Chapter 544: The Three Kingdoms

Zhou Junchen harboring such thoughts was not strange. In his eyes, the elite warriors of Beiliang had mostly gone astray—Xiao Ren Slaughter had already betrayed Beiliang and taken refuge in Xishu, becoming a carefree Shu King. Yuan Baixiong, now the cavalry commander, bore heavy responsibilities and high rank, and likely wouldn’t come to this land of refugees to “kill a chicken with an ox knife.” He had even heard that Han Laoshan, the personal retainer of the old Liang King’s younger brother, the spear immortal, had become the general or deputy general of Lingzhou. Thinking of this, Zhou Junchen felt a pang of sympathy for his own fate—compared to the young feudal lord outside the hall, his own end would not be much better.

That young man had come alone, risking his life in an attempt to show enough sincerity to pacify Qingcang. His idea wasn’t bad—it might even have had a chance of success. At least, Zhou Junchen admitted to himself, he would have been tempted by the offer of a province’s governorship or generalship. But surely some crucial intelligence had gone terribly wrong, allowing Beiman to learn of the secret. Otherwise, the short journey from Liangzhou to Qingcang wouldn’t have warranted the joint arrival of the Jie Ling of Juizi Province and the Rouran Overlord. The timing had been too precise, too perfectly calculated. Thinking of this, Zhou Junchen couldn’t help but find some bitter humor—our Qingcang’s intelligence network was like rotten tofu, but you wealthy, powerful Beiliang didn’t seem much better either. At the thought of being in the same boat as the Beiliang King, Zhou Junchen’s gloomy mood brightened slightly.

However, when the Lord of Qingcang witnessed what happened inside the grand hall, his heart sank like a stone. After the young girl had bitten the dragon throne like a famished dog, she lost interest. She stood beside Murong Baoding, holding a finely woven silk pouch filled with delicacies purchased from the bustling markets of the Southern Court of Beiman. The chubby boy, acting like a foolish greedy fool, crawled all over the dragon throne, fondling and tapping it, his eyes gleaming with excitement. When he jumped down, he tried to carry it off, but the thousand-pound throne was no easy feat to lift. The boy was clearly furious. With his back to Zhou Junchen, his fat quivering slightly, he spread his hands wide and suddenly pressed them onto the dragon heads on the armrests. In an instant, the golden dragon throne melted like snow under a blazing fire, rapidly turning into a large pool of molten gold. The expensive carpet beneath the steps caught fire, flames spreading as the golden liquid flowed. The boy’s boots and pant legs were burned to ashes, yet he remained unharmed. With a loud thud, he threw himself onto the ground, scooping up a handful of molten gold, his eyes filled with greed. As the golden stream flowed down the jade steps, it was about to pass the positions where the girl, Murong Baoding, and Hong Jingyan stood—but the girl let out a cold snort. Then, as if she were the center, the surging golden stream instantly froze into a ring of golden ice blocks in the blink of an eye. Mist swirled around her, exuding a chill tinged with a bluish frost.

Still clearly angry, the girl seemed to resent the fat boy’s greed, ignoring the lingering heat of the molten throne beneath her feet. She stomped forward with a series of quick little steps and suddenly kicked the boy hard on his fat behind. The chubby boy turned his head to glare at her, but quickly turned back, pressing his face to the ground, joyfully scooping molten gold onto his head with both hands. The girl, her cheeks puffed out as she chewed the somewhat tough pastry, kept stomping on the boy’s fat, ugly bottom, splashing molten gold everywhere. These golden splashes froze midair into golden “ice cubes” of varying sizes, which then melted again upon falling into the golden stream. Zhou Junchen watched in horror, as if witnessing ghosts in broad daylight, his face pale. Where had Beiman found such a pair of freakish opposites—fire and water? With Murong Banmianfo and Hong Jingyan already enough to turn Qingcang upside down, adding such a pair of mysterious freaks into the mix—Qingcang, no matter how small, would be no match for them. Even the heavily guarded Cool Mountain Mansion would be vulnerable to multiple incursions.

Murong Baoding descended the steps and stood beside Zhou Junchen, smiling softly, “If Beiliang knew their new lord had died in your home just days after inheriting power, what would you do?”

Zhou Junchen’s mind raced. Carefully choosing his words in the awkward northern dialect of Beiman, he replied, “Does the Jie Ling have a place to shelter a humble man like me?”

The Jie Ling of Juizi Province, who stood half a head shorter than Zhou Junchen, smiled slightly and said slowly, “Beiman may not be as prosperous as the Central Plains of Liyang, but there are still vast fertile grasslands, more suitable for living than this land of refugees. My Juizi Province is one of the few prosperous places in Beiman. Sheltering a few Zhou Junchens is no difficulty. However, if you wish to continue living like a local king in Beiman, it won’t be easy. The key lies in how many tens of thousands of refugees Qingcang will migrate under the leadership of the Long Prince’s Mansion. My southern expedition’s primary mission is to kill the Beiliang King. But if you can do something extra to add to my success, I’ll be able to ask the Empress for a reward. Perhaps even a Purple-Gold Fish Bag might be possible. I assume you know—there are fewer than sixty Purple-Gold Fish Bags in all of Beiman. Even Hong Jingyan, who commands the mighty armies of the Rouran Three Garrisons, only recently received one.”

Zhou Junchen’s face showed hesitation. Governing the land of refugees was difficult precisely because the refugees held no reverence for propriety or loyalty. They didn’t even know the meaning of “loyalty.” Here, it was common for brothers to turn against each other, and even fathers and sons, or husbands and wives, to kill one another. Controlling the refugees could only be done by force, not by virtue. Whoever had more soldiers, whose armor was shinier, could do as they pleased, even urinating on others’ heads.

Zhou Junchen’s domain centered around the Qingcang Ancient Garrison, with a permanent force of twenty thousand. The Zhou family’s influence began to wane the moment they left the city walls. If tomorrow news spread that the Long Prince’s Mansion had been destroyed, the refugees outside the city would merely pick their noses and continue with their lives, indifferent to whether Qingcang belonged to the Zhou or someone else. Besides his own force of less than two thousand “Dragon Scale Soldiers,” even the four or five thousand personal troops usually under his trusted officers, Zhou Junchen had little confidence in bringing many of them to Beiman.

To the refugees, life was already hard enough. No matter how bad it got, they had long since accepted their lot as frogs at the bottom of a well, unwilling to venture elsewhere. Thus, Buddhism had taken deeper root in the land of refugees than Confucianism or Taoism. Since wealth and fortune were unattainable in this life, they chose to endure suffering, hoping to earn a better rebirth. In this land plagued by calamities, those who could travel safely alone were not martial artists wielding brute force, but rather Buddhist ascetics, as poor as the refugees themselves.

Zhou Junchen dared not make promises on the spot. Murong Baoding, clearly well aware of the unique situation of the refugee land, did not press him further, merely smiling softly, “You have your difficulties, and I understand. To the common refugee, even if life in Beiman is temporarily better, there’s always the risk of being forced to fight for Beiman. Once the war between Liang and Man begins, the first to die will be those who have defected. In other words, if you were to side with Beiliang, the situation would be the same—only the difference would be dying by Beiman’s arrows or Beiliang’s hooves. Since this is the case, they would rather continue hiding in the refugee land. Neither Beiman nor Beiliang—they won’t go anywhere. There’s a saying in your Central Plains: better to live wretchedly than die well. That’s exactly what describes the hundreds of thousands of refugees here, ready for battle at any moment.”

Zhou Junchen flattered with a smile, “The Jie Ling sees through worldly affairs. If the military power of Beiman were entirely in the Jie Ling’s hands, the Zhao court would have no choice but to bow in submission.”

Murong Baoding said flatly, “Though your words are insincere flattery, you’ve actually hit the mark. Tuoba Pusa, the so-called ‘military god,’ is merely a competent general, nothing more than mediocre. As for troop deployment, Dong Zhuo might be more skilled, but no matter how capable he is, he can’t escape the fate of Xu Xiao of Liyang. Unfortunately, Dong Zhuo rose too late. The Southern Court’s great generals ahead of him still have many years left, and Dong Fatso may not live to see the day when his achievements overshadow his superiors, when there’s no higher title left to grant.”

Zhou Junchen’s scalp prickled, his face contorted with worry as he whispered, “The Jie Ling doesn’t need to share such heavenly secrets with a humble man like me. I have short-sighted eyes and shallow knowledge—I wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Murong Baoding, his half-face grotesquely scarred, tugged at the corner of his lips. He patted Zhou Junchen’s shoulder, “Don’t worry. This land of refugees, caught between two fires, is now in a delicate situation. The gains and losses of Liang and Man must be calculated doubly. If I gain one Zhou Junchen, then Beiliang loses one, and in the future, I’ll face a Zhou General with a Purple-Gold Fish Bag at his waist. Even women and children can see the pros and cons of such a deal—I won’t let emotions cloud my judgment. When I was young, I once foolishly said I would pile the corpses of all refugees at Cool Mountain. Back then, I was arrogant and never cared for the tides of fate, always believing I could single-handedly turn the tide. I paid dearly for that arrogance.”

Unnoticed, the strange boy and girl had crept up beside them. The chubby boy’s clothes had been mostly melted by the golden stream, so he simply tore off the back of his garment to make a skirt, tying it around his waist to barely cover his private parts and pale bottom. The boy turned to Zhou Junchen, who eyed him with fear, and grinned, “Esteemed official, do you have any treasures or riches?”

Zhou Junchen’s face stiffened as he reluctantly removed a piece of jade said to have been unearthed from the peak of Kunlun Mountain. But the boy, his chest still dripping with golden liquid, merely glanced at it and looked disappointed, hastily asking, “It has to be golden like that chair, or it’s not worth anything!”

Zhou Junchen helplessly turned his gaze to Murong Baoding, who ignored him and moved to whisper with Hong Jingyan. Misfortune never comes alone. No sooner had one trouble passed than another arose. The plain-looking girl also approached Zhou Junchen, coldly threatening, “Got any food? If not, I’ll turn you into an ice sculpture corpse!”

One greedy for wealth, the other obsessed with food?

Zhou Junchen, who had been the nominal emperor of Qingcang just yesterday, stood helpless, almost begging the two children not to torment him any further.

Hong Jingyan, while whispering with Murong Baoding, “glanced” toward the young pair secretly revered as national treasures of Beiman. In the Central Plains, the practice of Lianshi (spiritual cultivators) was divided into northern and southern schools. The southern school was led by the Nanhai Guanyin Sect on a solitary island, while the northern school was concentrated in the Qiantian Observatory. Any noble or official daring to secretly keep a Lianshi, even the Zhao Emperor famed for his tolerance, would surely face execution. Li Mibi had once learned that the northern Lianshi who had aligned with the Zhao court had been used by the Tianxiang expert Liu Haoshi over the years—whether to aid his breakthrough into sainthood or to construct some formation in Taian City remained unknown.

Beiman had few Lianshi—perhaps a hundred at their peak, a number likely not even matching the Nanhai Guanyin Sect alone. Now, even fewer remained, with ten out of nine already dead. This tragedy began when Murong Baoding discovered the pair of biological siblings. Their surnames were bestowed with the imperial names of Yelü and Murong. One was named Yelü Caiyin, the other Murong Caiyang. According to the secret records of the Lianshi, they were the “living Daoist elixirs.” It was said that eating one of them could grant entry to heaven or the underworld. However, Murong Baoding never believed such nonsense. At the time, he had presented them to his elder sister, the Beiman Empress, who also scoffed at the Daoist tales of immortality and transcendence. Regarding their ownership, she had joked to her younger brother, “If heaven bestows something and you refuse to take it, calamity will follow.” She then gifted them to the Jie Ling of Juizi Province. The Empress even mobilized the entire nation to ensure the siblings became the pinnacle of Beiman’s Lianshi cultivation. Yelü Caiyin excelled in controlling fire, while Murong Caiyang could instantly freeze a summer river into an ice bridge, both possessing wondrous abilities.

Murong Baoding smiled and asked, “Do you think Zhong Liang can kill that young man?”

Hong Jingyan replied calmly, “Zhong Liang is frivolous and squanders his talent. His cultivation level barely matches that of the Fifth Mo. One-on-one, Zhong Liang has a high chance of victory, but a high chance doesn’t guarantee a kill.”

Murong Baoding walked toward the hall’s entrance first, “He has a deep connection with the demon Luo Yang. Don’t you have any thoughts on that?”

Hong Jingyan spoke with hidden meaning, “I want to kill him. I’m afraid only the Jie Ling will stop me.”

Murong Baoding merely smiled, shifting the topic, “Beiman, Liyang, and Beiliang form a triad. Originally, as long as Xu Xiao lived, the other two sides had no choice but to follow Beiliang’s lead. At that time, Liyang wished nothing more than for the young heir to die early, launching many assassination attempts, hoping for Beiliang’s collapse within two generations. Later, to everyone’s surprise, Beiliang quietly stabilized its position, and Xu Fengnian’s hereditary succession could not be stopped. Then came Chen Zhibao’s journey to the capital. When he resigned as Minister of War and became a king in Xishu, it was our turn in Beiman to panic. Last year’s massive conflict left Beiliang with deep wounds. Among the countless officials of the Northern and Southern Courts, only Tai Ping Ling and Dong Zhuo insisted on attacking the western front first, determined to confront the newly enthroned Xu Fengnian in Beiliang and Chen Zhibao in Xishu in direct battles. Thus, Li Mibi’s Spider Web shifted its focus from people like myself to Xu Fengnian, hoping to assassinate the new feudal lord who had lost Xu Xiao’s protection. Once Beiliang fell into chaos, it would be much easier to deal with. The tides of fortune turned. Since it was now certain that Xu Fengnian wouldn’t rebel, the Zhao Gou of Liyang had no choice but to grit their teeth and protect him from Beiman’s assassins, lest the northwest gates fall—a truly great joke. With Beiliang’s thirty thousand iron cavalry wearing down the Southern Court, and Chen Zhibao lurking in Xishu like a tiger ready to pounce, Tai Ping Ling’s plan for an east-west confrontation would face great difficulties. Even if it succeeded, according to Tai Ping Ling’s estimates, it would cost over two hundred thousand lives. This is perhaps where Yuan Benxi, the man from Taian City, showed his brilliance—letting scholars speak while warriors died on the battlefield. The current stalemate among the three kingdoms is dull. As long as Beiliang doesn’t move, neither Beiman nor Liyang dares to act rashly. Unknowingly, this has brought twenty years of peace to the people of both nations. Heh, it’s all thanks to Li Yishan. A pity that this enemy has already died, leaving me no chance to speak with him face-to-face. All the words I have to say now can only be shared with you, Hong Jingyan.”

Hong Jingyan chuckled, “Fortunately, there’s still Chu Lushan.”

Murong Baoding placed his palm against his cheek, “Indeed, there’s still Chu Lushan.”

They had already crossed the threshold of the grand hall when they saw the somewhat desolate scene in the courtyard. Suddenly, Hong Jingyan remarked, “Xu Yanbing secretly following to protect the young prince is understandable. His methods of intercepting and rescuing the son of the Beiliang Governor near the border are not to be underestimated. Without the High Envoy’s authority, I wouldn’t have dared to kill in Qingcang. Since Xu Yanbing hasn’t appeared yet, it confirms my earlier suspicion—just one Zhong Liang truly cannot kill Xu Fengnian. First, there was Xu Xian, who refused to taste being emperor; then Chen Zhibao, who sought to secure the empire in two battles; and the ever enigmatic Chu Lushan. Now there’s this Xu Fengnian, who delights in snatching chestnuts from the fire. Beiliang truly is full of strange people and events. I say, Beiliang should indeed be destroyed as the Imperial Tutor advised.”

Murong Baoding cut straight to the heart of the matter, “If you don’t strike nearby Beiliang, how will you compete with Dong Zhuo for military merit? How will you become the Southern Court King?”

Hong Jingyan countered sharply, “Is the High Envoy really considering a deal with Beiliang?”

Murong Baoding spoke bluntly, “As long as this young man agrees, and you, Hong Jingyan, don’t interfere, the Northern Court King will be his, and the Southern Court King will be yours. Once the Northern Barbarians unify the realm, your Northern and Southern Courts won’t be defined by the current borders of the Northern Barbarians, but by the current division between the Northern Barbarians and Liyang. Hong Jingyan, do you think he’ll agree? He entered the city alone as a gesture of sincerity. I, too, traveled thousands of miles from the south to this land of refugees and spared his life. That’s quite a generous gesture, wouldn’t you say?”

Hong Jingyan replied calmly, “If Xu Fengnian can pacify over a hundred thousand refugees, he can solidify his rule over Beiliang. Similarly, if the High Envoy can subdue three hundred thousand cavalry, he could ascend the throne after the current Emperor’s passing. But until then, if I oppose the Emperor, I’ll not only lose the recently acquired Rouran military command but also suffer the fate of Luoyang, hunted relentlessly. On the surface, it’s better to follow the Emperor’s orders, kill Xu Fengnian to send him to join his father, then compete with the fat Dong for people, food, and land in Beiliang. Whoever conquers Xishu will be enfeoffed as king…”

Murong Baoding interrupted with a sneer, “That old hag won’t live much longer. You know well how deep the Yelü clan’s hatred for her runs. If she doesn’t appoint me as her successor, the Murong clan risks having its ancestral tombs dug up by the Yelü. She deeply distrusts me, her younger brother, so of course she has made posthumous arrangements. But when a person dies, their policies die with them, just like a lamp going out. Li Mibi, deprived of her protection and with the rift caused by my illegitimate son, will inevitably die a miserable death. Tuoba Pusa wants to kill me, but unless I fight him one-on-one, he will surely defeat me with his military prowess in a ten-against-ten battle. However, if the numbers rise to twenty, then it will be his turn to face certain death. My secret collusion with Zhong Shentong is practically an open secret in the Northern Barbarian court. As the ruler of a nation, what can she do to the Zhong family? Unlike the Xu family, the Zhongs are the kind of reckless and treacherous lot that will revolt at the slightest provocation. That’s precisely why I hold the Xu family of Beiliang in such high regard.”

The “Geng Louzi” of the Chess and Sword Bureau remained silent.

The sudden events in the palace courtyard overwhelmed everyone’s expectations, especially Queen Yu Rourou and the two guests, Mao and Gu. First, the Grand Guardian Tang, despite having protective talismans, was directly killed by the Xu youth. Then the Second Guardian, Liang Zhong, proved unexpectedly formidable, drawing blood from the young prince’s face with a single ordinary iron spear. What followed became even more bewildering. The Third Guardian, hailing from the Southern Frontier, appeared but did not immediately join the Second Guardian. Instead, he casually pulled a silk pouch from his sleeve with his deep purple fingers and then swept his sleeve to unleash a storm of peach blossoms, engulfing the Second Guardian. The two rows of peach trees along the palace walls became withered, flowerless husks. At that moment, the two guest scholars, Mao and Gu, finally understood the essence of the talisman formation: it wasn’t in the aggressive waves of sword talismans but in the unassuming toxic peach blossoms. Mao Bishan had already fled, while Gu Feiqing, loyal to the Dragon King’s Mansion, disregarded etiquette and respect, tightly gripped the Queen’s shoulder, threw her away, and then sealed the palace doors. After taking only a few steps, black blood oozed from his pores, and he collapsed, dead.

In the Southern Frontier, there exists a divine bug known as the Immortal-Slaying Hex, specifically designed to kill immortals.

This “immortal,” of course, does not refer to the free-spirited Celestial Immortals, but rather to the three levels of the First Rank below them.

However, similar to many flashy yet ineffective martial arts techniques that sound intimidating but are easily defeated, the Third Guardian’s Peach Immortal Hex, though formidable, did not succeed in killing the demonic Zhong Liang. Instead, Zhong Liang pinned the Third Guardian to the palace wall with a spear. Strangely, the old man let out a cackling sinister laugh, placed both hands on the spear, and slowly pulled his body off the weapon, inch by inch. After falling to the ground, his voice rasped as he smiled at the young man who had been watching silently, saying, “By order of my master, Li Yuanbing, I welcome the King of Beiliang.” Only then did his eyes widen in death.

The fatal blow that claimed the life of this dying warrior was not the spear, but the peach blossom Hex itself. However, Zhong Liang was not unscathed either. He wiped away the black blood that had flowed from his ear to his temple with his finger. His life was unthreatened, but his cultivation had certainly suffered damage.

It was at this moment that Murong Baoding and Hong Jingyan emerged from the hall. Zhong Liang, his face covered in beard, silently healed his wounds, while Xu Fengnian knelt beside the aging Beiliang warrior, gently closing the dead man’s eyes.

Xu Fengnian had once seen Murong Baoding’s portrait in the secret archives of the Listening Tide Pavilion. After standing up, he heard the Half-Faced King, the High Envoy, laugh and ask, “Beside me stands Geng Louzi, the sixth strongest in the world. I wonder where Xu Yanbing might be?”

Xu Fengnian smiled but did not reply.

Murong Baoding deliberately inhaled sharply, asking meaningfully, “Did you really come to Qingcang alone? Are you using yourself as bait to catch a few big fish?”

Xu Fengnian admitted frankly, “Fishing, yes, but for my own kind. Not for catching big fish. Xu Yanbing is certainly here, though I don’t know where, nor when he will appear.”

Murong Baoding looked at the young man standing calmly beneath the wall, feeling genuine admiration. He somewhat understood why the current Zhao Emperor favored Chen Zhibao so much. When the time came for him to sit facing south as the supreme ruler, having ministers of such grace and composure standing in the court would be a pleasure to behold, even if they did nothing else but serve him.

Murong Baoding laughed heartily, “Xu Fengnian, you might not know, but Yi Jie Liu is truly my eldest son. I can forgive whatever grudge you have with him.”

Xu Fengnian unsheathed the Guo He Zu sword at his waist, holding it before him. He exhaled gently, and one by one, purple lightning bolts rolled onto the scabbard, bouncing lightly.

Nine pearls of thunder danced upon the blade.

These were treasures he had gained from his previous battle against Liu Haoshi, treasures of immeasurable value.

Xu Fengnian gazed at Murong Baoding and Hong Jingyan standing side by side and spoke words that even these two supreme experts of the world could barely comprehend: “I’ve had Wang Xianzhi’s mindset for eight hundred years.”

The entire world my enemy.

No equal beneath heaven.