When Xu Fengnian led the White Horse Righteous Retinue to the Jubei City outside Liangzhou Pass, others also moved quietly. Xu Yanbing went alone to the Lazikou Pass between Beiliang and Western Shu. The chief of the Fushui Bureau, Mi Fengjie, and Fan Xiaochai escorted Xu Beizhi out of Youzhou into Hezhou in secret. Hu Yan Daguang, a man who represented an entire sect, also left his wife and children, vanishing without a trace.
By Xu Fengnian’s side was a “nameless” young attendant, armored and mounted but without the signature Liang sabers or crossbows. He was solemn and preoccupied. As Xu Fengnian journeyed north, he made no deliberate effort to win over this brilliant young man—not because he didn’t want to, but because it was futile. Whether Xu Fengnian spoke of grand national ideals or high-ranking positions and wealth, it would all seem absurd and ridiculous. Because this young man was Xie Xichui, the proud disciple of Cao Changqing and one of the twin jewels of the Chu who had risen to prominence in the Guangling Campaign. Most of the five hundred Chu scholars had been settled in academies across Lingzhou, far from the turmoil, but Xie Xichui alone had requested to see the frontier outside Beiliang. Xu Fengnian naturally did not refuse. He now somewhat understood the late Liyang Emperor Zhao Dun’s attitude toward Chen Zhibao. Some figures, even if they couldn’t be used for one’s own purposes, were still a pleasure to keep close—like a peerlessly beautiful woman standing before one’s eyes. Moreover, in all honesty, compared to the unruly and sharp-tongued Kou Jianghuai, the gentle and modest Xie Xichui was far more agreeable and reassuring to Xu Fengnian. Interacting with Kou Jianghuai was like downing a large bowl of strong liquor—exhilarating, but with the risk of drunkenness. With Xie Xichui, it was like sipping tea from a small cup—gentle on the stomach and without headaches.
Along the way, Xu Fengnian only spoke to Xie Xichui when receiving intelligence from the Fushui Bureau. Most of the reports were official bulletins exclusive to the higher echelons of the Liyang court. After reading them, Xie Xichui meticulously kept each one. Every sheet of paper often signified the loss of a Chu battlefront or the fall of one or several cities. Xie Xichui grew increasingly taciturn, though his expression remained largely unchanged. One by one, familiar Chu generals were beheaded, their heads becoming military merits for Liyang’s commanders. Familiar names chose to surrender and pledge allegiance to Liyang. The territory under Chu control shrank further. Wu Zhongxuan, Lu Shengxiang, Song Li, and even Xu Gong and Yuan Tingshan appeared more frequently in the bulletins. The decline of the Chu was an undeniable, foregone conclusion. The final bulletin announced to the world that the Liyang Emperor would personally lead an expedition to Xileibi in early summer, decreeing that if the Chu rebels laid down their arms, the imperial army would spare all lives on the battlefield, treating the people of Guangling as Liyang subjects.
As they neared Jubei City, Xu Fengnian received a concise intelligence report from the claws of his gyrfalcon. This time, he did not share the military update with Xie Xichui, but the latter rode over, his face somber, hesitating to speak.
Xu Fengnian, unarmored and dressed in an elegant scholar’s blue robe with only a Liang saber and a dragon-patterned jade pendant, slowed his horse and turned to Xie Xichui. “After Cao Changqing’s death, he dispersed his fate into Guangling. You’re neither a Qi practitioner nor a martial artist at the Heavenly Phenomena level, so you might not grasp the deeper meaning. Simply put, from the moment Cao Changqing died, Guangling—where the fate of the Chu’s Jiang clan had not yet been extinguished—truly became part of Liyang’s territory. If Liyang mishandles the situation, whether by excessive bloodshed on the battlefield or continued oppression through taxation, it could provoke a backlash in Guangling. Although the likelihood of Yanchi King Zhao Bing rebelling immediately is slim, it’s not impossible for him to seize Guangling. So Cao Changqing’s death left a way out for the people of Guangling—no matter who takes control, they must be treated well.”
Xie Xichui murmured, “Seeking benevolence, one attains benevolence; seeking righteousness, one attains righteousness…”
The phrase “attains righteousness” ( Gain Righteousness dé yì) was a homophone for “delight” ( Proud dé yì). At this point, Xie Xichui lowered his head, his lips trembling.
Xu Fengnian could only offer an awkward consolation: “General Xie, I dare not hope you’ll join the Beiliang border army. After all, nominally, we’re fighting the Northern Desert for the sake of Liyang’s Zhao family guarding the nation’s gates. But regardless of the outcome of the Liang-Mang war, I promise the safety of your five hundred Chu men. Even if the world remains unstable, I, Xu Fengnian, can ensure peace for your five hundred.”
Xie Xichui seemed not to hear, his face twisted in sorrow as he muttered to himself, “In my youth, whenever I read Li Bai’s poetry, those grand verses of a flourishing era, I was filled with boundless yearning. Lines like ‘Drink three hundred cups in one sitting’ or ‘The immortal waves his hand for me, and I hear the pines of Mount Emei’—they made me want to shout at the top of my lungs, yet still feel unsatisfied. But my teacher always said Li Bai’s talent was too lofty, his aura too celestial, soaring thirty thousand feet above the earth, yet not necessarily the best poetry for mortals. The older and more experienced a scholar becomes, the more they resonate with Du Fu’s plain verses—‘Not knowing how many souls I’ll summon when I close my eyes,’ ‘Deep night on the battlefield, the bright moon shines on white bones.’ So straightforward, devoid of soaring talent. Yet now, reading them… truly, truly…”
Xie Xichui broke into sobs, roughly wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.
This was perhaps where Xie Xichui and Kou Jianghuai differed most. The latter faced life and death far less profoundly than he faced honor and disgrace. Xie Xichui would succumb to despair, while Kou Jianghuai would rise with fierce determination.
Xu Fengnian gazed at the dust-choked Jubei City and said, “General Xie, from Jubei City to Qinghe, and further to the line of Liuya and Fuling towns near Huaiyang Pass, you may go wherever you wish. I’ll arrange an escort. If you wish to see the left and right cavalry forces outside Liangzhou, that’s fine too.”
Xie Xichui, now composed, nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. His thoughts turned to the Liyang court, and his mood grew heavy. The Chu no longer had the means to resurge, marking the end of Zhang Julu and Yuan Benxi’s “inner court affairs.” Song Dongming and Bai Yu believed that after this, the Liyang court would recall Wu Zhongxuan to Tai’an City. Song Li, who had overseen the eastern front, and one of Wu Zhongxuan’s generals would rise together, forming two new power blocs in Guangling’s military. Ji Prefecture’s General Yuan Tingshan might not return to the border but would remain near Jing’an Prefecture on Guangling River’s north bank, using his ten thousand elite Yanbao cavalry to deter Yanchi King Zhao Bing’s southern forces. The Ministry of War’s Vice Minister Xu Gong would likely lead troops into Ji Prefecture to assist Governor Han Lin in restraining Military Commissioner Cai Nan, while also monitoring the Beiliang Iron Cavalry. The question was Xu Gong’s official rank—would he continue as Vice Minister overseeing the border, or become Deputy Commissioner and concurrently Ji Prefecture’s General? But the development most critical to Beiliang was the fate of Lu Shengxiang, the southern expedition’s commander. Qingliang Mountain and the Beiliang Protectorate disagreed: the former believed Lu Shengxiang would lie low in the Liyang court for a time, while the latter expected him to command all of the court’s field forces, advancing north to station between Ji Prefecture and the Two Liao regions with eighty to ninety thousand troops, forming a northern defensive line with Cai Nan, Xu Gong, Gu Jianjia, and Zhao Wei. This would pressure the Northern Desert into launching a second Liang-Mang war. If this delicate situation arose, with Xu Gong and Lu Shengxiang stationed on the northern border, the covert role of Ji Prefecture’s Deputy General Han Fang would be greatly diminished, regardless of Gu Jianjia’s schemes.
Ultimately, Liyang had too many capable people and too many troops.
Only two figures could influence or even alter the Central Plains’ situation: Shu King Chen Zhibao and Yanchi King Zhao Bing. Now, it depended on whether they would obediently return to their fiefs or how quickly they left Guangling. If either delayed, Lu Shengxiang would be unable to withdraw from Guangling. With Wu Zhongxuan’s general and Song Li barely maintaining order in post-war Guangling—and inevitable conflicts of interest between them—without Lu Shengxiang, a high-ranking veteran of the Spring and Autumn Period, to mediate, the court could not rest easy if the situation changed.
If these were Beiliang’s long-term concerns, its immediate worry was the Northern Desert court’s stabilization. Dong Zhuo had surprisingly retained his position as Southern Court King. Though Xu Fengnian had stifled Dong Zhuo’s ambition to dominate the Northern Desert, this left Dong Zhuo with no choice but to go all out in the next Liang-Mang war, even resorting to desperate measures. If in the first war Dong Zhuo had held back, in the next, he might sacrifice even his private Dong family army.
Xie Xichui had already ridden off. Xu Fengnian did not enter the city for inspection, nor did the White Horse Righteous Retinue accompany him. Alone, he walked along the rising riverbank, his boots sinking into the lush, soft grass with faint rustles. He sat by the shore, staring at the water, lost in thought.
Outside Liangzhou Pass stood Chu Lushan’s Beiliang Protectorate and a host of officials led by Li Gongde overseeing the construction of new cities. Everyone knew their roles and performed them well, rendering Xu Fengnian—the nominal supreme commander of the Beiliang Iron Cavalry—somewhat redundant, especially in peacetime. His presence was more symbolic, a banner planted on the northwestern frontier declaring to the Liyang court and Northern Desert army that Beiliang’s four prefectures were not to be trifled with.
Absentmindedly, Xu Fengnian plucked a wild grass, brushed off the dirt, and chewed on it. After the earthy bitterness came a faint sweetness. After Huang Longshi’s silent death in the southeast, the Hehe Girl returned to Beiliang with many strange tales from the Spring and Autumn’s Three Jias. Some Xu Fengnian half-understood, some left him baffled, some inspired, some disappointed. She said that in the distant future, merchants and actors would outshine high-ranking officials in the eyes of common folk. That rulers would no longer be determined by birthright—any warlord in turbulent times could declare himself king, even become an emperor. That scholars would prioritize profit over reputation, making true imperial mentors rare.
Xu Fengnian couldn’t fathom such a world. He remembered how his mentor, Li Yishan, had dissuaded Xu Xiao from rebelling and partitioning the realm with Liyang using just three words: “Name, Words, Deeds.” The implication was simple: without legitimacy, words held no weight; without weight, deeds would fail. In the late Spring and Autumn Period of Xu Xiao’s time, one’s origins mattered most. Were kings and generals born to their stations? The answer was yes. Yet before the Qin dynasty, during the era of competing philosophies and wandering scholars, the answer was no. Sages and generals arose regardless of birth. That golden age seemed to elevate all like dragons. But as wandering scholars became aristocratic clans and then powerful families—especially after the Great Feng Dynasty enshrined Confucianism—the world’s rules hardened. Nobles remained nobles; peasants stayed peasants. Only under Zhang Julu’s governance did this begin to change, with imperial examinations allowing humble scholars to rise. Many poor scholars leaped like carp through the Dragon Gate, transforming from morning farmers to evening courtiers. The late Great Feng’s “advisory system,” emerging alongside warlordism, was similar yet distinct—the latter served patrons, the former spoke for the realm. Xu Fengnian recalled clearly how Li Yishan, in his later years at the Listening to the Tides Pavilion, refused to compare himself to Zhao Changling or Yuan Benxi, instead closely studying the reforms of Liyang’s “Green-Eyed” Zhang Julu…
Unconsciously, Xu Fengnian had chewed the grass to pulp. Spitting out the remnants, he stood and exhaled deeply. Since he had no need to micromanage Jubei City’s construction, he might as well indulge in idleness. Suddenly, he vanished from the riverbank, speeding north. Along the way, he glimpsed the Right Cavalry Army’s main force relocating as planned and the distant outline of Huaiyang Pass. Finally, he arrived at the ruined Hutou City. Once Liyang’s foremost frontier city, it had been devastated by Dong Zhuo’s months-long siege and subsequent sacking. Before retreating, the Beiliang forces burned most of its structures, leaving it a desolate ruin. Repairs were slow, and with frequent Northern Desert cavalry raids, even Chu Lushan—who held a special attachment to Hutou—had to abandon efforts. Under the night sky, Xu Fengnian sat cross-legged on the battlement, gazing at the Longyan Plain beyond. Closing his eyes, he seemed to hear the thunder of a thousand catapults, the charge of cavalry riding to their deaths, and the laughter of his first visit, drinking with Liu Jinu and other officers.
“The entire city fought to the death; comrades lie in shared graves.”
It was said that after Dong Zhuo took the city, he neither desecrated the dead Beiliang defenders nor erected victory mounds. He merely climbed the walls and toppled the already faltering Xu banner. Later, the Northern Desert’s Empress ordered Dong Zhuo to exchange Liu Jinu’s corpse for Yang Yuanzan’s. Xu Fengnian agreed without hesitation, not only returning Yang Yuanzan’s head and body in a coffin but also adding five or six Northern Desert generals’ heads. At Xiaguang City’s Youzhou council, a hot-tempered officer erupted in curses. Had Xu Fengnian not sent a secret letter beforehand, the officers might have risked their ranks to berate him to his face. Even Yan Wenluan’s expression darkened, as all assumed the young Prince of Beiliang was kowtowing to the Northern Desert barbarians—what kind of victor showed kindness to the defeated? The entire Youzhou border army nearly revolted until Chu Lushan’s sternly worded missive quelled the storm.
Xu Fengnian opened his eyes and whispered, “Liu Jinu, Ma Jili, Chu Hanqing, all of Hutou City… I’m sorry. This time, I forgot to bring wine. But I think the blood of three hundred thousand Northern Desert men will be the finest wine.”
Leaning forward, fists on knees, he gazed north and vowed, “I, Xu Fengnian, promise you this: Beiliang will toast you with a million more cups of such wine!”
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