In the north of Qingcang City in Liuzhou, the vanguard of the Northern Liang had already arrived at the ancient Gudong Beach. This place had once been one of a series of frontier strongholds built during the height of the Da Feng Dynasty’s military might, intended to stockpile military supplies and provisions, serving as a base for expeditions to suppress the Rong and Di tribes beyond the pass. However, it had long since fallen into ruins, becoming a place where only wandering scholars came to compose poetry lamenting the past. The outlines of the low walls built from sand, loose stones, and reeds could still be faintly discerned. The beacon towers on either side of the walls, once standing tall, had long been flattened by the ceaseless winds and sands of time. Traders traveling between Beiliang and the Western Regions occasionally still stumbled upon broken arrowheads, shattered blades, and corroded coins, giving rise to the name “Gudong Beach”—the Beach of Antiques.
The general’s tent of Grand General Liu Ya was set up on the northern shore of a small lake at Gudong Beach. Around the tent were not only numerous elite martial artists serving as guards, but also more than a dozen renowned martial cultivators from the Northern Liang’s underworld, hidden in secret. In truth, this was not a privilege unique to Liu Ya alone—every border general had a small group of such martial heroes around them, to guard against the unexpected. With war looming, if a Beiliang martial sage were to infiltrate the camp and decapitate a general amidst a thousand soldiers, it would not only be laughed at by the Liyang court, but also severely damage Northern Liang morale.
Yet Liu Ya was particularly special among the southern generals of Liyang. Otherwise, he would not have been praised by the Northern Liang Empress as “half Xu Xiao.” Thus, besides a large number of elite guards trained specifically to counter assassinations, there was an even more secretive group of “hermits” stationed nearby. Each of them exuded an otherworldly aura, rarely seen outside their quarters. These gaunt, peculiar figures were known as Wangqi Masters—soothsayers of the battlefield, mostly descendants of the Spring and Autumn states. In Northern Liang, they were held in higher esteem than even the noblest bloodlines. The former Jie Shi of the prestigious Baoping Province had once mistakenly killed two of these Wangqi Masters, and was consequently exiled to a frozen wasteland a thousand miles away.
After leading his army to Gudong Beach, General Liu Ya himself showed no signs of unusual behavior. He ate and slept normally, issuing military orders in a calm and orderly fashion. He even personally rode to the front lines to survey the situation. This made the Wangqi Masters and his elite guards extremely nervous. They feared that the young Beiliang King, who was naturally hot-blooded, might suddenly launch an attack on the camp. Although the lives of the Wangqi Masters were valuable, they could not be compared to the life of General Liu Ya himself. Everyone knew that Liu Ya was one of the Empress’s top candidates to lead the southern campaign into Zhongyuan, even surpassing other generals like Yang Yuanzan and the Jie Shis of the southern provinces.
Today, at this very moment, General Liu Ya was squatting alone by the lakeshore. Reports of unusual movements by the Longxiang Iron Cavalry had already reached his tent. Several of his trusted officers had urged him to seize the opportunity and march southward to crush Qingcang City, which was poorly defended. Liu Ya had refused. Thinking of the bloodthirsty gleam in the eyes of those young officers, he couldn’t help but smile. Youth was wonderful—it didn’t take life and death too seriously. As for him, an old man who could have long since retired on his military honors, he had become increasingly cautious about his own life. But despite his growing caution, Liu Ya was still not afraid of losing or dying. To him, Liuzhou was not even worth mentioning, let alone a small city like Qingcang that had no real strategic significance.
Earlier, Dong Zhuo had been hiding his intentions, making a series of deceptive moves along the border, even fooling his own forces. Now, at last, he had revealed his fangs. Even though Liu Ya had been assigned to Liuzhou—a role that would likely amount to nothing more than a symbolic gesture—he was not particularly upset. From the start, his sights had been set on a much juicier prize than the barren lands of Beiliang: Zhongyuan itself.
Liu Ya murmured to himself, “When I was young, I read in a book that ‘to grow rich and not return home is like wearing fine clothes at night.’ The older I get, the more I understand its meaning.”
Suddenly, he thought of something and chuckled bitterly. That old title bestowed by the Empress—calling him “half Xu Xiao”—had indeed been a double-edged sword. On one hand, it had elevated his reputation in the southern military. On the other, it had now become a burden. He had heard that even without orders, the three thousand Longxiang cavalrymen were eager to cut off his head and use it as a chamber pot. Liu Ya instinctively touched his neck. Just a few days ago, an old friend had sent him a letter, joking that Yang Yuanzan’s head was nowhere near as valuable as his own.
Suddenly, Liu Ya heard a hurried shout from behind. He stood and turned around. Three figures were running toward him: Lin Fu, the newly appointed commander of the Black Fox Battalion; a martial expert from the Qijian Leyuan; and the leader of his Wangqi Masters. The last of them looked particularly flustered. As he approached, he whispered urgently, “General, we have seen an ominous aura coming from the east, heading straight for your tent! If there are no unexpected changes, it must be the Beiliang King himself. He will arrive within three incense sticks at most!”
Liu Ya was momentarily stunned. He knew full well that Dong Zhuo was about to launch a major operation north of You and Liang provinces. He chuckled, “Has the Beiliang King gone mad?”
Lin Fu replied anxiously, “General, this is no time for jokes! Whether Xu Fengnian has lost his mind or not, we must prepare our defenses immediately. If this martial grandmaster truly intends to kill you single-handedly, we cannot afford to underestimate him.”
Liu Ya’s expression remained unchanged. He did not go so far as to stand there smiling while waiting for the world’s strongest martial artist to arrive. Calmly, he ordered, “Lin Fu, issue the command: the central army will shift eastward. Tell Huyan Keqin and Yelü Zongtang to each lead five hundred light cavalry to form the left and right wings. You will command one hundred and eighty Black Fox soldiers and act according to the situation. As for the royal private army, let them handle their own deployment. They have more experience dealing with martial cultivators.”
Lin Fu asked hesitantly, “Shouldn’t we deploy the two hundred heavy cavalry at the front line?”
Liu Ya glared, “Even if those two hundred heavy cavalry could slow the Beiliang King down, how many would be left after that? I don’t want to lose them. If you don’t care, I do!”
Lin Fu grinned sheepishly and quickly turned to relay the orders.
Liu Ya walked alongside the white-robed cultivator and the martial artist from Qijian Leyuan. The cultivator, inspired by Liu Ya’s calm demeanor, had regained some of his composure. He said softly, “General, please rest assured. The six hundred elite soldiers granted by the Empress may not be effective in a large-scale battle, but they are perfectly suited for dealing with a lone martial cultivator. Although the Beiliang King is indeed formidable, I believe he is not powerful enough to—”
Liu Ya smiled and finished the sentence, “To kill like picking something from his pocket?”
The cultivator looked slightly embarrassed. Liu Ya continued calmly, “I may not know the depth of Xu Fengnian’s abilities, but I believe if he truly wants to die with me, killing me would not be difficult. The real challenge is how he would manage to escape alive. When I say he’s gone mad, it’s not because he’s doing something impossible. It’s because I don’t think his life is worth trading for mine.”
Liu Ya smiled again, “I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be either. We have the Taiping Order, which leaves nothing to chance. There may still be hidden contingencies we don’t know about.”
The swordsman from Qijian Leyuan smiled knowingly.
About one and a half incense sticks later, a remarkable formation appeared in front of Liu Ya’s army.
It was a unit of no more than six hundred soldiers. Each one was an unusually tall and muscular warrior, with broad shoulders and long arms like apes.
Beiliang was known for its powerful crossbows, while Northern Liang was famous for its strong bows—this was common knowledge.
Yet now, in front of Liu Ya’s army, there stood a formation of nothing but crossbows.
Even more terrifying was that there were no light crossbows among them. Even the waist-drawn crossbows were few in number. Most were massive siege crossbows and cloud-piercing war chariots.
Each cloud-piercing war chariot required twelve soldiers to operate, carrying fifty arrows. Each arrow was three chi long, as thick as a sword.
And their tips were coated in a vivid green poison.
When the Northern Liang Empress had first sought to subdue the martial sects, it was not through words alone. These weapons had played a decisive role, mercilessly crushing rebellious sects and factions.
Within two hundred paces, a single crossbow shot was said to equal the full-strength strike of a second-tier martial grandmaster.
If that was not enough to convey the terrifying power of these siege weapons, there was an even more chilling saying:
Within one hundred paces, a single crossbow bolt could pierce a flying sword!
These crossbows had been heavily modified, sacrificing their original purposes for the sake of power. They were maintained at great cost, all for the Empress’s famous words: “If martial cultivators refuse to stay in their rivers and lakes, then I shall skewer them like candied haws.”
On the battlefield, if such crossbows were deployed en masse and targeted without regard for friendly casualties, how could even a legendary warrior survive?
Protected by layers of guards at the rear of the army, General Liu Ya did not wear golden armor or raise any conspicuous banners. He gazed forward, eyes narrowed.
One of his trusted officers said anxiously, “The outcome will be decided in the next two hundred to fifty paces—those three volleys of crossbow fire. If even the final volley, as deadly as a celestial sword, fails, and he breaks into our ranks, it will be too late to reorient the crossbows.”
Liu Ya pointed toward the shifting formation of crossbowmen under the guidance of the cultivators. He shook his head and smiled, “You underestimate these cultivators and crossbowmen. Look closely at the width and depth of the formation. The crossbow fire is not aimed in a straight line or a few lines. It is designed to unleash a massive fan-shaped barrage in depth. Even if he does not charge straight ahead, the crossbows can adjust on the fly under the cultivators’ command. The crossbows themselves are indeed terrifying, but what is even more terrifying is the fact that these cultivators and soldiers came prepared from the start.”
The officer sighed, “No wonder our martial world pales in comparison to Liyang’s.”
Liu Ya sneered coldly, “What use is all that vitality in the martial world? A bunch of brutes who only know how to defy the law with their martial prowess, with no sense of national duty. I dare say, when our iron hooves march into the heart of Zhongyuan, many of Liyang’s martial experts will be helping us kill. They might even be more eager than our own Northern Liang soldiers.”
Suddenly, Liu Ya fell silent. In the farthest reaches of his vision, a streak of glaring purple appeared.
His officer gasped, trembling, “He’s really coming!”
Liu Ya instinctively raised his arm to give orders, then lowered it again. His expression was complex as he muttered to himself, “Truly the son of Xu Xiao.”
The purple aura surged from the east, unrelenting.
A thunderous boom echoed from the crossbow formation.
The bolts flew, piercing the sky.
Almost simultaneously, a second volley of arrows rained into the sky, aimed directly at the purple streak.
In an instant, from the crossbow formation as the pivot, a massive fan-shaped barrage erupted, hundreds of bolts flying like the ribs of a fan, half of them as deadly as celestial swords.
But in the blink of an eye, the purple aura swept across the sky, without pause, cutting through the air and continuing westward, vanishing in a flash.
It had simply disappeared above Liu Ya’s army!
Liu Ya, his back to the army, had unknowingly taken a small step forward. His face darkened. He casually pushed aside the corpse of a swordsman who had died shielding him, gazing westward.
A crossbow bolt had pierced the swordsman’s chest, then buried itself in the ground at Liu Ya’s feet, its tail no longer visible.
Ignoring the panicked cries of his guards who had only just realized what had happened, Liu Ya smiled coldly, “What a fine example of ‘an eye for an eye.’”
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