Chapter 743: The Rolling Wang River Flows Eastward

Sacrifices.

In the farthest north of the snowfields, there was a power that believed in something... or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they were guarding it.

Zheng Fan remembered that Sang Hu had once brought a patched-together Savage tribe south from the northern snowfields to seek refuge with the Savage King. He ought to have known more about that region, even if he had never actually entered its core. To the Savages, the far north was essentially a land of exile.

Unfortunately, Sang Hu had died in the campaign against Chu.

He could ask Gou Moli about it too, but that raised another problem: what attitude would Gou Moli take toward this affair? Once he learned about it, would other thoughts begin stirring in him again?

The appearance of that "person" had already created a stable system of tribute around him. It was neither purely religious nor purely tribal, but something that was both at once.

If that "person" truly awakened completely, he might very well sweep southward from the far north and walk the same road the Savage King once had.

At that thought, Zheng Fan remembered the prophecy in the Jade Figurine Token once more.

Everyone had once assumed the prophecy referred to the Savage King, Gou Moli, who would lead the Sacred Clan toward revival. Gou Moli had failed.

But what if the prophecy had never referred to Gou Moli in the first place?

Whether they should tell Gou Moli about this was something Zheng Fan would need to discuss with the Blind Man and the others.

His head hurt.

Zheng Fan disliked this feeling.

He was also perfectly aware that, inside his own mind, he had already attached far too many labels of "powerful" and "terrifying" to the first figure awakened in that prophecy.

But when all was said and done, this world was fair.

Even someone as powerful as Sha Tuo Queshi had still died beneath the encirclement of iron cavalry outside Marquis Zhenbei Residence.

The Sword Saint was terrifying enough, yet before ordered ranks of cavalry lances he was still vulnerable.

No matter how strong that newly awakened "person" might be, even if you were strong enough to reach the heavens, why the hell would I agree to fight you one-on-one?

He had worked hard for years to build his foundation.

If he counted the auxiliary troops and the laborers who could be organized at any time, he had a full hundred thousand men under him.

No matter how high your personal strength, enough lives thrown at you would still wear you down.

So... thank you.

Thank you, fair world.

Zheng Fan left Liaofan's room and ordered the servants outside to go in and clean up.

He stretched, enjoying the crisp pops that ran through his joints.

"Old Yu, you know something? I have this problem. Put one pea under the bed boards, then lay thirty layers of cotton padding over it, and when I lie down I'll still feel uncomfortable. I'll still feel that damned pea digging into me."

The Sword Saint looked at Zheng Fan. He did not know where the reference came from, but the meaning was obvious enough.

"So what are you planning to do?" the Sword Saint asked.

Perhaps from the Sword Saint's perspective, prophecies, legends, religions, and matters of that sort were simply too common. Similar things were happening in countless corners of the world.

Gather a mob of believers and ignorant peasants, declare some Yellow Heaven or chosen destiny, and if you were bold enough, raise a banner and rebel outright.

Yet rebellions of that sort were rarely especially difficult for an imperial court to suppress, unless the court itself was foolish.

A mass of people who had never fought in formation and knew only blind faith in some imagined destiny could gather in enormous numbers, but before elite troops in disciplined ranks, they still collapsed like rotten wood.

The Sword Saint believed Zheng Fan, who had risen through military merit, ought to understand that better than anyone.

Yet ever since that day, Zheng Fan's reaction had been unusually extreme. The Sword Saint even felt that if Chu suddenly gathered the strength of the entire state and launched another national war against Yan, Marquis Pingxi would not be this emotionally unsettled.

"I intend..."

Marquis Zheng's gaze sank.

"First, I'll investigate the entire chain of events clearly. Then I'll determine the precise location. Once we've finished 'sketching' the place out, I intend to personally lead an army on an expedition into that so-called far north."

"Is it worth that?" Even the Sword Saint was nearly speechless.

"It is. I have to get that damned pea out from under my bed."

Zheng Fan waved one hand.

"All right. Let's rest. We head back first thing tomorrow. Need to conserve our energy."

...

After parting from the Sword Saint and returning to his bedroom, Zheng Fan did not immediately go to sleep. He sat beside the table instead and poured himself a cup of tea.

He felt like unrolling that drawing and looking at it again, only to remember that the Sword Saint had put it away. Too lazy to knock on the man's door and ask for it back, Zheng Fan propped his left hand against the table and slowly turned the teacup in his right.

A long while later, he placed the Demon Child on the table.

"Come on. Father and son should talk."

The Demon Child did not move.

Among all the Demon Kings, he had spent the longest time beside this Master. Even Siniang could not compare.

That meant he understood Master's melodramatic moods better than anyone.

"What exactly do you think that thing is? A true Child of Prophecy? Tsk. Child of Prophecy. What a tired old name."

The Demon Child tilted slightly, then simply leaned his red stone body against the teapot.

"I think life is pretty good right now. There shouldn't really be much left to worry about. Everyone should just keep living the way we've been living, doing whatever makes us happy. And then, right at a time like this, this thing suddenly gets thrown at me. If the prophecy of destiny had fallen on us, I wouldn't care. I'd just treat it as another blessing. But it fell on someone else. I hate that feeling. And I know you can't enjoy being treated like a counterfeit either, right?"

The Demon Child remained unmoved.

Zheng Fan had begun to feel that the Demon Child had been abnormally quiet lately. Aside from spending time playing with Tian Tian, he seemed to have lost interest in almost everything else.

The father-and-son conversation produced no result.

Zheng Fan stopped talking and simply continued drinking tea while staring into space.

Tonight, he found himself missing Daze Xiangshe a little.

One cup down in a single gulp, then straight into a comfortable sleep.

But right now... he could not.

Was he truly terrified deep down?

Not really.

It was simply that unpleasant, twisted feeling in his chest. The breath never quite came smoothly.

Zheng Fan sat there until the sky began to pale. Only then did he rest his head against the table and doze for a while.

During that brief nap, countless images passed through his mind. Dreams, perhaps, but not quite dreams. Too scattered.

When he woke, only one scene remained relatively clear.

He saw Old Tian sitting on a threshold.

Zheng Fan walked over.

"Brother, there's something in the north making me very uncomfortable."

Old Tian nodded.

"Then destroy it."

Yes.

Destroy it.

When he woke and washed his face, Zheng Fan accepted the hot towel a maid handed over and pressed it against his face.

Perhaps he would never become a man like Old Tian in this life.

He had never intended to.

But there was no denying that at times like this, merely thinking of Old Tian always gave him a sense of peace.

He finished wiping his face and tossed the towel back to the maid.

Marquis Zheng stepped through the doorway and drew a deep breath of the cold morning air.

No sudden heroic spirit surged through him.

No grand ambition to charge straight into hardship.

Instead, there was only a little complaint.

Sigh.

Brother... you went west too quickly.

If you were still here now, I really wouldn't be panicking at all.

Back when Zheng Fan had been quietly building his own military power, Old Tian knew.

When he took in the Savage King, Old Tian knew.

When he showed rebellious bones and refused to kneel, Old Tian knew that too.

If Old Tian were still here, the prophecy could not be told to most people.

But it could have been told to Old Tian.

Old Tian would have helplessly shaken his head and said:

That's all the nerve you've got?

And Zheng Fan would answer:

Yes. That's all I've got.

Fine.

I'll take you to destroy him.

Zheng Fan believed Old Tian really would.

Just as, after learning Zhao Jiulang had caused Du Juan's death, Zheng Fan had gone to kill Zhao Jiulang on the very night of the enthronement ceremony without the slightest hesitation.

...

A'Ming and the others had taken the Pixiu back early.

Zheng Fan and the Sword Saint rode horses instead, heading east after leaving Shangchuan County.

The Sword Saint's heart had long since flown home.

There should still have been enough time before his wife gave birth, but how could anyone truly calculate the exact date of such a thing?

He had said before that this would not be the only child and he could simply accompany her properly next time. But this was still his first time becoming a biological father.

Getting back to his wife's side several days early was naturally best.

On that point, Marquis Zheng understood him perfectly.

The Sword Saint had helped him tremendously on this journey. Frankly, if the Sword Saint had not acted with overwhelming force on Xiping Street and suppressed Li Liangshen from the very beginning, Li Liangshen alone would have been enough to turn the situation around for Zhao Jiulang.

And on the return journey, the Sword Saint had already been delayed several more days because of Zheng Fan.

So this time Zheng Fan simply put his head down and hurried along, without any leisurely detours.

Soon... the two reached the Wang River.

The Sword Saint actually felt somewhat apologetic.

This was not wartime. He knew perfectly well what kind of lifestyle Marquis Pingxi normally preferred.

If he could lie down, he would never sit.

If he could sit, he would never stand.

So the Sword Saint suggested:

"Let's find a place to eat something hot."

"Good."

There were many ferry crossings along the Wang River.

By now, however, the river surface had begun to freeze, and people could already walk over the ice.

Theoretically, horses could be led across too, so long as their hooves were wrapped first.

Of course, the ice was not truly thick enough yet.

Anyone walking across had to accept the possibility of falling through and becoming fish food.

The food available at the ferry-side eateries was simple. Hot soup and flatbread were the main offerings.

What surprised Zheng Fan was that the proprietor even asked whether they wanted mantou with filling. Shredded radish filling, specifically. He said the food had spread here from Fengxin City.

Marquis Zheng laughed and ordered eight mantou, one basin of soup, and a few side dishes.

He also gave an extra tip and asked a young worker to wrap the hooves of both his and the Sword Saint's horses.

Then the two sat down and waited.

"Once we cross the river, if we run into scout riders or checkpoints along the road, we can swap horses directly. We'll move much faster," Zheng Fan said.

East of the Wang River... was the territory of Marquis Pingxi Residence.

"Mm." The Sword Saint nodded.

"By the way, have you decided what to name the child?"

The Sword Saint shook his head.

"Never thought about it?"

"I've thought, obviously. But before the child is actually born, nothing ever feels settled."

"That's true."

The Sword Saint hesitated.

He did not take the obvious opportunity to ask:

What about you?

Considering Marquis Zheng was rushing home on his account, it really would have been too cruel to dig at that wound again.

Who would have guessed Marquis Zheng would raise the subject himself?

"I have a whole pile of good names saved up. When we get home, I'll take them out and you can pick one."

"Good."

Soon... the steaming mantou arrived.

Mantou with filling.

And stubbornly called mantou rather than baozi.

That had originally been Marquis Zheng's personal obsession and requirement.

After coming to this world, the terminology had spread.

The common people under Marquis Pingxi Residence had always lived fairly well, from Shengle City to Snow Sea Pass and now Fengxin City.

Marquis Zheng did not indulge in extravagant luxury.

Among the Demon Kings, aside from A'Ming spending somewhat heavily on wine, none of them lived lives of decadent excess.

The upper structure built around them could genuinely be called austere.

Add in the foundation Siniang and the Blind Man had built together, the workshop production of Xue San and A'Ming, the development of commerce, and finally the fact that nearly every war they fought had ended with enormous profit rather than loss, and the combined military-production corps system supporting soldiers and civilians had produced a fairly comfortable standard of living.

Mantou.

This was called mantou.

Stuff it with filling and shredded meat, it was still mantou.

What? You called this baozi?

Heh.

Oh, my, just how hard must life be where you come from if you need a special name like baozi for something like this?

Somehow, "mantou" had become a marker of regional superiority among the people living under Marquis Pingxi Residence.

Without anyone intending it, a kind of brand effect had formed.

Gou Moli had once sighed in admiration:

One tiny mantou, yet within it lies great wisdom and grand strategy. In the future, how many displaced people will this single food draw toward Marquis Pingxi Residence in eastern Jin?

And someday, if we raise the banner and begin the real work, how many common people will pray for Marquis Pingxi to conquer their homes sooner, just so they too can eat mantou like this at every meal?

The Savage King had not been flattering Zheng Fan.

He genuinely admired it.

The problem was... the name was nothing more than a tiny remnant of Marquis Zheng's homesickness for his previous life.

Yet now... it vaguely looked like it might become a beacon.

A lighthouse.

Except instead of a flame at the top... there sat one mantou.

Zheng Fan took a bite and frowned.

Too little filling.

Almost no shredded meat.

They had not even mixed in some pork fat.

The taste was rather bland.

Still, Zheng Fan was not bored enough to play gourmet critic at some little ferry-side eatery.

With the meat broth and side dishes, he and the Sword Saint finished everything cleanly.

Afterward, they led the horses, whose hooves had already been wrapped, down toward the river.

Waiting for a ferry would waste time and move slowly.

Besides... if you were a Fifth Grade expert traveling beside the Sword Saint and still worried about falling through the ice and drowning... then honestly, look at the pathetic amount of nerve you had.

The two began crossing on foot, each leading his horse.

The ice truly had not frozen solid.

Every step produced a clear sand-like hiss beneath their feet.

But there was not much danger.

The Wang River had carried the rise and fall of eastern Jin for the past five years.

First, the Savage and rebel allied armies crossed the Wang River.

Then Situ Lei fought his final battle and drove them back across it.

Later, the First Prince led the Eastern Expedition Army here and suffered a crushing defeat. The Chu navy locked down the river, countless soldiers of the Left-Wing Army drowned, and Li Bao died in battle.

After that, Zheng Fan launched his thousand-li raid and captured Snow Sea Pass, forcing the Savage King to fight the Prince of Jingnan here. Tian Wujing broke the main Savage force in one stroke.

During the campaign against Chu last year, Zheng Fan had breached the Wang River dikes and diverted the river, allowing his detached force to penetrate deep into the heart of Chu.

What made a famous scenic site?

Stories.

Unfortunately, Jin and Yan lacked great literary masters.

They could only hope future generations produced a few figures like Yao Zizhan who would use the Wang River as inspiration, compose poems and lyrics, and build its reputation.

The river was broad.

Zheng Fan and the Sword Saint walked at a decent pace, even while leading their horses.

They crossed more than halfway without incident.

Then... the Sword Saint suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Zheng Fan asked.

"I suddenly figured something out."

"What?"

"In the past, I sometimes thought you were overly cautious."

"Heh. I'm afraid of dying."

"There's nothing shameful about fearing death."

"I agree."

"But only now do I truly realize that your fear makes perfect sense. A man like you really does need to be cautious."

Marquis Zheng licked lips dried by the cold wind.

"You're making me a little nervous now."

"Zheng Fan, this time I owe you. If not for me, you wouldn't be hurrying back like this."

"I'm also hurrying because of little Liaofan. It isn't entirely you."

"That matter isn't urgent. You said so yourself yesterday. At least, it isn't urgent enough for today. Today is because of me."

"Fine. It's because of you."

Marquis Zheng accepted the blame with perfect grace.

"I'll keep you safe until we reach Marquis Pingxi Residence."

"Naturally."

"In the future, you really do need to be more careful. More cautious. You can't do something like this again. This was my negligence. Fengxin City isn't only where my wife is about to give birth. There are countless common people there depending on you to protect them and keep them fed."

"Don't blame yourself. You should know I'm safest precisely when I'm with you. Besides, it's not as though I haven't lived through danger. Aren't battlefields far more dangerous than this?"

"This is different. Because this time, I'm beside you."

"Wouldn't you being beside me make it better?"

"No. Precisely because everyone knows I'm beside you, anyone who still dares act must have tremendous confidence."

Marquis Zheng smiled.

"Do you know what I ought to say right now if I want to maintain my style?"

"What?"

"I'm beginning to look forward to it."

"And the truth?"

"I'm beginning to panic."

At that moment...

Zheng Fan saw a black shadow slowly rising beneath the ice.

He crouched down and peered carefully through the ice.

The shadow rose closer.

Closer.

Then... he saw a face.

A human face.

At first, its eyes were closed.

When the face nearly reached the ice... the eyes opened.

The man looked up.

Then... he froze in astonishment.

Yes.

The ice distorted the details of his expression.

But the sheer stunned disbelief was magnified beyond mistaking.

Perhaps he too had never imagined... that after sneaking upward without a sound... the person above him would simply be crouching there, calmly watching him float closer.

Marquis Zheng drew Wuya.

And stabbed it straight through the ice beneath him.

Wuya was a broken saber, but a genuine divine weapon.

Otherwise it would never have become the inherited weapon of the Shadow Clan outside the imperial city of Chu.

And Old Tian would never have given his younger brother some ordinary trinket.

Wuya pierced down.

Blood mist immediately spread beneath the ice.

Marquis Zheng raised his head.

Sighed.

Even though he knew perfectly well he had only one guard beside him... habit still made him go through the proper procedure.

He shouted:

"Assassin!"

[End of Chapter 743]