In the middle and lower reaches of the Guangling River today, the Qingzhou Navy holds the high ground, while the Guangling Navy, personally commanded by Cao Changqing from his flagship, is stationed downstream. However, due to the Qingzhou Navy’s overall inferior combat strength compared to the latter, the two forces remain locked in a stalemate. The outcome of their conflict can only be decided beyond the river, leaving them to helplessly watch the vast lands north of the Guangling River become a battleground of life and death.
As a result, of the two leaders of the Qingzhou Navy, Wei Dong, renowned as the “Dragon King,” had already visited the capital to meet the emperor and subsequently became a guest of honor at the residence of Prince Guangling, Zhao Yi, effectively withdrawing from the conflict. This left Zhao Xun, the nominal commander of the navy and Prince Jing’an, in a difficult position. The arrogant and unruly generals under the command of Grand General Wu Zhongxuan paid little heed to this young prince, and even local officials showed little respect for Zhao Xun once he left his domain. Thus, Zhao Xun was forced to seclude himself aboard a grand Yellow Dragon warship, refusing visitors—though, in truth, there were few who sought his audience anyway. Rumor had it that fine wines were continuously delivered to his ship from both riverbanks, suggesting he had taken to drowning his sorrows in drink.
Yet, contrary to appearances, Zhao Xun was far from disheartened. In fact, he was in high spirits. Not only did he have the company of a woman whose appearance and demeanor strikingly resembled the late Princess Jing’an, but he also had two maps hanging in his cabin—one of the Liang-Mang border defenses and another of the Guangling situation. Every day, he would sit solemnly beneath these maps, contemplating the future course of the two battlefields. Though Zhao Xun was well aware that, for the time being, he was likely destined to remain a powerless and laughable prince, he had learned two crucial lessons from his father, Zhao Heng, the old Prince Jing’an: patience and the art of retreating to advance. The destruction of the Qingzhou cavalry had cost him dearly, but it had also secured his position as Prince Jing’an—even yielding some unexpected gains, such as his control over the Qingzhou Navy. The subsequent sacrifice of ten thousand Qingzhou youths marked his first independent decision after the departure of his blind strategist, and Zhao Xun took pride in it.
Had the court not sent Wen Taiyi and Ma Zhongxian, two newly appointed frontier officials, to meddle in his affairs, everything would have been perfect. Wen Taiyi, a seasoned veteran of Qingzhou politics, had returned after years of absence, now as a high-ranking governor, much to Zhao Xun’s irritation. Ma Zhongxian, on the other hand, was an outsider, and Qingzhou’s notoriously insular bureaucracy made it unlikely for him to form a true alliance with Wen Taiyi.
Today, Zhao Xun sat beneath the maps once more, idly swirling a wine flask between his fingers as he turned to the woman beside him with a smile. “Before betraying me, Strategist Lu left behind a lengthy letter of over ten thousand words. In it, he predicted that the next governor of Jing’an would be Yuan Huo, an early outcast of the Zhanglu faction, and that the military commissioner would be Hong Lingzhu, the local strongman. But look how wrong he was!”
The woman frowned, not joining in Zhao Xun’s mockery of the departed strategist. Instead, she rebuked him sternly, “Strategist Lu served you loyally for years. Even if he did not stay till the end, he never acted against you. As a ruler, you should show the magnanimity befitting your station.”
Zhao Xun, unperturbed, chuckled. “You’re right. My mistake.”
She sighed. “If only Strategist Lu were still by your side…”
In the shadows of Qingzhou’s political circles, she was whispered to be the “female prince,” with even Hong Lingzhu suspecting that it was her influence that had driven away the blind strategist who had always disliked her. But both she and Zhao Xun knew the truth: it was the young emperor in the capital who had forced Lu Xu’s departure. Two young men, both surnamed Zhao—one a prince in python robes, the other an emperor in dragon robes—yet worlds apart in power. Zhao Xun understood Lu Xu’s helplessness, but his feelings toward the strategist remained complex: a mix of admiration, wariness, and a desire to both befriend and dominate him.
Zhao Xun took a sip of wine, his smile deepening. “The world doesn’t know why Xu Xiao marched south, but I do—for love, not land. I used to envy him, but now I realize there’s no need. The woman he loves, a queen who rules half the Central Plains, was first coveted by that dashing scion of the Song family, then pressured by court officials. And now, with the war turning against her, she’s been forced to lead her army in person. I’ve just received reports that even the scholars of Chu are spreading rumors—claiming she never went to the Xilebi front but is instead imprisoned in the palace. Hypocrites! They say it’s to protect their sovereign, but in truth, they’re preparing to sacrifice her when the capital falls. Without her as a bargaining chip, what hope do those rebel officials have once the Chu generals are dead?”
He sneered. “I hear Wu Zhongxian’s top generals have sworn oaths to be the first to breach the Chu capital. Wu has promised them the fallen empress Jiang Ni as a prize. What a reward! No wonder the southern armies are fighting like madmen—even Wang Tongshan, the so-called ‘world’s greatest halberdier,’ abandoned his post to charge three hundred li north, slaughtering a hundred Chu soldiers in a single battle. Too bad he only learned afterward that the woman wasn’t the empress. Still, his vulgar boast has become infamous: ‘Jiang girl, I am General Wang Tongshan! I have a halberd in my hand and another between my legs. They say you’re skilled with a sword—dare to face me? I’ll make you submit, on the bed or off!'”
Zhao Xun burst into laughter, though his eyes remained cold. *Xu Fengnian, master of three hundred thousand iron cavalry, one of the world’s four great martial sages—can you really break through the imperial lines to save your woman?*
Unlike the prince’s glee, the woman beside him looked somber. As a woman herself, she couldn’t help but empathize.
*In this chaotic world, how many beautiful women can escape such fates?*
Zhao Xun leaned forward, gently patting her hand. “Don’t worry. I will never betray you.”
Before she could reply, she suddenly stood, yanking Zhao Xun to his feet and shielding him behind her.
Then she saw *him*—a figure both familiar and alien. Her face paled, her body trembled violently, and her grip on Zhao Xun’s hand tightened painfully. But the prince, too, forgot his pain the moment he saw that figure.
*Like insects suddenly confronted by a river dragon.*
The tall man stood before the map, one hand resting on a chair, studying the rough sketch of the Liang-Mang defenses.
She bit her lip until it bled, unaware of the pain.
Prince Jing’an Zhao Xun was drenched in cold sweat.
The intruder—who should never have been there—did not turn. Instead, he spoke calmly, “We’re all acquainted. You seemed to be enjoying your conversation, so I didn’t interrupt.”
Zhao Xun wished he could stand tall, say something defiant. But his teeth chattered as he asked, “Why are you here?”
The man’s voice was emotionless. “I came for Chen Zhibao. Happened to notice you nearby, so I thought I’d say hello. If you hadn’t revealed the truth, I wouldn’t have known she wasn’t at Xilebi.”
The calmer he sounded, the more terrified Zhao Xun and the woman became.
*This man had slaughtered imperial heavy cavalry in the capital. He had slain celestial beings revered by the imperial astronomers for centuries. If he could appear here unnoticed, what was stopping him from killing them just as quietly?*
Suddenly, Zhao Xun found his voice. “Xu Fengnian! Do you dare kill me?!”
Xu Fengnian turned, his lips quirking in a faint, mocking smile.
That look filled the young prince with rage and humiliation. “You would truly murder an imperial prince? Openly rebel?”
Xu Fengnian replied, “Is a Zhao prince’s life so precious?”
Zhao Xun’s face twisted.
Xu Fengnian added, “The two Jing’an Palace guards rushing here are already dead. As for your retinue—even if a thousand men crammed onto this ship, would they be enough to stop me?”
Zhao Xun finally broke, staggering back a step. The first young prince of the dynasty to inherit his title without demotion tried to step forward again—but couldn’t.
When Xu Fengnian appeared before him in an instant, the woman trembled violently, unable to muster the courage to even raise a hand in defense.
Xu Fengnian seized Zhao Xun by the throat, lifting him off the ground. “I’m sparing you today because a useless fool like you is more valuable to the Zhao court alive than dead. Tell me, Zhao Xun—was your father’s sacrifice to secure your inheritance worth it?”
Zhao Xun’s hands clawed weakly at Xu Fengnian’s arm, to no avail.
Xu Fengnian carried him out of the cabin to the railing, then hurled him into the river with such force that the impact sent a massive spray into the air.
This was the second time Zhao Xun had been dumped into water—first as the heir of Jing’an in Chun Shen Lake, now as a prince in the Guangling River.
The woman, whose true name was Shu Xiu, stood nearby, blood trickling from her lips. Too afraid to meet Xu Fengnian’s gaze, she whispered, “Young Master…”
Then, remembering his new title, she corrected herself hastily. “My Prince, I… I have never betrayed Northern Liang. I was the one who informed the Fushui Bureau of Lu Xu’s departure from Qingzhou. I only… I didn’t…”
She trailed off, unable to continue.
When no blow came, she looked up to see Xu Fengnian gazing into the distance, his eyes fixed on a towering Yellow Dragon warship.
Gritting her teeth, she leaped into the river.
Xu Fengnian paid her no mind. In a flash, he was gone.
The ship beneath him sank several feet into the water.
The Guangling River erupted in massive waves, the force so great that nearby ships rocked violently.
Two hundred zhang away, on another warship, a man in white—the famed King of Shu, Chen Zhibao—stood at the prow, holding the world’s second-most-renowned spear, *Meizi Jiu* (Plum Wine).
Above the river, a figure appeared in midair, higher than the ship’s masts.
Chen Zhibao flicked his wrist, reversing *Meizi Jiu* so that the spear’s tail became its tip. The true spearhead, now in his grip, shimmered from green to purple.
Within a hundred-zhang radius, the river churned as if a hundred dragons were thrashing beneath the surface. On this windless day, monstrous waves surged out of nowhere.
Above, the clouds parted, and a shaft of sunlight pierced through, illuminating the river like a divine pillar.
In the next instant, Chen Zhibao shifted *Meizi Jiu* horizontally, bracing its midsection against his arm.
A blade—*Guohe Zu* (Crossing the River)—slashed down onto the spear.
A moment of eerie silence.
Then the entire ship *exploded*. Every structure on its deck was obliterated by the shockwave.
*Guohe Zu* pressed downward.
Chen Zhibao and *Meizi Jiu* stood firm.
But the already shattered ship groaned and sank deeper, as if rapidly taking on water.
Soon, the Guangling River swallowed the vessel whole. Chen Zhibao now stood upon the water, spear leveled.
Nearby Yellow Dragon warships were flung backward by the waves, some capsizing outright. Smaller vessels simply flipped over.
Chen Zhibao, his sleeves in tatters and his arm bleeding slightly, gazed calmly at the empty stretch of river a hundred paces away. He adjusted his grip, *Meizi Jiu* now radiating a kaleidoscope of colors under the sun.
“You surprised me,” he said.
He was unharmed. Xu Fengnian, standing on the water, was equally unscathed.
But their first exchange had already sent a massive warship to the riverbed.
*What kind of power could force an entire ship underwater with a single strike?*
The surviving Qingzhou sailors, too terrified to even think of watching, fled for their lives.
Chen Zhibao smiled faintly. “When you’ve recovered your peak strength, and I’ve ascended to sainthood, we’ll fight properly. If you reach it first, I won’t run. If I do, neither will you.”
Xu Fengnian said nothing.
Instead, he drew his left-hand blade—the one that truly decided life and death.
*Some things, Chen Zhibao, are not for you to decide.*
That day, the Guangling River trembled for a hundred li, as if giants were hammering the waters from above and below.
Later, unofficial histories would claim that the sea itself flowed backward into the river that day.
Chen Zhibao sat cross-legged on a piece of driftwood, *Meizi Jiu* resting across his knees. The breeze ruffled his tattered white robes, lending him an almost celestial aura.
A wound an inch left of his heart bled freely.
He placed his hands on the spear, neither joyful nor sorrowful, and gazed at the sky in silence.
Then he looked down at the water, where a lone carp darted past.
The man who had never had friends, who had never bared his soul, suddenly recalled a story from his youth:
*”You are not the fish. You are not me.”*
※※※
Meanwhile, on the northern bank, a young man with twin swords at his waist turned northward.
He would go north. To see her—just once.
But first, he had someone to kill.
Wang Tongshan.
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