After the battle between the Spring God Lake and the Kingdom of Chunqiu, the lake had long ceased to be shrouded in smoke of war. Could it be that today, these three merchant ships would offer the Qingzhou navy its first taste of warfare?
At the forefront of a group of young aristocrats aboard the Huanglong warship stood a nobleman—seemingly the leader among the young men of privilege. His brow furrowed. He saw no suspense in a naval battle where forces were so lopsided. Yet, initiating hostilities here would have serious consequences. Given his sensitive status, even his own father would hesitate to bear the aftermath.
The three Huanglong warships had “conveniently” sailed near Laoshan under the pretext of a naval drill. In truth, they had come to show off their might. If their opponents had been ordinary noble youths, it would already have been disastrous—without even needing the four colossal pole arms mounted fore and aft on the deck, the ship’s hook-projectiles and speartipped darts would have been more than enough to wreak havoc. After shattering or capsizing their ships, they could simply pin the blame on smuggling salt and iron, turning it into a case too messy to investigate. Qingzhou authorities had long resented Laoshan’s Wang Linquan for meddling in the lucrative salt trade. Thus, this maneuver would serve two purposes: avenging the son of General Zhao, and delivering a warning to Wang Linquan’s faction—accomplishing two goals with one move, a brilliant strategy indeed.
Yet this plan crumbled as he observed the hundred-strong force aboard those three ships. Not only were they armed with military-standard swords, but also with crossbows—an alarming sight. While wearing swords was not strictly forbidden, the possession of crossbows was reserved strictly for the imperial army. He wasn’t blind—behind the young man from Laoshan stood a towering warrior clad in heavy armor, wielding a massive halberd. Although the empire had hundreds of thousands of soldiers, how many could fight with an iron halberd of such might? It was easy to deduce the identity of this target. Who else could command the personal protection of Ning Emei, the famed general of Beiliang?
He had long heard whispers that the heir of Beiliang had set out on his second journey across the land. Never did he expect to cross paths with him here today.
Such a title could not be impersonated easily. The heir of any feudal prince must receive direct imperial approval to travel beyond their domain, and their retinue must conform strictly to established ranks. Moreover, it would have been far safer for any imposter to claim the title of a prince from any other fiefdom rather than dare to impersonate the son of the “Butcher” Xu. Merely raising one’s voice and declaring “I am the Beiliang Heir” in any of the Eight Kingdoms of the Spring and Autumn Era would summon a swarm of elite assassins like fish crossing a river.
The young nobleman, himself a peer among the highest-ranking aristocrats, muttered in a complicated tone, “He brought a hundred light cavalry from Beiliang—almost equal to my own father’s guard. What a grand display. No wonder he’s the son of a non-royal prince.”
Position dictated perspective. Unlike the cautious leader, the Qingzhou youths—especially the hot-headed Zhao, bristled with anger at Xu Fengnian’s challenge. In naval warfare, two advantages were crucial: controlling the river’s upper reaches and thus descending upon the enemy with momentum, and crushing smaller ships with larger ones. Over the years, the Qingzhou navy had spent vast sums to construct three massive warships as tall as city walls. The two others were the Yuhuang of the former Dongyue Kingdom and the Shenhuang of former Xichu; Qingzhou’s flagship was the largest of all. Compared to those, even the Qinglong warships were small fry, let alone the Huanglongs—mere toys compared to these colossi. As for the merchant vessels before them today, they were as fragile as eggshells before the Huanglongs. So what audacity gave this man the courage to call out, “Dare you fight?”
Among the group of richly dressed youths, the hotheaded ones included not only Zhao but also Wei Wei, another troublemaker whose father was the commander-in-chief of the Qingzhou navy. Wei Wei was a notorious thug, known among the locals as the “Evil Dragon.” He used his father’s influence to abduct beautiful girls and drag them to the lake for his twisted pleasures. Afterward, he either drowned them or stripped them naked and forced them to walk ashore in shame—most chose death rather than face such humiliation. Wei Wei’s cruelty extended further: he was skilled with a three-stone bow, using it to shoot at any woman who tried to escape into the water.
His father was nearly the god of the lake in Qingzhou, and Wei Wei, despite his ignorance of even the most basic literacy, was known for running around the streets with hunting birds and dogs, beating up scholarly-looking literati on sight. He had inherited most of his father’s cruelty and ruthlessness. His idol was Li Hanlin, one of the four notorious youths of Liangzhou, infamous for his private zoo of caged beasts. Wei Wei often said he would one day befriend Li Hanlin as sworn brothers.
Now, Wei Wei was nearly frothing with rage. Of all things, he hated two: elegant scholar-official types and arrogant young masters even more ruthless than himself. And the man on the ship had both qualities—how could Wei Wei tolerate such a display on his own turf? He barked furiously at a nearby servant, “Go get my bow!”
The servant scrambled to fetch the bloodstained longbow.
Each Huanglong warship had four hundred crewmen, known as the Huangtou Lang, clad in yellow robes and caps, symbolizing the element earth overcoming water. According to the naval treatise *The Tai Bai Yin Jing*, each ship carried ten spears, ten axes, thirty-two crossbows, three thousand three hundred arrows, and forty sets of armor. A dozen of the Huangtou were elite fighters called Jizhuo Shi. With two ships sailing downwind, the odds against the enemy’s mere hundred crossbows were insurmountable—the victory was already in their hands.
On the decks of the Huanglong ships stood noblewomen, their flowing silk robes with wide sleeves—a fashion pioneered by Empress Zhao Zhi herself—reminiscent of butterflies and nightingales in a garden of colors. Their tastes differed from the young men’s: they held no grudge against the figure wielding twin blades. He stood tall, his demeanor bold and fearless before four hundred troops. His twin swords—long and graceful, short and sturdy—captivated them. Whether he was skilled or merely bluffing mattered little; his audacity alone stirred their hearts. How romantic it would be to have such a fearless and charming young lord as a lover!
They cared little for the tense standoff. Two bolder daughters of noble families had already begun to send flirtatious glances.
Xu Fengnian was not overly concerned about whether Qingzhou’s navy could hold its own. Instead, he focused on details—the way the ships maneuvered, whether the grappling hooks and pole-arms were well-maintained, whether the decks and sails were reinforced with iron-armored ox leather. From such minute signs, one could judge the overall combat readiness of the Qingzhou navy.
Beside him stood Master Wei Shuyang, the old Daoist priest, guarding the young heir against any assassination attempt. Xu turned to Ning Emei and casually mentioned the essentials of naval warfare, offering a concise evaluation of the Qingzhou navy.
Ning Emei, one of the Four Tigers of Beiliang and a general renowned for his martial prowess, was unfamiliar with naval battles. Still, as Xu spoke, he couldn’t help but express surprise. Clearly, the young master was no mere book scholar of *The Tai Bai Yin Jing*; his understanding of naval tactics was deep and refined.
Ning Emei smiled slightly, bowed, and requested, “If the enemy dares to advance, I will sever their pole-arms with one strike of my halberd, keeping them at bay. As for crossbow duels, the Huangtou are no match for our Beiliang soldiers. I humbly beg Your Highness to let me strike first and break their morale! Let the Qingzhou navy witness the might of true warriors!”
Xu Fengnian shook his head and teased, “General Ning, we agreed to challenge them honorably. Whether to fight or not should be their choice. If you strike first, and things are later investigated, I, the infamous young prince, won’t mind much—it’ll just mean another screaming match between Xu Shao and Chancellor Zhang in the imperial court. But you, my friend, might lose your title as Warlord General. Look over there—their commander is already daydreaming of promotion after resolving this matter. You’re stuck behind me, enduring hardship without reward. If you also lose rank, my reputation will spread like wildfire across the thirty provinces, and no one will dare serve under this wicked young prince anymore.”
Ning Emei, clad in armor, seemed to finally understand the young master’s nature and chuckled, “Very well, then. Tomorrow I look forward to begging the Prince and the General to grant me the rank of *General of a Thousand Bulls of War*. After all, this journey far from home deserves a better reputation.”
Xu Fengnian laughed heartily, “You just won’t stop until you get it, will you?”
The Beiliang light cavalry, poised for battle, kept glancing at Xu and General Ning. Seeing their leaders relax and banter so freely, they too felt a surge of confidence. These Beiliang veterans were among the most scorned men in the empire, guarding the border between Liyang and Beiman for over a decade. Though the recent skirmish on a rainy road had cost many lives, dying on horseback was an honor they accepted. When Ning Emei had humiliated the former general of Gu Jiantang at Yingyuan Gate, many were skeptical—until the Prince declared he would have personally strung that deputy commander up at the city gate if he had been present. After that, and after the Prince himself pulled them from the jaws of death at the Ghost Gate, hearing him now challenge the enemy to battle made them believe more than doubt. No matter how reckless the young master seemed, his boldness was worthy of the Xu banner of Beiliang.
The Prince’s graceful leaps through turbulent waters, his precise grip on the *Bu Zi Tie Ji* halberd—these feats had been etched into the memories of the Fengzi Squadron. Several soldiers he had rescued from drowning now took pride in teasing their comrades, boasting of the Prince’s valor.
Xu Fengnian saw a muscular youth on the Huanglong ship lift a massive horn bow, drawing it back like a full moon—arm strength impressive indeed.
The arrow loomed toward him.
Xu Fengnian, gripping *Xiu Dong*, narrowed his beautiful phoenix eyes and murmured, “Been waiting for you.”
Back at Laoshan, Wang Linquan had joined his daughter Wang Chudong in her study, watching the confrontation unfold.
Wang Chudong’s study, “Xue Zhai,” stood as the tallest structure on Laoshan. Books lay everywhere in a scattered mess, yet she forbade any servant from tidying them. When she composed poetry or prose, no one dared interrupt. She had classified each book into ranks, from gold to bronze, assigning each a nickname. When bored, she would lie on the floor, imagining battles between different kinds of books, speaking to herself, amusing herself—never feeling lonely. The maids outside often heard her exclaim, “Oh! The Classics defeated the Military Treatises—I shall punish you all by not reading any of you for half a month!” or “Ah! The poetry of the Former Shu and the lyrics of the Southern Tang are evenly matched—well done! The commanding generals of these two schools, *Hua Jian Ji Jiao* and *Bu Sa Man Ba*, shall be read for three days!”
The maids had grown used to their young mistress’s whimsical habits, considering themselves lucky to serve such a cheerful and lively master. When Chudong tired of reading, she would play sports with the maids—playing Cuju and polo. Some of the maids had even appeared in her famous novel *Dong Xiang: The First Snow*, a literary phenomenon. Scholars across the land knew their names, and many young nobles from Qingzhou vied for the hand of a “Dong Xiang girl,” creating two local literary legends: one of the “Eastern Chamber descendants,” and the other the “Dong Xiang maidens.”
Chudong stood on tiptoe, watching the lake below, worry in her eyes: “Father, can they win?”
Wang Linquan, wise with age, replied calmly, “The Qingzhou navy may appear powerful with their ships and men, but they are no match in real battle. Ten years without conflict have made these Huangtou nothing more than showpieces. The Prince’s personal guard, however, is handpicked, skilled in archery and mounted combat. One hundred elite warriors can rout four hundred untrained men in no time. But the Prince must consider the political implications—he cannot make the first move. The Qingzhou navy wouldn’t dare attack even after seeing his credentials. This isn’t merely a local affair they can cover up—it’s a clash between imperial military forces, strictly forbidden by the court. Now, it all depends on whether Qingzhou has any wise commanders. If fools like Wei Wei take charge, they’ll lose both the battle and the political game. Once Qingzhou’s navy proves incompetent, the corruption of General Wei Dong and the Governor himself will be exposed. That’s the moment I’ve been waiting for—the perfect opportunity to place my own men into their ranks.”
Chudong murmured, “Spring God, thirty-six thousand hectares; a hundred armor-clad warriors against four hundred.”
Wang Linquan quickly suppressed his thoughts of court intrigue and smiled, “Beautiful! What a powerful verse!”
Chudong huffed, “This isn’t poetry! I just made it up!”
Wang Linquan teased, “My daughter, riding a horse and composing a poem—what’s the difference? It’s more than poetry.”
But before she could reply, Chudong suddenly spotted a movement from the third floor of the Huanglong ship. Wei Wei had drawn his bow into a full circle.
In a flash, he loosed an arrow straight toward Xu Fengnian.
Earlier, Ning Emei had spotted the movement and moved to shield the Prince, but the old Daoist Master Wei Shuyang silently signaled that it wasn’t necessary.
In a flash of white, Xu Fengnian unsheathed his blade. All present saw a dazzling arc slice through the air. The arrow—its sharp tip—was cleaved in two. No one saw how the Prince caught the point in his hand. But before Wei Wei could register the miss, Xu casually tossed the half-shaft into the air, flicked his finger, and fired it back—not at Wei Wei, but at the leading aristocrat.
That young noble had already retreated behind the others, eager to play the role of an onlooker. Not so fast, thought Xu. If you’re going to fish, you fish for whales. This one was likely a son of Prince Jing’an Zhao Heng. Before entering Xiangfan, he must let Zhao Heng know: your father cowered silently under the whip of Xu Shao—today, this Prince will show you whose son truly bears the spirit of his sire!
The nobleman had guards, one of whom blocked the shaft with his sleeve. Still, the man was visibly startled, stumbling backward and accidentally bumping into a noblewoman’s chest, drawing a piercing, girlish gasp that rang out like thunder in the tense moment.
Xu Fengnian slowly sheathed his blade, still wearing that infuriatingly arrogant grin as he called out, “Dare you fight?!”
Ning Emei slammed his iron halberd onto the deck with a thunderous crash. His fierce, hawk-like face, with a thick beard and sharp eyes, glared toward the Huanglong ships.
“Fengzi Squadron! Fight to the death!”
Yuan Meng and the hundred riders roared in unison, “To the death!”
The sky trembled with their battle cry.
Opposite them, the Qingzhou forces trembled, exchanging terrified glances, seeing the same fear reflected in each other’s eyes.
The four hundred Huangtou hands shook so violently they could barely grip their weapons.
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