Chapter 882: The Setting Sun, Red as Blood

At dawn the following day, the soldiers and civilians stationed atop the walls of Liang’s capital discovered something that filled them with terror.

The Yan were no longer doing what they had before, sending one detachment northward each day in withdrawal.

Instead, the Yan army had spread out.

Not merely beyond the northern wall of Liang’s capital.

Yan camps appeared to the west.

To the east.

And to the south.

Then the Yan soldiers, together with laborers deliberately seized from Liang and Zhao and the men previously captured in Qian, began felling trees on a massive scale and constructing siege equipment around the city.

The Yan did not conceal anything.

They did not pretend.

They simply displayed everything openly for the people inside to see.

This was no feint.

Nor was it some hollow show meant merely to frighten them.

Operations on this scale could not be faked. In fact, the cost of faking them would scarcely have differed from actually doing the work, so there was no meaningful distinction between true and false anymore.

Everyone understood.

The Yan... were going to attack the city.

Only one thing was strange.

The ordinary method of siege was to surround three sides and leave one open. Whether or not troops actually waited in ambush on that side, at minimum the defenders had to believe there was a road of escape. That helped weaken their determination to hold.

Yet this time... the Yan surrounded all four walls.

What exactly did that mean?

Once the curtain rose upon this scene, the Yan simply continued doing what they were supposed to do.

The princely order had been issued.

No one in the Yan army dared disobey.

Even though the military supplies coming from South Gate Pass were barely enough to fill the gaps between their teeth.

Even though the troops sent out to plunder each day had to travel farther and farther while returning with less and less.

Even though half the army had already cut its meals and the grunts were going hungry.

That royal banner still stood there.

And beside it hung a suit of armor.

Count Huwei’s armor.

By now, the entire army knew what had happened to Count Huwei’s remains.

The Prince had issued his command without the slightest attempt at disguise:

We are taking revenge.

When the man issuing the order possessed enough prestige and status to command absolute obedience; when the cause of the war was enough to ignite common hatred throughout the ranks; when the objective was simple, direct, and something the soldiers could anticipate; then under all those conditions together... the grunts could, to a certain extent, suppress the panic and resentment that hunger should have caused and instead pour those emotions into the preparations they made every day.

Hunger.

Rage.

Grief.

Violence.

None of these had disappeared.

They had merely been suppressed.

Postponed.

The calmer everything appeared now... the more horrifyingly those emotions would erupt on the day the city fell.

And when that day came... even the Prince would no longer be able to stop these soldiers from directing their bodies and blades in ways no longer belonging to human beings.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

Dull hammering echoed continuously.

Years ago, during the nationwide campaign against Chu, the Yan army had spent a long period fighting fortified positions under Prince Jingnan’s command.

They still could not be called masters of siegecraft.

But at least they had seen a pig run before.

They were not completely ignorant.

And with Xue San here serving as technical adviser, they could manage.

Sophisticated, precise, large-scale siege engines could not possibly be built in a short time.

For that, one needed something like Prince Pingxi Residence in eastern Jin, with an entire system of workshops and foundries capable of supplying an army with enough standardized military components in wartime.

But this was not some towering Strategic Pass.

Nor were the defenders elite Chu troops famous for defensive warfare.

Something makeshift... would be enough.

“Put your backs into it! Build!”

Third Master stood on Fan Li’s shoulder and directed the laborers.

Around them, Yan armored soldiers held horsewhips and long sabers, providing “encouragement.”

Anyone who dared slack off got a whip.

Anyone who said he could no longer work was dragged out and butchered as the chicken to encourage the monkeys.

The cold and inhuman face of war was displayed here without the slightest concealment.

There were no generals wearing golden armor through a hundred battles.

No tender iron bones beneath blood-soaked robes.

The essence of war... was still a mountain of white bones.

And with the Yan themselves short on provisions, there was naturally no possibility these captured laborers would receive decent food.

Under this kind of heavy physical labor, even if they did not die or become crippled in the short term... their bodies were already being squeezed dry.

Humans were hardier under abuse than warhorses.

But humans and warhorses alike could still be worked until they were ruined.

When the late Emperor still ruled Great Yan, the state’s wars of outward expansion had always maintained a certain restraint.

Prince Jingnan had indeed slaughtered surrendered Qingluan Army troops on the banks of the Wang River.

But large-scale massacres of civilians had never truly occurred.

The inevitable accidental losses of war did not count.

One could only say that the late Emperor, Prince Jingnan, and Prince Zhenbei possessed a simple instinctive belief in all Xia as one world.

They were not naive enough to think “all Xia are one family.”

But in their understanding, sooner or later the whole of Xia would belong to their own house.

If you slaughtered, destroyed, and ruined too much now... would your own people not have to clean the mess up later?

After Prince Pingxi rose to power... the way war was conducted gradually began displaying a different flavor.

Ruthless.

Unrestrained.

Methods of war that cut lineages off at the root appeared again and again.

He no longer cared much about private grudges with local powers either.

Nor about what the common people might say afterward.

A small part of the reason was that Great Yan’s march toward swallowing the realm had stalled.

The object of war was no longer what it had been during the first campaigns in Jin, when vast swaths of territory could simply be swallowed.

Now war had become confrontation.

Attrition.

But the larger reason was this:

Prince Pingxi himself had never cared very much about the so-called larger picture deep down.

He understood long-term interests.

Of course he did.

And then he would still decisively choose the brief satisfaction directly in front of him.

In truth...

Prince Pingxi was actually a very soft-hearted man.

The sort of man people would accuse of having a woman’s mercy.

But... he was extremely good at pretending not to see.

“Put your backs into it! Over there! Over there! More force!”

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

...

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

Liu Dahu was chopping ribs.

A long saber was not suitable for kitchen work, so the noise was rather loud.

The Prince, sitting nearby drinking tea, frowned faintly.

“Use your father’s Longyuan.”

Liu Dahu stood and walked over to his father.

He did not ask whether his father agreed.

He simply picked up Longyuan and returned to the ribs.

“...” Longyuan.

In Liu Dahu’s understanding, their household had used Longyuan for all kinds of chores over the years.

He had long since grown accustomed to it.

The Sword Saint did not stop him.

Still, while drinking tea he asked irritably:

“Why don’t you use your Wuya?”

“Too heavy.”

Prince Pingxi gave an excellent explanation.

After setting down his teacup, the Prince picked up another sword and began examining it.

This was Baili Sword’s weapon.

The sword should have had a name.

But that name had long ago merged with its owner.

Baili Sword’s original name was Baili Feng.

The sword itself... was called Baili Sword.

“What can you tell from looking at it?”

The Sword Saint smiled.

His expression made no attempt whatsoever to conceal the words:

You are merely a crude Martial Artist.

The Prince did not care.

He had long since grown accustomed to the peculiar self-importance and affectation of swordsmen.

“I’m only seeing whether it’s worth money.”

“What? Planning to sell it?” the Sword Saint asked.

“I was thinking of asking the Emperor of Qian whether he wants to ransom it back.”

“The Baili Clan has money too,” the Sword Saint reminded him. “A wealthy Jiangnan household.”

“True.”

Zheng Fan nodded and handed the sword back.

The Sword Saint shook his head.

“Keep it with you.”

“Mm?”

“When we find a suitable successor someday, you can bestow this sword upon him.”

“What about the Sword Maid?”

“She is my disciple.”

“Fine.”

At that moment, the Blind Man walked in.

After entering, he said nothing.

He simply stood there.

Zheng Fan looked at him and said helplessly:

“You’re here to talk me out of it again?”

The Blind Man shook his head.

“No.”

“Then?”

“This subordinate is merely a little dissatisfied.”

“Fine. Speak.”

“Next time Master makes a decision, could you ask this subordinate first? Give me some time to prepare. If I had known we were going to attack the city, I would have stopped the earlier withdrawal of troops to the north much sooner. I also would not have sent a letter to South Gate Pass telling them to slow down logistical deliveries.”

“My fault.”

Zheng Fan admitted it directly and without hesitation.

He could slap his backside, charge off alone into the depths of enemy territory, and gamble strategically precisely because people remained at home capable of cleaning up and stabilizing the situation behind him.

The Blind Man shrugged.

“The capital has sent another envoy. The ruler is willing to bind himself and come out of the city to surrender.”

“What about General Pu?”

“They did not mention him,” the Blind Man answered.

“That ruler is only a puppet. After the Qian-Chu coalition left, the man who truly speaks inside Liang is that fellow surnamed Pu.”

“Yes.”

“Tell the envoy I want both of them to come out and surrender.”

“This subordinate understands.”

The Blind Man left the command tent.

The Sword Saint asked:

“You still intend to accept their surrender?”

Zheng Fan shook his head.

“I’m merely hoping they open the gates themselves.”

“That may violate righteousness,” the Sword Saint reminded him.

“I don’t care. I never have. It feels rather like those jianghu people who always tell you: ‘Who would have thought the mighty Sword Saint...’”

“Understood. But it will cause trouble later. Some cities that might originally surrender upon receiving a proclamation could refuse because of this incident...”

“Old Yu. My children are about to be born.”

The Sword Saint blinked.

“So I need to hurry back and accompany their mothers through the birth. I don’t want to waste time stuck here. Heh.”

“That is an excellent reason.”

“You think so too, right? Dahu, marinate the ribs. Red-braise them.”

...

The soldiers inside the army camp had already been reduced to half rations.

But the fragrance of meat drifted from the command tent.

No concealment.

No modesty.

The Prince not only intended to eat his fill.

He intended to eat well.

Outside the command tent, even Chen Yang and the others received no such treatment.

They had to share hardship with the soldiers and settle for barely half-full stomachs.

Yet nobody thought this unfair.

After returning from a campaign like this one in Qian, Prince Pingxi had effectively become what Prince Jingnan had once been.

Liu Dahu’s cooking could only be called average.

In the end... the Sword Saint entered the kitchen himself.

The Sword Saint who had once roamed beneath Heaven with a sword had, over these past few years, probably spent almost as much time tossing a wok as holding a blade.

Zheng Fan sat nearby and watched the Sword Saint cook.

No filter.

No imagination.

Yet the Sword Saint’s movements in front of the stove genuinely possessed an effortless grace.

Every pinch of seasoning.

Every ladle of broth.

The Sword Saint controlled each one perfectly.

While he cooked...

Zheng Fan could even sense faint currents of sword qi flowing.

Sword qi stripped sinew and membrane.

Sword qi reduced the sauce.

A simple plate of ribs... was being transformed into a true luxury of the human world.

The moment the dish left the wok, the Prince forgot every rule of table manners.

He immediately pinched up one rib with his fingers and put it into his mouth.

Hiss.

That texture.

That flavor.

“Old Yu, this is dishonest. You kept a skill like this hidden until now?”

“Even food can’t shut your mouth?”

The Sword Saint stir-fried another plate of greens.

He did not wash the wok.

He cracked in an egg and made egg-drop soup.

One meat dish.

One vegetable dish.

One soup.

The meal went to the table.

The Prince and the Sword Saint sat across from one another, picked up their bowls, and began eating.

Below them...

Chen Xianba, Zheng Man, and Liu Dahu each held a little more than half a flatbread.

They nibbled in tiny bites.

Their treatment was exactly the same as the ordinary soldiers’.

Rations had been fixed.

So even Zheng Man, usually the crudest eater of all, did not dare wolf his food down.

Every bite of bread had to remain in his mouth a little longer before he reluctantly swallowed.

As for the two men eating above... neither showed the slightest intention of calling the three of them over.

They did not even spare one fragrant rib to throw down.

At that moment... a messenger came running in from outside.

“Report! Liang has surrendered! The ruler and General Pu are coming out of the city to submit!”

“Oh. A little bland.”

The Sword Saint looked at the small number of ribs remaining.

Originally, he wanted to say:

You’re going too far.

After hesitating, perhaps because he had become more tolerant, he answered:

“I cook this often for the children. Children should not eat food too heavily seasoned.”

“Use more seasoning next time.”

The Prince pressed his advantage shamelessly.

The Sword Saint drew a breath.

In the end, he endured it.

He nodded.

“Fine.”

Liang’s surrender came quickly.

The moment they decided to let their ruler leave the city and submit, they had effectively gone down on one knee already.

When the Yan refused and demanded that General Pu surrender too... all they had to do was bend the other knee.

Under the present circumstances, the powers inside Liang’s capital had long since ceased being something the puppet ruler or General Pu could control.

Once the Qian-Chu coalition withdrew... once the Yan openly laid out preparations for a siege... the soldiers, commoners, and nobles inside Liang’s capital all understood the same thing.

There was no possibility of holding the city.

So...

General Pu’s own subordinates rebelled.

He was seized.

His armor was stripped away by force.

They dressed him in coarse hemp, bound him with rope, and threw him onto a donkey cart.

The ruler received slightly better treatment.

He wore plain white robes, his hair loose around his shoulders.

Leading a sheep... he was at least allowed to walk out under his own power.

General Pu, tied hand and foot on the donkey cart, cursed at the top of his lungs:

“The Yan have run out of grain! They have no strength left behind them! All we have to do is hold the city and refuse to come out! In less than half a month, the Yan must withdraw! They must! Who told you to send out the remains of that Yan Count Huwei? Who told you to return them? Idiots! Idiots! The Yan are already exhausted, yet they are still putting on this performance of attacking the city! Do you truly think the Yan are doing all this merely to accept a surrender?! With me or without me, what difference does one man make? Why would the Yan care about that? Their objective was never your surrender! You pigs! You useless sacks of rice! The Yan want to massacre the city! They want to slaughter the city! They’re going to slaughter the city!”

“Mmph! Mmph! Mmph...”

One of General Pu’s former subordinates shoved a rope between his teeth and tied it behind his head, silencing him.

The gates... opened.

The ruler walked in front, leading his sheep.

General Pu, bound like a rice dumpling, twitched continuously atop the donkey cart behind him.

The nobles, officials, and every person of standing inside the city began filing outward to surrender to the Yan.

The Yan reacted quickly.

Chen Yang.

Luo Ling.

Ren Juan.

Three Counts, each leading a force, surged forward.

To the Liang people, it looked as though the Yan commanders were arguing over who would receive the surrender.

After all... who would willingly give up such an enormous merit?

“I’ll rush the gate,” Chen Yang said.

“Old Ren, you secure the walls.”

“Old Luo, you charge inside.”

Chen Yang assigned the steps.

Then he added:

“I’ve earned enough merit already. I’ll leave this one to you two.”

“Goddamn bastard. If this weren’t the wrong time, I’d beat you again right now!”

“Infuriating. Truly infuriating!”

Chen Yang laughed loudly.

“The boys are starving. Let’s get to work!”

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

...

The Prince and the Sword Saint reached out with their chopsticks at the same time for the final rib.

Unfortunately... if the Sword Saint refused to yield, there was naturally no possibility that rib would end up in the Prince’s bowl.

With no other choice, the Prince poured the remaining half bowl of rice into the serving plate.

He scraped it through the sauce at the bottom and continued eating.

While enjoying the final rib, the Sword Saint said:

“There is something I don’t know whether I should say.”

“Say it.”

“Using a carved wooden body to complete a mutilated corpse is, by itself, an act of respect.”

“I know.”

For a damaged body, using fine wood to restore the missing portions was a form of respect for the dead.

It was said Cao Cao had once done precisely this for Guan Yu.

So from the perspective of Liang’s powerful men, what they had done was actually an extremely humble gesture of apology rather than deliberate provocation.

In truth, they had never expected a triumphal parade to excite the common people enough that they would do something like that to Count Huwei’s corpse.

The Prince kept shoveling rice into his mouth as he spoke.

“For the next several years, there probably won’t be much war. So this campaign needs a proper ending. Liang may have betrayed Yan and submitted to Qian and Chu because its ruler was replaced. But in truth... the nobles of this country were willing to go along with it. This time, I’m giving all the people like that across Xia a reminder. Don’t think you can simply push out some scapegoat and wipe everything clean afterward. Back when I was at Fan City, I swore over Grand General Nian that those who dared offend Great Yan’s heavenly might would be punished, no matter how far away they were. You can shout something like that as loudly as you want, but if all anyone ever hears is noise, it means nothing. You have to do something real. There are plenty of people in this world who talk about righteousness. Not many actually believe in it. And righteousness has never belonged to whoever shouts loudest. It belongs to whoever has the brighter blade. The nobles of Chu. The military lords of Qian. The Shanyue. The native tribes. The Northern Qiang. These little states. All these scattered pieces. Give it a few more years. Let Yan recover its strength. When the true war of unification begins... the blood spilled here today will make them weigh their choices a little more carefully. Little Sixth once said something to me: ‘Barbarians fear might and do not cherish virtue.’ In truth... people are all the same cheap breed. If benevolence and righteousness were really that damned useful, Qian would have unified all Xia long ago.”

The Prince picked up the serving plate and scraped the final grains of rice coated in sauce into his mouth.

Clack!

He set the plate down.

Then, without the slightest princely bearing, he patted his stomach.

“This Prince is full. I wonder whether the boys under my command... will be able to eat their fill?”

With that... the Prince rose from the table.

He walked to the entrance of the command tent.

Lifted the flap.

And looked into the distance.

Beneath the sunset... the dying sun was red as blood.

[End of Chapter 882]