The Road to Glory

Chapter 254: Survival of the Fittest, Victory Justifies All Means...

The Western Frontier's weather was ever-changing. The scorching sun hid behind clouds as the sky gradually darkened into a monochrome gray.

The carriage rolled over a blood-soaked ground, heading out of the city. The child finally crawled toward his parents' corpses, sobbing bitterly: "Father... Mother..."

Moments later, raindrops the size of beans began to fall.

The carriage curtain fluttered in the cold wind as the vehicle sped along, occasionally revealing glimpses of mountains and wilderness outside the window. The Tiger Gorge Pass's eastern gate tower was no longer visible.

Inside the carriage, Pei Song meticulously wiped the blood from his hands with a silk handkerchief.

The howling wind, pouring rain, and rumbling wheels echoed in his ears—a cacophony that paradoxically spread a heart-palpitating dead silence.

Just as Pei Song finished cleaning the blood from his fingertips and lifted his eyes with thin lips pressed together, the rapidly moving carriage seemed to hit a depression in the official road. Mud splattered everywhere, causing the entire carriage to lurch forward abruptly.

Amid the horses' whinnies, the driving Hawk Hound shouted in alarm: "Ambush!"

Pei Song braced himself against the carriage wall to steady his posture.

With a tremendous crash from the roof, a gleaming long blade sliced downward through the carriage roof and left wall as if cutting through rotten wood.

This carriage, unfortified with iron plates, instantly shattered into splinters under the tremendous force.

Raindrops poured in, so dense they made it hard to keep one's eyes open.

Pei Song leaned back to evade the cold blade, leaping backward amid the horses' cries and flying wooden fragments to face the person who had destroyed the carriage with a single strike.

The assailant had ridden down from a high embankment along the inner side of the official road, using the momentum to deliver that devastating blow. As the warhorse's hooves landed, it instinctively tried to continue forward but was violently reined in by one hand, rearing up with incessant whinnies.

Lightning exploded behind the figure.

In the heavy rain, dozens of pursuing cavalrymen appeared behind the embankment—clearly Tiger Gorge Pass soldiers familiar with the terrain had led them here via shortcuts to intercept.

Seeing the cold, fierce eyes of the man on horseback, Pei Song's heart lurched violently. A tingling sensation shot through his fingertips as blood rushed rapidly through his veins.

The other's gaze was icy, savage, and filled with hatred—just like that moonlit night in Yongzhou.

As if something had long been predestined.

Pei Song let out a light scoff: "You?"

Somewhat surprised, yet in that instant he understood everything about the other's arrival at Tiger Gorge Pass.

With a cold, arrogant gesture, he signaled half his Hawk Hounds to advance through the rain.

Xiao Li sharply spurred his horse, crashing through the attackers while at full gallop.

Amid flashes of lightning and thunder, his pale, cold blade swept directly toward Pei Song's face. Pei Song drew his sword to block.

The two weapons clashed in the rain with a piercing metallic shriek. The impact numbed Pei Song's entire arm from tiger mouth to shoulder, nearly making him drop his sword. He staggered back two steps in the muddy official road before dissipating the terrifying force of that strike.

Before he could recover from shock, a second horizontal slash came crashing down. Pei Song's eyes turned fierce as he raised his sword to block again, only to hear a sharp "clang." His trusted companion sword, which had served him for so long, now bore a gaping notch, while his tiger mouth split open, dripping with crimson blood.

Though extremely reluctant to admit it, Pei Song felt true heart-pounding fear in that moment.

This stray dog, whom he could have crushed like an ant in the past, had grown far too quickly.

No wonder he had managed to succeed Wei Qishan in commanding the Northern Border in just three short years.It was impossible to articulate the sudden surge of emotion in his heart.

Perhaps it was indignation, or perhaps resentment, but at this moment, only one thought surfaced in Pei Song’s mind: he did not want to lose to the man before him.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Pei Song channeled all the searing emotions burning in his chest into a cold sneer at the corner of his lips. As his sword scraped against the long blade in a twisting motion, he mocked amid the grating screech of metal, "Weren’t you personally trained by Qin Yi? Is this all you’ve got?"

Countless raindrops were severed as the blade and sword clashed. He lunged forward abruptly, evading Xiao Li’s fierce horizontal slash, and leaned in to strike at the horse’s legs.

Xiao Li’s expression was icy as he tugged the reins with one hand. His horse whinnied and reared its front hooves sideways, and in the next moment, he swung his long blade back, cleaving through the rain as he brought it down in a ruthless chop.

Pei Song’s strike missed its mark. He hastily planted his sword on the ground and spun away, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Xiao Li’s voice was frigid as he spoke, "A man on the brink of death, wasting his last breath on empty boasts!"

In the cold rain, Pei Song wiped away the mud splattered on his face during the fierce struggle. As he gasped for breath, all his resentment and fury became vividly clear in his eyes.

Hawk Hounds and cavalrymen were locked in chaotic combat, forming a barrier between the two.

Xiao Li dismounted decisively, landing on the ground with his blade in hand.

The two glared coldly at each other across the melee of soldiers and horses, then charged forward violently, treading through the muddy rainwater. Their sword and blade collided with brutal force.

Their eyes met, both pairs gleaming with a crimson ferocity, filled with a deadly resolve to fight to the end.

They drew back their weapons, slashing, blocking, blocking again, and hacking relentlessly. The blade and sword seemed on the verge of striking sparks even in the heavy rain.

The two resembled spinning tops set into a violent whirl in the downpour, each move and stance a desperate, life-risking assault. Their blades carved countless afterimages through the curtain of rain, water droplets splattering from the edges of their weapons. The accumulated water on the ground splashed in all directions under their relentless onslaught, leaving the Hawk Hounds and Wolf Cavalry no room to intervene.

A trail of chaotic footprints stretched from the official road down to a waterlogged depression below.

After a prolonged struggle, Pei Song’s arms had grown numb and sore from exhaustion. The blood oozing from his palms had soaked his hands, turning sticky in the rain.

The rainwater dripping from their robes pooled on the ground in shades of crimson. When lightning flashed again, the horrifying wounds covering both of them became visible.

Yet, every slash from Xiao Li remained as savage as before. Pei Song’s finely crafted steel sword was now riddled with chips and gaps, nearly reduced to scrap.

Rain poured over Xiao Li’s face, washing away the dried blood from the earlier massacre. Pale crimson droplets traced paths down his jaw. The whites of his eyes were tinged with red—a mix of hatred and long-suppressed, unquenchable rage.

Pei Song gradually faltered under the overwhelming force, retreating step by step through the mud as he struggled to parry.

The crimson in Xiao Li’s eyes deepened. In a rapid, fierce assault, he swung his blade with renewed brutality. Pei Song raised his sword to block, but the already chipped weapon could no longer withstand the impact. It shattered, the broken piece flying sideways and carving a gash across his face.

Shock, fury, and resentment surged across Pei Song’s expression. He stumbled backward in panic, barely dodging the fatal strike.

But Xiao Li gave him no chance to recover. Seizing the moment, he lifted his leg and delivered a vicious kick to Pei Song’s chest.Pei Song failed to dodge in time, taking a solid kick to the chest. Instantly, a metallic taste surged up his throat as he was sent flying backward. Upon landing, he desperately plunged his broken sword into the ground, bracing himself with one hand and a bent knee to avoid complete disgrace.

Yet a mouthful of fresh blood still sprayed out violently, his internal organs churning.

That kick was vicious.

"My lord!" Several nearby Hawk Hounds rushed forward to support him, but Pei Song shoved them away.

He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, swallowing the rising metallic taste in his throat, and sneered, "This level of force is barely enough to scratch an itch."

Xiao Li tilted his blade in the torrential rain: "Finished your last words? Then prepare to die."

A vein bulged on Pei Song's forehead, the humiliation burning through him. As Hawk Hounds moved to shield him with drawn blades, he snatched a long blade from one of them, pushed off the ground, and launched a fierce slash at Xiao Li, roaring, "Arrogant fool!"

Xiao Li blocked horizontally with his blade, effortlessly deflecting the strike.

Pei Song angled his blade and struck again with blinding speed, his technique unnervingly erratic. In the downpour, only the afterimages of their clashing weapons were visible.

But both were nearing exhaustion.

The kick had left Pei Song's organs seething, every forceful move threatening to bring more blood to his mouth. Though Xiao Li possessed a natural physical advantage, he had just survived a desperate battle outside Tiger Gorge Pass and raced here for this fatal confrontation. His earlier wounds, soaked pale by the storm, now oozed fresh threads of crimson whenever strained in the fierce combat.

Yet neither showed any intention of retreat, committed to fighting to the death.

Pei Song felt his movements slowing. As he strained to see his opponent through the rain, his desire for victory burned fiercer than ever, scorching his lungs and numbing his arms—yet it alone sustained him, preventing collapse.

Win!

He must defeat this man!

After another swing, he suddenly grinned coldly: "Do you know how your mother died?"

Xiao Li's parry faltered slightly, Pei Song's blade nearly grazing his arm.

"She was a fool. After taking Xing Lie's blade to protect Zhou Jing'an's wife, I saved her. She mistook me for a Zhou Manor Guard, obeying my every word and believing I'd lead her to you. Even when Han Yang sent people repeatedly to find her, she trusted my lies—concealed her identity, convinced they were rebels hunting her..."

Pei Song's blade sliced through the rain, clashing again with Xiao Li's long blade as he laughed maniacally: "She died by her own stupidity!"

Xiao Li's eyes burned crimson. With a furious roar, he unleashed his strength, shoving Pei Song's pressing blade aside and swinging his own into a savage offensive. Each word gritted through his teeth: "You scum—you deserve death!"

Pei Song staggered under the onslaught. In his blind rage, Xiao Li channeled all his strength into each strike, the blade humming with fierce energy, but his defenses grew ragged.

Exactly as Pei Song intended.

Seizing an opening, he swept his blade toward Xiao Li's throat. Xiao Li leaned back but was too slow—a crimson line opened on his neck. Only a desperate horizontal slash from his own blade forced Pei Song to abort the kill and retreat.Pei Song’s expression was grim to the extreme. As he struck, he sneered and continued, “Before she died, she even made new shoes and sewed new clothes for you, but they were all burned to ashes in the fire. You never even got to see them, did you?”

The tragic scene of the Xiao family engulfed in flames that night resurfaced in Xiao Li’s mind. His entire body seemed to ache with the searing pain of that inferno. As he clashed with Pei Song using his long blade, his eyes turned bloodshot, almost dripping with crimson. In the depths of agony and fury, he let out a roar and swung his blade with ruthless force.

Instead of waiting for Xiao Li to lose composure, Pei Song faced a frenzied opponent. His arms, already numb and sore, could not withstand the even more savage and brutal slash. The blade in his hand chipped and flew away, and he was sent sprawling backward by another vicious kick to the chest.

This time, he crashed heavily into the rain-soaked ground a zhang away. The blood he had been holding back for so long could no longer be contained, and he coughed it up in gushing streams.

His vision faded to black and white, waves of dizziness washing over him.

Amid the sound of approaching footsteps in the rain, he turned his head to look at his right arm, which throbbed as if every bone had shattered. The dislocated elbow joint protruded beneath his soaked sleeve, the flesh of his thumb torn and bloody, twisted at an unnatural angle—clearly broken by the immense force of that strike.

The last of the Hawk Hounds had fallen to the blades of the Wolf Cavalry.

As the rain began to ease, Pei Song, his mouth full of blood, grinned maliciously at the approaching Xiao Li and slowly said, “Of course, the one most to blame for your mother’s death… is yourself… and Han Yang…”

Xiao Li’s jaw tightened, the veins on the back of his hand bulging as he gripped the hilt of his blade. Without hesitation, he drove the long blade down with brutal force.

Pei Song’s body convulsed, his face contorting in agony as the blade pierced his abdomen. After enduring a wave of excruciating pain that left him as pale as a ghost, he still managed to gasp out viciously:

“If not for your incompetence, if not for Han Yang suspecting you and deciding to kill you because of my scheme to drive a wedge between you… I wouldn’t have had to kill your mother so quickly to keep you in check…”

As he uttered these last words, a flicker of pain and hatred—unnoticed even by himself—passed through his malicious eyes.

The shoes and clothes Xiao Huiniang had made before her death… were for him…

Not for Xiao Li.

Why did he want to defeat the man before him?

Perhaps he felt that by defeating him, his father—who had taken his own life after a single glance from the city gate that day—and Xiao Huiniang, who had always sat under the eaves sewing clothes and making shoes, would belong to him.

He would never have lost his father or mother…

The blade embedded in his abdomen was violently twisted, and Pei Song cried out in pain once more. His face contorted even further, the veins in his limbs bulging under the overwhelming agony. His vision blurred, unable to focus, and he only heard a voice dripping with icy hatred from above: “Qin Huan, you are utterly unworthy of being human!”

That name seemed to strike an even deeper wound in Pei Song. Struggling to lift his head in the drizzle, he spat blood and sneered, “See? You hate me too, don’t you?”

Pain and blood loss made his breathing ragged. “It’s just that… the one who brought you hatred… is me. The one who brought me… hatred… is the Wen Dynasty. We… are both just seeking revenge…”Xiao Li bent down and seized Pei Song by the collar, fury making the veins in his neck bulge. He spoke with icy coldness: "Was it all just for revenge? How many loyal officials have you butchered as the Party of Ao's dog? How many commoners did you slaughter when you stormed Luodu? What grudge did you hold against Changlian Wang's lineage, Minister Zhou's family, or General Yang's household? And now you're colluding with foreign tribes, determined to plunge all under heaven into a crucible of suffering!"

Pei Song hung in Xiao Li's grip like a broken puppet, laughing with effort. "The strong prey on the weak—the victor becomes king, the defeated a bandit. Hasn't it always been this way since ancient times?"

As he spoke, his eyes filled with venom: "When Heaven denied my Qin family justice, I became Heaven myself! What wrong is there in that?

"Wen Yuanji stood in my way, so he deserved to die! Zhou Jing'an's blind loyalty made him deserve death! Yang Shuo's ingratitude meant he got what was coming! As for the foolish commoners across the land—they're nothing but livestock that understand human speech. They can't be exterminated, nor fully eliminated. What does it matter if more die for my great cause?"

Xiao Li slammed Pei Song face-first into the ground with one hand. The impact was brutal—blood seeped from Pei Song's nose and mouth.

Xiao Li's murderous aura thickened almost tangibly as he said coldly: "So it was never about revenge. You just wanted that dragon throne."

Pei Song laughed wildly through blood-stained teeth, his gaze vicious as he stared at Xiao Li: "Since I've rebelled as a traitor anyway, why wouldn't I covet the throne? Are you going to say I should have stopped after overthrowing the Party of Ao?"

Suddenly, Jiang Yichu's tearful pleas for him to turn back surfaced in his mind.

The blood trickling from his lips pooled in the muddy ground as his laughter grew more derisive: "Why should I let the Wen family remain emperors? Besides, I've killed so many loyal generals under Wen Yuanji—would he spare me for the Qin family case alone? Spare those who staked their lives following me?"

Wracked with pain from head to toe, Pei Song laughed until his entire chest shook.

From the moment he'd been consumed by vengeance with no way out and joined the Party of Ao, there had been no turning back!

Between him and the Wen clan, only one side would survive!

The violent laughter agitated his damaged heart meridian. Coughing up continuous blood, he said: "I merely lost—but I was not wrong!

"Strike now. I accept dying by your hand."

Xiao Li's voice was frigid: "Of course you're not wrong. What does killing loyal officials matter when done under revenge's guise? What does igniting war for personal ambition matter, leaving the people starving and households empty? Old General Qin already took his own life to atone for your sins! You selfish coward can keep playing the weakling, spouting this nonsensical rubbish to justify yourself!"

His grip tightened on the sword hilt, restrained rage making him resemble a silent mountain: "Those 'foolish commoners' you call blind—who struggle for three meals a day, endure winter's chill and summer's heat, toil from dawn till dusk with hoes in barren fields just to feed their families, who don't even know their county magistrate's name—you hate them for not knowing your father was a frontier general wronged by the court?"

Xiao Li yanked Pei Song's collar, his eyes sharpening abruptly: "You might have some grounds to hate others, but you're the least qualified to hate the commoners you've rendered homeless and destitute across the land!"Xiao Li flung the man back to the ground with brutal force. Whether it was the mention of Qin Yi striking a raw nerve or the words that followed, Pei Song’s eyes still brimmed with rage, yet something that had long sustained him seemed to crack like thin ice, fissuring into fine lines.

In his childhood, Qin Yi had taught him swordplay in the courtyard while his mother laid out pastries at the stone table. When he executed his first sword flourish, Qin Yi, rarely one to offer praise, commended him and solemnly imparted, "As generals, our loyalty lies with the sovereign, and our duty is to protect the common people of the realm."

His mother chided with a light laugh, "He’s still so young, why teach him such things? Huan’er, come here—look at you, drenched in sweat. Let me wipe your brow…"

Later, the entire Qin estate was reduced to ashes, its clan herded into prison carts. His mother, her frail wrists and ankles shackled in heavy iron chains, succumbed to illness on the exile road…

He changed his name, harboring a heart full of hatred, and pledged allegiance to the Party of Ao. The sword at his waist became an executioner’s blade, stained with the blood of the treacherous and the loyal alike—so much that he could no longer distinguish between them.

In time, the Ao and Wen clans clashed, and he reaped the spoils. Luoyang fell.

He gained so much in an instant, yet lost even more…

Xiao Huiniang, whom he had deceived yet who trusted him unconditionally, forever slumbered in the great fire of Yongzhou; Jiang Yichu, whom he had forced to stay by his side by threatening her young daughter, resolutely pried his fingers loose at the cliff’s edge and willingly plunged into the abyss; Qin Yi, after long periods of madness, regained clarity only to drive a lance through his own throat after one glance at him; and after Luoyang’s fall, Gongsun Chou roared for the Hawk Hounds to take him away, turning alone to guard this final city for him…

Each memory surfaced with piercing clarity before his eyes, slowly dyeing the rims of his eyes red.

A hurried half-life—those he loved came to despise him; those who loved him died because of him.

Pei Song clenched his jaw, fighting back the stinging in his eyes, and roared out each word in a voiceless cry: "I—am—not—wrong!"

His crimson eyes burned with rage, hatred, and resentment, all wielded to suppress that surge of emotion. Unwilling to let Xiao Li have the satisfaction, he sneered coldly, "What does it matter if you’ve held Tiger Gorge Pass for now? Once the battle report returns, half the Western Mausoleum Army that took Gole City will be dispatched here. Tiger Gorge Pass will still change hands!"

Xiao Li stood unmoving, his tall frame like a mountain completely blocking Pei Song’s view.

Puddles still lingered on the ground, but the earth suddenly trembled as the thunderous rumble of hoofbeats rolled in from the distance.

Caltrops clattered sharply against flagpoles in the cold wind. The Azure Dragon Crimson Cloud Banners of Great Liang stretched almost continuously across the western wilderness, the army advancing like a black tide flooding toward them.

A Wolf Cavalry soldier exclaimed in astonishment, "Is that… reinforcements?"

The Great Liang reinforcements had truly arrived!

Pei Song gazed at the fluttering "Liang" banners above the army, the hatred in his eyes gradually fading into a dull, ashen haze.

He was utterly defeated.

Not only by the man before him but also by the Great Liang princess who, despite being far in Southern Chen, had repeatedly thwarted his plans.

A mocking smile twisted his lips. As Xiao Li’s long blade swept through the mud, splattering blood, a fleeting moisture seemed to trace hurriedly down Pei Song’s own face.

This desolate and absurd life was truly laughable.