Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

The battle between the imperial court's army and the rebels of Chongzhou had been raging for nearly a year.

All military equipment, including armor and weapons, was issued by the Armory Bureau. However, damaged weapons and armor during wartime couldn’t simply be sent back to the capital for repairs. Thus, stationed troops often requisitioned nearby weapon workshops in the prefectures.

In addition to repairing damaged weapons, the blacksmiths in these workshops could also forge new arms for the army.

Although He Jingyuan held military authority over Jizhou, Xie Zheng could mobilize the entire northwestern forces, including He Jingyuan’s Jizhou troops.

Initially, only the Xie Family Army from Huizhou had engaged the Chongzhou rebels. Later, when the Northern Turks attacked Jinzhou, the Xie Family Army moved north to reinforce the defense. It was then that Changxin Wang attempted to seize Jizhou by advancing south, dragging the Jizhou army into the conflict.

Before He Jingyuan led the remaining Jizhou forces to Chongzhou to join Tang Zhaoyi, the only Jizhou troops that had set foot in Chongzhou territory were the ten thousand or so new recruits under Tang Zhaoyi’s command.

Tang Zhaoyi was a cautious man. While besieging Chongzhou, he couldn’t be certain whether Xie Zheng, after dealing with the rebels at First Line Gorge, would head to Chongzhou to assist in crushing the rebellion. Thus, he dared not rashly take over the weapon workshops near Chongzhou.

Even now, those workshops were still managed by the remaining Huizhou forces under Xie Zheng’s command. Therefore, when Xie Zheng went to retrieve the weapon forged for Fan Changyu, he had no need to conceal his identity.

The young officer stationed there hurried out to greet him upon hearing the announcement: “Greetings, Marquis.”

Xie Zheng handed the reins of his warhorse to the soldier who stepped forward and strode straight into the camp, asking, “How is the Horse-Cutting Sword coming along?”

The young officer quickened his pace to keep up with Xie Zheng and replied, “One more tempering, and it will be ready.”

Upon entering the forging workshop, a wave of heat struck them, as if stepping into a steamer.

Rows of furnaces stretched deep into the workshop, seemingly endless at a glance.

Shirtless blacksmiths stood at their stations, swinging hammers in rhythmic succession against the iron on their anvils. Their muscles bulged with power, and the clanging of metal mixed with deep, forceful chants, stirring a sense of awe in those who heard it.

The furnaces blazed fiercely, each manned by an assistant tasked with operating the bellows. They too were bare-chested, drenched in sweat.

The young officer led Xie Zheng to the furnace designated for forging long-handled weapons. Beside it stood a temporary rack holding a Horse-Cutting Sword—a blade three chi long with a five-chi handle.

The gleaming blade and dark iron shaft bore faint layered patterns under the firelight, a testament to the countless folds and hammer strikes it had endured.

The young officer said, “The blade is made of hundred-fold steel.”

Xie Zheng’s gaze swept over it briefly. He lifted the hilt, testing its weight with a swift flourish. The blade sang like a tiger’s roar, its wind forcing the young officer to step back.

Examining the cold, sharp edge, Xie Zheng asked, “If the blade is already sharpened, why temper it again?”

The young officer couldn’t answer, but the old blacksmith responsible for forging the weapon, hammering away at a new piece without looking up, rasped, “Ancestral rules dictate that a weapon destined for the battlefield must be tempered once more after its first bloodletting before it can be deemed complete.”

Perhaps from years spent by the furnace, the old blacksmith’s voice was as rough and grating as a cracked gong, almost jarring to the ear.These are all folk rumors. Weapons that have tasted blood on the battlefield carry heavy malice. Since ancient times, few military generals have met peaceful ends, hence the belief that overly bloodthirsty weapons bring misfortune to their owners. Therefore, when forging weapons, after the blade is first sharpened and bloodied, it must be returned to the furnace for another round of tempering—said to subdue the weapon’s spirit.

Fearing Xie Zheng’s displeasure, the young officer hurriedly explained, “This old master shares the same lineage as Yun Yazi, who once forged the Marquis’ halberd. If not for the fact that this Horse-Cutting Sword is also being forged with dark iron, I doubt I could have persuaded him to come out of seclusion.”

Dark iron was precious, and ordinary blacksmiths dared not casually use such valuable material to forge weapons. Even renowned master smiths rarely had access to such fine materials—most were commissioned by nobility or royalty at great expense.

From the day he first stepped onto the battlefield, Xie Zheng had ceased to believe in superstitions.

But this Horse-Cutting Sword was being forged for Fan Changyu. Even knowing it was mere superstition, he still sought peace of mind.

He asked, “What kind of blood?”

The old smith lifted his aged eyes, illuminated by the furnace flames. One eye was clearly blind, but the other gleamed with the sharpness of a hawk as he met Xie Zheng’s gaze fearlessly. “A weapon of slaughter is meant to kill—human blood is best for quenching. Here, we usually use black dog’s blood.”

The young officer quickly added, “My lord, men have already been sent to fetch black dog’s blood.”

But Xie Zheng said, “No need for the trouble.”

His expression indifferent, he stared at the gleaming blade, then gripped the collar of his robe and tore it off with a sharp tug, revealing his powerfully built torso.

The young officer caught the discarded robe in both hands, realizing his intent, and paled in alarm. “My lord, you mustn’t! Your body is worth ten thousand gold—”

Xie Zheng ignored him. Gripping the Horse-Cutting Sword, he spun it in a flourish before slashing it across his own back. The razor-sharp edge instantly carved a deep wound into his muscular flesh.

As the blade completed its arc, blood dripped from its edge in a crimson trail.

The old smith gave Xie Zheng a startled glance before bellowing in his grating voice, “Stoke the flames!”

The men working the bellows frantically pumped, and the furnace roared to life, the heat searing enough to blister skin.

The bloodied sword was returned to the blazing furnace, while the young officer hastily summoned attendants to tend to Xie Zheng’s wound.

Once the blade glowed red-hot again, the old smith took up his hammer, meticulously reshaping the metal with precise strikes. When plunged into water, the blade hissed violently, sending up a plume of white steam.

After it cooled completely, the old smith examined the sword closely. The blade now matched the hilt’s dark iron hue, its layered forging patterns shimmering with gold and crimson, while the newly tempered edge gleamed like frost. Overcome, he nearly wept.

“It’s done… it’s done…” he murmured.

The surrounding craftsmen erupted in cheers, crowding around to admire the second weapon ever forged from dark iron.

The old smith polished the edge once more with his tools, wiping away the residue with a cloth. The retempered blade now shone with a deadly brilliance, its sharpness palpable even to the naked eye.

And the swirling gold-and-crimson patterns along the blade exuded an eerie, otherworldly allure.The old blacksmith reverently presented the Horse-Cutting Sword to Xie Zheng, his voice trembling with emotion: "May the Marquis find a worthy master for this blade. All my life's learning is forged within it. If this weapon and its wielder can one day make their name known across the land, this old man's craft shall not be inferior to that of Yunyazi!"

Xie Zheng replied simply: "Naturally."

The moment he saw this long-handled Horse-Cutting Sword, he knew it was perfect for Fan Changyu.

Equally deadly whether slashing or chopping, the weapon excelled both for cavalry charges and infantry combat.

Xie Zheng ordered the great blade encased in its scabbard. No sooner had he left the camp than a personal guard came galloping from Kangcheng's direction: "My Lord, a letter from Grand Tutor Tao!"

Xie Zheng's brows knitted. Xie Qi had just sent word via gyrfalcon—why would Tao Taifu be writing now? Had something gone wrong in Chongzhou?

Accepting the missive, he read it through before tucking it away. His gaze fell upon the guard: "You'll accompany me to Chongzhou."

The guard hastily assented.

Grand Tutor Tao's letter revealed that Li Huaian had remained with the army since arriving in Chongzhou. The Grand Tutor suspected Li had uncovered some incriminating evidence against He Jingyuan from Jizhou Prefecture's archives, while also confirming the imperial grandson's likely presence in Chongzhou—hence his prolonged military stay.

The dying sunlight fractured in Xie Zheng's eyes as his expression grew colder. Swinging onto his saddle, he jerked the reins sharply and barked: "Hyah!"—

When Grand Tutor Tao sought out He Jingyuan, the latter reacted with mingled surprise and resignation: "After flooding the rebels attacking Lucheng, General Tang dared besiege Chongzhou with fewer than twenty thousand raw recruits. I should have guessed the Grand Tutor was advising him."

Tao Taifu stated: "The northwest has suffered chaos too long. Now that the Li and Wei factions have exhausted their court intrigues, it's time to restore peace to the people."

He Jingyuan sighed: "How our Great Yin's subjects have suffered."

The Grand Tutor pressed: "If you truly care for the people's welfare, was a single act of patronage enough to bind you to Wei Yan's service all these years?"

He Jingyuan smiled bitterly: "The year Chengde Crown Prince and General Xie fell at Jinzhou, our border defenses collapsed completely—Great Yin teetered on the brink. It was the Chancellor who became the empire's backbone. Whatever his faults, the Marquis could only march north to retake Jinzhou because of the strength accumulated during those years of recovery. In that time, the Chancellor accomplished much for Great Yin. Had I not met him, Jingyuan would have been just another frozen corpse by the roadside decades ago. How could I forget such a debt?"

Tao Taifu countered: "That old man of the Li clan postures as righteous, yet his ambition rivals Wei Yan's. At least Wei's faction, having gorged themselves on state coffers, still perform some service for the people. Should Wei fall and the Li faction take over, those starving jackals would first sate their greed before tossing scraps to the populace—by then the treasury would be drained dry."

His gaze sharpened on He Jingyuan: "Though I disagree with Wei Yan's policies, I despise even more how the Li faction starved disaster victims by withholding relief grain—just to manufacture charges against Wei. You know well how the Li patriarch and Wei Yan now compete for credit over Chongzhou. With Li Huaian's arrival, he must have obtained some leverage against you. Wei Yan likely won't protect you now. But remembering how you buried my wife and child years past, I'd spare your life. Will you tell me what evidence Li Huaian has uncovered?"He Jingyuan listened as Grand Tutor Tao spoke of the burial kindness from years past, and memories flooded his mind, leaving him with an inevitable sense of melancholy.

The reason Grand Tutor Tao had taken a liking to him was not only due to his incorruptible governance and fatherly care for the people but also because, during the chaos of war in earlier years, when the Grand Tutor’s wife and child had perished tragically, He Jingyuan had helped erect their graves.

Over twenty years had passed since the deaths of his wife and child, yet Grand Tutor Tao had remained alone all this time. Compared to other scholars who had passed the imperial examinations in the same year, he appeared more than a decade older.

After Xie Zheng completed his studies, the Grand Tutor felt that his lifelong knowledge had finally found a successor, so he resigned from office and retreated into seclusion—until now, when he had emerged once more.

With Grand Tutor Tao as his assurance, He Jingyuan suddenly recalled the promise he had made to Xie Zheng that day. Rising to his feet, he bowed solemnly and said, "I, He Jingyuan, have clung to life until now only because the burden on my shoulders has yet to be lifted. If that day truly comes, my life is of little consequence. I only beg the Grand Tutor to protect the lives of a pair of sisters in my stead."

Grand Tutor Tao found this answer somewhat peculiar and asked, "Who are they?"

He Jingyuan replied, "They are the daughters of an old friend of mine."

The elderly tutor’s brow instinctively furrowed, and then he heard He Jingyuan continue, "That old friend… I believe the Grand Tutor knows of him."