Chapter 312: Crimson Over Crimson

Outside the palace gates, Hongshu stood alone, her brocade robe fluttering without wind. Her eyes were red and swollen, fingers curled like talons. In an instant, she seemed on the verge of madness—more so than when her own aunt had died.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man appeared, carrying a familiar-looking book case on his back. He shook his head at her.

Hongshu’s flowing sleeves gradually stilled.

On the battlefield, everyone saw the blood-soaked man grin slightly and say, “Don’t worry. I didn’t manage to kill all five hundred Jinwu Guards—only two hundred cavalry. After I kill this Maorou, the remaining three hundred will scatter.”

Only two hundred cavalry.

Inside the carriage, Maorui’s heart nearly shattered. The five hundred elite guards outside the city were the culmination of generations of effort by the Ma clan. After Maorou seized command, she had defied all opposition to transform light cavalry into heavy cavalry. The schemes, sacrifices, and costs involved were beyond words. And now this damned bastard dares to say he only killed two hundred cavalry?! Maorui stumbled out of the carriage, rushing to cradle his daughter’s severed head in full view of the crowd, disregarding all dignity. Though Maorou had not yet reached the Second Tier Sage realm, it was widely known that women faced a hundredfold greater difficulty in entering the martial halls. Yet once they crossed that threshold, their ascent in the martial arts often left people astounded. Regardless of her martial prowess or intelligence, Maorou was the pillar of the Ma clan for the next thirty years. Her death was no less painful than losing two hundred cavalry—perhaps even more so. For a family to endure and flourish, it ultimately relied on one or two descendants who could stand tall and bear the burden. A hundred mediocrities could not compare to a single outstanding heir. How could Maorui not be heartbroken beyond words?

Meanwhile, several pairs of curious and knowing eyes turned toward those who knew the dark secrets of Dunhuang City—figures like Lu Wu, who understood the truth. Maorui was infamous for his lust, indulging in every carnal pleasure, and was mocked as a bookworm buried in erotic literature. Maorou, over thirty and still unmarried, likely had a scandalous relationship with her father. Yet after their mocking, Lu Wu and Tao Yong exchanged glances, both seeing the same unease in each other’s eyes. The anger of an ordinary man was trivial, but when such a martial artist approached the First Tier, no one could afford to ignore him. Why did the Northern Yan’s aristocratic families spare no effort in hiring and supporting such individuals? To intimidate the weak and cow enemies without battle. A madman willing to challenge five hundred cavalry for a woman? Lu Wu would gladly hand over his wife and concubines if it meant survival, as long as the blood-soaked youth was satisfied.

The mercenaries drawn by wealth had long since lost their courage. Unlike the powerful clans, they were lone wolves—die alone, and no one would even bury you. Their weapons, gold notes, and secret manuals would be stripped away the moment they fell. They had come to the city to chase fortune with the assurance of victory, not to die pointlessly. After clashing with the Jinwu Guards, only seventy or eighty remained, and now they were whispering among themselves, weighing their options, ready to retreat.

Lu Wu, with the bearing of a general, spurred his horse forward and shouted, “Who goes there?!”

Xu Fengnian merely looked at the wailing old man and said flatly, “You’re Maorui. I know you.”

Tao Yong, the archer general, suddenly shouted, “Watch out!”

He drew his bow and fired an arrow straight at Maorui’s head, causing sharp-eyed onlookers to think he had gone mad or was trying to stab from behind.

But the arrow struck something mid-air, producing a metallic clang.

Still, Maorui’s head jerked back, one eye exploding in a spray of blood.

He released the severed head, clutched his eye, and screamed even more violently.

Tao Yong, his eyes bloodshot, gritted his teeth and growled, “This kid can control two swords!”

Xu Fengnian wiped the blood from his lips, extended a finger, and two swords circled like butterflies. He asked, “I’ll pierce his other eye. If you still can’t stop me, next time it’ll be your turn.”

Without a word, Tao Yong swiftly retracted his iron bow.

Effortlessly, Xu Fengnian sent his swords flying, piercing Maorui’s palm and the remaining eye. He smiled, “My woman—beautiful, isn’t she? Pity you’ll never see again.”

He smiled, but with blood-soaked robes and a twisted, handsome face, the sight chilled everyone to the bone.

Xu Fengnian didn’t kill Maorui yet. He sheathed Chunlei, planted it upright in the ground, rested his hands on the scabbard, and roared, “Who dares fight me?! Even if you all gang up, I’ll take you all on!”

This was no laughing matter.

The young man once seen only as a palace concubine’s lover now radiated bloodlust and slaughter.

And that near-invincible sword aura and blade intent.

In that moment, countless old-generation heroes sighed: *This is how a son should be!*

Back then, outside the city, the young scholar who could control swords had drawn his blade instead, cutting down countless enemies. Finally, he plunged the sword into Maorou’s mouth, twisting it, and muttered to the corpse, “Let’s see you boast now.” The remaining Jinwu cavalry, still capable of fighting, completely collapsed and fled in panic. Xu Fengnian didn’t chase them. He severed Maorou’s head, carried it, and turned back toward the city gate. There, standing calmly, was a clean, refined man. Xu Fengnian said nothing, and Chunlei was about to leave its sheath.

The man blocked a sword strike and said calmly, “I am Xu Pu, a veteran of Beiliang. Before coming to Dunhuang, I was a loyal retainer of Master Li Yishan.”

Xu Fengnian, bloodthirsty and enraged, blinked in surprise. “Xu Pu? The former commander of the twelve light cavalry battalions of Beiliang?”

Xu Pu knelt on one knee, his voice hoarse. “This servant greets the Young Master.”

Among the Beiliang Prince’s Mansion’s hidden forces, besides the old man in the sheepskin cloak beneath the Tingchao Pavilion and the mysterious sword master Jiujian Huang, the next most significant figure was this unseen Xu Pu. Once a Third Tier official, he had held equal rank with Wu Qi, the mentor of the martial prodigy Chen Zhibao. His reputation in the Beiliang army was nearly equal to Wu Qi’s, though Xu Pu was seen more as a scholarly general. Why he later resigned and became a retainer was another secret. His gaze was sincere and warm as he helped carry the book case that had once hidden the Chunlei sword. He smiled, “Rest assured, Young Master. Though I may not match your valor, I still have some skill left. No one will disturb you along the way north.”

Chunlei, having unleashed over sixty strikes of Qinglong Sleeve, had slain nearly two hundred cavalry. Now trembling in its master’s hand, it was clearly exhausted. Xu Fengnian pressed his chest, steadied his breath, and frowned, “Will this expose Uncle Xu’s identity?”

Xu Pu shook his head. “It no longer matters. According to Master Li Yishan’s plan, Dunhuang City was meant to be turned upside down today. I was always going to appear. If the Young Master hadn’t acted, I would have cleaned up afterward anyway.”

Xu Fengnian slowly walked into the city, asking coldly, “So you’d go back later to collect Hongshu’s body? Shed a few crocodile tears?”

Xu Pu didn’t change expression, simply nodding.

Sensing his fury, Xu Pu showed mild displeasure, not bothering to hide it. He said bluntly, “Are you still dwelling on such sentimental matters?”

Xu Fengnian walked on slowly, each word calm but heavy, “Go to hell with that nonsense!”

Xu Pu said nothing.

After a long silence, the roof of the Yangling Studio in the Giant Immortal Palace came into view. Xu Fengnian muttered, “If I can’t protect one woman today, what makes you think I could protect Beiliang, or command thirty thousand cavalry?”

Xu Pu burst into laughter—twenty years of pent-up resentment vanishing in an instant, even shedding tears.

Xu Fengnian glanced at him in surprise.

Xu Pu finally showed genuine respect, smiling, “Back then, Li Yishan and Zhao Changling argued. Li Yishan said you could be the Beiliang King. Zhao disagreed, saying Chen Zhibao was enough. Even a non-clan member could carry the royal banner.”

Xu Fengnian tugged his lips, barely managing a smile. If not for the Two-Chan Golden Pill he had swallowed long ago, which he had carefully preserved in his Dushu Cave instead of wasting, the outcome of this battle might have been uncertain. He asked curiously, “And what did you think, Uncle Xu?”

Xu Pu gazed into the city, his face filled with relief. “In my opinion, when you stood at the city gate, the outcome was still uncertain. But once you stepped into the city, Li Yishan defeated Zhao Changling.”

Suddenly, Xu Pu added, “Li Yishan predicted that Wu Qi would never betray his family ties to side with you. Have you seen him in Northern Yan?”

Xu Fengnian’s face darkened. “Maybe he saw me before I saw him.”

Back at the scene, silence reigned. Not a soul dared to challenge him.

Unknown to many, the various factions that had tried to attack the Giant Immortal Palace were now surrounded in turn, their escape routes cut off.

Except for the calm Baoque Platform, the Yuwen and Duanmu families had abandoned all pretense, launching a full-scale assault— The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind..

What were marriage alliances, old friendships, or mutual dependencies compared to the power vacuum left by eliminating these rebels?

Xu Fengnian looked at the martial artists and sneered, “Want gold? How much did the Ma clan promise? The Giant Immortal Palace will double it.”

Xu Pu smiled, set down the book case, and began killing.

As the former commander of the six thousand light cavalry of Beiliang, how many hands had he not stained with blood?

Xu Fengnian, sword at his back and blade in hand, advanced. The battle was decided. No one dared to stop him. He walked straight to the brocade-robed woman, raised his hand as if to strike.

She didn’t flinch, tears streaming.

Hongshu clung tightly to the blood-soaked figure, biting her lip until it bled, layering crimson upon crimson.

Xu Fengnian merely reached out, pinched her cheek, and glared, “You almost died. Did you really think I could forget you? As a servant, can’t you make things easier for your master? At the very least, as a woman, can’t you let your man shield you from the storm?”