Wei Shu Ye lifted his head, the fiery sun blazing into his eyes. The newly risen crimson resembled fresh blood, while desolate grass rustled bleakly in the chilling wind. The thunderous war drums roared beside his ears as thousands of soldiers surged toward him, their iron-gray shadows spreading like an overwhelming tide, gradually engulfing the entire battlefield.
He was drenched in blood, his once handsome face now smeared with grime, his hair tangled and caked with foul-smelling gore. His war blade was chipped, and the warhorse beneath him trembled on its legs, already pushed beyond its limits.
With the invasion of formidable enemies, the southwestern territories had fallen. The sworn foes of Daxia had breached the nation’s gates, unleashing their wolfish armies to ravage the empire’s lands. Yet, aside from a handful of defenders in the southwest, across the entire realm of Daxia and among all its noble clans, he alone had led his troops southward to resist the enemy.
Along the way, he had witnessed countless aristocratic families leading their private armies in a northward flight. The endless stream of refugees stretched like a long dragon, flowing ceaselessly toward the north. They drove carriages, dressed in fine robes, hauling vast amounts of gold, silver, jewels, and personal guards. Even officials from provincial regions fled in panic toward Zhenhuang with their local militias, brandishing whips and spears to shove aside any commoners blocking their path. Their faces were etched with terror, a far cry from their usual noble composure.
Wei Shu Ye had tried to rally these forces, even ordering his men to blockade the roads and confront the fleeing nobles and officials with drawn blades. Yet, they offered him ample justifications—defending the capital, strategic retreats, rushing to the imperial city to prevent civil war, preserving the empire’s elite forces for a final stand against the enemy, and so on. In short, they would rather clash with him than turn back to face the Yanbei Army.
Some cursed and shouted, claiming that not a single regular garrison soldier remained in the southwest, all having been recalled by the princes to fight in the civil war. If even the royal family had abandoned the nation, why should they be expected to fight?
Faced with these clamorous voices, Wei Shu Ye was left speechless.
In just two days, over two hundred thousand displaced civilians had gathered on the Songjiang plank road. Among them were nobles, aristocrats, soldiers, and commoners. With the southwest lost, they had trekked thousands of miles to this point, covered in dust, staring hungrily like a pack of starved wolves at the soldiers blocking their way.
The barricades were torn down. A mere twenty thousand troops could never stem such a tide. A deputy general stood before the crowd, his voice hoarse as he shouted, urging them to turn back and fight on. But no one paid him any heed. Wei Shu Ye sat atop his horse, watching the expressionless masses pass by him one after another, like lifeless straw figures.
After everyone had left, only a dozen or so children remained standing in place. Some were fourteen or fifteen, others eleven or twelve—all boys. Timidly, they approached the hoarse-voiced deputy general, raising their hands to volunteer for military service. The deputy was deeply moved, thinking his words had finally struck a chord. He eagerly asked the youths their reason for enlisting—was it a desire to sacrifice for the nation in its hour of crisis? But the boy replied that their rations had been stolen by fleeing soldiers, and since pressing onward meant certain death, they might as well become soldiers.Twenty thousand soldiers fell into a collective silence before these dozen or so slender youths. Wei Shu Ye ordered the quartermaster to distribute dry rations and water to them, then watched as they departed in high spirits. The setting sun shone upon these seeds of the empire, like weeds uprooted from the soil.
After entering the southwestern territory, the situation grew even more chaotic. Passing through a small town, they found it completely devoid of human presence. The procession moved as if through a city of the dead, hearing only their own footsteps—heavy, one after another. Yet when they reached the town’s small square, they all froze in shock. It was a veritable slaughterhouse, filled with all manner of bizarre and grotesque tortures. A towering elm tree hung with dozens of naked male corpses, a pile of charred remains twice a man’s height on the ground, and countless naked women—all clearly victims of brutal methods.
The entire procession fell into a deathly silence. These were seasoned veterans, men who had lived by the sword, their hands stained with countless lives.
Yet even now, some wept silently, shedding the tears of men.
As soldiers, if they could not defend their nation or protect their people, what value did their existence hold?
Homes destroyed, houses flattened, fertile fields turned to scorched earth, prosperity reduced to ruins—once-thriving towns had become lifeless ghost towns. The vibrant lives of the past were now rotting flesh, devoid of sensation, reeking of decay as Eagle Vultures circled overhead. This was a terrifying disaster, a nightmare from which one could not awaken.
Wei Shu Ye could not comprehend why the Yanbei Army would be so brutal. A profound grief and rage surged within his chest. He gripped his blade tightly, his youthful spine straight as a battle spear.
However, the subsequent battles they encountered, with their exaggerated tactics and chaotic deployments, gave him some understanding.
It turned out that the first to enter Daxia’s borders were not the Yanbei Army. Yan Xun had opened Baizhi Pass, eliminated several military posts along the way, then withdrew from Daxia and occupied the pass. He had not sent a single soldier into Daxia’s territory but instead issued widespread proclamations, inviting bandits and horse thieves active in the Yanbei Plateau, the Southern Wastelands, the Helan Mountains, and the Northwestern Desert to share in plundering Daxia.
Wave after wave of horse thieves flooded into Daxia’s lands. They were fierce and brutal, swift as the wind. They had no attachment to the land, reveling only in slaughter and pillage. Wherever they passed, they left devastation—burning, killing, looting, and violating women. Acts that soldiers could not bring themselves to commit, they carried out without blinking. The cruel bloodshed intimidated soldiers and nobles who might have resisted. Rumors of the enemy’s ferocity spread throughout the southwest, and war panic engulfed the Longxi region within days. Thus, soldiers abandoned resistance, nobles gave up their defenses, and civilians began to flee. In just a few short days, the entire southwest fell into enemy hands—the Yanbei Army’s follow-up forces did not even encounter a single organized counterattack!
He is a madman!
In the pitch-black night, Wei Shu Ye breathed in the pungent stench and muttered under his breath.
He had opened Daxia’s gates, paved the way for these devils, and turned all living beings into a hunting ground.He had not come to conquer, but to destroy—to offer the countless lives of this mighty Daxia as sacrificial tribute to his Yanbei lineage.
The embittered twenty-thousand-strong Daxia Army encountered the first regular Yanbei forces at Moon City. Twenty thousand cavalry against thirty thousand heavy infantry—it was a bloody, brutal battle from start to finish. Driven by the fury of grieving soldiers, Wei Shu Ye’s army crushed the Yanbei Army in one relentless assault. Enraged, the Daxia troops slaughtered all the wounded and prisoners with cruel efficiency. Wei Shu Ye did nothing to stop them, for in his own heart, he too yearned for such vengeance.
He hated them—the invaders, Yanbei, Yan Xun, those savage horse-mounted bandits.
But even more, he despised the imperial family, the arrogant nobility, the soldiers who enjoyed imperial favor yet fled at the first sign of danger. He loathed Zhao Yang for withdrawing all southwestern troops to fuel the civil war. He detested the powerful clans, the aristocratic families, and even himself.
His uncle’s letters arrived one after another, only to be torn to shreds by his own hands. Family elders condemned him, calling him a madman for leading the clan’s private troops into the southwest at such a time. They branded him a traitor to the Wei Clan, a disgrace to their lineage.
Yet this time, no reprimand, no matter how severe, could make him turn back.
The enemy advanced, the empire trembled, the nation tore itself apart in civil war. The nobles fled while the common people wept.
He was a warrior of the empire. He would not retreat.
After the Battle of Moon City, this lone, deep-penetrating force drew Yanbei’s attention. Within two days, nearly seventy thousand troops surrounded them completely. After a day and night of fierce combat, they were exhausted.
Arrows were depleted, medical supplies exhausted, rations nearly gone. Blades were dulled, spears chipped. The soldiers had not slept properly for days—many dozed off mid-fight, only to be jolted awake by pain, suddenly remembering where they were.
As dawn broke, sunlight once again bathed the land. Wei Shu Ye tilted his head back, squinting at the sun hanging in the sky. He told himself this might be the last sunrise he would ever see.
His deputy rushed forward, a long, deep scar cutting across his face, giving him a fearsome appearance. His voice was hoarse beyond recognition, yet he shouted to Wei Shu Ye, “General! We can’t hold any longer! The enemy has sent three reinforced regiments! We must retreat now!”
Wei Shu Ye remained silent, his gaze fixed on this man who was older than himself. This was a comrade who had followed him through countless campaigns—more experienced in battle, more skilled in strategy, fiercer on the battlefield, and more beloved by the troops. Yet because he was of common birth, no amount of military merit could earn him promotion. Had he not served under Wei Shu Ye, he might still be a lowly squad leader.
And just because Wei Shu Ye had shown him some favor, he had repaid it with unwavering loyalty—always charging ahead in battle, shielding Wei Shu Ye from arrows and blades. But how could he know that Wei Shu Ye often looked down upon commoners like him? Wei Shu Ye had taken their achievements for granted, standing safely behind them awaiting battle outcomes. What difference was there between him and those wealthy nobles who fled? They abandoned their posts to save their own lives, while he—to protect his own reputation—was destroying the lives of others.
In that moment, a flood of thoughts overwhelmed him.Wei Shu Ye knew that today was the final battle—there would be no reinforcements, no turning point. Zhao Yang was still fighting Zhuge Yue and could not come to his rescue. He also knew that even if Zhao Yang were not engaged in battle, he would not come under such circumstances. They were destined to be an abandoned troop, destined to rest eternally in the flames of war amidst the chaos.
Wei Shu Ye drew his battle sword, a resolute expression appearing on his face as he spurred his horse forward, approaching the soldiers covered in wounds.
"Warriors, today will be our final battle."
His deep voice echoed across the battlefield, and thousands of blood-stained faces lifted to gaze at their commander.
"Soldiers, the enemy has invaded, our homeland has fallen. While everyone retreats, only you charge forward fearlessly. In just ten days, you have fought thirteen defensive battles, eleven field engagements, two major clashes, and traversed half the territory of our motherland in forced marches. You are worthy of the title of soldier, worthy of the uniforms you wear. For generations to come, the people of Daxia will take pride in what you have done today!"
"Today, we may rest here eternally, we may fail, but we will use the blades in our hands to tell those invaders—tell them that Daxia will not yield, our fervent blood will not congeal. All who trample upon our dignity will pay a heavy price for it!"
The usually mild-mannered general suddenly raised his voice sharply, pointing at the dark mass of advancing enemy troops, roaring furiously, "Long live the Empire!"
"Long live Daxia!!!"
Thousands of battered swords pointed toward the sky as the soldiers' blood boiled with fervor. Wei Shu Ye spurred his horse out of the formation, shouting wildly as he charged toward the enemy, followed by thousands of roaring warriors, like a herd of frenzied wild bulls.
The fierce wind whistled past his ears, stinging Wei Shu Ye's eyes. His warhorse galloped at full speed—he could see nothing around him, only instinctively swinging his increasingly heavy battle sword again and again.
Life became vivid in that moment. He recalled many things: growing up cautiously within the clan, repeatedly striving and fighting for the family under his uncle's guidance, and gradually acquiring clouded eyes amidst halls filled with gold and jade, surrounded by wealth.
"I refuse to be such a coward, growing up, aging, and dying gradually under the ironclad order of the Empire. One day, I will break free from this cage, cast aside everything the clan has given me, and use my one and only life to accomplish a great feat. Even if it seems insignificant to others, I can tell myself before I die—I was finally brave once."
A cold smile curled at the corners of his lips as he swung his sword, hacking and slashing, leading his army in a reckless fight, stirring crimson waves in a sea of iron-gray.
**
Not far away, beneath the embankment of the Heng River, a cloud of roaring dust rose. A general in jet-black armor coldly observed the battle on the field and suddenly ordered, "All troops, prepare."
"Your Highness!"
An advisor frowned and said, "That is Wei Shu Ye's army, the private forces of the Wei Clan. They are troops loyal to the Fourteenth Prince."
The general raised an eyebrow, turned his head, his gaze profound, and spoke slowly, word by word, in a low tone, "I care not for clans. I only know that those people are our compatriots and comrades-in-arms. They are defending my country."
The advisor was taken aback, then replied, "I understand, sir."The general drew his battle blade and raised it high: "All troops, heed my command! Charge with me!"
"Slay the enemy!!!"
A tremendous roar of assault erupted instantly, like earth-shaking thunder rolling forth!
"A large cavalry force from the north!"
"Extremely fast! They're charging toward us!"
"Friend or foe unclear! Their numbers are vast—appears to be over a hundred thousand strong!"
No one knew who shouted first, but soon everyone noticed the anomaly from the northeast.
The approaching riders all wore dark blue cloaks, their warhorses galloping fiercely. Amid the vast clouds of yellow dust, it was impossible to discern their exact numbers. Countless hooves churned like surging tides, wave after wave sweeping across the land. The world was painted in shades of yellow and brown, dust rising high enough to obscure the towering embankments, resembling majestic mountain ranges.
"Look at the banners! It's the Eastern Hu army!"
A cry of joyous surprise suddenly rang out. In an instant, everyone was stunned. They gazed in astonishment, faces flushed with excitement.
"It's the Eastern Hu army! The Eastern Hu army!"
"It's the Seventh Prince's forces! They're on our side!"
"Long live the Seventh Prince! Long live Daxia!"
...
Wei Shu Ye sat frozen in his saddle. He never imagined that Zhao Che, who should have been attacking Zhenhuang City at this very moment, would suddenly appear here.
After he had betrayed their friendship, followed his family's arrangements, and supported Zhao Yang's claim to the throne—in this desperate hour when his family had abandoned him, Zhao Yang had forsaken him, and the empire had cast him aside—it was the very man he had betrayed who traveled thousands of miles to rescue him from certain doom.
Gritting his teeth, he let out a furious roar and cleaved an enemy's skull with a single blow.
"Slay the enemy!"
The battle cries rose again, mingling with boiling fervor, fueling the warriors' fighting spirit.
Across the ravaged battlefield, as dusk fell and the killing abruptly ceased, a desolate wind swept through, carrying the foul stench of blood.
Zhao Che stood tall in his military attire atop the distant riverbank, gazing over the devastated battleground.
Wei Shu Ye stood some distance behind him, watching his silhouette from afar. Vaguely, it seemed to transport him back many years, to when the defeated prince returned in disgrace and knelt in the Purple Star Square to plead for punishment. He had stood just like this back then, watching that unwavering back and perpetually clenched fists.
So many years had passed. They had experienced life and death, rises and falls, hardships and obstacles, loyalty and betrayal. Everyone's eyes and hearts had grown weathered with age. Zhao Yang had become ambitious, Zhao Song had grown disillusioned, Zhao Qi had perished on the lands of Yanbei, Yan Xun had turned cold and ruthless in his campaigns, and Zhuge Yue had finally opened his eyes from his obsessions. Yet only Zhao Che remained, from beginning to end, still that resolute and decisive figure—unchanged, unbroken, without even a trace of hesitation.
This man was a born soldier, a natural guardian.
Wei Shu Ye slowly approached and stood behind him, saying, "Thank you for saving me."
Zhao Che didn't turn around, as if he had long known he was standing there. His steady voice carried over: "I simply don't wish to betray my family name."
Yes, he was a descendant of Emperor Peiluo, flowing with noble golden blood. He was merely defending his land and people, regardless of stance, and certainly not out of charity.
"Look, how beautiful."Zhao Che suddenly reached out, pointing his scabbard toward the vast plains below. The setting sun cast countless crimson rays upon the desolate wilderness, where the swaying grasses shimmered like gold tinged with blood—a sight both magnificent and haunting.
"None have ever witnessed a truly expansive world, for it has yet to be forged. One day, from the Shangshen Plateau of Yanbei to the Eastern Cliffs of Huai Song, from the barren Adur Plains of the Western Desert to the Jiuzui Mountains of the Southern Frontier—all shall kneel before the empire. And this grand beginning shall be heralded by my blade."
He turned, his eyes gleaming as he smiled confidently at Wei Shu Ye, then raised a clenched fist and declared resolutely, "Daxia will not fall."
Wei Shu Ye watched him in silence for a long moment before finally allowing a faint smile to grace his lips. The smile gradually widened, infusing his vibrant eyes with warmth.
"Daxia will not fall!"
He raised his own fist and firmly bumped it against Zhao Che's.
**
In the northwestern sky, a brilliant sunset slowly descended.
The army, having marched relentlessly for a day, was granted a brief respite. Campfires were lit for meals, and soldiers seized the opportunity to rest, knowing they had only two hours before resuming their southwestward journey.
After inspecting the troops, Zhuge Yue had just returned to his tent when he saw Chu Qiao, already packed and waiting for his arrival.
He stood at the entrance, silently watching her for a long time without speaking.
The spring wind was strong, rustling the tent flaps. Scarlet light streamed inside, enveloping them like a veil of blood-red mist.
"Have you decided?"
His low voice held no discernible emotion—merely calm inquiry.
Chu Qiao nodded earnestly. "Yes, I've decided."
Zhuge Yue turned to leave. "I'll prepare a warhorse for you."
"Zhuge Yue!"
Chu Qiao rushed forward and grabbed his hand, her voice tinged with distress.
The atmosphere in the tent grew heavy. Chu Qiao lowered her head, brows furrowed, her palms cold as ice.
Finally, the man turned back, his gaze stern. After a long pause, he sighed helplessly. He removed the sword at her waist and replaced it with his own blade, then knelt to fasten a sharp dagger beside her leg bindings. He entered the inner tent, retrieved a sturdy soft armor, removed her cloak, and helped her into it. Throughout, he remained silent, meticulously sharpening her blade, checking her supplies, and packing medicinal kits...
Chu Qiao's eyes stung with unshed tears. She pressed her lips together, head bowed, allowing him to tend to her.
"All set."
Having completed his tasks, he stood before her. "Prepare to eat. We part ways in an hour—this is as far as I can accompany you."
Chu Qiao nodded, her heart weighed by sorrow, helplessness, guilt, and even fear.
It had been so long since she last felt such dread. Truly, one should not possess too much—once happiness is grasped, the fear of losing it takes root.
"Xing'er, promise me you'll return to me unharmed."
Chu Qiao nodded hurriedly, lifting her gaze to him. "You're not angry with me anymore?"
Zhuge Yue smiled wryly. "Would my anger stop you from going?"Chu Qiao immediately lowered her head. They had already argued over this matter several times. Now that parting was imminent, she didn’t want to continue this dangerous topic.
"Since there’s no way to stop you no matter what, I might as well send you off properly."
Zhuge Yue suddenly opened his arms and embraced her, resting his chin against her forehead as he whispered, "Xing'er, Zhao Che has led troops into the southwest, and the situation is critical. I must go to support him. The entire southwestern route is now occupied by the Yanbei Army, and the roads between Biantang and Daxia are blocked. From now on, if anything happens, I won't be able to assist you in time. Neither of us knows the situation within Biantang, so you must act within your means. If you find the situation untenable, turn back immediately—do not take any risks."
Chu Qiao nestled in his embrace, nodding repeatedly but remaining silent.
Zhuge Yue sighed and continued, "If the situation in Biantang becomes dire and cannot be reversed, take your troops and head to Qinghai. I have ordered Yue Qi to return to Cuiwei Pass, where he will arrange for people to be ready to receive you at any time."
A faint moisture glistened in Chu Qiao's eyes. She sniffled slightly, still nodding.
"Alright, since you've decided to go, don't carry on like this. In leading troops and fighting battles, morale is paramount. How can I rest assured if you leave in such a state?"
Chu Qiao lifted her head and smiled at him, her voice slightly choked as she said, "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Zhuge Yue cupped her face, gently kissed her lips, and then smiled. "That's the spirit befitting the woman of Zhuge Yue."
Chu Qiao was amused by his words and looked up, saying, "You must be careful too. The situation is critical this time—not only are there the Yanbei forces, but you must also be wary of Zhao Yang and the various feudal lords. With Daxia's lands shattered and foreign enemies invading, the world is in turmoil. You must proceed with caution."
"I understand," Zhuge Yue nodded. "I've been leading armies for many years and have rarely suffered major losses. You should have faith in your husband."
Chu Qiao, clad in military attire, looked both delicate and charming. At his words, her cheeks flushed slightly, and she retorted with a laugh, "Whose husband are you? Have we ever bowed to heaven and earth?"
Zhuge Yue snorted disdainfully. "You've long since entered my household—it's just that stubborn little mouth of yours that refuses to admit it."
Then, his gaze softened as he said, "Xing'er, I still owe you a grand wedding."
Chu Qiao's eyes shimmered with emotion as she whispered, "I don't need any grand wedding. As long as I have you, that's enough for me."
Suddenly, the clear sound of a military horn pierced through the vast wilderness, echoing between heaven and earth. The surroundings instantly felt desolate. Chu Qiao closed her eyes, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed Zhuge Yue's lips—a tender, lingering kiss, soft as water.
"Zhuge Yue, neither of us can come to harm."
"Mm," Zhuge Yue tightened his arms around her waist.
"I'm still waiting for you to marry me into your household with great fanfare."
...
Along the desolate mountain path, Chu Qiao, accompanied by He Xiao and others, sat on horseback, gazing for a long time at the tall, imposing figure beneath the Qinghai banner.
"Zhuge Yue! I'm leaving!"
The wind rose, stirring up clouds of dust. Chu Qiao's cloak billowed high, revealing the pure white, resilient armor beneath.
Zhuge Yue's eyes were sharp as lightning, his expression calm as he called out loudly, "May you achieve immediate success!"
Chu Qiao raised her horsewhip and replied in a clear voice, "May you achieve immediate success!"
The thunderous beat of war drums and the blare of horns erupted instantly. Chu Qiao cracked her whip against her horse's flank, turned her steed, and shouted, "Hyah!"Hooves kicked up dust as the woman wore a silver helmet, its crimson tassel dancing like a flickering flame, starkly vivid against the vast, desolate landscape.
At the moment of parting, facing each other across the battlefield, there were no comforting words, no coy, womanly hesitations. "May you achieve immediate victory"—just four brief words, and nothing more.
They both knew what the other desired. In these turbulent times, life was as fragile as duckweed, yet conviction alone would never be extinguished.
"Young master,"
Yue Liu frowned, unwilling to give up, and pressed on, "Are we really letting the young lady go like this? Biantang is so dangerous—why didn’t you stop her?"
Zhuge Yue turned his head, raising an eyebrow with a light laugh. "If she didn’t go, would she still be herself?"
The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, the dust settling behind her. Gazing into the far horizon, Zhuge Yue held in his heart an unspoken thought.
Isn’t this exactly the woman I love? How could I, after winning her heart, confine and destroy the very essence of who she is?
He let out a bright, clear laugh, then turned to his fully prepared troops and commanded, "Move out!"
**
In early April of the year 882, Yanbei launched a full-scale assault on Daxia. Allying with Consort Qiu, the Jing’an Princess of Biantang, they entered Biantang through the Tanghu Pass, which the princess had opened for them. With the speed and ferocity of a thunderstorm, they crushed the Biantang defenders west of Meishan, clearing the way for the Jing’an Prince’s army. Then, before the civil war in Biantang erupted fully, they swiftly withdrew their forces, maneuvering to encircle and attack Daxia’s Baizhi Pass.
Due to the outbreak of civil war in Daxia, the Fourteenth Prince, Zhao Yang, had diverted eighty percent of the Southwest Army to counter the forces led by Zhuge Yue and Zhao Che from Qinghai and the Eastern Hu. Moreover, with Baizhi Pass having seen no conflict for years, its garrison was reduced to a mere tenth or less of its original strength—only a few hundred veteran soldiers guarded the massive pass. Thus, when faced with Yanbei’s fierce, wolf-like army, Baizhi Pass proved as fragile as a pane of paper.
After eliminating the most stubborn resistance, Yan Xun opened the pass, allowing the bandits and marauders waiting outside to pour in. This unleashed a nightmarish wave of slaughter upon the people of the southwest.
The Ximeng region was vast, with numerous states and factions, and large stretches of ungoverned borderlands teeming with bands of bandits. These outlaws were considerable in number, fierce and brutal. Some of the more notorious bands could even stand against small-scale national armies.
Relying on their ruthless methods and chilling reputations, the great families of the southwest retreated in fear, common folk fled in droves, and local troops lost the will to fight. Over a hundred thousand regional defenders fled without even engaging in a single battle, surrendering the vast southwestern territories to the iron-willed soldiers from the Yanbei continent. In this way, Yan Xun achieved the greatest gains at the smallest cost.
By mid-April, Zhao Che led his forces into the southwest, joining Wei Shu Ye, who had advanced deepest into the heartland. This marked the first major resistance force Daxia had mustered since the war began, comprising 50,000 cavalry, 60,000 infantry, 80,000 heavy armored troops, along with Wei Shu Ye’s 10,000 light cavalry—totaling 200,000 troops. Three days later, a direct supply line from the interior to the southwest was established under Zhuge Yue’s coordination. Simultaneously, Zhuge Yue led his troops to Shengjing, taking personal command of the Southwest Shengjing Base. From there, he could support Zhao Che to the south, keep a watchful eye on Zhao Yang to the north, monitor Wild Goose Cry Pass to the west, and oversee the nationwide supply of provisions. In an instant, Shengjing became the political heart of the entire nation.On April 15th, the Yanbei Army finally completed its first rendezvous downstream of the Heng River. Present were the Second, Sixth, Ninth, Thirteenth, and Black Hawk Armies of Yanbei, with Cheng Yuan serving as the supreme commander. The Yanbei forces rapidly assembled, with reinforcements continuously pouring in, totaling up to two hundred thousand troops.
However, Yanbei did not engage in a direct confrontation with Daxia. Just as Zhao Che was gathering his full strength, preparing for a decisive battle to the death with Yanbei, Yan Xun suddenly issued a military order from the rear, commanding all armies to disperse and advance into the northern heartland of Daxia, following the trails of the horse bandits.
Instantly, intelligence flooded in from the front lines. Yanbei divided its forces into ten routes, launching assaults in all directions. The military staff was overwhelmed by the scouts' battlefield reports—everywhere there were messages of "encountering resistance," "suffering heavy losses," "falling into enemy hands," "being surrounded," and "losing contact." A blizzard of dire news descended.
Meng Feng, Zhuge Yue's capable general, had returned all the way from the interior of Qinghai to her homeland. Witnessing chaos and conflict everywhere, the young female commander was utterly stunned. In the end, she could only ask in astonishment, "Has Yan Xun gone mad? Does he intend to perish together with us?"
Zhuge Yue stared at the multicolored map for a long time, lost in thought. Finally, he went to the military staff headquarters, pressed the map down on the table, and said quietly, "I think I know what he's planning."
**
"I think I've already guessed what he's up to."
In a dense forest along the Daxia-Biantang border, Chu Qiao and He Xiao had just reunited with Biantang's wedding escort convoy. Fortunately, the convoy had been delayed by the war and had not yet returned to Biantang, allowing them to preserve their strength amid the chaotic situation.
It was crucial to note that there were twenty thousand elite Wolf Army troops here. Combined with Chu Qiao's twenty thousand Xiuli Army troops, she now commanded a force of forty thousand.
Forty thousand—all elite troops. With this army, as long as she commanded wisely, Chu Qiao was confident she could face enemies three times her size.
Under the candlelight in a small tent, Chu Qiao, clad in soft armor, held her helmet in one hand and pointed at the map on the table with the other. "He's going to attack Wild Goose Cry Pass."
"Attack Wild Goose Cry Pass?"
He Qi, He Xiao's younger brother, frowned and asked, "Commander, they've already taken Baizhi Pass. Why bother attacking Wild Goose Cry Pass?"
"You don't understand him," Chu Qiao shook her head. "How could Yan Xun allow himself to be constrained? He's currently borrowing a route through Biantang, with his entire retreat path held in the hands of the Jing'an Princess Consort. If the Jing'an Princess Consort were to turn against him, or if the Biantang royal family were to counterattack, the Yanbei Army would inevitably find itself caught between two fronts. Moreover, once the retreat route is blocked, the psychological pressure on the troops would be immense. Therefore, Yan Xun must capture Wild Goose Cry Pass within a set timeframe to open the northern gateway. Only then will it be the right moment for Yanbei and Daxia to engage in their final showdown."
Chu Qiao's brow was tightly furrowed. She took a deep breath and sat cross-legged on the ground. In truth, she should have realized this much earlier. Yan Xun had been biding his time, even deliberately showing signs of weakness on several occasions to lull the Daxia court and military into complacency. Later, he took a tremendous risk to attack Biantang's supply convoy—but plundering supplies was merely a pretext. His true objective was to capture the commander of Tanghu Pass. Through this person, he connected with the already rebellious Jing'an Princess Consort, then quietly infiltrated the southwest while Daxia was embroiled in civil war. This scheme had been long in the making."Yanbei's strength is definitely not just what appears on the surface. What lies hidden beyond Wild Goose Cry Pass is Yanbei's true power."
"Your Excellency, should we report this to Grand Marshal Zhuge?"
Chu Qiao shook her head: "If I can think of it, would he not be able to?"
She rolled up the map with a backhand motion, spread out the Biantang map, and said solemnly: "The conflict between Yanbei and Daxia is unavoidable, and we cannot stop it. Our current mission is to return to Biantang as soon as possible, obtain firsthand information about the situation in Biantang, and determine how to assist His Majesty."
The deputy commander of the Wolf Army, named Guan Song, quickly nodded upon hearing this: "Your Excellency, our scouts were dispatched two days ago. They should return by tomorrow morning at the latest."
Just as Chu Qiao was about to speak, a soldier outside reported: "Your Excellency, the scouts have returned."
He Xiao at the entrance lifted the curtain and saw three soldiers covered in dust and bloodstains dismounting unsteadily from their horses. One of them reported: "Your Excellency, the military situation in Biantang is critical. The rebels have broken through Han River Pass. Deputy General Fang Huaihai of the Shennan Imperial Guard Camp and General Tian Rujia of the Western Army of Dianxi have been captured. General Xu Su was betrayed by a traitor and died in battle at Cangmuleng. The Han River Army has been completely defeated. The rebel forces are growing stronger daily, now numbering up to 200,000, and have surrounded the capital."
In an instant, everyone in the room was shocked. Chu Qiao sat on the ground, her brow furrowed tightly, her fist slowly clenching under the table before gradually loosening again.
"Who is the enemy commander?"
"It is the Princess Consort of Jing'an."
"Has her identity been verified?"
"It has. She entered the Jing'an Prince's residence four years ago, initially just a dancer sold by a trafficker. However, after being favored by the Prince of Jing'an a few times, she became pregnant and successfully gave birth to a son. The Prince of Jing'an, having a son in his old age, doted on her even more, taking her as a concubine. Unexpectedly, a year later, she gave birth to another son. Overjoyed, the Prince of Jing'an made her his principal wife."
He Xiao asked: "Can a slave become a principal wife?"
"This subordinate does not know. However, later, the Jing'an Prince's residence became unsettled, with several incidents occurring in succession. The old princess consort and two crown princes passed away one after another, and from then on, she became the mistress of the residence. After the Prince of Jing'an's failed rebellion, his entire family was executed. She escaped under the protection of a group of loyal followers of the Prince of Jing'an and somehow managed to enter Tanghu Pass, surviving under the protection of its garrison commander. It is said that this princess consort had an illicit affair with the Prince of Jing'an's adopted son."
Chu Qiao's expression turned grim. "What is her name?"
"This subordinate does not know, only that her maiden name is Qiu."
"Qiu?"
Chu Qiao murmured softly to herself.
Guan Song, anxious about the capital being besieged, said: "Your Excellency, Tang Capital is surrounded. We must return to save His Majesty!"
Chu Qiao's gaze was profound as she looked into the distance toward Baizhi Pass, which was firmly occupied by Yanbei. Beyond the pass lay the territory of Biantang.
She nodded and said calmly: "Yes, it is time for us to return."
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