Chapter 934: The Fading Glory of the General

After the council meeting, Xu Fengnian took Xu Beizhi to visit the veteran general He Zhonghu in a small courtyard. Upon arrival, they found Yan Wenluan already present. The four of them gathered around a stone table, and Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion on the face of the Left Cavalry Army’s commander. He Zhonghu’s health had deteriorated sharply over the past year or two, giving off an air of twilight decline. After the first Liang-Mang war, the old general had privately submitted his resignation to Qingliang Mountain and the Protectorate, recommending Yu Luandao as the second deputy commander of the Left Cavalry Army. He deliberately avoided promoting the young and rising star of the Youzhou cavalry to the top position, a shrewd move by the seasoned veteran. The proud and unruly Liangzhou border troops had always looked down on the Youzhou forces, and Yu Luandao, hailing from a prominent Central Plains family, had no roots in Liangzhou. A sudden promotion to command an entire army might have caused unrest. Any misstep in the second Liang-Mang war could not only ruin a promising strategist but also jeopardize the border’s stability—something He Zhonghu couldn’t afford to be responsible for, lest he tarnish his legacy.

Yet, He Zhonghu’s willingness to set aside factional biases and recommend Yu Luandao as the nominal third-in-command but de facto leader of the Left Cavalry Army spoke volumes about his magnanimity and foresight. Earlier, when Xu Fengnian restructured the Left and Right Cavalry Armies, redistributing troops to strengthen other cavalry units—such as assigning soldiers to Cao Wei and others—He Zhonghu was the first to comply without objection. In this regard, Zhou Kang, the Right Cavalry Army’s commander nicknamed “Brocade Partridge,” paled in comparison, voicing complaints both openly and covertly. Though Xu Fengnian had privately mocked Zhou Kang as a stingy miser, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Zhou Kang had been one of the hundreds of veterans who saw him off years ago. In a way, Zhou Kang had shared hardships with the then-heir apparent before his official succession. Thus, despite Zhou Kang’s lack of generosity, Xu Fengnian didn’t hold it against him. Moreover, Zhou Kang’s reaction was understandable, just as He Zhonghu’s unwavering loyalty to the Huaiyang Pass Protectorate had sparked murmurs within the Left Cavalry Army. Many young officers couldn’t comprehend why the old general was so accommodating, seemingly weakening the Left Cavalry Army’s influence and tarnishing its reputation. Xu Fengnian’s visit was prompted by internal strife within the Left Cavalry Army. He wanted to hear He Zhonghu’s thoughts first, as Qingliang Mountain wouldn’t interfere unless absolutely necessary. Yan Wenluan’s hasty arrival likely carried the implicit message of supporting his old friend and making a statement to the entire Northern Liang border cavalry.

The four in the courtyard abstained from both wine and tea. He Zhonghu seemed genuinely surprised by the young prince’s visit, his face lighting up with joy. As one of the top ten most influential figures in the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry, He Zhonghu knew the broad strokes of the Longyan Plains events—how Xu Fengnian had personally slain the Rouran cavalry’s leader, Hong Jingyan, to great acclaim, and how Chen Zhibao had recently arrived at Huaiyang Pass. Xu Fengnian had kept his words brief in the council hall, his face pale with exhaustion, which only deepened He Zhonghu’s guilt. He felt the Liangzhou cavalry had failed Marshal Xu Xiao’s expectations, forcing his eldest son to micromanage even battlefield killings. What was the point of the Northern Liang’s 300,000 Iron Cavalry then? As Yan Wenluan’s close friend, He Zhonghu also bore a hidden identity: he had once been part of the Xu family’s “Dragon Supporters,” a faction led by strategist Zhao Changling, with Chen Zhibao as the heir apparent. Key members included Wu Qi, Xu Xiao’s brother-in-law and a cavalry commander, as well as Yan Wenluan and He Zhonghu. Yao Jian and Ye Xizhen, Xu Xiao’s adopted sons, were also closely aligned with them. In contrast, the “Dragon Opposers,” led by Li Yishan, were far weaker in influence. Had it not been for Princess Wu Su’s last-minute refusal to support Xu Xiao’s rebellion against Liyang, the Xu family might never have ruled Northern Liang. Perhaps Xu Fengnian would now be sovereign over the vast lands south of the Guangling River—or the Northern Liang border army might have been wiped out as traitors. Given this complicated history, He Zhonghu harbored ambiguous feelings toward the young prince who had turned the tide. His decision to bypass internal candidates and appoint an outsider like Yu Luandao might have been driven by a subconscious desire for atonement.

Yan Wenluan, the foremost commander of the Northern Liang infantry, wore a dark expression and cut straight to the point: “Your Highness, you must have heard—Li Yanchao is an ungrateful wretch. He Zhonghu raised him to his current position, treating him better than his own son. Just because he wasn’t made Left Cavalry Army commander, the brat dares to rebel, planning to defect to Zhou Kang as his deputy! The little bastard is a capable commander, but his character is flawed. He can be used but never trusted—at most, he should only rise to deputy commander of an army!”

Xu Fengnian was taken aback by Yan Wenluan’s rare outburst. Words like “rebel,” “ungrateful,” and “flawed character,” coming from one of the region’s most powerful figures, could doom any mid-to-high-ranking Northern Liang officer’s career. In truth, Xu Fengnian was familiar with the notorious Li Yanchao, one of the “Four Fangs of Northern Liang,” alongside Dian Xiongchu, Wei Fucheng, and Ning Emei. A decorated veteran, Li Yanchao was among the few elite commanders after the older generation of Yan Wenluan, Chen Yunhui, and He Zhonghu. In his prime, he could lead the Xu family to victory for another two decades. However, like Li Mofan of the Longxiang Army and Cao Xiaojiao of Youzhou, he was known for his abrasive personality and arrogance—a polarizing figure who, in the Liyang court, would have been a frequent target of censors’ impeachment.

He Zhonghu shot Yan Wenluan a look before turning to Xu Fengnian with a wry smile. “Your Highness, you can’t stop the rain or a woman from remarrying. Since Zhou Kang has promised Li Yanchao the Right Cavalry Army command in the future, let him go. The boy has fought for the Left Cavalry Army for years, and his merits warrant this opportunity. Ambition is natural.”

Yan Wenluan sighed inwardly. His harsh words weren’t entirely about Li Yanchao but rather an attempt to broach the topic for He Zhonghu’s sake, allowing the old general to simply nod in agreement. Li Yanchao’s departure wasn’t the issue—it was the precedent it set. If this trend continued, Zhou Kang’s “little hoe” would dig deeper into their ranks. With He Zhonghu already gravely ill, would he have to hear of the Right Cavalry Army’s collapse on his deathbed? Yan Wenluan admired He Zhonghu deeply. The old man had no family, only a few lame old horses. He treated his soldiers like sons, living among them without privilege. Li Yanchao and others were practically raised by him from the ranks. Hearing of Li Yanchao’s betrayal, how could Yan Wenluan not seethe with anger? Yet, even at this father-son rift, He Zhonghu couldn’t bear to hinder Li Yanchao’s career, fearing the young prince’s disapproval might block his advancement even in Zhou Kang’s Right Cavalry Army.

After a moment’s thought, Xu Fengnian spoke slowly. “Truthfully, as long as Li Yanchao remains beyond the pass, whether he serves in the Left or Right Cavalry Army makes little difference to me. Moreover, the extreme exclusivity of both armies harms Northern Liang. Stagnant water rots; only movement prevents decay. Even without Li Yanchao’s case, I had planned to rotate officers between the two. During my earlier restructuring of the three provinces’ forces, I appointed only fourteen substantive colonels. But with the first Liang-Mang war looming, I feared drastic changes might destabilize the border army and affect the campaign, so I left the outer forces untouched.”

Yan Wenluan narrowed his single eye, remaining silent. He didn’t oppose reforming the border army, but the young prince’s blunt proposal, especially during the Left Cavalry Army’s turmoil and He Zhonghu’s impending retirement, carried a chilling undertone.

He Zhonghu’s heart was heavy with unspoken thoughts. His aged face bore desolation, his gaze distant. Some wealthy old men, upon falling ill and despairing, might envy the healthy poor. But He Zhonghu was different. Despite his high status, he had no descendants to inherit his legacy, not even a single property within Northern Liang—unlike the likes of Zhong Hongwu, who treated Lingzhou as his backyard. He Zhonghu’s decline was that of a fading hero, a sight all too familiar to Xu Fengnian.

※※※

As Xu Fengnian and Xu Beizhi left the courtyard, the latter frowned deeply. Xu Fengnian smiled. “Orange, are you wondering why I didn’t help He Zhonghu pacify the Left Cavalry Army?”

Xu Beizhi glanced back at the courtyard gate. “He Zhonghu is one thing, but aren’t you afraid of angering Yan Wenluan? Or having both elders see you as cold-hearted, a harsh and ungrateful prince?”

Walking side by side through a dim alley, Xu Fengnian trailed his hand along the wall. “Then consider it me bullying a good man.”

Xu Beizhi teased, “Isn’t it? The entire Northern Liang border army knows Zhou Kang’s temper—the squeaky wheel gets the grease, so you tolerate the Right Cavalry Army’s antics. In the end, He Zhonghu’s plight is half your fault.”

Xu Fengnian mused, “Xu Xiao used to say, ‘Heaven fears not the wicked, nor does it bully the kind.’ I once thought such platitudes were nonsense, but now I see their truth.”

Xu Beizhi laughed. “I knew it—you wouldn’t let He Zhonghu leave the Left Cavalry Army in disgrace!”

Xu Fengnian sighed. “I value talented outsiders like Yu Luandao, Kou Jianghuai, and Xie Xichui, but the bond with veterans like He Zhonghu, who shared Xu Xiao’s triumphs and trials…” He left the sentence hanging, but Xu Beizhi understood—it was akin to familial respect.

“So?” Xu Beizhi prompted.

“Then let’s meet Li Yanchao,” Xu Fengnian replied.

Xu Beizhi hesitated before cautioning, “Don’t act rashly. Li Yanchao represents a significant faction of ambitious, battle-hardened Northern Liang officers—men like Li Mofan and Cao Xiaojiao, eager to climb the ranks. Unlike Yan Wenluan and He Zhonghu, they didn’t help build the Xu family’s legacy. Not everyone can be as indifferent to fame as Liu Jinu. With war looming, ambition isn’t bad, but don’t douse their fire so thoroughly they feel cast into the snow.”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “I’ve heard the phrase ‘chilling the hearts of the troops’ in storytellers’ tales. I understand the principle.”

Xu Beizhi suddenly eyed him suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound right.”

Grinning, Xu Fengnian slung an arm around Xu Beizhi’s shoulders. “Orange, you know me too well!”

Xu Beizhi shoved him off, grumbling, “Get lost!”

As they wound through the alleys to another courtyard, a young officer sprinted past, bumping into Xu Beizhi in his haste. The man charged up the steps, then turned to glare—only to freeze upon recognizing the Northern Liang Prince.

Before the officer could apologize, Xu Fengnian asked cheerfully, “Here to warn Li Yanchao? To tell him I just visited Old General He’s courtyard?”

The officer broke into a cold sweat, hanging his head as if mourning his parents.

Xu Fengnian chuckled, brushing past him to step into the courtyard. Inside, a boisterous crowd of a dozen young but high-ranking officers surrounded a man in his mid-thirties. Even seated, the man radiated a sharp, imposing aura.

It was none other than Li Yanchao, the third deputy commander of the Left Cavalry Army, a true-blue veteran of the force with an impeccable reputation. Naturally, he was seen as the undisputed successor to lead the Left Cavalry Army in the future.

The Liyang Dynasty had established twelve permanent generals under the titles of “Zheng,” “Zhen,” and “Ping.” The “Zheng” generals held the highest rank, equivalent to the second-tier officials, on par with the six ministers of state. The “Zhen” generals ranged from second-tier to third-tier, while the “Ping” generals were uniformly third-tier. In theory, a vassal king’s domain should not have titles comparable to those of the “Zhen” generals—at most, they could match the “Ping” generals. For instance, a commander overseeing military affairs in a single province would be a third-tier official.

However, the Northern Liang region was an exception. He Zhonghu, Zhou Kang, Gu Dazu, and Chen Yunchui, the deputy commanders of the cavalry and infantry, held second-tier military ranks, just like the two main commanders, Yan Wenluan and Yuan Zuozong. They were only half a rank below Chu Lushan, the Protector-General of Northern Liang. As a result, nearly all the ambitious young officers coveted these prestigious positions, eagerly waiting for the older generation to step aside so they could advance step by step. Even if they couldn’t claim the top seats under Yan Wenluan and Yuan Zuozong, becoming the commanders of the Left or Right Cavalry Armies, joining the elite Snow Dragon Cavalry, or at least leaving the frontier to serve as provincial generals were all promising paths.

Thus, when the new King of Liang broke convention by promoting “outsiders,” it inevitably stirred unrest—especially with the meteoric rise of figures like Yu Luandao. Huangfu Ping, Kou Jianghuai, and Han Laoshan had already taken three of the provincial general positions, with Shi Fu following closely as the general of Liangzhou. This left fewer opportunities for others, dampening their hopes.

When the assembled officers saw the young vassal king arrive, they were stunned. Then, as one, they rose abruptly from their seats, clasped their fists, and declared solemnly, “We pay our respects to Your Highness!”

The Left Cavalry Army captain, who had been standing awkwardly behind Xu Longxiang and Xu Xiao, quickly scurried to join his comrades, finally able to relax.

One officer hastily cleared two chairs for the young king. After Xu Longxiang and Xu Xiao took their seats, the former gestured downward with a light press of his hand. “Everyone, sit. This isn’t a formal military council—no need for rigid formalities.”

Only after seeing Li Yanchao calmly take his seat did the other officers cautiously return to theirs. The two who had given up their chairs stood nearby, their eyes gleaming as they stared at the legendary new King of Liang.

The eldest son of the Butcher of Beiliang. A grandmaster on the Martial Rankings.

He had slain Wang Xianzhi and, more recently, Hong Jingyan.

He had stormed the Imperial Observatory in Tai’an City, and rumor had it that even the celestial immortals who descended from their portraits and the ancestral masters of Longhu Mountain, who had ascended to immortality, had been wiped out by this young man!

Moreover, this unassuming, sole non-imperial king of Liyang had never faltered on the battlefield—his victories beneath Tiger Head City and his thousand-mile raid beyond the Gourd Pass were indisputable facts.

So even though these officers were among the most unruly in the Left Cavalry Army, they couldn’t help but feel awe and reverence for the young king—and beyond that, genuine admiration.

The people of Northern Liang revered martial prowess, and the frontier army valued military achievements above all.

The new King of Liang had led the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry to a resounding victory over the Northern Barbarians, beheading enemies and piling their skulls into a pyramid at Gourd Pass—what a glorious triumph!

Yet the more glorious his deeds, the more uneasy the officers grew.

They knew exactly why the young king had come to this humble courtyard: it was about Li Yanchao’s abrupt departure from the Left Cavalry Army to join the Right Cavalry Army in a fit of anger.

But who in all of Northern Liang didn’t know that Yu Luandao was the new king’s trusted favorite? The king had even deigned to lend his prestigious name to the newly formed Shadow Cavalry. And the root of this conflict? Old General He Zhonghu had recommended Yu Luandao for the Left Cavalry Army!

Li Yanchao’s expression remained calm, but deep in his eyes burned a fierce resentment.

To this shrewd and formidable general, the young king’s personal appearance—though not yet accusatory—meant that he, Li Yanchao, was in for a rough time.

The officers who had fought alongside Li Yanchao broke into a cold sweat, fearing the young king might suddenly turn hostile. What would they do then? Forget whether they had the courage to defy the famed King of Liang—even if they did, would it matter? Could this courtyard full of men withstand even a single hand of the king?

Xu Longxiang smiled and asked, “Is there any wine here? If so, bring it out.”

Li Yanchao replied flatly, “Your Highness, we came to Huaiyang Pass with our commander and did not bring wine.”

Xu Longxiang turned to Xu Xiao. “Mind doing me a favor?”

Xu Xiao nodded and left the courtyard—no doubt to “borrow” some wine from Chu Lushan.

After Xu Xiao departed, Xu Longxiang joked, “Before we drink, there’s something I should mention. Once, in Tiger Head City, I drank with Liu Jinu, Chu Hanqing, and Ma Jili. Afterward, they all died. Are you scared?”

Li Yanchao pressed his lips together, his chiseled features growing even more pronounced.

With their leader silent, the atmosphere in the courtyard grew heavy.

The captain who had earlier bumped into Xu Xiao rolled his eyes and laughed loudly. “Just sharing a drink with Your Highness would be enough for us to brag to our subordinates for three to five years back in the Left Cavalry Army. Death holds no fear!”

Xu Longxiang nodded. “I have no doubt that none of you here fear dying on the battlefield.”

Then he added with a grin, “In the Northern Liang frontier army, fearing death would be the strange thing, wouldn’t it?”

At that, even Li Yanchao’s lips twitched into a faint smile. The other officers burst into hearty laughter.

Once the jest passed, Xu Longxiang fell silent.

With the King of Liang quiet, Li Yanchao followed suit, and the rest had no choice but to sit still, eyes downcast.

Xu Xiao returned from the Protector-General’s residence with two jars of Green Ant Wine. Xu Longxiang broke the seal on one, and cups and bowls were distributed—naturally, he and Li Yanchao received the larger bowls, while the others made do with what they had. Only Xu Xiao abstained, and no one dared urge him to drink.

Xu Longxiang raised his bowl. “To all of you.”

Li Yanchao and the others lifted their cups and chorused, “To Your Highness!”

After draining his bowl, Xu Longxiang didn’t pour another. Instead, he said, “Now that we’ve drunk, I’ll say a few words. This wine isn’t a toast or a punishment—it’s just an excuse to meet you all. I may not know you personally, but if you introduce yourselves, I can recite your service records and achievements. The intelligence reports from the Whispering Rain Pavilion are thorough—more detailed than the archives of Huaiyang Pass.”

He glanced at the unopened jar of Green Ant Wine, then fixed his gaze on Li Yanchao. “You felt there was no future for advancement in the Left Cavalry Army, so you sought glory in the Right Cavalry Army to become a commander. For a military man, that’s no crime. And I’ve just come from He Zhonghu’s quarters—the old general doesn’t hold it against you. In fact, he pleaded with me, worried I might make life difficult for you in the future.”

Li Yanchao opened his mouth but said nothing.

Xu Longxiang continued calmly, “You know better than I how the old general has treated you these past decades. The Northern Liang frontier army, under Xu Xiao’s rule, valued merit over pedigree. So whether you kill enemies under He Zhonghu’s Left Cavalry Army or Zhou Kang’s Right Cavalry Army makes no difference. Maybe the hope of becoming a commander will drive you to kill even more.

“But the old general… he’s getting old. Like me—I fear nothing, yet I couldn’t bear to see Xu Xiao in his final years, needing to rest halfway up Cool Breeze Mountain. Whether it’s my father, Xu Xiao, or He Zhonghu, who treats you like sons… what finally makes them accept their age?”

He answered his own question: “It’s when they see their sons succeed. Only then do they dare admit they’re old.”

Xu Longxiang stood and looked at Li Yanchao and the Left Cavalry officers. “Today, in that courtyard, I didn’t see the veteran commander of the Left Cavalry Army who survived the Spring and Autumn Wars—I saw only an old man. So I came here to share a jar of wine with you. And I hope you’ll take the other jar to that old man who’s about to leave the battlefield. Offer him a bowl, so he doesn’t depart the frontier with regrets.”

Silence.

Li Yanchao rose quietly, picked up the jar of Green Ant Wine, and left the courtyard.

In the end, only Xu Longxiang and Xu Xiao remained.

Xu Xiao sighed. “I thought you were here to kill someone.”

Xu Longxiang poured himself another bowl and murmured, “Who says I didn’t want to?”

Xu Xiao blinked, then chuckled. “Pour me one too.”