Under the iron hooves of the Xu family, can the eight nations remain unscathed?
This old saying might not be taken seriously by those who never experienced the smoke and fire of that war.
The thirty thousand elite cavalry of Beiliang were mighty and formidable. Before seeing them, one could hear their thunderous approach on the official road, horses’ hooves pounding like thunder, rhythmically shaking the ground in unison. Soon, at the end of the road, a Xu family royal banner gradually rose, the simple character “Xu” inscribed with iron strokes and silver hooks, rumored to be the work of a woman’s hand. When Princess Jing’an, Pei Nanwei, finally saw the two black-armored heavy cavalry at the forefront, she instinctively slowed her breathing in nervousness. In Xiangfan City, Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng commanded an elite personal cavalry renowned for its combat prowess, sweeping all opposition in the heartland of the empire. When Pei Nanwei witnessed the charge of several thousand back Kui cavalry along the Guangling River, she had thought that the valor of cavalry had reached its peak.
Only now did Pei Nanwei realize that there is always a higher mountain. The Fengzi Camp, wielding swords and crossbows, belonged to the light cavalry of Beiliang, but the heavily armored cavalry on tall steeds now were the true iron cavalry of Beiliang, their equipment the finest in the kingdom, their combat skills unparalleled. As the horses galloped, the riders swayed with the rhythm, yet the angle of their long spears remained unchanged. At a distance of fifty paces from the young prince’s entourage, the horses stopped simultaneously, not a sound breaking the silence. Two riders then darted forth. One warrior was exceptionally valiant and graceful, riding a white horse with a silver spear, dismounting with fluid ease. The other reminded Pei Nanwei of the father and son Zhao Yi and Zhao Biao from Guangling; his dismounting lacked any grace, almost tumbling to the ground, rushing forward with a sobbing gait, one on each side, their feet kicking up dust that seemed to rival the horses.
Pei Nanwei and the Murong siblings instantly paled. Few women in the world could avoid loathing and fearing the fat man before them, whose name alone could send chills down spines—Chu Lushan. Even Pei Nanwei was no exception. Had she been in the Jing’an Prince’s Mansion in Xiangfan, she would have been composed, but here in Beiliang, alone and vulnerable, she lacked the confidence and boldness. Yet the next moment, the fat man, long deserving of a thousand cuts in hell, made Pei Nanwei deeply understand what it meant to flatter shamelessly. Still five or six steps from the prince, he threw himself to the ground, hugging Xu Fengnian’s legs, tears and snot streaming as he mumbled, “Your Highness has finally returned! Lushan deserves death! I wasn’t there by your side at the Guangling River. If anything had happened to you, how could I go on living? When I heard the news, I went straight to the general that night to beg for a tiger token, wishing I could personally lead twenty thousand cavalry from Liangzhou all the way to Guangling, cutting off that father and son’s testicles and frying them. Then, with countless concubines in the Guangling Prince’s Mansion, Your Highness could choose first, taking the best to warm your bed, leaving the rest for me and my men.”
Pei Nanwei, though shaken, still managed to feign composure. Murong Wuzhu, already terrified, had hidden behind her brother Murong Tonghuang, peeking out with her head, trembling in fear lest the ferocious brute sitting on the ground one moment and roaring the next would rise and pounce on her like a hungry tiger.
Unlike Pei Nanwei, who was the legitimate princess of a powerful feudal lord within the empire and thus more concerned with the real combat effectiveness of the Beiliang cavalry and the stories behind Chu Lushan, Murong Wuzhu had no such thoughts regarding his official rank or past military exploits in the Spring and Autumn Period. All she wanted now was for every fat man in the world to lose weight.
Xu Fengnian rubbed Chu Lushan’s cheek with a helpless expression, saying, “Alright, alright, we’re all family here. Who are you trying to impress with this act of groveling? Warning you, I have no patience for any heavyset men weighing over three hundred jin right now. Try to get too cozy and see what happens.”
Chu Lushan, often forgotten as a general of a thousand warriors, reluctantly got up with a pouty expression. The prince, smiling, deliberately or not, gave him a slight helping hand. Chu Lushan kept muttering to himself. Xu Fengnian turned his head and saw the unexpected Bai Xiong (White Bear), Yuan Zuozong, and softly said, “Thank you for the trouble, Brother Yuan Er.”
Yuan Zuozong, who liked to use his enemies’ heads as drinking bowls, narrowed his eyes and shook his head, saying, “It is my duty, my lord. There is no need for your highness to be concerned.”
After a pause, as if realizing his words were a bit stiff, Yuan Zuozong, usually a man of few smiles, broke his usual demeanor and smiled teasingly, “Your highness calling me Brother Yuan Er makes this journey of hundreds of miles feel quite pleasant.”
Xu Fengnian asked Shu Xiu to give up her horse, riding side by side with Chu Lushan on the main road. Shu Dama, whose fate was much better than Lü Qiantang’s, had to become a coachman. Since leaving Guangling, she hadn’t had a single night of peaceful sleep, and only now did she feel at ease. In Beiliang, even a dragon must lower its head, and for Beiliang, there was no such thing as a dragon crossing the river—only worms. On the way back, she received a secret message from the young prince: the woman hidden by Zhao Xun in Xiangfan had already died suddenly. Did this mean she could take her place? The prince left his words open, and she dared not guess rashly.
Two dusty carriages followed closely behind, one driven by Qingniao, the head maid of the Wutong Courtyard, who looked at the young prince’s back, bit her lip tightly, and slowly lowered her gaze. At the very front of the road, three riders: the young prince in the center, flanked by two adopted sons of the Beiliang King, both were third-rank generals renowned for their solid military achievements during the Spring and Autumn Period. Yuan Zuozong’s fame might not rival that of Chen Zhibao, whose name was known in both the Liyang and Beiman kingdoms, but compared to younger Beiliang generals like Ning Emei and Dian Xiongchu, who made Beiman seethe with anger, he still held the upper hand. Moreover, Yuan Zuozong was recognized within the empire as an elite general, whether on horseback or on foot. For this reason alone, Yuan Zuozong had countless admirers within the Beiliang army.
The Beiliang cavalry riding slightly closer to the three could not take their eyes off the young prince. What they had previously heard and seen was merely the prince competing with other young noblemen for women within the territory. Even during his three-year travels last time, no news had spread, so they assumed he was just going to trouble girls elsewhere. But this time, news gradually returned to Beiliang, shocking the entire region. Outside Xiangfan City, he had faced off against Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng with dual blades on a single horse, killing a general in front of the feudal lord. Who would believe it? Later, it was said that the old sword immortal Li Chungan, who had become the prince’s escort, borrowed countless swords at Huishan in Jianzhou. The Celestial Masters’ Temple on Longhushan was furious and demanded the swords back. The prince retorted, “Return my ass,” and this tale was widely believed, fitting his style. Speaking of this, although it seemed absurd, it was also quite satisfying. As for the recent rumor that Li Chungan had slashed through 2,600 riders with his sword at the Guangling riverside, few believed it, but when the prince declared he would teach Guangling to hang Beiliang knives throughout the city, nearly every listener cheered and exclaimed, “Bravo!” In recent days, because of this statement, the specialty green ant wine of Beiliang had nearly sold out.
The people of Beiliang drank heartily and joyfully, the taverns and wine shops bustling with business. The previous widespread criticism of the young prince had vanished into thin air. Some shrewd storytellers cobbled together tales from various sources, fabricating Fantastic exploits. Any story discussing the prince’s travels would earn thunderous applause. In the past, storytellers would expend much saliva for just a few copper coins in tips, but now they earned silver daily, prompting them to spare no effort in praising the prince they had never met.
Initially, the scholars and literati scoffed at these tales, but unable to resist the unanimous voices around them, they began to doubt, and finally, seeing the trend, reluctantly joined in the excitement.
However, the Beiliang army remained unusually silent.
Murong Wuzhu lowered the curtain and muttered to herself, “So even a great fiend like Chu Lushan fears the prince.”
Murong Tonghuang sneered, “Chu Lushan only fears the Beiliang King, whose merits are too great to be rewarded.”
Murong Wuzhu frowned, unaccustomed to contradicting her younger brother, and softly said, “But I think Chu Lushan actually fears the prince a little.”
Murong Tonghuang hesitated for a moment, then fell into thought.
Before entering Liangzhou City, the young prince returned to the carriage, sharing it with Pei Nanwei.
Pei Nanwei lifted a corner of the carriage curtain, peering through the gap at the pointing and whispering crowd lining the road, and sneered, “Is the prince shy? After traveling three thousand miles over mountains and rivers, finally turning infamy into fame—wasn’t that the whole point of this journey?”
Xu Fengnian ignored her sarcasm, his twin blades resting on his knees as he closed his eyes, silently breathing according to the Da Huang Ting heart method. The red mark on his brow, resembling a jujube, had faded from deep to light since leaving Guangling.
At the Beiliang Prince’s Mansion.
Pei Nanwei followed Xu Fengnian out of the carriage, surprised by the grand scale of the Prince’s Mansion and the meager reception. A vast mansion, occupying hills and lakes, should surely have countless servants. Yet at the vermilion gates stood only an elderly man, not particularly robust. It was the beginning of winter, an ancient saying that water turns to ice and the ground freezes, the pheasant enters the sea and becomes a clam. The old man seemed to fear the cold, his hands tucked into thick sleeves. After standing for a while, his body heat quickly dissipated, and the old man, shivering from the wind, walked forward with a smile upon seeing the carriage stop. He greeted the young prince with casual chatter, such as, “Back already, good, good, looking a bit stronger,” “Your father has had the house prepare some donkey-rolling and tender ginger mother duck, the most nourishing dishes for the body on the day of the beginning of winter,” “Ah, how come all the women you took when leaving Liangzhou are gone now? Could it be that you didn’t bring enough money, and those clever and mercantile girls from Liangzhou were too shrewd?”
Murong Tonghuang’s lips twitched.
Murong Wuzhu’s eyes widened in bewilderment. This old man, surely he couldn’t be the human butcher, the Beiliang King? Murong Wuzhu kept telling herself it absolutely wasn’t him.
Pei Nanwei, the Princess of Jing’an, was just as stunned as the Murong siblings, but being more experienced in worldly affairs, she formally curtsied gracefully, though her voice couldn’t help but tremble slightly, “Pei Nanwei pays respects to General Xu.”
Murong Wuzhu swallowed hard and instinctively took a step back.
After confirming the old man’s identity, Murong Tonghuang waved his sleeve and prostrated himself, his forehead firmly pressed against the cold stone, bowing with utmost reverence, “A commoner from Jianzhou, Murong Tonghuang, pays homage to the Beiliang King!”
Unfortunately, Xu Qiao didn’t even glance at the Princess of Jing’an who had curtsied or at Murong Tonghuang who had prostrated himself. The old man, dressed in a manner completely incongruous with the highest-ranking feudal lord in the empire, seeing his son hadn’t moved, rubbed his hands together, blew warm breath into them, and smiled as he asked, “Angry that I didn’t give you enough men to kill that fat pig Zhao Yi back in Guangling?”
Pei Nanwei, who didn’t feel the slightest bit slighted, merely flicked her eyelids. Murong Tonghuang, too afraid to move, trembled even more.
Xu Fengnian, lips usually perceived as sharp and cold, slightly pursed, said calmly, “I thought you would scold me a little. Even if you didn’t scold, at least you wouldn’t give me a pleasant look.”
Xu Qiao smiled at his eldest son, lightly flicked his sleeve, patted his son’s shoulder, and walked together toward the side gate, softly murmuring, “No one knows a son better than his father. How could I not know that you’re forcing yourself to become the Beiliang King?”
Xu Fengnian remained silent.
Upon entering the mansion, Xu Fengnian caught sight of the head steward holding a large blue-and-white porcelain tray, with a small porcelain bowl on it, containing a piece of meat that looked rather fresh.
The old man, who seemed more like a wealthy patriarch than a butcher to Princess Jing’an Pei Nanwei, nudged with his mouth and chuckled lightly, “It was cut from Zhao Yi’s body and sent here with all haste.”
Xu Fengnian was astonished.
Xu Qiao said slowly, “After you left Guangling, I sent someone to reason with him. Apparently, he felt guilty and cut off this piece of meat himself.”
Pei Nanwei felt an urge to turn and flee.
This time, Xu Qiao did not continue to joke and tease his beloved eldest son, only saying softly, “After all, Dad is getting old. From now on, you’ll have to reason with others on your own.”
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