t that Liu Gui had lost power, nor that the general neglected the iron cavalry of Liang. Even as a border commander, up until three days ago, he still didn’t know which of the three northern Liang provinces would be the main target for their offensive. Zhuo the Fat’s antics had stirred trouble. Although the Murong and Yelü clans were preoccupied with unrest in their vast grasslands, the old noble families of the southern Man court, long at odds with Liu Gui and Yang Yuanzan’s newer military elite, seized the opportunity to erupt in outrage at the Western Capital, demanding the emperor strip Zhuo Zhuo of his command. Huang Song Pu had already retired, and nearly faced posthumous disgrace at the hands of these furious aristocrats, illustrating the chaos engulfing the southern Man court. The real issue was that Zhuo Zhuo, the supreme commander, had been secretive and evasive, seemingly determined to waste provisions for nearly a million troops. Even Liu Gui and Yang Yuanzan, wanting to defend him, found themselves unable to do so without pouring more fuel on the fire.
Liu Gui temporarily oversaw all border defenses in Gusu Province, even outranking the previously equal Jie Shi (military commissioners) in wartime. This was an unprecedented exception in Man history, a massive privilege granted by the emperor to the supreme commander Zhuo Zhuo. It was important to note that unlike the Liyang and Central Plains regions, Man held its Jie Shi commanders in extremely high regard, far beyond the authority of a simple governor or provincial magistrate.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Liu Gui caught the unique aroma of brick tea, sheep’s milk, and clarified butter. He lifted the lid of the pot. The once aristocratic general from the Central Plains felt his mood lighten. He grabbed a handful of salt and tossed it into the pot. Unlike Yang Yuanzan, who had risen from slavery, or Huang Song Pu, whose ancestors had once flourished, Liu Gui’s family had been insignificant among the refugees who fled north. But after settling in the southern Man court, they were no longer treated like pigs or dogs to be slaughtered at will. Liu Gui owed his current status to his youthful studies in his homeland, to the military strategies he had read in books. His family had experienced a renaissance in Man thanks to Liu Gui, and he had become the undisputed pillar of the Liu clan.
Yet after achieving fame and success, unlike many nostalgic Spring and Autumn refugees or the decadent Man nobles, Liu Gui never indulged in the famed Central Plains teas, where each leaf cost a fortune. Since coming to Man, he had grown fond of the milk tea brewed in his pot, enjoying the strong, pungent scent of sheep and horse milk.
After ladling a bowl of tea, Liu Gui held it to his nose and slowly rotated the bowl in his hand. His younger relatives seemed to have developed a taste for a famous tea from the Spring Spirit Lake, spending fortunes on it. Some even boasted that once they conquered the Central Plains, they would own their own tea plantation on an island in the lake. The general chuckled. These children, so full of themselves—did they really think the Central Plains was made of paper? Even if the Central Plains was vulnerable, how could they ever cross the threshold of Liang? He feared that by the time Man crossed, it would be at the cost of a severed leg. Then there was the southern front, guarded by Chen Zhibao, who commanded the natural defenses of the land, a general who could turn the mundane into the miraculous. Give him three thousand troops, and he could stand against ten times that number. And on the eastern front was Gu Jiantang, the famed Spring and Autumn general. The recent infighting in the Guangling region had left the eastern forces untouched, their strength unscathed.
Liu Gui stopped rotating the tea bowl and muttered, “In the end, the real enemies of Man’s million-strong army are three men: Xu Fengnian, Chen Zhibao, and Gu Jiantang. Is there one among them who isn’t a troublemaker?”
Liu Gui took a sip of tea—it was too weak. He tossed in more salt and called out, “Lin Fu.”
A sturdy, martial general lifted the tent flap and entered. Liu Gui raised his tea bowl slightly, “Want a bowl? You might not get the chance later.”
The middle-aged general shook his head. Liu Gui didn’t press him. This man was his trusted general, once the commander of the Black Fox Scouts. Later, Liu Gui had thought it a waste and offered him two paths: a powerful third-rank general in his army, continuing the life of a soldier, or a peaceful life as a deputy minister of war in the Western Capital. But the man had refused both, insisting on becoming a simple bodyguard. Liu Gui sighed inwardly. This man had seen countless deaths and survived many battles—why couldn’t he let go of a sentiment that had no real substance? His daughter was already married with children of her own. What use was Lin Fu to an old man like him? But Liu Gui, who rarely indulged in sentimentality, knew better than to voice such thoughts.
Liu Gui asked, “How is that Liang scout unit faring?”
Lin Fu replied gravely, “Don’t worry—they won’t escape back to Liang. And even if they did manage to uncover something, they’ll only think our army is preparing to strike Liu Province.”
Liu Gui lifted his head, his expression solemn, no longer warm but not overtly threatening.
Lin Fu immediately broke into a sweat and lowered his head.
“Besides one unit of Black Fox Scouts and three hundred cavalry, I also requested a minor master from the Spiderweb spies. There’s also word that the daughter of the Yuchan Province Jie Shi, Princess Honggu, has secretly joined the pursuit.”
Liu Gui gave a soft “Hmm,” and shot the man a glare. “Good thing you didn’t take that tea, or I’d have whipped you ten times!”
Lin Fu, a rising star in the southern Man military, chuckled sheepishly, like a boy caught misbehaving and nearly punished by a stern teacher.
Liu Gui took a sip of the strong tea and said softly, “As a commander, a single wrong thought can cost many lives. Lin Fu, do you know why the King of Liang is called a butcher and doesn’t care? Do you know what he regrets?”
Lin Fu shook his head. “I can’t fathom the thoughts of the King of Liang.”
Liu Gui said quietly, “‘Butcher’ is a title for killing a million enemies. As a commander, being called that means nothing—it’s like me whipping you ten times. But if you cause the deaths of soldiers who could have lived, because of your own mistake, that’s what haunts a man’s conscience.”
Lin Fu muttered, “General, I’m just a humble bodyguard. You should say that to Zhuo the Fat, the Northern Court Prince.”
Liu Gui laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “I know you all resent Zhuo Zhuo, but he does have real talent. From now on, you lot better stop with the sarcastic remarks. Now go!”
Lin Fu exited the tent.
Behind him came Liu Gui’s order: “Pass the word—move the general’s tent south, following the army to Liu Province.”
Lin Fu turned and asked, “General, won’t you finish your tea?”
Liu Gui asked calmly, “Then how many fewer enemy heads will my soldiers have to cut?”
Without a word, Lin Fu dashed off to deliver the orders, shouting as he ran, “General, from now on I won’t be a bodyguard anymore. You promised me a third-rank general post last time—along with two full divisions, I also want command of the Black Fox Scouts… Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll take that as agreement…”
Liu Gui smiled and hurriedly drank another bowl of tea.
Because for a month, various units had been leaving their original posts to gather at the border of Gusu and Longyao provinces. But after arriving, the Western Capital’s Ministry of War remained silent for a long time, causing widespread complaints. Three days ago, the Southern Court Prince Zhuo Zhuo finally made his move. And when he did, it was dazzling—so much so that even Liu Gui was surprised.
The personal army of Border Commander Liu Gui set out, heading toward Liu Province.
※※※
A Enchanting woman, treating a bloody pursuit like a casual outing, stood on a high hill and raised an eyebrow.
Beside her stood a dignified old man in fine robes.
Nicknamed the Dragon King.
Ranked ninth among the Man martial experts, many in the Man martial world believed his ranking was too low. The noblewoman with a Marten forehead covering hairstyle was especially convinced of this. A man whom even the six senior members of the Spiderweb spies addressed respectfully as “Master’s Junior,” ranked ninth? What a joke!
She was Princess Hongyan of the Man court, famed for her beauty and countless lovers. Her father was the Jie Shi of Yuchan Province, seemingly the most humiliated among the eight Jie Shi after offending the emperor. Yet she remained one of the most favored by Empress Murong. When she was a little girl, visiting the capital with her father, the empress—who still had blood from the Yelü clan’s royal offspring on her hands—would smile and hold Princess Hongyan in her arms, letting the child stand on her knees. That scene remained unforgettable to many elders of the Yelü and Murong families. Only then did they remember that the empress was, after all, a woman.
This notorious daughter of privilege had once personally gone to Liuxia City to deliver a message to the city lord Tao Qianzhi: “On Qingming, it’s not wise to go out.”
Tao Qianzhi ignored the warning and indeed died in the rain on Qingming.
She gazed at the distant, uneven confrontation and asked, “Old Dragon King, why does that figure look familiar?”
The old man in fine robes smiled, “Judging by his build, he resembles that handsome young man you teased on the streets of Daomaguan years ago.”
The princess with the Marten forehead covering hairstyle laughed, “I remember now—he did look like that guy. I even patted his behind.”
Far away, a lone figure with a saber showed no sign of evasion, walking straight toward the charging Black Fox Scouts and two hundred light cavalry.
The old man narrowed his eyes. “But judging by his aura, it’s a world apart. If you don’t think this old servant’s eyes have gone bad, we should turn back now—run as far as we can.”
Princess Hongyan was shocked, “That young man is already a Minor Sage expert? Even if he is a Minor Sage, can he really escape you and four hundred cavalry?”
She asked, “A Sky Passage expert? Does Liang have such a figure? Yuan Bai Xiong is older and has no reason to be wandering here.”
The old man shook his head, “If I’m not mistaken, it’s him.”
Then the old man turned to leave.
But the princess didn’t move, because she now knew who the “him” was.
She wanted to stay even more.
The old man paused, frowning, “Princess, you will die if you stay! That man has already noticed us. My leaving is just a formality, hoping he’ll understand we have no intention of interfering.”
The woman with the Marten forehead covering hairstyle waved her hand, smiling, “Old Dragon King, you go your way. I must see this legendary figure with my own eyes. I must confirm—if it’s really that young noble I once flirted with, even if I die here today, it’s worth it. Oh, and Old Dragon King, don’t even think about knocking me out!”
The old man sighed. Since Princess Hongyan insisted on staying, leaving would be meaningless. He had indeed considered knocking her out.
She whispered, “The show is starting, Old Dragon King. Don’t you want to see this man’s Elegance? You might never get another chance.”
The old man said nothing but moved to stand beside Princess Hongyan, gazing into the distance.
There were over seventy Black Fox Scouts and three hundred elite cavalry from Liu Gui’s personal guard.
To this cavalry unit, this lone figure was just an ant to be crushed in a single charge. Their real mission was to intercept those fourteen Roaming Archers.
Xu Fengnian still held his saber in his left hand but did not draw it with his right.
He stopped walking.
With a flick of his wrist,
His left hand drew the saber, while the scabbard stabbed straight into the sand beside him.
He gripped the saber in his left hand, reversed.
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