In the eyes of ordinary people in Liyang, the Northern Liang had become a land of death, where devastation was only a matter of time. Thus, when a carriage traveled from Hezhou toward Youzhou instead of fleeing the Northern Liang, it seemed to be going against the tide.
The coachman was a one-armed man with an empty sleeve, gripping the reins with his remaining hand, doing his best to keep the carriage steady. Fortunately, compared to the crude carriage, the horse pulling it was tall and extraordinary, requiring little effort from the middle-aged driver.
An elderly man slightly bent forward, lifting the coarse cloth curtain that shielded against wind and sand. His gaze stretched beyond the one-armed man’s shoulder, silent and unmoving, unwilling to lower the curtain for a long time.
The coachman turned his head and whispered, “Father, if I recall correctly, we’re only about ten miles away from the boundary marker between Youzhou and Hezhou.”
The old man nodded, his expression somewhat dazed.
The coachman frowned. “Even if the Northern Liang has never acknowledged the imperial court’s decrees, you are still nominally the Deputy Military Commissioner of the Northern Liang. Would Xu Fengnian dare to kill you outright? Given that, why must you lower yourself to curry favor with the Northern Liang? If word of this reaches the capital…”
The old man simply stepped out of the carriage and sat behind his son, waving his hand to cut off the temporary coachman’s words. He chuckled, “What does it matter if some gossip reaches Tai’an City? The foundation of our Yang family has never been in the imperial court. Since the defeat in Guangling, your father has been in the capital under the weight of his crimes. From His Majesty the Emperor down to the lowly sixth or seventh-rank officials in the Ministry of War, who has ever shown me a kind face? Not to mention, the tens of thousands of veteran soldiers I personally trained in Jizhou—the court took them away without hesitation. You were only allowed to bring three thousand troops to Jizhou as deputy general, and even that was only because they needed you to keep Yuan Tingshan in check. Otherwise, Hu Chen, you wouldn’t have been allowed to bring a single soldier back to Jizhou.”
The coachman was none other than Yang Huchen, who had lost an arm in the battle against the remnants of Western Chu. Now, alongside Han Fang—a descendant of a loyal family whose name had been cleared—he served as deputy general of Jizhou. Yang Huchen was tasked not only with preventing Yuan Tingshan from amassing power in the strategically vital Jizhou but also with acting as the Liyang Zhao court’s watchdog over Prince Zhao Xiong. The old man was none other than Yang Shenxing, the newly appointed Deputy Military Commissioner of the Northern Liang. Once one of the eight great generals of the Four Expeditions and Four Garrisons, he had spent the past year in the capital enduring the humiliation of a tiger fallen to the plains, mocked by dogs. He had lived in constant fear, ridiculed by his peers, dragged out for drinks under the pretense of helping the old general drown his sorrows—though in truth, it was more like parading a monkey, rubbing salt in his wounds. When it came to reading faces and kicking a man when he was down, the capital’s officials were practically grandmasters. If not for Yang Huchen’s appointment as deputy general of Jizhou—a sign that the Emperor had not yet completely lost patience with the Yang family—the old man’s departure from the capital might not have been attended by even a handful of well-wishers, but perhaps none at all. As he passed through the western capital region and the states of Ji and He, though the old man himself had no intention of currying favor, the utter lack of attention along the way still chilled Yang Huchen to the bone. He remembered the grand spectacle when the Yang family marched from Jizhou to Guangling. Back then, even local governors of lesser rank couldn’t secure a seat at the Yang family’s private banquets.
Sensing his son’s resentment, the old man patted his shoulder and said softly, “Hu Chen, don’t blame the fickleness of the world. Since I became a great general, our Yang family has grown accustomed to throwing its weight around in Jizhou. We’ve hardly been saints—how many times have we bullied the weak? Now that retribution has come, it’s only natural.”
Yang Shenxing glanced around. The scenery of Hezhou wasn’t much different from Jizhou—both were borderlands in the northwest. After autumn, the grass turned as yellow as dirt, a far cry from the lingering greenery of the south. The old man closed his eyes slowly, took a deep breath, and sighed, “In a way, it’s good that retribution came early. If it had come too late, the court might not have even given you the chance to redeem yourself as deputy general of Jizhou. Besides, compared to old Yan Zhenchun, who died on the battlefield, I’ve been much luckier, haven’t I? Don’t be fooled by Zhao Wei’s current position as second-in-command of the southern campaign, just below Lu Shengxiang. That old fox is now like an ant on a hot griddle. I’d wager that if he suffers a defeat, he won’t even compare to Yan Zhenchun, let alone me. The court’s goodwill toward us old generals of the Spring and Autumn era has been exhausted on me and Yan Zhenchun. So, truth be told, leaving that treacherous Tai’an City has actually lifted my spirits. Along the way, I’ve come to understand many things.”
Yang Huchen felt a weight lift from his shoulders. As long as his father wasn’t burdened by resentment, it was a good sign. He was confident he could lead the Yang family to rise again.
Yang Shenxing smiled. “This time, I secretly sent a letter to Qingliang Mountain, pleading for the Northern Liang to send an envoy to meet me at the border of Youzhou. If no one shows up, I, Yang Shenxing, won’t take a single step into the Northern Liang. I’ll wait right there at the border. I may have been a great general once, and now I’m groveling like a beggar—hardly the act of a hero. But so what? Everyone in the capital is waiting for news of my sudden death in the Northern Liang or for Xu Fengnian to humiliate me publicly. I refuse to give them the satisfaction. Reputation is fleeting; substance is what matters. The Yang family is in dire straits now. I’m the family’s face in the court—if it’s lost, so be it. As long as you, Hu Chen, regain your footing in Jizhou, in five or ten years, reputation will find its way back into the Yang family’s pockets. By then, even if you don’t want it, others might beg you to take it.”
Yang Huchen lowered his head, his eyes reddening. The father who had never admitted to growing old, the great General Yang who had stood tall since his earliest memories, now made Yang Huchen feel that he truly had aged.
Yang Shenxing sighed. “What I fear now is that the young Prince of the Northern Liang might vent his anger at the court on our family, or resent you because of my position as deputy commissioner. After all, Jizhou isn’t too far from the Northern Liang. In the past, Xu Xiao, out of old sentiments, rarely meddled beyond the Northern Liang. But now that Xu Fengnian is in charge, judging by the upheavals he’s caused in recent years, it’s clear the Northern Liang has sharpened its edge, no longer hiding its fangs. Ultimately, the Northern Liang and the court are just one step away from open conflict. My journey into the Northern Liang is both a risk and an opportunity. Hu Chen, focus on being a good deputy general of Jizhou. I have my own plans for the Northern Liang. From now on, remember this: First, avoid socializing with any of the old Jizhou officers or local generals. Second, maintain the right distance with Han Fang—not too close, not too far. Lastly, get closer to the new Military Commissioner, Han Lin. Play the role of someone willing to be his vanguard. In the future, if the Yang family is to have a place in Tai’an City, Han Lin will be crucial. Unlike most disciples of the Zhanglu faction, Han Lin may seem less prominent than Zhao Youling, Yin Maochun, or even Yuan Biao and Wang Xionggui, but in the eyes of the current Emperor, he is the most worthy of trust. The reason is simple: Zhao, Yin, and Wang were all elevated to the highest ranks by the late Emperor, leaving little room for further rewards. Yuan Biao and Han Lin, however, rose to prominence only after His Majesty’s ascension. Unfortunately, Yuan Biao’s performance was lackluster, and he’s been cast aside. That leaves all the Emperor’s hopes pinned on Han Lin alone—his greatest advantage. Han Lin may seem the least remarkable among the old Zhanglu faction, but this very moderation—distinct from mediocrity—is his greatest asset in officialdom. The longer he lasts, the stronger his momentum. Yuan Biao is the counterexample.”
For some reason, the more Yang Huchen listened, the heavier his heart grew.
Yang Shenxing chuckled. “Does it sound like I’m giving you my last words? You’re mistaken, Hu Chen. As I said earlier, I’m not going to the Northern Liang with any intention of dying, nor will I stand on ceremony for the sake of the court’s dignity.”
Yang Huchen looked somewhat embarrassed.
Yang Shenxing spoke earnestly. “Since the wandering scholars of the Great Qin Dynasty transformed into deeply rooted aristocratic families, we warriors who wield blades have never fared well in the annals of history. Those great men who left their names behind are invariably tied to the phrase ‘regional warlords,’ while the scholarly families often boast of generations of high officials. A family that lasts a mere century can hardly be called aristocratic—they count their lineage in two or three centuries, if not longer. Look at us—how many warlord factions have survived to a ‘hundred years of age’? Even three generations of fifty years of glory would be a miracle, a sign of ancestral blessings. Right now, don’t be fooled by the court’s crackdown on regional military powers—everyone is walking on eggshells. Compared to old-timers like Yan Zhenchun and Zhao Wei, I see further ahead. In the future, Liyang might yet produce a military family that lasts a century. To achieve that, blind loyalty like the Han family’s is a cautionary tale, while the Northern Liang’s Xu family is…”
Here, Yang Shenxing suddenly fell silent, ending with a long sigh. “Xu Xiao was no warlord!”
Yang Huchen was puzzled. If the unrivaled Great General Xu Xiao wasn’t a warlord, could he have been a hero?
Yang Shenxing smiled and asked, “Hu Chen, who do you think the Northern Liang will send to play the villain at the Youzhou border?”
Yang Huchen, who had already pondered this, replied softly, “Logically, it should be Hu Kui, the Governor of Youzhou, or Huangfu Pin, the General of Youzhou. But with the war raging, they might be too busy. Even if the Northern Liang intends to humiliate you, I doubt they’d send anyone lower than a prefect of Youzhou. As for Li Gongde or Song Dongming—nominally of similar rank to you—the chances are slim. One is stationed at Qingliang Mountain, and the other oversees the construction of the new city. I don’t expect Xu Fengnian to make such a grand gesture. Besides, if one of them did come to Youzhou, I’d suspect Xu Fengnian of ulterior motives. In that case, whether you agree or not, I’d escort you all the way to Liangzhou myself.”
The ten-mile journey passed in a blink.
As Yang Huchen spotted the boundary marker by the road, he also saw four or five riders waiting quietly by the post road.
Among them, one rider stood out—not just for his youth, but for an aura that struck Yang Huchen as peculiar, like the first time he’d seen a legendary martial arts master in his youth, towering like a mountain. Or like his first audience with the Emperor in the Tai’an City palace last year, as deep as an abyss.
Yang Huchen even forgot to turn his head, his voice trembling. “Father… it seems he’s come in person.”
Yang Shenxing had been resting with his eyes closed as they neared the border. Hearing his son’s shaken tone, he was puzzled. Had Hu Kui or Huangfu Pin arrived? Or perhaps even Li Gongde or Song Dongming? Otherwise, his son, steady by nature, wouldn’t be so flustered.
When the heavy-hearted Yang Shenxing lifted the curtain, the midday sun momentarily blinded him. Squinting, he saw the rider clearly—and froze.
Suddenly, the old man, who had never lost his fighting spirit even when venturing into the Northern Liang’s den, felt for the first time that he truly had grown old.
Before Yang Shenxing could step down, the rider galloped forward, glanced at the one-armed Liyang general acting as coachman, and said to Yang Shenxing with a smile, “Minister Yang has a fine son.”
Yang Huchen was momentarily speechless at the young man’s remark.
The old man, who hadn’t been addressed as “Great General,” laughed heartily, unoffended. “In that regard, Yang Shenxing is far inferior to the Great General!”
In the Liyang Dynasty, the only person worthy of such reverence from a true great general like Yang Shenxing was Xu Xiao.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage