Chapter 55

The night sky south of Yinshan was thick with smoke and the darkness was as deep and impenetrable as ink. The wind howled, whipping sand and stones through the air.

Within the Northern Rong army camp, King Huyan De could not suppress his laughter when he finally obtained the defense map for Yingchi. “At last, finally, it’s in my hands!” He had waited, biding his time for so long—now, with everything in place, he was certain this time he would shatter the Northern Army of Great Wei. There would be no more last-minute failures.

Huyan De’s eyes, sharp as a falcon’s, gleamed fiercely. With a swift motion, he unsheathed his crescent-bladed scimitar and pointed it forward. The blade, tinged red, gleamed like flowing blood in the night. “Pass my order! Advance at full speed!”

At this very moment, Xie Ci was enduring the most difficult hour of his life.

After Qin Xian fell, two forces of Northern Rong ambushers, long in hiding, and the main force that had been raiding and pillaging, suddenly wheeled around. The three columns merged into one, and Huyan De pressed half his army’s strength against a single point, aiming to breach the Great Wei lines through the Eastern Army.

Qin Xian fell, spitting blood before the eyes of all, and the army’s morale wavered. Suddenly the thunderous sound of hooves rolled in from all directions—the enemy’s cavalry surged in like whales devouring their prey.

Panic swept through the ranks. In an instant, terror gripped the entire army. Even Qin Guan, Qin Yong, and Chen Luo—usually so steady—showed unmistakable alarm. Though they immediately mounted their horses and did their utmost to stabilize the formation, even their hearts could not quell their terror; what hope was there for the ordinary officers and soldiers?

This was fatal.

Qin Xian was the soul and backbone of the Four Provinces’ Army, the pillar of spirit for the common soldiers. Chen Yan and the others were secondary. Like the main banner in the heat of battle—so long as it stands, all is not lost; but if the enemy succeeds in cutting it down, the blow to morale is devastating, often leading to total collapse in an instant, unstoppable as a landslide.

In a moment, the Lingzhou army was thrown into chaos. Though well-trained and still maintaining formation, panic was evident on every face. The same was true of the Yunzhou army. The prestige of Qin Guan, Qin Yong, and the Chen brothers could not compare to that of Qin Xian and Chen Yan, and in this sudden crisis, the difference was only more apparent. They could not contain the terror of the rank and file.

Faces, pale and anxious, darted glances everywhere, as the distant turmoil grew more distinct. The thunder of Northern Rong cavalry drew ever closer; annihilation loomed.

In this moment, Xie Ci found himself plunged into an abyss, both emotionally and in duty.

Under the shadowed sky, amidst the rising clamor of men and horses, even the war-steeds sensed the unrest, stamping and whinnying nervously. At this critical juncture, Xie Ci’s mind turned swiftly. In a ringing shout, he commanded, “Bring water!” He tore off his helmet, doused his face with water, wiped it harshly, then pulled the helmet back on. With a sharp gesture, he seized his gleaming silver spear.

In the heart of the turmoil, at the very center of Yunzhou’s confusion—while Qin Guan and the others shouted themselves hoarse to restore order—suddenly a warhorse reared, its cry splitting the night. Its hooves thundered like drums on the hard-packed yellow earth.

All heads snapped up. A black horse, rider upright, surged to the very front of the ranks!

The young general in black armor, tall and vigorous, his armor shining like a dark abyss in the faint, flickering light, rode a powerful black steed. He wore a crimson cloak over his shoulders, and in his hand, a silver spear with a red tassel, gleaming in the night. He turned his head abruptly, eyes sharp and electric in the darkness, and shouted, “Why are you panicking?!”

With breath drawn deep, his voice thundered across the field.

Xie Ci revealed his true self—the unyielding, unrivaled spirit that, the instant he appeared, could not be matched. The Black-Armored Young General! The one who had led forty-three thousand unarmored Guiyi Hu soldiers into the heart of chaos, shattered the Northern Rong encirclement, and snatched victory from certain death!

In almost a heartbeat, the Lingzhou army steadied.

From top to bottom, morale snapped back into place.

Qin Yong and Qin Guan turned in shock. “Young General!” Qin Yong shouted instinctively.

Xie Ci’s voice was steady: “Reform ranks! Prepare to meet the enemy!”

“Yes—!”

The answer came in a single, strong shout. The backbone had returned; even Wei Qin and the other tightly wound officers found themselves suddenly composed. With a chorus of assent, they galloped into action, and the army was rapidly reformed.

Xie Ci raced past on horseback, heading for the Yunzhou troops, swiftly rescuing the harried Chen brothers. Chen Lang, turning to look, stared for a long moment before exclaiming, “Wow!” Why did everyone have similar faces, but such a world of difference in bearing? He received a rap on the head from Chen Luo’s curses.

The brothers, hearts surging, watched as the black-armored, crimson-cloaked figure sped away, then hastened to reorganize their men.

Xie Ci turned to the Guiyi Hu troops. He and He Yuan had only just heard the commotion—they too were momentarily unsettled, but as soon as Xie Ci appeared, they were calm once more.

From top to bottom, orders were swiftly executed. Before the Northern Rong cavalry could arrive, Xie Ci had returned to the front of the army. “Do you have the confidence to fight to the last, break out, and turn defeat into victory?!”

“We do!!!”

The reply rang out, sharp and strong, echoing across the field.

“Good!” Xie Ci exhaled. He shouted, “Rear guard to the front! Head for the hills ahead at full speed! Go—!”

Xie Ci took Qin Xian’s place, personally commanding the Lingzhou and Yunzhou troops, quickly stabilizing the situation. Qin Guan, Chen Luo, and the others clustered around him, making him, in truth, the leader of the Four Provinces’ Army.

But this battle was doomed to be desperately hard.

The enemy outnumbered them several times over, and possessed far more cavalry. Forced into a long pursuit, the Wei army had abandoned much of their anti-cavalry baggage, making the coming fight even more perilous.

They had no time to consider other fronts; feverish preparations were made—digging, repositioning scouts, adjusting tactics, deploying every available weapon: oil, fire, scythes, iron thorns, caltrops, pit traps, and more.

Bloodied and relentless, they had but one goal: to hold out, to survive—

By the time Gu Wan and Qin Wenxuan crossed the mountains and arrived, the battlefield was already in chaos. Xie Ci was covered in blood, radiating lethal intent; the red tassel on his silver spear was so soaked in blood and oil it was impossible to tell if it was his or another’s.

Gu Wan licked her lips. Damn it, at a time like this, any words would be empty or hypocritical! She said nothing more, drew her sword, and charged into the fray.

For Qin Wenxuan, this was her first real war. She breathed deeply, gripped her sword with both hands, and with a cry, followed into the fight. All around, everyone fought with every ounce of strength, cutting, slashing, killing—

In the rear, Chen Lang and Su Wei had no time to bandage wounds. The Northern Rong cavalry was too fierce, and they had too many infantry. The two of them had been ordered to find a path for retreat.

With scouts in tow, they struggled to find a way—if none existed, they would make one. After frantically scaling mountains, with the full cooperation of Guiyi Hu officer He Rong, they finally found a mountain stream barely fordable.

With furious hacking and labor, they cleared a four-zhang-wide passage to the water’s edge.

Amidst the rolling smoke, Xie Ci shouted, “Dingzhou Army first, then Sucheng, Guiyi, Yunzhou, Lingzhou! Withdraw in order. Pass the order: Hold the line, no mistakes!”

He himself remained at the front of the Lingzhou ranks, to cover the retreat until the last moment. Chen Lang and Su Wei organized the withdrawal by provinces, ensuring fairness and order so as not to impact the fighting or morale at the front.

Only then did Xie Ci begin the fighting retreat. The combat at this point was at its fiercest. Qing Zang, blood spraying, barely dodged death as he recoiled, his chest spilling hot blood. He looked up to see the red cloak vanish into the woods.

A fire starter was tossed, all the remaining oil poured into the new trench. With a roar, the flames leapt high. After two days and a night of fighting, Xie Ci led the allied five provincial armies out of certain death.

Once they crossed the remaining ridges of Mount Guzang, they reached the Funiu River plain northeast of Qingshui, which was also their original pursuit route. Here, Duke of England Cheng Lizhang and the Grand Governor of Xiangzhou, Liang Fen, were encamped with the Jingwu and Xiangzhou armies.

Xie Ci’s forces soon joined Cheng Lizhang and Liang Fen. Both were covered in blood, their troops exhausted. Cheng Lizhang had to be carried on a litter, flickering torchlight revealing Xie Ci’s sharp features, handsome and striking, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the late Xie Xinzhong, Xie Hua, and Xie Xing.

Cheng Lizhang and Liang Fen, both past fifty, fought back tears and laughter. All believed the Eastern Army had been annihilated, yet they had survived.

But the Yingchi supply camp had been burned to the ground.

After the Eastern forces were cut off, all-out war erupted between Great Wei and Northern Rong. The news of the “total annihilation” of the Eastern Army kept the battle at a stalemate. Then, just yesterday, black smoke rose from Yingchi—the supply camp had been overrun and burned.

“How could this happen?” Qin Guan murmured. The supply camp had been sited elsewhere for safety, as the main encampment was too exposed. But that mattered little now.

The remaining stores were scant—barely enough for half a month.

Xie Ci immediately asked, “What about the second batch of supplies heading north?!”

This struck at the heart of the matter. Everyone tensed; Cheng Lizhang, barely propped up by his guards, replied, “I’ve already sent men to investigate.”

The first batch of supplies was not large; the main bulk was still en route, already past Longshan Pass and heading for Yingchi before the three-pronged campaign began.

With over half a million troops, daily consumption was staggering. The court had spent half a year assembling and transporting the supplies. All future campaigns depended on this foundation—the supply lines were their lifeblood.

Cheng Lizhang and Liang Fen had broken out from siege the previous night and, upon learning the news, immediately dispatched messengers.

As Gu Wan and her group drew near, they learned that Cheng Lizhang had lost an arm. He was older than Liang Fen, his hair streaked with black and white, lying weak and pallid on the bloodstained litter, life hanging by a thread.

His whole body was scorched and bloodied, a horrifying sight. Forcing himself to sit, he muttered, “...I have a bad feeling.”

What was Yingchi? The supply camp, the army’s lifeline—how could Northern Rong cavalry have breached it so easily? Their strength was in raiding, not siege.

As they spoke, a messenger returned—one of Cheng Lizhang’s own.

Of dozens sent, only seven returned, bloodied and scorched, wearing captured Northern Rong uniforms as disguises. Man and horse, they collapsed at the camp, and Cheng Lizhang struggled upright.

“Report, General! Upon receiving the urgent message from Yingchi, the camp immediately dispatched troops to assist and ordered the supply convoy to halt and divert to the nearest Silver County! The war rages everywhere and the situation is dire, but the main camp, upon hearing the news, sent three thousand elite—including a thousand cavalry—to meet the supplies.”

Cheng Lizhang finally relaxed.

But perhaps from blood loss, he could not shake the heavy, oppressive feeling in his heart—a sense of impending doom.

This old general, who had spent his life in neutrality, now reached for Xie Ci’s hand, his face pale with deep regret—not for his silence years ago, though he knew it would have changed nothing.

He murmured, “Most of the Northern Army’s strength is here... This is Great Wei’s most battle-hardened force, fighting Northern Rong for years. The gates, the gates cannot fall!”

His bloody hand, missing its thumb, gripped Xie Ci tightly.

Xie Ci drew a deep breath, his voice hoarse, “I will do all I can! As long as the Great Wei army stands, so do I!” He had not drunk a drop since the fighting began, and his words were raspier than ever, yet every syllable rang with resolve.

The Funiu River valley was lush and fertile, with many streams. Towns and villages dotted the land, but now the countryside was devastated and deserted—the people had all fled to the hills.

But should the gates fall, there would be nowhere safe to run.

Behind Xie Ci stood Su Zhen, Kou Wenshao, Qin Guan, Qin Yong, Chen Luo, He Yuan, and the rest—behind them, tens of thousands of battered, bloodied soldiers.

He could not abandon these men.

When the three armies merged, Cheng Lizhang soon fell unconscious. Liang Fen said, “Let’s hurry back to camp!”

Northern Rong’s cavalry was relentless, and with the Eastern Army’s morale shaken by defeat, they held the upper hand. Great Wei quickly regrouped, using the main camp as a base for resistance.

Northern Rong cavalry launched fierce assaults, encircling the main camp.

First, the cavalry’s pursuit pressed them to rejoin the main force as quickly as possible; second, this allowed for a feint; third, their supplies were nearly exhausted—oil, arrows, medicine, even spear tips and generals’ blades were blunted. Most importantly, they needed immediate resupply and medical care.

Xie Ci nodded. “Pass the order—march at full speed for the camp!”

Lu Xinyi had dared to provide the Yingchi defense map because the supply convoy had already passed Longshan Pass. He had dispatched two detachments to Yingchi and to meet the supply convoy—trusted confidants, elite troops, three thousand in all.

But it was all for naught.

When Yingchi was confirmed lost and the supplies burned, Xun Xun laughed wildly: “Good! Excellent! This is it!” His eyes shone with a mad light—the burning of Yingchi had decided the outcome!

In the next three days, disaster struck in quick succession.

While Northern Rong cavalry destroyed Yingchi, another force attacked the supply convoy, only to be blocked by tens of thousands of Wei’s best troops.

But at this critical moment, Silver County—recently requisitioned as a supply depot—was suddenly engulfed in flames. The fire lit up half the sky!

King Huyan De of Northern Rong had more than just the betrayal of the Five Hu Provinces and the ambush at Qingshui River Valley up his sleeve.

His other trump card was General Geng Yunjie, deputy commander of the supply convoy—one of Huyan De’s own men.

Geng Yunjie did not hold high rank, but he oversaw the practical affairs of the supply depot. He had prepared everything in advance among the laborers and supply corps, all set and ready.

Huyan De had waited precisely because Yingchi’s supplies could sustain the Great Wei army for a month; burning the convoy alone would have been pointless.

Black smoke and fire stained the sky red, the stench of burning grain and straw carried for hundreds of miles on the wind.

On the battlefield, the Wei troops were thrown into chaos.

It was a shocking sight.

Xie Ci turned abruptly to the blaze, every man’s face twisted in grief and rage. He rasped, “Hold steady! We have more than ten days of rations left—if we request more, it will reach us in time!”

But the lines wavered for two quarters, and the Northern Rong cavalry, waiting for this moment, broke through the main camp, slicing the Wei forces into three, cutting and slaughtering.

Xie Ci’s fierce voice thundered as he rode, with Qin Guan and others running at full speed, their shouts and waving banners finally overpowering the din of battle.

The Wei army barely managed to re-form, fighting through the night to drive the Northern Rong from the camp.

Only twelve days of food remained. Now divided, the Northern Army fought with desperate valor, holding the line against the enemy’s assaults, but several attempts to break out failed due to the encirclement.

With such outstanding leaders on both sides, this was truly a battle on the edge of life and death.

Meanwhile, the gates of Qingshui and Longshan Pass were shut. Urgent reports were sent to Zhongdu; the court ordered the gates closed and half the remaining Northern Army deployed to defend the line.

Should they lose, Northern Rong’s cavalry would break through and charge straight for the capital.

Beyond Qingshui and Longshan Pass, the Yellow River, and then the heartland and capital.

It should be noted that both imperial princes, at the time of the disaster, had already been escorted by Duke Lu Guo He Xin and Zheng Shoufang back inside the gates.

Grand Marshal Lin, Minister of War, upon receiving the imperial order, immediately requisitioned grain from the Yunbei Grand Granary, as well as all nearby city armories and supplies, to be sent to the front.

For a moment, Lu Xinyi, learning that Lin had survived—escaping Yingchi by half a day—could only seethe with rage and frustration.

But then, Gu Wan’s heart leapt. “What? The Yunbei Granary?!”

Su Zhen nodded. “Yes, Peng Yuan is there. He’s an upright man; it seems our supplies are saved.” Peng Yuan was not of the Xie family army, but a neutral, known for his integrity—a good sign.

Everyone showed relief.

But Gu Wan’s heart was heavy. Her arms could barely move; only those who had fought knew what it meant to battle for life itself. Qin Ying’s blade was blunted from repeated use. All men, open or hidden, had been thrown into the fight.

Many were wounded; some had died.

—In the original novel, there was a “Yunbei Case,” during the second war, when the new emperor led the army in person and was captured. The destruction of Yunbei’s granary was the prelude, leading to the loss of Lingzhou, Yunzhou, and Suofang—over a tenth of the realm.

In the deep night, Gu Wan could find no joy. She and Xie Ci hurried toward the main tent, both covered in blood. Gu Wan lowered her voice, anxious: “What if something happens to Yunbei Granary too?”

Surely the Northern Rong had agents inside Yunbei as well, using the same tactics as now.

But that happened in the second war—were the infiltrators planted later? Gu Wan doubted it. The first battle at Qingshui and the second at Wild Fox Ridge were only two years apart. Instinct told her this spy had been planted long ago!

Xie Ci halted abruptly. “If Yunbei Granary is burned, the fifty thousand Northern Army on the Qingshui Plain will be cut off and destroyed!” He and Gu Wan locked eyes, seeing the same thing in one another.

Gu Wan could not help but grip his arm. “I have a feeling—Huyan De and Xun Xun almost certainly have agents in Yunbei Granary as well.” She couldn’t explain it; she just knew.

Xie Ci’s mind raced. The Northern Rong were fighting with reckless abandon, besieging at all costs. It wasn’t just possible—it was certain! They were clearly going all in!

Could it be?!

Su Zhen and Qin Guan’s relief evaporated. As they thought it over, a sense of dread dragged them down into a pit of darkness. All faces turned grim.

But there was nothing they could do from the heart of the war; it was beyond their reach.

What now?

“What should we do?”

The night wind howled, the stench of burning oil and blood was overwhelming, and everyone was anxious.

Gu Wan lowered her voice, “Xie Ci, do you trust me? I know someone who can stop this!”

Xie Ci’s voice was hoarse; he gripped her hand. “If I don’t trust you, who do I trust?!”

“Who?”

“Li Yi!”

In the original novel, the early chapters were all about Yu’s wanderings and tormented love; little was said of external events. The heroine, Yu Manzhen, had only once witnessed the beheading of a traitorous deputy and his men in the Yunbei Case—their names never given.

But Gu Wan knew there was someone who had lived through it and must know: Yu Manzhen.

Gu Wan’s voice was firm. “I’m certain—Li Yi can do it!”

Xie Ci did not hesitate to believe her. “Good! In tonight’s breakout, I’ll have Xie Yun and the others escort you out of camp! Tell Li Yi—I promise him anything he asks!” Li Yi’s interest in him was never without reason—Xie Ci was far too clever to think so. As long as Li Yi was willing to intervene, he would grant any request!

Gu Wan steadied herself. “Alright! I’ll talk to him!” She turned and hurried away to make her preparations.

In just a few days, Gu Wan had grown thinner, but her steps were firm. As she was about to lift the tent flap, Xie Ci stepped forward and gripped her hand.

Gu Wan turned back.

Now, everything in camp was rationed to the utmost; they did not even light the oil lamps—only the faint moonlight, filtering through the smoke, fell upon the two of them.

Xie Ci said hoarsely, “Once you find Li Yi, don’t come back.”

He suddenly felt that distance was for the best.

If he died, then...

This place was too dangerous; he did not want Gu Wan to return.

Gu Wan paused, then realized what he meant and grew angry. “What nonsense are you spouting?!”

He was so tall that even if she tried, she couldn’t easily reach his head; instead, she thumped his chest. “I’ll be back in time!” She glared at him. “Have you never heard of tempting fate? We’re at war—don’t talk like that! Wait for me!” She threw on her black cloak, pulled up the hood, shot him one last glare, and hurried out into the night.

Her figure vanished quickly into the darkness.