Chapter 370: A Visit

The sensation of advancing had come almost too quickly—a flash of tingling pleasure, a rush of exhilaration, then an instant of release.

The only regret was that it gave you almost no time to savor it afterward.

And savoring the moment was, in truth, indispensable.

A life of sixty years of wind and rain existed for little more than giving an old man memories to steep with his tea once he reached the age when all words entered his ears without disturbing his heart.

Earlier, Zheng Fan had washed his face in the reddened waters of the Wang River. That had made up, to some extent, for the lack of lingering satisfaction.

He did not know Tian Wujing had been following him the entire time. In fact, Zheng Fan had not yet fully realized just how dangerous his condition had been.

It felt like waking from a dream—or recovering from some sudden abyss of despair. While trapped inside it, he had been unable to free himself, nearly suffocating beneath the pressure. Yet once he “woke,” it seemed as though nothing had happened at all.

Tian Wujing walked up to him.

Zheng Fan shook the water from his hands and stood.

He looked exactly the same as before, yet something about his presence had subtly changed.

In Tian Wujing’s eyes, the old Zheng Fan had never seemed entirely real.

Like one of the western acrobatic troupes performing in Yanjing. Some of those troupes had fire-breathing “mages” among them. They ate, dressed, and slept in the same city wards as everyone else, yet when ordinary people looked at them, there was always an invisible layer separating the two sides.

A feeling of... someone living far from home.

Now, however, that distance seemed to have disappeared.

As though some knot inside Zheng Fan’s heart had finally opened, allowing him to accept the world around him.

Still, Tian Wujing was Tian Wujing.

He could speak a few extra sentences to guide Zheng Fan, but he would never sit face-to-face with him merely to make idle conversation.

*You’ve put on weight lately?*

*You’ve gotten thinner.*

*You look much more energetic now.*

If words like those ever came out of Tian Wujing’s mouth, the first person frightened would probably be Zheng Fan.

“You began practicing martial arts late, but your advancement has been extremely fast. Your foundation can easily become unstable. For the next period, focus on consolidating your realm and strengthening your body.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

What was the greatest reliance of a Martial Artist?

Not some absurd divine weapon.

Not some mystical secret manual.

It was the body.

A Martial Artist who did not cultivate the body, no matter how high his grade, remained nothing more than duckweed without roots.

Truthfully, Zheng Fan very much wanted to say that if they were discussing advancement speed, then Tian Wujing himself was the truly outrageous young monster.

But Zheng Fan also knew Tian Wujing had been tempering his body under his great-uncle since childhood, enduring hardship Zheng Fan could barely imagine. The two of them were nothing alike. Zheng Fan had joined the profession halfway through.

Besides some people were simply born holding the protagonist template.

Zheng Fan had already met more than a few such people in this world.

Enough to make Count Zheng downright jealous.

The surface of the Wang River was densely packed with Chu corpses.

Once, the Chu had treated Yan soldiers this way.

Now the Yan had returned everything in full.

Zheng Fan drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it.

The sunset and evening glow were beautiful. Against the floating corpses covering the river, they created a composition whose subject matter clashed violently while its colors remained strangely harmonious.

The professional instincts left over from Zheng Fan’s previous life made Count Zheng rather appreciate the framing.

Tian Wujing continued forward.

Zheng Fan followed behind.

A slaughterhouse surrounded them, yet the two men walked as though strolling through a garden and breathing fresh air.

“Your Highness, now that matters here are finished, how do you think Chu will react?”

The label of oath-breakers and treaty-breakers could no longer be washed from Yan.

Especially after massacring surrendered troops.

Such an act genuinely offended Heaven’s harmony and could easily unite the people of Chu through shared outrage.

Tian Wujing, naturally, did not care about damage to his reputation.

Zheng Fan also felt Tian Wujing had long since reached the point where reputation no longer mattered.

Tian Wujing’s answer was simple.

“The Chu will be angry.”

Zheng Fan kept walking, waiting for the rest.

And waited.

And continued waiting.

Nothing followed.

Only then did Zheng Fan fully understand Tian Wujing’s meaning.

The Chu would be angry.

And then, nothing.

They would rage.

But what could they do about it?

Great Yan had fought battle after battle in recent years and was already exhausted. Continuing the war would be extremely costly.

But no matter how one looked at it, Yan had been the victor in every major campaign over the past several years.

Fighting again would hurt badly. It might even bring Yan near collapse.

But Yan had not lost the ability to continue fighting altogether.

If the Emperor of Yan truly gambled everything, the state could still mobilize enormous amounts of manpower and military strength and continue the war—perhaps even expand it again.

Beifeng Commandery still held one hundred and fifty thousand Zhenbei troops.

There were also more than a hundred thousand Imperial Guards the Emperor had kicked up there to eat sand and gain experience.

If the two sides truly fought until brains splattered, no one would care about keeping reserves for other problems.

“Chu has not completely stabilized internally. Their Regent is cautious by nature. If the war becomes total, Great Yan dares gamble.

“Chu does not.”

Total war meant Chu mobilizing the armies of every region, sending several hundred thousand troops through Zhennan Pass, and contesting the Three Jin against Yan in earnest.

If Chu won, the Yan army might lose the former State of Cheng and perhaps be forced even farther west.

But for Chu to drive directly into Yan proper in a single breath?

Nearly impossible.

If Chu lost, however history had already provided an example.

During the height of Qian’s national fortunes, Emperor Taizong of Qian had once launched a northern expedition with five hundred thousand troops.

The first Marquis of Zhenbei destroyed the entire force in one stroke.

Had the Yan not simultaneously been locked in a life-and-death struggle with the desert barbarians, leaving them unable to divert more troops, half of Qian’s realm might have been pushed back and swallowed in the counterattack.

War, reduced to its simplest form, was often exactly that.

Once you lost your main field army and the mobile forces capable of responding across the realm, then no matter how broad your territory or how many fortified cities you possessed, they became lambs waiting for slaughter while the enemy harvested them one by one.

Could the present Prince of Jingnan reproduce the first Marquis of Zhenbei’s glory?

Chu was welcome to try.

And Chu’s internal problems remained unresolved.

This defeat and the complete destruction of the Azure Luan Army would inevitably provoke unrest within Chu.

The fact that the Regent had not yet ascended the throne was itself evidence that he had been forced to compromise with factions he had not yet eliminated.

Every sign suggested that Chu would not launch full-scale war in the short term.

And even if it did when it came to gambling national destiny, Great Yan’s iron triangle consisted of three lunatics.

Other states treated the foundation of the realm and the state altar as things heavier than Mount Tai, too precious to move casually.

Those three?

They had already gone all-in with the nation’s fate more than once.

They had experience.

“And Your Highness?”

“This Prince will soon have to call himself ‘this Marquis’ again.”

Tian Wujing said it calmly, as though he had expected the result all along.

Zheng Fan understood immediately.

Forty thousand prisoners had been slaughtered.

To close the mouths of critics inside and outside the state, Tian Wujing had to be punished.

So the princely title he had only just received would be stripped away.

He would be demoted.

But stripped of all decoration what difference did it make whether the man was called Prince of Jingnan or Marquis of Jingnan?

Once a person’s individual strength and political power reached a certain level, titles truly became little more than ornament.

“At that time, I will establish my residence in Fengxin City. It is closer to Chu.”

Fengxin was where Zheng Fan had once killed the brothers Situ Yi and Situ Jiong by burying them in filth.

It lay east of Yupan City.

If Tian Wujing established himself in Fengxin, it would be like hanging a sword directly outside Chu’s door.

For Chu that would be a tremendous deterrent.

And from Zheng Fan’s perspective as Chief Commander of Snow Sea Pass, if Tian Wujing remained stationed at Fengxin, Zheng Fan would no longer need to worry about being squeezed between Chu and the savages at once.

He would have much more freedom to operate.

The final problem was Zhennan Pass.

Under the treaty, Yan would release the Azure Luan Army, and Chu would return Zhennan Pass—originally territory of the State of Cheng—to Yan.

Naturally, that was now impossible.

But it did not matter much.

Chu was unlikely to start another major war.

Whether Zhennan Pass stood in Chu hands or Yan hands therefore made little immediate difference.

“Your Highness can rest assured. Once I train my troops properly, this general will take Zhennan Pass back for you.”

Tian Wujing nodded slightly.

He did not seem particularly concerned.

As the two continued walking, Chen Yang approached on horseback.

The moment Chen Yang saw Tian Wujing and Zheng Fan walking side by side like two brothers taking an evening stroll, he immediately confirmed who had truly ordered the massacre.

“Your Highness, Qu Tiannan cut his own throat beside the river and threw himself in.”

Qu Tiannan was dead.

The Yan soldiers had not intended to kill him.

Dozens of his personal guards had surrounded him with their own bodies, while the Yan soldiers had deliberately left that small pocket alone.

But after watching formation after formation of soldiers under his command being slaughtered, the Chu Pillar of State had refused to fight for some miserable chance to survive.

He pushed away his guards.

Picked up a saber.

And beneath the cold gazes of the surrounding Yan cavalrymen cut off his own head with one stroke.

His body fell into the Wang River.

Dozens of personal guards followed him in death.

The Chu Pillar of State preserved his dignity through suicide.

Truthfully he had not lost.

Ignoring what happened today, the Azure Luan Army’s performance on the Jin battlefield could hardly be called a defeat.

The main reason it ran short of grain was because the savages had betrayed and ruined its rear.

After that, the army remained isolated in foreign territory while no relief force ever came from Chu.

Neither of those things had been Qu Tiannan’s fault.

He had already done everything he could.

But the treaty deceived him into opening the gates.

The men at court had used an extraordinarily naïve method to fool him.

Of course, Qu Tiannan was not completely blameless.

His greatest mistake had been trusting Tian Wujing’s oath.

But had he truly believed it completely?

That was difficult to say.

Compared with the certainty of his entire army starving to death, as commander he had been forced to gamble on the only other possible ending.

Qu Tiannan’s death marked the final punctuation of the year-long chaos across Jin.

The Yan cleared away the last Chu force inside Yupan City and finally placed the lands of the Three Jin completely under their control.

Zheng Fan never saw Qu Tiannan’s corpse.

It had probably drifted downstream with the bodies of the other Chu soldiers.

He did, however, see Chu envoy Jing Yang kneeling beside the river and wailing.

The Yan had indeed betrayed their word.

But as one of the men who personally handled the agreement, Jing Yang could hardly avoid responsibility either.

Fortunately for him, his status as an envoy meant he would not be executed.

As he cried, Jing Yang scraped grain from the ground with both hands and threw it into the river.

Most of the Chu army had died without ever managing to eat a full meal.

They had gone onto the road of death with empty stomachs.

Zheng Fan hesitated.

Then, in the end, he decided to show a little mercy.

He did not remind Jing Yang that wrapping glutinous rice in lotus leaves before throwing it into the river would make the ritual feel more complete.

Zheng Fan then saw Li Fusheng sitting atop a pile of corpses beside the river.

Blood dripped from his entire body.

One hand held a fistful of roasted beans.

A wine jar sat before him.

Several beans.

A mouthful of wine.

Another few beans.

Another swallow.

The flavor, judging from his expression, was utterly intoxicating.

Zheng Fan also saw Prince of Cheng Situ Yu.

The boy had originally come to witness the alliance ceremony.

This political mascot had once again been forced to experience a storm of blood.

Truthfully, his fate was tragic.

Because of Situ Lei, the Emperor of Yan and the imperial court had given the Situ bloodline a great deal of face.

But Situ Yu could never escape being a political mascot.

Nor did he dare try.

The child was visibly trembling.

He even retched from time to time.

Yet he still forced himself to maintain enough composure to avoid appearing undignified.

What he did not realize was that almost no one cared anymore whether he possessed dignity.

In the end beneath Heaven, all men were merely ants.

Who truly lived easily?

Zheng Fan swept his gaze across the surroundings.

His right hand rested on his hip.

For the first time, he genuinely understood the chill hidden inside the words:

*The sunset is like blood.*

*The realm is like a painting.*

“Tired?” Tian Wujing asked.

Zheng Fan shook his head.

“No.”

Then he added:

“But I want a bath.”

...

Five days after the massacre at Yupan City, Zheng Fan encountered Shengle’s migration column beside the Wang River.

The sheer scale of the convoy alarmed even nearby garrisons.

The five thousand Shengle troops escorting the migration seemed to disappear almost instantly inside the ocean of people surrounding them.

Families traveled together.

Horse carts.

Ox carts.

Wheelbarrows.

Old and young alike came along.

The total number of migrants looked as though it were headed straight for two hundred thousand.

Shengle City’s original permanent civilian population, excluding troops, had only been around thirty thousand.

When word reached Zheng Fan, he was drinking with Li Fusheng inside a military tent.

So when a scout reported the situation and Zheng Fan went outside to inspect it, Li Fusheng naturally came with him.

Looking at the enormous migration column, Li Fusheng could not help slapping a hand against his own forehead.

“Fuck me.

“Whoever succeeds you is going to cry himself to death.”

He was right.

When the next Garrison Commander of Shengle happily arrived with his personal attendants and household troops to assume office the Shengle City waiting for him might contain nothing except the walls.

Even the city gates had been dismantled by the common people and turned into flatbed carts for hauling property.

It would not be much of an exaggeration to say the sky above Shengle City would stand a full three feet higher than anywhere else.

Naturally, Count Zheng felt no sympathy for his successor.

Back when he left Cuiliu Fort, he had already left plenty of bargains behind for the next man.

Surely he could not be expected to let others harvest the fruits of his labor every single time.

Still a migration of this scale was absurdly exaggerated.

Even columns composed of refugees and bandits rarely reached this size.

By dusk, Siniang crossed the river first.

She had been responsible for guiding the head of the migration column.

The Blind Man and A’Ming remained at the rear.

The three Demon Kings were like shepherds driving an enormous flock of goats, organizing this civilian-dominated migration into something orderly enough to continue toward its destination.

“Master.”

Siniang wore a purple robe.

Her dress was comparatively plain, yet nothing could conceal her beauty.

The moment she entered Zheng Fan’s army camp, she instantly drew the eyes of a large group of Yan armored soldiers.

Three years in the army and even a sow began to look like Diaochan.

Most of these men had been assigned to the encirclement of Yupan City.

Because the savages, Chu army, and three-way war had already emptied the surrounding land of civilians, not even the boldest madam would dare bring a Red Tent business out here.

The soldiers had been pent up for a very long time.

But the moment they saw Zheng Fan walk forward and take the beautiful woman by the hand, every eye immediately turned elsewhere.

They practically began reciting Buddhist sutras in their hearts to purge unclean thoughts.

First—

Zheng Fan’s status.

Second—

Zheng Fan’s record.

Third whether or not the Prince of Jingnan had secretly authorized the recent prisoner massacre, the first man to raise his saber and openly give the order had still been Count Pingye.

Put all three together, and Zheng Fan’s position inside the Eastern Expedition Army had begun to feel vaguely second only to one man.

Naturally, no one dared act presumptuously before him.

Tian Wujing already knew Siniang was Zheng Fan’s woman, so Count Zheng made no effort to conceal anything.

He took her hand and led her directly into his tent.

“Come.

“Wash your face.”

Zheng Fan personally brought over a basin.

The water inside was still warm.

“Thank you, Master.”

Siniang washed.

She wore no makeup, so she was quick about it.

The dust of the road disappeared from her face.

A few wet strands of hair clung against her skin.

Somehow that only made her more alluring.

Zheng Fan swallowed several times without even realizing it.

“Master...”

Siniang’s voice turned sweet and coquettish.

Half her body leaned against Zheng Fan.

One arm wrapped around his neck while the other hand gently stroked his right cheek.

“I missed you to death.”

Zheng Fan wrapped his arms around her.

“I missed you too.”

“And where did Master miss me?”

“Everywhere.

“Above and below.”

When Zheng Fan had led Siniang inside, the Shengle guards accompanying him this time had very tactfully widened the defensive perimeter and moved well away from the tent.

“Huuuu...”

Zheng Fan reclined against the blanket-covered camp bed.

A slight tremor entered the nasal sound of his breathing.

Troubles?

Worries?

Hesitation?

Fear?

At this particular moment all of them vanished completely.

From now on, whenever he left on campaign, Siniang absolutely had to come along.

If he suffered qi deviation again someday she might prove far more useful than the Demon Child.

Siniang rose, washed her hands again, and returned.

She sat beside Zheng Fan, leaning against him while both hands idly stroked his chest.

“Master, the Blind Man tricked quite a lot of people into coming with us this time...”

Now that the important business had been handled it was time to discuss trivial matters and cultivate the spirit.

Siniang told Zheng Fan everything that had happened in Shengle after A’Ming returned with the message.

The Blind Man had not merely deceived a huge group of Shengle residents and nearby civilians into bringing their entire families along under the promise of porter wages.

He had spent the entire road tirelessly advertising the wonders of Snow Sea Pass.

For example, after the savages were defeated, cattle and sheep had been left all over the mountains, so much that one could eat beef and mutton every day and never finish it all.

Or the land around Snow Sea Pass was so fertile that all you had to do was scatter seed into the ground and ignore it. By autumn, the harvest would be large enough to feed you for an entire year.

In the Blind Man’s stories—

Snow Sea Pass had stopped being a strategic military fortress.

It had become paradise on earth.

The Blind Man was a professional charlatan anyway, so he simply took the beautiful descriptions various religions used for the afterlife and transplanted them directly onto the real Snow Sea Pass.

Whatever fantasy you possessed whatever desire you carried—

Snow Sea Pass could satisfy it.

He lied while marching.

The column grew while marching.

Like a snowball rolling downhill.

Even many refugees outside Yingdu who had lost their homes during the war were drawn into the migration.

“Master, even the Blind Man himself didn’t expect to stir up something this huge.

“Could this cause trouble?”

Siniang sounded somewhat worried.

For local officials, losing the population under their jurisdiction was a serious offense.

Because the migration column had troops escorting it, the officials along the route had not dared stop it openly.

But they would certainly return to their yamen and write memorials of impeachment.

Zheng Fan shook his head.

“It’s fine.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Compared with the bones of forty thousand Chu soldiers beneath Yupan City what Zheng Fan had done here was practically drizzle.

Tian Wujing’s intention to shield Zheng Fan had already become perfectly obvious.

No matter how much pressure came down from above, Zheng Fan believed Old Tian would carry it for him.

Besides—

Zhennan Pass remained in Chu hands.

That only made Snow Sea Pass more important.

It not only had to prevent the savages from moving south again, it also needed to help contain any Chu attempt to push north.

Same principle as always.

Even if the dispute were carried all the way to the Emperor of Yan, given that Emperor’s temperament he might actually be delighted to see Zheng Fan grow into a proper regional warlord as quickly as possible, so he could stabilize the frontier.

“As long as Master has it under control, then I’m relieved.”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Zheng Fan suddenly sounded apologetic.

“I should’ve let you eat something first earlier.

“I’ll have food prepared.”

Dinner was simple.

They were in an army camp.

Tian Wujing did not allow himself special treatment, so Zheng Fan could hardly be extravagant either.

It was ordinary military food.

But eaten together with Siniang it tasted surprisingly good.

By the next day, not even half the migration column had crossed the river.

Zheng Fan took Siniang out for a ride on the Pixiu.

Within the world of mounts, a Pixiu occupied a position no lower than some absurdly luxurious fully-optioned car in later generations.

Failing to take a beauty out for a drive would have been a crime against good taste.

Besides, the war was over.

Spring was in full bloom.

It was exactly the right season for an outing.

After galloping wildly for a while, the two found a patch of soft grass, lay down, stared at the blue sky, and talked.

Life felt wonderfully carefree.

You merely had to learn to filter out the occasional white bones hidden beneath the green grass.

It was not until the morning of the third day, by which time most of the migration column had crossed the river, that Zheng Fan finally saw the Blind Man and A’Ming.

A’Ming was still A’Ming.

Even if he had spent the previous moment rolling around in a cesspit, the next moment he would still somehow look like a refined aristocrat.

The Blind Man, by contrast, was covered in dirt.

He looked genuinely worn down from managing everything along the road.

“You’ve worked hard,” Zheng Fan said.

The Blind Man shook his head.

Then pointed behind himself, toward the area where the migration column would camp that night.

“Master.

“That is our foundation.

“Our real foundation.”

The Blind Man looked somewhat excited.

Among the Seven Demon Kings, he was the one most interested in the great project of “rebellion.”

And truthfully, managing food, drink, sleep, sanitation, discipline, and movement for this many people along the road was so exhausting that without some kind of mental stimulation, he might not have endured it.

Common people were not soldiers.

You could not simply restrain them with military law.

Hold the reins too tightly and you had to worry they would run away.

So you could only coax them, deceive them, reassure them, and keep them moving.

It was exhausting.

“I’ll go ask the Prince of Jingnan for a force to escort the people onward to Snow Sea Pass.”

“That would naturally be excellent, Master.”

Zheng Fan glanced at the sky.

“It’s getting late.

“I’ll go see the Prince of Jingnan now.

“You two rest first.”

“Yes, Master.”

After Zheng Fan left the tent, the Blind Man finally sat down without restraint.

He removed his outer robe, grimaced at the dirt covering it, and threw it far away.

A’Ming gave a cold laugh.

“I’m dressed this cleanly.

“Siniang crossed the river a few days ago without looking filthy at all.

“And then there’s you, putting on this performance.

“You think Master can’t tell?”

“The effect is better precisely because Master can tell.

“You understand?”

A’Ming decided not to answer.

Siniang began trimming her nails.

The Blind Man turned toward her.

“Siniang.

“Has Master changed at all?”

“What aspect are you asking about?”

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen him in so long, but now that I’m looking again, his presence feels slightly different.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I can’t quite describe it.”

The Blind Man stood.

“I’ll go back to the camp and inspect things again.

“A’Ming, come with me.

“Siniang, stay here with Master.”

A’Ming accompanied the Blind Man out of the tent.

They had barely walked any distance before he asked:

“Did you sense the change in Master’s aura?

“Did he advance again and you deliberately pretended not to notice?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think Siniang didn’t understand what you meant?”

“I knew she would understand.

“That’s why I said it.”

“You’re doing this again.”

“There are some things Siniang should ask about—or test—before the rest of us.

“That’s the most appropriate arrangement.”

“Does living like this not exhaust you?”

“You get used to it.”

The Blind Man pulled a shriveled orange from inside his robe.

It had nearly dried out from losing so much moisture.

He stopped walking and began peeling it while continuing:

“Every time Master advances, the difficulty of obtaining the same advancement ourselves grows greater than the time before.

“At first, all we needed was a little preliminary recognition.

“Or perhaps simply to give him a little warmth.

“After that, we needed to genuinely move him.

“Each time, the requirement rises another step.

“What exactly will count this time?

“We need Siniang to test it first.

“Once she establishes a reference point, the rest of us will know which direction to aim.”

“That much is true.

“Every time gets harder.”

“We can take it slowly.

“There’s no hurry.

“Handle our immediate work first.

“Once we reach Snow Sea Pass, we’ll have all the time in the world.

“But yes— we should start preparing now.

“Consider that friendly advice.”

“Do I need to thank you?”

“Mm.

“You’re welcome.

“Orange?”

...

Zheng Fan arrived outside the command tent.

A personal guard went in to announce him, and he was allowed entry.

Tian Wujing sat in the place of honor.

Minister of War Mao Mingcai sat below him.

When Zheng Fan entered, Tian Wujing pointed toward a seat on the other side.

“Sit.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Zheng Fan did not treat himself like an outsider.

He sat.

Mao Mingcai’s emotions seemed to have stabilized.

He no longer resembled the hysterical man from the day of the massacre.

When his gaze met Zheng Fan’s, he even smiled warmly.

“Count Pingye has made quite a commotion this time.

“You’re going to garrison Snow Sea Pass, and yet you’ve actually migrated such a huge population there.”

Mao Mingcai spoke directly.

Before Zheng Fan could answer, Tian Wujing said:

“This Prince approved it.”

Mao Mingcai nodded.

Then continued:

“Count Pingye still has relatively few soldiers originally from Yan proper beneath his command. To prevent difficulties in controlling the force, after this official returns to the capital, I will naturally transfer a formation—”

“This Prince is short on troops here as well.

“After this, we must still guard against Chu.

“We also need to supervise the construction of Great Yan’s river fleet.

“However many soldiers, civilian laborers, and convicts the court can still provide— send all of them here.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Zheng Fan did not need to say a single word.

He merely sat there while Tian Wujing blocked both the attack and the attempt to pour sand into his army.

“In that case, regarding the matter this subordinate mentioned earlier, I ask Your Highness to consider it.

“This subordinate will take his leave now.

“Tomorrow, I will depart for the capital.”

“I won’t see you out.

“Take care.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Mao Mingcai withdrew from the command tent.

The Minister of War had already found it difficult to make himself heard inside the Jingnan Army.

In front of Tian Wujing himself it was even worse.

“Your Highness, this general came to ask for a force to help escort those civilians onward to Snow Sea Pass.”

“Approved.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Do you know what Mao Mingcai came to ask me earlier?”

“This general does not.”

“He wants an external posting to Yingdu.

“He came specifically to tell me.”

“That...”

He wanted to abandon the position of Minister of War and seek a provincial posting instead?

“What he lacks is experience.

“He has ability.

“If he sits in Yingdu for me while I remain at Fengxin, then if Chu dares move north, responding will be much easier.”

“He really knows when to bend and when to stand,” Zheng Fan said.

He still remembered Mao Mingcai’s furious reaction on the day of the massacre.

But perhaps the man had thought matters through by now.

Once something had already happened all that remained was dealing with the result.

In Zheng Fan’s judgment, Mao Mingcai’s mission could basically be considered a failure.

Whatever the reasons, continuing to sit as Minister of War would now be somewhat awkward.

Voluntarily requesting an external posting therefore offered a dignified way to leave.

Besides perhaps being Minister of War in Great Yan was not nearly as enjoyable as the title suggested.

Yan’s military authority had been delegated far too heavily.

In the old State of Qian, military commanders would practically kowtow if they encountered the Minister of War.

Even meeting some minor Vice Director of the Ministry of War could make them bend at the waist.

In Yan?

Zheng Fan had openly slighted Mao Mingcai and afterward barely felt nervous at all.

If Mao Mingcai transferred outward to Yingdu, then so long as Tian Wujing remained away in Fengxin, Mao Mingcai would become the man with the highest practical authority and status in Yingdu itself.

Compared with remaining in Yanjing as a paper Minister of War that might indeed be far more comfortable.

As for whether deeper political intentions existed behind the arrangement division of authority, restraint, checks and balances those were not questions Zheng Fan should ask.

“If you insist on personally handling every matter, even a body made of iron will eventually fail.

“The best arrangement is to focus upon what you are best at.

“War is the same.”

Zheng Fan immediately saluted.

“Many thanks for Your Highness’s instruction.”

Truthfully, Zheng Fan wanted very badly to say that in this regard, he had already achieved an extraordinary level.

Not only did he avoid personally managing logistics and ideological work he barely even fought his own wars himself.

“Anything else?” Tian Wujing asked.

“Nothing else, Your Highness.”

“Then go.

“This Prince is tired.”

Zheng Fan froze for an instant.

This was the first time Tian Wujing had ever said the word *tired* in front of him.

Most of the time, the Prince of Jingnan always seemed towering and indestructible.

Even when Dujuan died, when he sat there and his hair turned white overnight, he still had not seemed weak.

If anything he had looked more like a tiger silently brewing rage.

“This general takes his leave.

“Your Highness should rest well.

“Your health matters.”

After leaving the command tent, Zheng Fan did not linger.

He returned directly to his own tent.

The moment he entered, he saw Siniang wrapped in a blanket, lying on her side with her back toward him atop the camp bedding.

Apparently, she had recognized his footsteps.

So she deliberately let one fragrant shoulder slip free.

And at the far end of the blanket the calf she exposed happened to be wearing flesh-colored stockings she had knitted herself.

Perhaps because Count Zheng had already emptied himself several times over the past two days this time he did not immediately pounce.

Instead, he leisurely washed his face with water from the basin.

Then asked:

“What is this?”

Siniang rolled over and faced him with a smile.

“I wanted to test whether Master advanced again.

“So I deliberately tried seducing you.”

“You’re being this direct?”

“I have absolutely no secrets from Master.”

“There seems to be a problem this time.”

“Master, what’s wrong?”

“Truthfully, from the first day you came back, I already intended to help you advance.

“I didn’t hold back psychologically at all.

“But you still didn’t advance.”

That was the truth.

“Master, there’s no hurry.

“We can try another method.”

...

The migrant camp was enormous.

It could not possibly maintain the strict order of a military encampment, but a certain rigor still existed throughout it.

Naturally, the population density was extremely high.

But one particular area stood completely apart.

Three hundred Shengle soldiers personally guarded it.

A wide empty gap separated it from the rest of the camp.

Even those three hundred soldiers did not approach too closely.

They merely guarded and patrolled the outer perimeter.

At the center stood a single tent.

During the day, it was packed away and carried aboard a wagon.

At night, it was erected separately.

Inside the tent stood a coffin.

Atop the coffin sat a baby cradle.

The Young Prince lay inside, legs raised happily while he played with a pellet drum.

From time to time, baby babble escaped his mouth.

Beside the cradle lay a bundle.

Inside were the snacks and little toys Siniang had discovered the Young Prince secretly hiding away.

He had been saving all of them for the Demon Child.

Siniang had therefore packed the whole collection and brought it along.

The Young Prince was entertaining himself perfectly well when the coffin beneath him suddenly trembled violently.

The cradle settled gently onto the ground.

The coffin itself slid free.

Then rose upright.

*Bang!*

The coffin lid crashed to the ground.

The figure lying inside was exposed.

*Hum—!*

In the next instant, baleful qi tore a six-foot opening through the tent.

Sha Tuo Queshi’s eyes slowly opened.

Dark light flowed within them.

Outside the torn tent stood a man wearing a white python robe.

He remained perfectly still.

Even when the terrifying existence inside the coffin emerged, the white-robed man showed no reaction.

He merely said calmly:

“I came to see my son.”

————

[End of Chapter 370]