Chapter 575: - The Southern Marquis in His Glory (1)

Xiaochen Estate was an imperial estate near the capital.

That day, Zhou Fu, a junior steward who happened to be the neighbor of the household of the elder uncle of the estate steward eunuch’s godson, led a group of estate hands to drag grain out of the cellars, load it onto carts, and send it into the capital.

Zhou Fu himself was not young.

The eunuch’s godson was only sixteen this year, while Zhou Fu was already forty-three. Which was precisely why the sixteen-year-old could become the steward eunuch’s godson while Zhou Fu could not.

Just how twisted would that steward eunuch’s tastes have to be to accept an old cabbage stalk like Zhou Fu as his godson?

Still, Zhou Fu was one of the men who actually had some say inside Xiaochen Estate.

Local little yamens... well, one might as well count Xiaochen Estate as a yamen too. At the very top there would always be a crowd of people who had gotten in through connections, occupied seats without doing a damned thing, and collected their share.

But there also had to be people who genuinely worked.

Without people who actually did the work, the tasks assigned from above would never get finished, never mind anyone skimming a little oil for himself.

Zhou Fu had actually occupied more or less this position seven or eight years earlier.

Back then, the imperial estates around the capital nominally belonged to the Imperial Household Department, but in practice they were managed by the Second Prince, and the men placed over the various estates were all his people.

Around three years earlier, Zhou Fu and another steward competed for the position of “trusted confidant.”

Above them stood the steward eunuch who obeyed the Second Prince.

What Zhou Fu and his rival were really fighting for was the place now occupied by that eunuch’s “godson.”

Zhou Fu and his rival, Ma Quan’er, both spent silver and worked connections, hoping to attach themselves to the eunuch.

Then something happened in Ma Quan’er’s household.

His wife was caught sleeping with another man.

The scandal spread through the entire estate.

The steward eunuch had nothing between his legs. He kept a mistress outside, but the best he could do was use a horn phallus to scratch an itch he could never truly satisfy. He had always been rather sensitive about that particular matter.

So he felt profound sympathy for Ma Quan’er.

And promoted him to become the true senior steward of Xiaochen Estate.

Zhou Fu had always believed Ma Quan’er had done it deliberately.

Because Ma Quan’er’s wife was broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, black-faced, and buck-toothed, with the nickname “Wild-Boar’s Equal.”

A woman like that could actually find someone willing to sneak into her bed?

But regardless of the truth, Ma Quan’er won.

For Zhou Fu, who had spent his entire life clawing his way through the mud of the estate, this was the first time he truly touched the profound mysteries of a “struggle for power.”

Afterward, Ma Quan’er began suppressing Zhou Fu’s side.

He deliberately bullied the people around Zhou Fu, almost as though he wanted to vent every grievance he had suffered over Wild-Boar’s Equal.

But not long afterward, the late emperor died.

The Rebellion of the Princes began.

The Second Prince started secretly stockpiling weapons inside the imperial estates.

Before he even had time to launch anything, the Imperial Guards stormed in.

The steward eunuch was arrested.

Ma Quan’er was arrested.

Wild-Boar’s Equal, Ma Quan’er’s sons, and Ma Quan’er’s daughters were all seized as family members of a criminal.

Once you were implicated in a major treason case, the starting price was extermination of the whole household.

Zhou Fu still remembered the day Ma Quan’er was taken away.

Ma Quan’er saw Zhou Fu kneeling behind the ranks of Imperial Guards and shouted:

“Zhou Fu! Zhou Fu! I’m dying in your place! I’m dying in your place!”

He was right.

He really was dying in Zhou Fu’s place.

Because Zhou Fu knew perfectly well that even if he had beaten Ma Quan’er all those years ago and become the senior steward beneath the eunuch, when the men above ordered him to hide weapons inside the estate, could he have refused?

Would he have dared?

Ma Quan’er’s entire family was beheaded.

During those days, one prince after another failed in rebellion.

The number of accomplices executed alongside them was vast.

Zhou Fu did hear one thing, though.

Not one of those princes had died.

They had all been confined inside princely residences, where all they could do was make children.

Make children.

Then make more children.

To Zhou Fu, no, to any ordinary commoner, that sounded like the life of an immortal!

Common people did not understand depression born from thwarted ambition.

They did not understand what it meant to have grand aspirations with nowhere to use them.

Every day, they either bent their backs toward the yellow earth or pushed carts and labored for the handful of grain needed to keep their families alive.

It was truly difficult for them to understand exactly what was so painful about being locked inside a beautiful princely residence, eating fine food, wearing brocade, and being attended by a whole crowd of women.

Once, after drinking himself mildly tipsy, Zhou Fu slapped his wife when she tried to stop him.

It was not a festival.

There was no memorial day.

He simply pulled some yellow spirit paper from the cabinet, set up a brazier, and began burning offerings.

For Ma Quan’er.

For Wild-Boar’s Equal.

And for Ma Quan’er’s several children, the ones who, whenever their father bullied Zhou Fu, had sometimes run over to beg their father to stop.

The princes who had rebelled had not died.

The scholar-lords in the city said this was because the Regent was benevolent and righteous and refused to slaughter his own brothers.

Zhou Fu knew better.

It was because too many men like Ma Quan’er had already died for them.

Somewhere deep inside, Zhou Fu seemed to understand something from that.

So when a new steward eunuch arrived, Zhou Fu did not push forward.

Even though everyone expected him to win.

Even though his support was the highest.

He still claimed his bones were bad and refused to fight for the position.

Being a junior steward was already quite good.

Zhou Fu once told his son that there were three kinds of people in this world.

One kind were immortals in Heaven.

One kind lived in the mud.

One kind walked upon the ground.

When the great wind blew, the immortals in Heaven neither baked in the sun nor got soaked by the rain. Those in the mud merely wrapped themselves in another layer of mud.

The ones blown over were the people running around on the ground.

They hopped and skipped so happily, they really thought they were somebody.

“Yooo!”

Wang Bangzi, driving the cart, let out a long cry from his throat.

The mules brayed with him as though answering.

Wang Bangzi swept a smug look around.

Behind him, Zhou Dashan, Zhou Fu’s son, sat on one of the mule carts and quietly said to his father:

“Dad, I heard people fleeing from the north say the Yan dogs have broken through.”

Zhou Fu cursed:

“Broken through my ass. General Nian is holding Zhennan Pass. How the hell could the Yan dogs get through? Can they fly?”

The common people of the capital region had an excellent impression of Nian Yao.

During the Rebellion of the Princes, what they had feared most was being dragged into the flames of war.

As the saying went, when immortals fought, mortals suffered.

It had been Nian Yao who led his army and, one after another, quickly and ruthlessly hauled those rebellious princes back.

Plenty of heads had fallen.

Plenty of people had been arrested.

But at the very least, the capital region had never suffered an army marching through it.

“Dad, I’m just worried.”

“Worried about what? What is there to worry about? His Majesty’s procession has already returned to the capital. Put your heart back in your belly. The Yan dogs aren’t coming. Didn’t you see all those armies from the great lords passing outside our estate throughout the first half of the year? What were they doing? They were going north to fight the Yan dogs! That many men, that much armor. If every man spat once, they’d drown the Yan dogs in spit.”

“That’s true. Dad’s right.”

Zhou Fu looked around.

Then he deliberately lowered his voice.

“But even if they really do come, whether it’s His Majesty, our own lords, or the Yan dogs, no matter who rules, somebody still has to farm. The Yan dogs need to eat too. They can’t fill their bellies drinking water. Last month, I already had your mother buy some black cloth. Once we finish delivering this grain to the capital, you and I will make another round of the teahouses and listen for news from the north, see which way the wind is really blowing. When we get home, tell your mother and your wife to start cutting that cloth. It isn’t for clothes. Aren’t the Yan banners black?”

Zhou Dashan’s eyes immediately widened.

Never in his wildest imagination had he thought his father had already prepared even this.

He wanted to ask more, but the old man silenced him with a look.

Enough had been said.

With this many people around, whispering too long would only attract attention.

Zhou Fu leaned against the mule cart and gazed north, his eyes slightly unfocused.

He did not really know what he was doing.

He simply wanted to live.

People on an imperial estate lived somewhat better than people outside.

Because no matter the age, the easiest money to embezzle was the government’s.

Steal from a noble lord and the noble lord might peel off your skin.

Government money, though?

Aside from His Majesty himself, even His Majesty’s sons in the future would technically be skimming his money too.

So Zhou Fu did not want to die.

His family now ate meat with every meal.

Their life was comfortable.

Live.

Just live...

“Yooooooo!”

Wang Bangzi cried out again.

Every time they went out with a shipment, he loved performing like this, as though trying to tell all the farm women that the thing between his legs was just as impressive as a donkey’s.

But this time, the response did not come from the mules.

It came from a rolling thunder like an earthquake.

Rumble!

Rumble!

Rumble!

The ground was truly trembling.

Wang Bangzi’s mouth remained open.

He turned around blankly.

Zhou Fu had already sat upright.

His eyes fixed firmly on the north.

There, a black cloud was spreading wider and darker.

In the blink of an eye, it became a crushing wall of storm cloud pressing toward the city.

Zhou Dashan stared stupidly.

“Which lord’s cavalry is that? What a spectacle.”

He had been the one warning his father earlier that the Yan dogs might arrive.

But in truth, he was also the one who least believed they actually would.

By contrast, Zhou Fu, who had loudly insisted that the Yan dogs could never get past General Nian, had already stocked black cloth for making Black Dragon Banners.

At that moment, Zhou Fu slapped the back of his son’s head.

“You fucking idiot!”

Then he shouted:

“Everyone, stop! Stop! Kneel down! Kneel down!”

Zhou Fu jumped from the mule cart and threw himself prostrate on the ground, both hands stretched in front of his head, his backside raised high.

One had to admit, this old man, born on the estate, raised on the estate, married on the estate, and father of children on the estate, possessed an almost supernatural talent for staying alive.

He knelt.

His son Zhou Dashan immediately knelt as well.

Everyone else looked from one face to another, utterly bewildered.

Zhou Fu buried his head and shouted:

“It’s the Yan dogs... the Yan army is here! The Yan army is here!”

Zhou Dashan began trembling.

The Yan... the Yan dogs had truly come?

Everyone finally dropped to their knees, copying Zhou Fu and lifting their backsides as high as possible.

Run?

What would be the point?

If that black mass rapidly approaching from the north truly was Yan cavalry, could a mule outrun one of their warhorses?

They looked slow from far away.

In truth, they were terrifyingly fast.

A detachment of Yan riders had already reached them and swiftly surrounded Zhou Fu’s group.

Farther to the side, the main Yan host continued surging south at speed.

Zhou Fu did not dare lift his head.

But from the sound alone, he could roughly tell what was happening.

And a guess formed in his mind.

The objective of this Yan army was probably the same as the destination of Zhou Fu’s own journey.

Ying Capital.

Then an enormous shadow fell over Zhou Fu.

Hot breath rolled across him in waves, scorching his skin until it stung.

Zhou Fu had no choice but to look up.

A gigantic ferocious beast stood directly before him.

“This... this...”

Upon the beast sat a towering figure dressed in gilded armor.

The man lowered his head slightly.

His gaze seemed to carry supreme authority.

Zhou Fu’s entire body began to shake.

At that moment, he wanted to cry.

He truly wanted to cry.

Like a child who had been frightened half to death and clung to his mother’s leg, bawling.

One could hardly blame Zhou Fu for lacking courage.

Even that Count whose “boldness reached Heaven” lowered his head every time he met this gaze.

“Are there many troops in the capital?”

Zhou Fu swallowed hard.

He forced himself to calm down enough to speak coherently.

By now, he had no capacity left to wonder why a man like this would ask a farmer such a question.

Instinct alone drove him to answer with everything he knew.

Not a single thought of resistance entered his mind.

“R-replying to my lord... this batch of grain... we’re taking it to... to feed the troops newly transferred into the camps outside... outside the capital.”

The man atop the beast gave a faint nod.

Then the beast stepped around Zhou Fu and the others and broke into motion again.

The army continued racing past them from both sides.

Dust rose layer after layer and settled over Zhou Fu and the other people from Xiaochen Estate.

No one dared stand and brush it away.

Their good traveling clothes were being ruined, yet not one person dared show the slightest resentment.

Instead, with remarkable mutual understanding, everyone buried his head lower and raised his backside higher.

No one knew how long passed.

No one counted.

At last, the sound seemed to vanish.

Thump!

Zhou Fu toppled sideways onto the ground.

At that signal, all the other estate hands collapsed too, gasping for air as though they had been underwater holding their breath for far too long.

“Son...”

“Dad...”

Zhou Dashan reached out to help his father up.

But his own legs were numb.

He failed to support the old man and instead dragged Zhou Fu, who had only just begun rising, tumbling back onto the ground.

“Peh...”

Zhou Fu spat mud from his mouth.

He had no time to curse his son.

Instead, he grabbed Zhou Dashan’s hand.

“Go... go home. Tell your wife and your mother. Hurry. Hurry and make the banners. Make the banners!”

After saying that, Zhou Fu swallowed again with difficulty.

He looked south with lingering fear and muttered:

“The sky is changing... the sky is changing...”

...

The Mijiang was originally one of the places where the wealthy idlers of Ying Capital gathered for leisure.

Chu people believed the water of the Mijiang had once been touched by the aura of the Fire Phoenix and could therefore wash away calamity.

Many nearby commoners chose the riverbank for sacrificial rites.

The sick were carried into the river to bathe.

After recovery, families returned to fulfill vows and give thanks.

Weddings and funerals alike were tied to this river.

But the people who could truly spend entire days feasting and drinking there were still the officials and nobles of Chu.

Now, however, with war continuing in the north, fewer people had the leisure to play on the Mijiang.

Ordinary locals might not understand the reason, but the great men knew perfectly well why the Regent had remained trapped inside Juyang City for so long.

So under this atmosphere, the number of people with enough leisure to continue playing on the river had dropped sharply.

Not to zero.

Because no matter the time or place, the world never ran out of idiots.

But when that mass of black-armored riders came galloping along the banks of the Mijiang, even the greatest idiot finally realized the sky might actually be falling.

Ying Capital, a city that had somehow maintained its romantic elegance through everything, suddenly had every beautiful illusion punctured by an enormous cavalry force flying Black Dragon Banners with absolutely no regard for mood or scenery.

Beacon towers around Ying Capital that had not been lit even during the Rebellion of the Princes sent columns of smoke rolling into the sky.

The last Chu people who had seen those warning beacons burn, if any of them still lived, would probably already have four generations beneath one roof.

Outside Ying Capital, the great camps of the Imperial Clan Guards began rapidly assembling and moving out.

They were rushing outward.

The common people in the surrounding region, by contrast, went mad dragging families and belongings toward the city.

The soldiers did not dislike the idea of remaining behind the walls and waiting for relief.

No matter the age, holding a city always seemed like the safest choice.

Like Qian Shangjing years ago.

Close the gates.

Pull the troops inside.

And Li Fusheng could do nothing but force local Qian people he had seized nearby to assault the city for him, just to vent his anger.

But Ying Capital was different.

The political meaning of a national capital almost always exceeded its practical use.

In Chu, that imbalance had been magnified even further.

If one began counting from the first Marquis of Chu, Great Chu had possessed eight hundred years of state tradition.

When Meng Shou compiled the histories of the Four States, that was the standard he used.

Great Chu’s capital, however, had never truly been fixed.

It had moved.

During the earliest days, when Chu fought the hundred Shanyue tribes and seized territory, the capital kept advancing with the frontier.

Wherever the Marquis of Chu’s Fire Phoenix Banner stood, that place became the capital.

Later, after most of Chu had been pacified and the Shanyue reduced to a smaller threat, legend said the capital was established here because the Fire Phoenix had once stopped beside the Mijiang.

The more practical truth was that this place stood at the center of Chu’s richest, most fertile, and most densely populated region.

The Xiong Clan established the capital here and commanded the noble houses from every direction to support it, extending control across the realm.

Within, they continued suppressing and assimilating the Shanyue.

Without, they continued expanding.

Of the Four Great States in the east, two possessed capitals with particularly strong defensive value.

Yan.

And Qian.

Yan because it had fought the Barbarians for far too long, and the Barbarians had even once grazed horses beneath Yanjing itself.

Qian...

Qian, to guard against Yan armies marching south, had even forcibly diverted the Qian River and excavated the Bian River north of Shangjing.

The capital of Jin and Chu’s Ying Capital, by comparison, had placed far less emphasis on pure military defense.

Inside Chu romanticism lay a powerful confidence.

The Chu built one celebrated scenic site after another outside Ying Capital, yet could barely be bothered improving the city walls.

In their minds, magnificent Great Chu had no need.

But this time, the Yan army came.

Fast.

Sudden.

Skipping one defensive line after another that Chu had established in the north, it advanced with an abruptness almost contemptuous of retreat and arrived outside Ying Capital.

When the familiar black armor of Great Yan’s iron cavalry appeared beyond the city, when the people of Ying Capital saw field after field of Black Dragon Banners whipping in the wind, commoners and nobles alike felt as though they had fallen into a dream.

The dream ended quickly.

And waking did not bring loneliness.

Not even the most romantic Chu man could manufacture some elegant solitude out of this.

What came instead was panic.

A panic stripped of every beautiful layer, as the edge of war scraped away the thick rouge painted over the face of Chu.

Prince of Jingnan rode his Pixiu to the front of the army.

Many people considered speeches before battle a kind of empty formalism.

That was usually because the man speaking had not earned the position from which he spoke.

When the Savage King addressed troops, when Count Pingye addressed troops, they could make soldiers howl until fear of death disappeared.

Prince of Jingnan?

In the hearts of the Jingnan Army, he was a god.

Once, Great Yan had only the Zhenbei Army.

It was Tian Wujing who raised the Jingnan Army into prominence.

Now, even the several Zhenbei Army garrisons fought only in coordination beside the Jingnan Army.

Tian Wujing disliked wasting words.

Most of the time, he simply drew the Kunwu Saber and charged first.

This time, however, his gaze swept across the sons of the Jingnan Army before him.

Calmly, he asked:

“Are you tired?”

His voice was quiet.

But empowered by the blood and qi of a Martial Artist at the peak of the Third Grade, it rolled like thunder.

Every soldier drew his cavalry saber and struck it against his armor.

Together, they roared:

“Tiger!”

“Tiger!”

“Tiger!”

They had marched a long distance.

Men were exhausted.

Horses were spent.

That was unavoidable.

But with this one burst of momentum, they told their prince:

They could still fight.

They still dared to fight.

Tian Wujing said:

“This Prince is tired.”

In an instant, ten thousand horses seemed to fall silent.

The soldiers could not believe their prince could grow tired.

But the words had come from his own mouth.

An undefeated prince.

The totem of an army.

Before thousands upon thousands of troops, he had said that he was tired.

The Pixiu turned.

It faced south.

There, the Chu army was forming its lines.

Farther still, the towering layered walls of Ying Capital were already faintly visible, majestic in appearance yet possessing little genuine defensive value.

Tian Wujing sat with his back to the soldiers beneath him.

His back to the Jingnan iron cavalry he had personally created.

He lightly patted the Pixiu’s head.

The Pixiu opened its mouth.

The Kunwu Saber flew out, circled once through the air, and dropped into Tian Wujing’s hand.

Tian Wujing raised the blade at an angle.

Then he said:

“Kill your way into the Chu capital. Seize the Dragon Throne. Let this Prince rest.”

[End of Chapter 575]