Chapter 213: Ask

"You won't persuade me," the Sword Saint said.

"I wasn't trying to persuade you.

"Right now I'm only wondering whether my shop can still open tomorrow."

"I'll go take a look for you."

The Sword Saint stepped outside.

Before leaving he put the wooden door plank back into place.

"Not finishing the soup?" the old man called from inside.

"I'll come back and drink it later."

With that the Sword Saint turned and left.

The old man remained alone inside the shop and sighed.

"What a waste of that whole fistful of scallions."

...

The entire Capital Region had become a pot of boiling porridge.

Men who had been routed soldiers a month earlier became routed soldiers again.

Men who had previously belonged to the Imperial Guards also became routed soldiers.

From everyone's perspective—

Yan soldiers seemed to be everywhere.

Every direction held Yan riders.

Motherfucker.

How many Yan had actually come?

Without the support of organized units, most men could not summon any real desire to resist.

Their first instinct was merely to hide.

Occasionally, some junior officer managed to gather a small group of soldiers.

But before he could continue rolling the snowball a Yan cavalry unit would smash directly into them.

Once scattered the hard-earned little formation dissolved immediately.

The ridiculous part was the Yan had divided into many separate detachments.

Yet even the smallest of those units had barely encountered any meaningful resistance.

The entire operation had gone absurdly smoothly.

At that moment, the great bell inside the Jin imperial palace began ringing.

Sixty years earlier when morning court was still regularly held inside the palace that bell rang every dawn.

It signaled the beginning of another orderly day across the Three Jin lands.

In recent years aside from sacrificial ceremonies or major birthdays the bell was rarely rung.

Now that the Capital Region was under attack the ringing served as a signal to gather troops.

Wrapped in a cloak, Yu Huacheng stood atop the palace wall.

Behind him the great bell boomed.

Among all the Jin people trapped inside the present chaos he was one of the few who actually understood the situation clearly.

First he knew the Yan force could not possibly be very large.

But knowing that accomplished little.

Because the number of troops he could mobilize now was even smaller.

The personal guards he had brought into the palace.

The original palace guards, whom he had previously disarmed and controlled but now released and rearmed.

The loyal soldiers who heard the bell and hurried over.

All together barely two thousand men.

Yu Huacheng knew perfectly well that among those two thousand very few truly possessed the will to fight.

Earlier that day he had personally allowed the Marquis of Jingnan to leave.

His thinking had been simple.

Since Tian Wujing had arrived—

Yu Huacheng would take one step back.

If sacrificing some of his own reputation could grant Tian Wujing another great increase in prestige then so be it.

Consider it his own sacrifice for the larger situation.

Who could have imagined the Marquis of Jingnan would repay him by giving him a direct lesson?

Only now did Yu Huacheng finally understand.

War certainly had to be viewed through the direction of court politics sometimes.

But at other times war had absolutely nothing to do with court politics.

He possessed too many distracting thoughts.

Too many concerns.

Then look at the Marquis of Jingnan.

A man capable of wiping out his own entire clan.

That decisiveness.

That ruthlessness.

Yu Huacheng truly could not catch up even if he whipped his horse to death.

Two choices now lay before him.

First lead these troops against the tide.

Block the Yan.

Then summon the scattered troops of the Capital Region back together and stabilize the situation.

Second take these soldiers, seize the Empress Dowager, abandon the region entirely, and flee east to seek refuge with the Situ Clan.

But if he chose the second path how would he differ from the Jin Emperor?

After tossing everything into chaos he would personally destroy the Yu Clan's final foundation too.

Then what had been the point of any of this?

A streak of white light rose beneath the night sky in the west.

Yu Huacheng drew a deep breath.

He recognized it.

His elder brother's sword intent.

Elder Brother had already made his choice.

Yu Huacheng silently descended the palace wall.

He mounted his horse.

Drew his saber.

The blade pointed west.

He roared, "For our homeland!"

...

A chaotic situation was destined to create countless coincidences.

Yet most coincidences once examined afterward often revealed traces of something that looked suspiciously like inevitability.

When Yu Huacheng led two thousand soldiers westward against the current trying to carve out a stable position again inside the Capital Region his force happened to miss Zheng Fan's three hundred riders charging directly toward the imperial palace.

Yes.

They missed each other.

By only the narrowest margin.

By barely any distance at all.

In fact, Yu Huacheng and the Jin troops under him had already detected a small Yan cavalry force passing nearby.

But they simply had no time to care.

Because Liang Cheng had personally led one cavalry detachment and merged it with several other nearby Yan units.

Following the Marquis of Jingnan's earlier arrangement they descended upon Yu Huacheng's force like a school of sharks smelling blood.

That allowed Zheng Fan's uninterrupted charge to become uninterrupted in the truest sense.

Whenever they happened across a few routed soldiers along the road or perhaps Jin civilians who could no longer even be distinguished from routed soldiers the cavalry simply trampled straight through.

And in the end the Jin imperial palace which had already been stripped of nearly every defensive force stood directly before Governor Zheng.

Everything was so beautiful.

So fortunate.

So smooth that it felt vaguely unreal.

The palace gates were closed.

But throughout history whenever an enemy had already reached the imperial palace itself even the grandest and strongest palace walls had almost never truly stopped foreign blades.

Outside the palace gates—

Zheng Fan pulled on the reins.

The cavalry behind him slowed as well.

Zheng Fan began studying the walls.

He was trying to decide where they should climb in.

There did not appear to be any defenders atop the fortifications.

Then, the palace gates opened from within.

A group of eunuchs rushed out.

They dropped to their knees in front of Zheng Fan's horse.

One after another they loudly begged and shouted, desperately claiming credit for themselves.

Zheng Fan suddenly remembered that people in later generations often liked compiling lists of capable and courageous eunuchs from history.

The fundamental reason anyone bothered making such lists was that most men without balls really did have no balls.

Crack!

Zheng Fan lashed out with his horsewhip.

Several eunuchs kneeling directly before him were sent tumbling aside.

Then Zheng Fan raised one hand.

The Jingnan Army iron cavalry behind him immediately followed.

Straight into the palace!

The moment the hooves of Zheng Fan's horse crossed the palace threshold a strange sensation rose inside him.

He felt as though he had become one of the makers of history.

He believed that when later generations compiled the *History of Jin* the final section would definitely include a record of him.

For example:

Zheng Fan—

Governor Zheng.

Marquis Zheng.

Commandery Prince Zheng.

Demon King.

Led troops into the Jin imperial palace marking the formal destruction of the State of Jin.

A wave of pride surged within him.

A heroic sense of standing at the peak of a mountain and directing the winds and clouds of history.

At the same time—

Zheng Fan noticed something astonishing.

Perhaps because of the intense excitement surging through his heart the Eighth Grade realm that had held him trapped for so long actually showed signs of loosening!

This could work too?

...

The Sword Saint held his sword.

He moved through the Capital Region.

He could sense Tian Wujing's location.

Because every so often that Pixiu seemed to grow bored beyond endurance and let out a roar.

It was deliberate.

Yan's Southern Marquis was waiting for him.

The old man at the soup-flatbread shop had asked:

Why toss everything around like this?

What did it matter if the Emperor no longer resembled an Emperor?

What did it matter if Jin no longer resembled Jin?

At the very least for centuries the Capital Region had never truly suffered from war.

Life had actually been manageable.

Why insist on throwing everything into chaos?

And after all that tossing what kind of damned mess had they produced?

The Sword Saint found it difficult to answer the old man's accusation.

He had personally forced his younger brother to betray the Jin Emperor.

He had personally driven that Emperor from the dragon throne.

Since he had chosen to do that he could not kill the man and then refuse to bury the corpse.

Otherwise the entire affair would simply have been dishonorable.

And taking ten thousand steps back the final scrap of land reserved for the Yu Clan was about to be destroyed as well.

The Sword Saint disliked this feeling.

He disliked being forced to do anything.

He loved freedom.

Yet the person forcing him now was himself.

Along the way he killed three Yan cavalrymen.

Before the Yan could surround him he leapt clear in advance and arrived in the western outskirts of the Capital Region.

There a man in gilded armor leaned against a Pixiu.

He seemed to have waited too long.

He had actually fallen asleep.

When the beast noticed the Sword Saint approaching it bared its teeth.

But it no longer dared roar the way it had earlier.

Tian Wujing woke.

He opened his eyes.

Slowly he sat upright.

"I still remember the Marquis personally saying during the day that you looked down upon this so-called martial world.

"Never expected that by night—you would voluntarily become one of its people."

The Marquis of Jingnan slowly stood.

He looked toward the Sword Saint before him.

Then asked, "Do you know why this Marquis dislikes the martial world?"

The Sword Saint drew his blade.

His aura began gathering.

At the same time he answered, "I can listen."

"People constantly boast that once they enter the martial world, they can no longer act freely.

"Yet they seem to enjoy complaining most about being unable to help themselves."

"Interesting."

The Sword Saint began walking toward the Marquis of Jingnan.

Tian Wujing remained where he stood.

He continued, "If you spend your entire life practicing the sword—then practice the sword.

"Why involve yourself in all this nonsense?

"Do you truly believe that because your swordsmanship is excellent—you will somehow be excellent at everything?"

"I also feel I may have made a mistake.

"Perhaps I truly am not skilled at these matters."

The Sword Saint admitted it directly.

Then continued, "That is why—

"I am now attempting to turn the matter into something I do understand."

The next instant the long sword became a rainbow.

A beam of white light swept upward.

It seemed almost capable of splitting the pitch-black night sky apart.

A black barrier formed around Tian Wujing.

BOOM!

Barrier and sword qi shattered together.

The Sword Saint advanced again.

His aura climbed even higher.

At the same time he asked, "Tian Wujing.

"There is something I have wanted to ask you for a very long time."

Every collision between the two men was a direct contest of overwhelming force.

One wielded one of the sharpest swords beneath Heaven.

The other possessed the physique of a Martial Artist the path reputed to forge the strongest flesh among all methods of cultivation.

Spear against shield.

"Ask."

"Do you—

"Tian Wujing—ever regret it?"

Regret what?

Naturally, the night at the Tian estate.

"Yes."

Tian Wujing answered.

"Have you ever thought about what will happen after you descend into the Yellow Springs?

"How will you face your own clan?"

Tian Wujing nodded faintly.

His expression remained perfectly calm.

Then he said, "In that case—

"I'll trouble the Sword Saint of Jin to go down first—and ask them for this Marquis."

(End of Chapter)