In the depths of the forest, danger lurked behind every tree. Two groups, led by Shu Xiu, Yang Qingfeng, Ning Emei, and Wei Shuyang, gathered together, frustration evident on their faces. Time and again, they had nearly surrounded their target, only for the young man to slip away at the last moment like a slippery eel. Once, Ning Emei’s short halberd had pierced the youth’s arm, yet the boy endured the strike of an old Taoist’s sleeve from Jiudou Rice Sect, rolled several times, and with a fierce glare, spat out, “Grandson, today’s kindness with a halberd, Grandpa will return double in the future!” He then slammed into a light cavalryman of the Fengzi Squadron behind him and vanished into the shadows of the forest. The cavalryman, struck with brutal force, was gravely wounded.
Yang Qingfeng’s three red-clawed rats were all dead, two crushed to death by the brute’s bare hands. Shu Xiu’s expression was grim. The best opportunity came when the vulgar-mouthed youth was cornered by a barrage of crossbow fire, but even with Shu Xiu’s mighty internal force capable of commanding the talisman-armored warrior, she only managed to slam the youth named Yuan against a tree, snapping the trunk as thick as a man’s arm. Yet the man still lived, and this was no act of mercy or playfulness on Shu Xiu’s part—her strike should have torn him open, spilling his entrails.
Shu Xiu could not fathom the mystery.
If it were simply a matter of brute strength, their side far exceeded the youth. Yet Yuan Ting Shan’s blade techniques were fierce, and his nature was cautious, almost possessing an innate sense of danger. Twice, when the net was nearly closed, he slipped away like oil.
Ning Emei scooped water from a stream, splashing his face, and calmly said, “This man is a born scout.”
Shu Xiu, her temper flaring, snapped, “General Ning, if we can’t capture him, we might as well not leave the mountains!”
Yang Qingfeng, his face paralyzed and expressionless, said, “With the Prince’s Hai Dong Qing bird to track him, we can catch him.”
Shu Xiu’s anger deepened as she sneered, “How impressive!”
Wei Shuyang, ever the mediator, smoothed things over, saying, “No need to rush. The Fengzi Squadron is skilled in night operations. Let’s pursue through the night. If we still can’t find him by morning, we’ll immediately leave the mountains and head to Zhizhang City. If the Prince is angry, I’ll take the blame.”
Shu Xiu sighed in relief. Ning Emei frowned but remained composed, asking, “How many arrows are left?”
Many arrows had been fired and not retrieved during the chase. Except for the severely wounded, the remaining nine Fengzi light cavalrymen reported their counts.
Ning Emei said, “Reallocate—four arrows each. Zhu Zhi, Ye Zhenfu, you two will escort the injured Shao Donglu, deliberately falling behind to act as bait.”
Two Bai Ma Yi Cong warriors replied solemnly, “Understood!”
Wei Shuyang hesitated, whispering, “General Ning, is this wise?”
Ning Emei, whose soft voice rivaled the young widows of Zhizhang, simply smiled without further explanation. Shu Xiu could see the determination in his eyes.
Shu Xiu couldn’t help but ask, “General Ning, are you certain that boy will fall into the trap?”
Ning Emei replied flatly, “Yuan Ting Shan is vengeful by nature and a gambler. Even with risks, he’ll take the bet. This hunt has shown me he trusts his luck.”
Shu Xiu hummed, saying no more. To her, the lives of a few Fengzi cavalrymen were trivial, but she found herself respecting this mild-mannered Beiliang general a little more.
Half an hour later.
Yuan Ting Shan crouched on a branch, eyeing three light cavalrymen who had broken formation. His arm wound was already bandaged, and a short halberd hung from his mouth.
Kill or not?
Yuan hesitated.
He could kill swiftly with a blade or slowly carve flesh.
Even a man as resolute as he felt a surge of anger. A mission that should have been easy had turned into this miserable mess. Even a clay Buddha would have lost patience. Yuan believed his talent and potential rivaled those so-called elite martial artists from noble families. On Guniu Ridge, two young men from the Xuan Yuan clan had ventured out to gain fame. One he nearly crippled, severing tendons; the other was skilled, and they fought to a draw, but Yuan had only lost due to technique. If it came to a life-or-death fight, he was confident he could reduce that elegant nobleman to a cripple within a hundred moves. Yuan sneered bitterly—talent meant little without a good birth. Born into a noble family, one could easily access top martial arts manuals, learn from masters, and grow steadily. Among their peers, even minor achievements made them act as if they were above worldly concerns. If they couldn’t win, they could always run home to cry.
Song Keli was the prime example—reaping all the rewards. Yuan glanced at his plain knife, the only thing he had to carve a future.
Hateful.
If hatred exists, kill it.
Kill!
Damn it, he refused to die here. Death meant nothing—until he decided he’d lived enough, not even Yama could take his life.
Yuan bit down on the halberd, ready to leap.
His body froze, taut like a drawn bowstring.
A soft laugh came from above.
At the critical moment, Yuan prepared to fight to the death.
The figure above said gently, “Don’t regret this.”
Yuan stilled, even reversing his qi flow at the risk of worsening his internal injuries, blood trickling from his lips. Yet his mind was clearer than ever.
“No one bought your life, so I’m too lazy to kill you. I just found it amusing watching you run around, so I don’t want you to die so soon.”
Yuan gritted his teeth, “Who are you?”
No answer.
Risking a glance upward, Yuan saw a little girl squatting on a swaying branch, holding a golden sunflower?
Above and below, they stared at each other.
“Except for an old man who taught me to kill, I only speak to the dead or dying. More than twenty words? You’d better be ready to die. Count how many words I’ve spoken.”
The girl spoke stiffly, her lips curling slightly—perhaps a smile?
Yuan’s qi surged, and now blood flowed from all seven orifices. Yet in that instant, his blade erupted with a purple-blue aura over an inch long.
That day, deep in Longhu Mountain with Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, he had seen a middle-aged Taoist fishing. Only Yuan had mindlessly devoured the red berries. At first, he hadn’t thought much of it, but after descending the mountain and boarding a boat, a voice—clearly the Taoist’s—spoke only three words: “Dragon Spits Water.” Looking around, there was no sign of the Taoist. Then Yuan’s internal sea began to churn violently. By the time he reached Huishan, he was vomiting blood all the way up the mountain. At the sixth waterfall, he crawled beneath the cascading waters of the Dragon Spits Waterfalls, bearing the entire torrent on his back. Given his physique, he should have lasted no more than half an incense stick’s time before sustaining internal injuries, yet he remained seated for twelve hours, beyond comprehension.
His cultivation skyrocketed.
This was Yuan’s confidence in challenging that Bai Ma Jin Yi noble youth.
Now, he only lacked a blade manual!
Yuan slashed upward, severing half the tree’s branches.
The girl, somehow now perched on a nearby tree with her annoying sunflower, said blandly, “Huh, you’ve grown stronger.”
This time, Yuan truly began to flee.
※※※
Yanqi Pass, originally known by a forgotten name, was renamed after a border poet’s line: “Southern geese weep at the northern wind.” Heavily guarded by Beiliang troops, it stood like an unbreakable gate, blocking the southern path of northern barbarians. Dark clouds loomed, storms brewed, and sands rolled across the desert, yet in the distance, Beiliang soldiers continued their drills amidst the wind and sand. The harshness of this land rivaled the might of Beiliang’s iron cavalry. Further north, though mostly desert, there were patches of fertile grassland. Yet Yanqi Pass itself was desolate and barren.
A white-robed figure stood atop the city wall, flanked on the left by Dian Xiongxu, whose thick fur made him resemble a western lion, and on the right by Wei Fucheng, a shabby old scholar.
Dian Xiongxu, commander of six thousand heavily armored riders, opened his blood-red mouth atop the wall, finally roaring, “General, now that Beiliang Circuit is established, it’s only natural for the Grand General to be the Jiedushi. Anyone who dares challenge that, this old Dian will split in two with an axe. But why should Fengzhou Governor Li Degong be the Jinglue Shi? That old money-grubber claims second, no one dares claim first. Let him govern Beiliang? Pah! I’ll spit in his face. Old Dian says it plain—if Li Degong dares take that post, I’ll lead six thousand riders and kill him!”
Wei Fucheng, frail and coughing from the wind and sand, shielded himself with his sleeve, muttering, “Don’t speak nonsense. The Jinglue Shi isn’t that important—whoever takes the post matters little. But the Censor—no one knows who the court will send to that death sentence.”
Dian Xiongxu waved his hand, “Master Wei, you’re too refined. How can the Jinglue Shi not be important? It’s the second-highest post in Beiliang Circuit. Shouldn’t our General hold it?”
Wei Fucheng sighed, waving his sleeve, “You brute, strength without brains. If the General took that post, it would cause real trouble. If the court intends this, and the Grand General accepts…”
He paused, gazing at the rolling black clouds above, sighing softly.
Dian Xiongxu blinked, “What do you mean? Master Wei, you know my head was kicked by a horse when I was little. It doesn’t work right anymore. Thinking gives me a headache.”
It was true. Dian Xiongxu, a third-rank general, had been strong even as a child, once pulling a horse backward until it went mad and trampled him. He survived only by miracle. Yet everyone in Beiliang knew the real reason for his lack of wit had nothing to do with a horse’s hoof.
Wei Fucheng, exasperated by Dian’s antics, carefully chose his words, “Do you want the General to sit in Liangzhou City as Jinglue Shi, dealing only with paperwork, leaving all military affairs aside?”
Dian Xiongxu was stunned, “This…”
Baiyi Chen Zhibao remained silent, turning instead to a young rising star in Beiliang’s army.
His name was Che Ye, born in Beiman, of the lowest slave status. Skilled in archery and horsemanship, adept in martial arts, he had once been a noble’s assassin. After committing a grave crime in Beiman, he fled south, killing over twenty Beiman Langying warriors with just one horse and one bow. These Langying warriors were second only to the Da Huben in Beiman, roughly equal to Beiliang’s Tie Shi. One must know how brutal the selection of Tie Shi was—equipped with a Huang Lu short crossbow or an iron-bow, twenty arrows, a Beiliang saber, and three days of rations, five men formed a squad and were thrown into Beiman territory. Only those who could sever six enemy heads could return, followed by further trials in mounted and dismounted combat. There were only nine hundred Tie Shi in Beiliang.
After defecting to Beiliang, Che Ye joined the scouts and quickly became the top scout in kills. Last year, he followed Chen Zhibao with six hundred riders on a raid into Beiman’s Bairi City, killing a royal family member with a single arrow. When he returned with Chen Zhibao, he was pursued by no less than thirty thousand Beiman cavalry!
Che Ye was only nineteen years old.
Clad in silver armor, holding his helmet, unmoved by the wind and sand, Che Ye stood firm.
Chen Zhibao gestured for him to step forward, standing side by side on the city wall, smiling, “Do you think it will rain today?”
Dian Xiongxu slapped his forehead. The General was asking about such trivialities when he could be explaining the Jinglue Shi matter.
Wei Fucheng smiled faintly, rubbing his brow.
Che Ye shook his head, “Reporting, General, it won’t.”
Chen Zhibao hummed, then fell silent again.
Dian Xiongxu, unable to stand still, wanted to descend the wall and drill his “sons of bitches” outside.
Suddenly, a thin gap opened in the thick clouds, sunlight spilling onto the wall, illuminating the white-robed Chen Zhibao and the silver-armored scout Che Ye. The latter’s armor gleamed like a divine warrior.
At that moment, cries echoed from both ends of the Yima River, five or six li outside the city.
The Yima River had over a hundred iron chains suspended across it year-round. Now, they were pulled taut by soldiers on both banks. Fifty against fifty, engaged in a tug-of-war!
Regardless of rank or officer, all had to strip to the waist. Those with delicate skin would suffer torn flesh after a few rounds in June or July. Now, nearing autumn, they were lucky. But in a few months, it would be worst of all. According to Beiliang’s military law, the losers of the tug-of-war were dragged into the river along with the chains. In summer, it was like a bath, but in winter, falling into the icy river was torture. Beiliang had many factions, and the Grand Marshal never interfered, but private duels were strictly forbidden. If conflicts arose, they were resolved either in the training ground or here, each side bringing fifty men for a tug-of-war.
When an old hunchbacked man arrived at the Yima River with Bai Xiong Yuan Zuo Zong, the bare-chested men roared with excitement.
“Motherf***er, the Grand Marshal is here!”
The tug-of-war was never gentle. Now that the Grand Marshal had returned from the capital, who the hell wanted to lose face!
Without armor, Xu Xiao stood beside a group of fifty Beiliang soldiers, smiling, watching the chains stretch across the river.
One by one, the chains snapped as men were dragged into the river.
After an entire incense stick’s time, only the chain near Xu Xiao remained unbroken.
Xu Xiao squinted, watching as over half the hundred men had bloodied hands.
Their roars were hoarse.
On the left bank, someone shouted, “Zhao Tiezhu, did you not drink milk as a child? Stand up!”
On the right, “As long as your hands aren’t broken, hold on! Whoever slacks off first, I’ll make you bend over in the barracks!”
“Wang Ba! Do you really think you’re a turtle hiding in its shell? Push harder! Didn’t you claim you could draw a three-stone bow? Win this, and you’ll show those Bastard!”
“Huang Qiong, you’re the Bastard!”
No one expected it—the chain was pulled apart by the two sides!
All hundred collapsed, unable to move a finger, hands soaked in blood.
Xu Xiao smiled, “Good.”
No one knew who shouted first, but every soldier who could still move screamed, “Long live the Grand Marshal!”
Long live!
The hunchbacked old man did not stop them.
He said nothing, and who dared whisper in the capital?
Xu Xiao turned to the city wall, muttering to himself, “What’s the point of standing so high?”
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