The thunder of hooves shook the Central Plains.
The Northern Liang cavalry surged out from the Northern Liang Pass, entered the Lianghuai region, and swept southward through the borderlands of Hezhou and Jizhou, crashing like a tidal wave into the northern reaches of Jiangnan. Their advance was unstoppable, like a towering northwestern brute barging into the delicate embrace of a Jiangnan beauty, leaving her swaying precariously.
Wherever they passed, the officials and local garrisons of Liyang fell into terrified silence, not daring the slightest provocation. Night curfews were imposed early, merchants were barred from travel even by day, and stationed troops were strictly forbidden to leave their camps. Memorials piled up like snowflakes—county offices, prefectural bureaus, governor’s mansions, and military headquarters all forwarding urgent dispatches, which were then handed to swift couriers racing five hundred miles at breakneck speed toward Tai’an City.
As the ten thousand ironclad riders pressed forward with brute force, a dozen or so prominent families along the route emerged from the shadows. Not only did local officials and military commanders break into cold sweat, but even the seasoned spies of Liyang’s intelligence network, the Zhaogou, were horrified. These families, veritable giants within their respective prefectures, all possessed vast fertile lands and abundant grain stores. Four of them were even known as the “Land Gods” of their regions. Yet these same families, all marked in Zhaogou’s secret archives as “of impeccable background,” were in fact audacious traitors openly aiding the Northern Liang, supplying its cavalry with endless provisions. Such brazen treachery, laid bare for all to see, would surely invite the court’s wrath once the dust settled. These deeply rooted families would find themselves ruined, and the Zhaogou officials and military officers responsible for their oversight would be stripped of their ranks and titles.
Among them, the first family in Hezhou to openly provision the Northern Liang army surprisingly did not flee en masse into Northern Liang territory. Instead, after the cavalry had moved on, local authorities and garrison troops dispatched four hundred elite soldiers to storm their estate, intent on executing the traitorous clan. The family’s elderly patriarch, however, simply carried a chair to the front steps of his mansion, basking in the early spring sun with two Liang sabers resting on his knees. The older, worn blade was the very one he had wielded decades ago under Old Liang King Xu Xiao during the Western Chu campaign—a weapon so secret even his most favored grandson had never known of its existence. The newer, gleaming saber was a sixth-generation Xu family blade, gifted to him personally by the new Liang King not long ago. Facing the four hundred armed men, the old man raised the new saber with a smile and uttered a single sentence. The soldiers, who had arrived in a flurry, left just as hastily, not even daring to mutter a threat.
The aging patriarch said, “The Prince has asked me to relay this: if one person dies in the Song family home today, ten thousand soldiers in this prefecture will follow. If we cannot gather ten thousand heads here, the Northern Liang cavalry will borrow them from neighboring prefectures.”
With that, the white-haired elder bent down, picked up a jug of wine at his feet, and took slow sips as he watched the retreating figures, murmuring indistinctly to himself.
Like an old, toothless hound, he could no longer howl, yet there was an undeniable aura about him—the kind of grandeur scholars read about in books, the majesty of a tiger swallowing the world whole.
※※※
After the Lianghuai Military Commissioner Cai Nan stepped forward, the second man bold enough to stand in the Northern Liang’s path was neither a warrior nor a governor, but a retired scholar who had long since returned to his hometown. Defying propriety, he dug out his old sixth-rank censor’s robes from the bottom of a chest and donned them before standing alone on the post road. His terrified family could not stop the old man’s madness—half the clan fled overnight to their ancestral home in the countryside, while the other half barricaded themselves indoors. Only his least accomplished second son, a perpetually unsuccessful scholar with no courage but filial piety, stood trembling by the roadside, waiting to collect his father’s corpse.
When the iron tide of cavalry finally passed, all that remained were the father and son, slumped by the roadside, weeping in each other’s arms.
Among the Wu family’s hundred riders, Nalan Huaiyu—once a reigning beauty on the Rouge List and now a swordmaster—could not resist her curiosity. She spurred her horse to catch up to the young Prince and asked with a smile, “Your Highness, what happened?”
Xu Fengnian hesitated, then shook his head, unwilling to speak. He had just received a secret report via his long-time companion, the gyrfalcon: besides Yuan Tingshan leading the Jibei elite cavalry to block their advance at Jizi Pass, Shu had also dispatched twenty thousand troops toward Guangling, led by Wu Qi—the same Wu Qi who had left the Xu family in anger after the Xilei Campaign. His deputy was Che Ye, one of the few who had followed Chen Zhizhao out of Northern Liang, a young prodigy once hailed in the border armies. Both Ning E’mei, who had crossed blades with him, and Han Laoshan, now guarding Southern Liang’s gateway, held him in high regard, considering him no less formidable than Kou Jianghuai or Yu Luandao.
The spirited swordswoman refused to let it go, pressing for answers.
Xu Fengnian seemed lost in thought, as if he hadn’t heard her at all.
Wu Liuding sighed. “Aunt, could you at least pretend to be reserved?”
Nalan Huaiyu rolled her eyes. “Oh? Now you care about reserve? Who was it as a child who clung to my chest, whining about thunderstorms and cold winters?”
Wu Liuding shot a nervous glance at Cui Hua beside him and hastily begged off. “Aunt, I surrender. If you want answers, ask Old Man Qujian—he’s been glued to Xu Fengnian’s side. He must know the details.”
The old man, who had been discussing swordplay with Zhang Luantai and Liu Jianzhi, chuckled. “Nothing extraordinary. His Highness simply asked if the scholar was willing to sacrifice his son’s life for fame among the literati. Then Hong Shuwen drew his saber and made as if to charge.”
Yue Zhuowu, the once-enthusiastic young master of the Apricot Blossom Sword Forge—now a taciturn middle-aged swordsman—interjected, “Cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world—that’s the Confucian creed. But if one can’t even be a decent person, how can they be a good official, let alone save the world? I’ve always despised these fame-hungry scholars who abandon all principles for a place in history. Especially that former Liyang Grand Secretary, the ‘Green-Eyed’—what a piece of work!”
Xu Fengnian suddenly snapped out of his reverie and turned. “Others I won’t defend, but Zhang Julu, in my eyes, was a true scholar. If one like him appears every hundred years, it would be a blessing for the world.”
Yue Zhuowu, unswayed by Xu Fengnian’s status, shook his head. “A man who could sacrifice his own children—and probably justify it—might be an incorruptible official, but he’s still no good.”
Xu Fengnian didn’t argue, merely smiling faintly.
History is like a book, some pages unbearably heavy. To turn them, one might break fingers. To pass the torch, the bearer might burn their arms—or even immolate themselves—just to wait for the next generation to take it. This world needs wise rulers, famed ministers, heroes, tyrants, romance, anthems, passion, and debate… It needs many people. But sometimes, when the clever each have their own brilliance, what’s truly needed is one or two fools.
Xu Fengnian murmured unexpectedly, “That old scholar was a good man. Blocking the road as a loyal subject, stepping aside as a father. Pity he wasn’t from Northern Liang.”
Hong Shuwen, known in the army as “the Madman,” said cheerfully, “Your Highness, Northern Liang has its cavalry, sabers, crossbows, and warhorses. That’s enough!”
Xu Fengnian replied softly, “I hope one day it won’t be.”
Hong Shuwen, who had been shadowing Xu Fengnian like a loyal dog, suddenly sighed. “Your Highness, I wish I were a woman.”
Wu Liuding shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Hong, you madman, flattery is one thing, but have some shame, will you?”
Cui Hua smirked.
Hong Shuwen glared. “If I were a woman, I’d serve tea in the Wutong Courtyard! What are you thinking, Wu Liuding?!”
Then he turned to Cui Hua with a grin. “Sister Cui Hua, with this pervert around, you’d best be careful. Good thing your swordsmanship outmatches his. If he dares lay a hand on you, just chop off his three legs! I’ll pickle one for a snack!”
Even the usually stoic Liu Jianzhi and Zhang Luantai couldn’t help laughing at the crudeness.
Cui Hua, who often kept her eyes closed, slowly opened them and said to Hong Shuwen, “What if one leg isn’t enough? Should we add yours?”
Hong Shuwen instinctively covered his crotch. “No need, Sister Cui Hua, really. I’ve quit drinking.”
Amid the laughter, Xu Fengnian suddenly raised his arm. A majestic gyrfalcon swooped down and perched on it. After reading the secret message in the bamboo tube, the bird—which had accompanied him on three journeys through the martial world and two trips to the capital—nibbled affectionately at his hand before taking flight.
Xu Fengnian summoned Yuan Zuozong and said quietly, “Second Brother Yuan, the Western Chu main force, under Xie Xichui’s command, has begun breaking through the western front with their empress leading the charge. Meanwhile, Cao Changqing has left alone for Tai’an City.”
Yuan Zuozong was stunned. “Alone?”
Xu Fengnian nodded gravely.
Yuan Zuozong sighed. “The Grand Master Cao, renowned for his endgame prowess—how could he falter so at the last moment?”
Xu Fengnian murmured, “I can only guess. Cao Changqing may have chosen to betray many—the humiliated nobles of Southern Mang, the suddenly resurgent Wang Sui, even Gu Jianfeng, who has bided his time for years in court and Liaodong. After twenty years of striving to restore his kingdom, he could let it all go…”
He trailed off.
Yuan Zuozong, privy to many secrets, asked, “Was that old Western Chu rumor Father mentioned true?”
Xu Fengnian suddenly smiled. “They say scholars are the most faithless, but Cao Changqing proved that a scholar’s seed can also be the most devoted.”
Yuan Zuozong seemed about to say more, but Xu Fengnian, uncharacteristically embarrassed, shot him a look to stop him.
The usually stern Yuan Zuozong suppressed a smile and obliged.
After a pause, Yuan Zuozong spoke again—not addressing Xu Fengnian as “Your Highness,” but as “Xiao Nian,” a familial term. “Xiao Nian, no matter what others think, I’m glad you led this southern campaign. Simply because this is what the eldest son of Father should do.”
Xu Fengnian sighed.
Such unreasonableness was pure Xu Xiao.
Indeed, like father, like son.
Yuan Zuozong added with a grin, “Besides, it’s been twenty years since Central Plains last heard the thunder of our Xu family’s cavalry. Time they remembered!”
He looked into the distance. “Father once said, the only sound louder than thunder is the hoofbeats of Northern Liang!”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “Xu Xiao would never say something so grand. My master must have said it first, and he just borrowed it—then told my master never to admit he stole it.”
Yuan Zuozong rubbed his chin. “Now that you mention it, that sounds about right.”
Xu Fengnian laughed. “But some words, no matter who said them first, sound grandest coming from Xu Xiao!”
And so it was. The Spring and Autumn War had proven one thing:
Some words could only—and only deserved to—be spoken by that cripple.
※※※
At the same time, as the Northern Liang cavalry surged southward, a scholar in blue robes traveled north.
Once the pride of the Great Chu’s Cao family, the man whose temples had long since turned frost-white moved with serene ease. Since becoming a Chess Attendant that day, he had never felt so unburdened.
After his homeland was shattered, this blue-robed scholar had entered the Liyang palace four times. But this final time, he would not enter the city or the palace.
He would besiege Tai’an City alone.
Unprecedented and never to be repeated—the Overlord of Western Chu, Cao Changqing!
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