Chapter 922: Breach the City!

The Son of Heaven’s procession remained at Snow Sea Pass for three days.

Savage chieftains and nobles led by the Hailan Tribe came collectively to pay homage to the Emperor of Great Yan.

The ceremony was magnificent.

Its scale unprecedented.

Everyone understood that the true power which had subdued the snowfields was Prince Pingxi Residence.

But Prince Pingxi Residence behaved with tremendous generosity, allowing the Son of Heaven of Great Yan to personally experience what it meant for imperial might to overawe the Four Seas.

At least in this respect, the Residence’s attitude was perfectly clear.

The affair was handled impeccably.

Even Wei Zhonghe, who remained at the Emperor’s side throughout, could not find a single flaw worth criticizing.

In truth, ever since entering eastern Jin, Eunuch Wei had gradually become accustomed to this mode of interaction.

Until Prince Pingxi Residence formally declared rebellion, it remained a military fief of Great Yan and would continue following all proper procedures.

As for certain details beneath the surface... one could simply pretend not to see them.

The Emperor of Great Yan delivered an address to the Savage tribal leaders.

The structure was standard enough.

First, he reviewed the historically harmonious and friendly relationship between Great Yan and the Savages of the snowfields.

The Savage chiefs themselves had no idea when their tribes had ever enjoyed such “close diplomatic relations” with Great Yan or the Yan people.

That did not stop them from nodding like chickens pecking grain.

Nor did it prevent them from prostrating themselves at the Emperor’s feet and wailing:

“O great and benevolent Son of Heaven of Great Yan! You have finally come to the snowfields, which have been loyal to the Ji Clan since ancient times! We have waited for you so bitterly!”

Next... the Emperor denounced the crimes the snowfield Savages had committed against the lands of Xia after being incited by the Savage King, that rebellious bandit.

The Savage nobles immediately swore with righteous indignation that they and the Savage King had always been mortal enemies and that they had never participated in his campaigns.

One chieftain even stripped off his upper garment in front of the Emperor and begged His Majesty to have words carved into his flesh as a warning both to himself and to his descendants.

In truth... they were telling the truth.

The Savage tribes that had followed the Savage King back then had lost nearly all their young and strong men in eastern Jin after Prince Pingxi sealed Snow Sea Pass.

Once those tribes were gravely weakened, the groups that had stayed behind in the snowfields quickly suppressed and swallowed them.

Scarcely one in ten survived.

One might call it the snowfield version of “bad money driving out good.”

After all, the tribes that had followed the Savage King had represented the elite of that generation.

The ones who stayed behind... if history were asked to judge them... could hardly escape the label “shortsighted.”

At the end... the Emperor raised a wine cup.

Imperial wine was bestowed upon the Savage noble chieftains as well.

He expressed the beautiful hope that from this day onward, the snowfields would live harmoniously as part of Great Yan’s territory.

The Savage chiefs accepted cups of wine they could identify after one taste as something produced by Prince Pingxi Residence.

Then, with utmost solemnity, they joined the Emperor in swearing: the Emperor was the star of the snowfields.

They would forever follow the Emperor’s steps.

Forever follow Great Yan.

Forever be Great Yan’s most loyal dogs!

The ceremony ended.

Host and guests were delighted.

As for what happened deep that night... when the same Savage chiefs who had spent the day swearing loyalty to the Emperor collectively knelt outside the courtyard where Prince Pingxi was staying and “expressed their sincerity” all over again... well.

That tiny matter hardly needed to be explained to outsiders.

Unlike the people of Xia, whose deeply rooted ideas of Heavenly Mandate, legitimacy, state, and dynasty had developed over countless generations, the Savage tribes of the snowfields had always lived inside a brutal value system of mutual war, slaughter, and annexation.

Even at the Savage King’s peak, he had never possessed enough time to complete the integration of the entire snowfield.

The Barbarians of the desert had declined for a very long time.

But they had once known the glorious age of the Golden Tent Royal Court.

At the very least, they could still maintain the idea of a nominal common lord.

The Savages had never possessed even that.

So the Savage nobles believed far more directly in the supremacy of strength.

If a man inside a tribe became powerful enough and gained enough followers, then devouring his original lord from within—or breaking away to establish his own tribe and compete for new pastures—was perfectly natural.

That was why, when Prince Pingxi asked them to cooperate in performing a play for the Emperor, they threw themselves into the role wholeheartedly.

But what were they actually thinking?

Why doesn’t Prince Pingxi simply kill the Emperor and become Great Chieftain himself?

What is Prince Pingxi still waiting for?

Thanks to the generous rewards and treatment Prince Pingxi Residence had provided during earlier levies of Savage auxiliary troops into the passes... these men genuinely longed for the day the Prince rebelled and called them to join him.

They were waiting for that summons!

Naturally... the Emperor could not possibly be unaware of this.

When the imperial procession left Snow Sea Pass and turned toward Zhennan Pass... the Emperor, exhausted by travel, and Prince Pingxi, who preferred laziness whenever circumstances did not demand otherwise... both sprawled inside the enormous custom carriage of the Residence.

Facing each other.

The Emperor ate grapes.

Spat out a seed.

Then mocked himself:

“Sometimes being Emperor feels exactly like being an actor on a stage. You know you’re performing. Your subjects know you’re performing. But you still have to perform the role seriously and perform it well. Perform for the common people. Perform for the world. Perform for Heaven. Perform for the history books. Zheng Fan. Do you ever think it’s meaningless?”

“What do you mean?”

The Prince drank fruit wine chilled with ice.

“For example, what I did at Snow Sea Pass a few days ago. Summoning those Savage nobles and chiefs. In your eyes, wasn’t it a waste of effort? Maybe even ridiculous?”

“Is that what you think I’m like?”

“Mm?”

“If I wanted to laugh at you, I’d laugh in your face.”

“That’s true.”

The Emperor nodded seriously.

“So you agree with what I did? Even if the only purpose was to make sure the court historian traveling with me adds a passage about the snowfields to the record of this Eastern Inspection? At the very least, if history records it, then from my reign onward the snowfields become Great Yan territory. Right now we do not possess the strength to conquer the snowfields completely. Just as we do not possess enough strength to truly govern the desert. But once All Xia is unified and no internal forces remain to restrain us... perhaps later generations... will finally possess the spare strength to truly occupy and develop both snowfields and desert. That is what I want to leave them. Before they act, they’ll at least possess a righteous justification: ‘Since ancient times.’ Do you think I’m naive?”

“No. I think you’re completely right.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But one history book can’t actually seize territory. It can’t make Savages or Barbarians submit from the heart. In the end... later generations will still have to fight for those lands one saber and spear at a time. I may not have been born as a rough soldier, but I understand the way rough soldiers like you think. Ah. It still depends on whether our descendants amount to anything.”

“At the very least, you leave them a thought to hold onto,” the Prince said, gently swirling the wine in his cup. “You leave them room to maneuver. When you’re weak, ‘shelve the dispute.’ When you’re strong, ‘since ancient times.’”

The instant Prince Pingxi said those words... the Emperor sat frozen for a long while.

Finally... he smiled bitterly.

“I have always believed I was one of the smartest men in this age.”

“No need to believe it. You are.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But there are things even a smart man like me only understood after sitting on the dragon throne. And somehow... I keep discovering that you truly see that throne with astonishing clarity.”

“Oh.”

“If this continues... I’m going to start thinking it’s genuinely a pity you refuse to rebel.”

...

The Wei River now formed the boundary between Shanggu Commandery and the State of Chu.

It was also where the armies of Yan and Chu interlocked like jagged teeth.

Yan troops would sometimes push aggressively south of the Wei River and build small forts.

Chu troops did the same north of the river.

The stories of Prince Pingxi’s years as commander of Cuiliu Fort had long circulated among the soldiers of both sides.

They inspired junior officers—men around the rank of lieutenant—to risk their lives again and again in pursuit of merit.

Ma Yang was one of them.

He was a Centurion under the Imperial Guard of the Great Chu imperial clan.

In reality, only a little over twenty men served beneath him.

Before this... he had merely been a File Leader.

But he had decisively crossed the Wei River on a raid and killed two Yan scout riders.

That military merit had earned his promotion.

Now, by order, he had brought his newly assigned men to the northern bank of the Wei River and constructed a small fort.

It was not even a proper brick-and-stone structure.

Much of the outer wall consisted of packed earth supported by timber.

Its defensive value was pitiful.

At best, it could serve as a forward observation post and beacon tower.

Two bamboo rafts remained permanently tied behind the fort... so the garrison could run away at any moment.

At dusk...

Ma Yang leaned against one of the crude battlements with a stalk of grass between his teeth.

His men worked below, trying to add a little more strength to the fragile little fortress.

Of course... it was wishful thinking.

If the Yan troops on this side ever decided to pull out this thorn, Ma Yang’s only options would be to light the beacon and immediately retreat across the river.

Staying meant death.

Even though Chu forces on the opposite bank could theoretically come over quickly to reinforce them...

Ma Yang still did not believe his current handful of men possessed any ability to fight.

His luck had been good before.

He and five old comrades killed two Yan scouts.

Two of his own men died.

Two more were wounded.

Still... the exchange counted as profitable.

His luck had also been bad.

A young officer from the noble Zhao Clan had just suffered a serious defeat to a Yan raid, making Ma Yang’s achievement look even better by comparison.

So although Ma Yang had been promoted to Centurion... the troops assigned beneath him consisted of only twenty old, weak auxiliary soldiers.

They looked nothing like elite warriors of Great Chu’s Imperial Guard.

Then he was sent north of the Wei River to build this fort.

Clearly... someone wanted to throw him into the tiger’s mouth.

Still, Ma Yang understood that he should be grateful for one thing.

Over the past two years, His Majesty the Emperor had promoted large numbers of commoners into office.

The arrogance of the great noble lords had already diminished sharply.

In the old days, even if you had never directly opposed them, once some noble decided you offended his eyes, the banner of a great clan like the Zhao Clan—even in the hands of a collateral descendant—would have been enough to crush a commoner like Ma Yang without effort.

Now... at least the matter had not become completely hopeless.

This was not yet a true deathtrap.

The nobles no longer dared go too far.

As for the men below who continued frantically reinforcing the fort...

Ma Yang did not stop them.

He understood.

Standing on the northern bank already had them frightened out of their wits.

Adding one brick.

Piling one shovel of earth.

At least it strengthened the “fortress” inside their own hearts and kept it from collapsing entirely.

After all... who told them the situation was currently Yan strong, Chu weak?

And everyone knew that the Yan troops facing them on the northern bank of the Wei River and throughout Shanggu Commandery... as well as the Yan army farther away at Zhennan Pass... were direct-line troops of that Great Yan Prince Pingxi.

Ma Yang silently took several mint leaves from his sleeve.

He found a piece of paper.

Rolled the leaves inside.

Licked the edge to seal it.

Then leaned toward a small brazier someone had just lit and ignited the end.

Afterward... he changed position, reclined comfortably against the battlement, and took a drag.

“Cough... cough, cough...”

Harsh.

Still damned harsh.

For a moment, his lungs felt filled with fire.

It was miserable.

But he was slowly becoming accustomed to it.

Rumor said...

Prince Pingxi loved holding one of these between his fingers while directing battles.

Tap away the ash... and mighty enemies vanished like smoke.

Ma Yang knew plenty of Chu soldiers now imitated him.

There was nothing embarrassing about admitting it.

They had genuinely been beaten into admiration by that Great Yan Prince.

More importantly, that Prince himself had risen from commoner stock.

That made him especially resonant among Chu’s lower-ranking soldiers and officers.

Unfortunately...

Ma Yang did not know that Prince Pingxi wrapped tobacco leaves rather than mint leaves.

He also did not know even the smoking paper came from a small workshop beneath Prince Pingxi Residence... and had been specially made with filters.

The ignorant Centurion Ma Yang, who merely imitated what he had heard... faced the setting sun.

Took another drag.

And began coughing even more violently.

...

“Cough... cough...”

“Don’t learn this.”

Zheng Fan looked at the coughing Emperor and warned him.

The Emperor still held the cigarette between his fingers.

He shook his head.

“I used to be curious about this thing you smoked. You told me it was bad for the body, so I never tried it. Snuff was good enough. But now that I know I can’t exactly...”

The Emperor had almost said that he might not have many years left, so there was little point protecting his health so carefully.

“This thing wakes you up. That’s enough,” the Emperor said instead. “When I return, you need to let me take a good supply with me. After that, send someone to deliver more to the capital every month.”

“It’s addictive.”

“Still better than Five Minerals Powder, isn’t it?” the Emperor countered.

Zheng Fan nodded.

Smoking harmed health.

But compared with Five Minerals Powder, so fashionable in Qian—essentially slow poisoning by heavy metals—it hardly seemed worth mentioning.

“I’ll allocate silver from the inner treasury and purchase it from you. How about that?”

“No need. It costs almost nothing.”

“Fine. I’m happy to take advantage of you. There are so few opportunities where I can actually...”

“Pay me the military arrears.”

“...” the Emperor.

At that moment, Wei Zhonghe approached.

He spoke quietly.

“Your Majesty, please put this on as well.”

“If We wear another layer, We won’t even be able to walk!”

The Emperor resisted with everything he had.

“Your Majesty...”

Wei Zhonghe looked miserable.

“With this many layers of protection, how unlucky could I possibly be? Right, Zheng Fan?”

The Emperor looked toward Zheng Fan.

A’Ming, standing beside Zheng Fan, heard the question.

A faintly helpless smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Ji Old Sixth, behave. Put it on. On battlefields, I’ve seen unlucky things you wouldn’t even... believe.”

“Your Majesty, let us listen to the Prince,” Wei Zhonghe hurriedly urged.

The Emperor had no choice.

He allowed another layer of leather armor to be placed over him.

Beneath it, he already wore something resembling a soft golden-mail vest.

Over that came inner armor.

Then standard Yan light armor.

Now another layer of leather armor covered everything.

The Emperor’s body had always been weak.

And the Eastern Inspection, helped in no small part by Her Majesty the Empress... had left him even weaker.

He bent over with both hands on his knees and began panting.

“Zheng Fan,” the Emperor gasped, “if every soldier in Great Yan wore this much, could they still fight?”

“If every soldier in Great Yan were built like Your Majesty, there would be no need to fight at all.”

“Can’t you say something pleasant for once?”

“Your Majesty knows every major Yan army maintains an Assault Camp, yes?”

“Of course. That is an old tradition of the Yan army.”

“Soldiers of the Assault Camp dismount and fight on foot. Every man can wear heavy armor and fight through at least five full exchanges.”

“For Great Yan to possess such tiger warriors... We... We are deeply comforted... huff... huff...”

At that moment... two painters raised their easels.

They sat on folding stools they had brought themselves.

Facing the Emperor and Prince... they began painting.

The Emperor saw them and instinctively straightened his back.

The Prince sighed helplessly.

Then reached from behind, grabbed the belt around the Emperor’s waist, and lifted slightly to help bear part of the weight.

Not only that... the Emperor issued another order:

“Paint Us more heroic.”

In other words: the Emperor permitted artistic enhancement.

At the very least, the finished image could not make him look too inferior beside the bastard surnamed Zheng.

“By decree.”

“By decree.”

The Emperor turned toward Zheng Fan.

“You really arranged this thoughtfully.”

Zheng Fan nodded.

“As I should.”

In truth, bringing painters on campaign had long since become a habit of Prince Pingxi.

Among the common people, images like *Prince Pingxi Breaking the Enemy Formation* and *Prince Pingxi Crushing the Rebels* had already become door-god prints.

The most widespread one showed Prince Pingxi sitting lazily with one leg crossed, eating melon while an enemy army collapsed in the distance.

Commoners believed hanging that image at the door invited the Prince’s protection and warded off evil.

Then...

Zheng Fan looked toward the court historian standing nearby.

He reminded him:

“Record what happens honestly. The annals are bright and clear. No carelessness.”

“This subordinate obeys.”

The historian who had accompanied the Emperor all the way from Yanjing accepted the instruction with grave seriousness.

When he stood... he radiated the upright dignity of a man whose brush was a blade and who answered to history itself.

The Emperor lowered his voice.

“Surnamed Zheng, why aren’t you telling me this is absurd and unreliable?”

“Dreams. I understand.”

The Emperor was extremely satisfied.

With great difficulty, he raised one hand and slapped the breastplate over Zheng Fan’s chest.

“Exactly. You still understand me. Unlike Wei Zhonghe. He never understands me the way you do.”

Wei Zhonghe immediately looked wounded.

“Your Majesty... this slave... this slave...”

The Prince laughed.

“Heh. Easy problem to solve. I’ll get myself fixed, enter the palace, replace Eunuch Wei, and keep you company.”

Thud!

Wei Zhonghe dropped to his knees instantly.

The Emperor roared with laughter.

“Look at him! The instant he hears you want his position, look how frightened he gets!”

Wei Zhonghe suffered silently.

A scene from many years ago immediately surfaced in his mind.

That night... when Prince Pingxi had still been nothing more than a tiny garrison commander... he had traveled from the Tian residence into the imperial palace.

Wei Zhonghe himself had guided the way.

“Commander Zheng, the Directorate of Ceremonial truly lacks talent like you.”

Back then... watching Commander Zheng’s constrained, uneasy expression—too afraid to rage aloud—had been extraordinarily entertaining.

Now... times had changed.

“Get up, Wei Zhonghe. Is it really worth being that frightened? You’re embarrassing Us.”

...

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you shaking like that?”

Ma Yang looked at one subordinate standing there trembling from head to foot.

The man was one of the veterans who had followed him from the beginning.

Then...

Ma Yang followed the direction of his stare.

His own expression changed instantly.

Without hesitation, he grabbed an arrow wrapped in oilcloth, shoved it toward the brazier, and lit it.

Then he raised the bow and fired high into the air.

A little blood qi had been infused into the arrow.

Midflight... it burst apart.

Sparks scattered through the darkness.

In that brief flash of light... they saw an enormous mass of armored warriors rushing toward the pitiful little fort.

Brocade robes on the outside.

Armor beneath.

Almost at the exact instant the signal arrow went up... the Brocade-Clad personal guards below drew their bows together.

Arrows rose in volleys.

The tiny fort was caught completely unprepared.

Men toppled everywhere.

Screams erupted.

At the same time... a great eunuch swept both sleeves outward.

Two ribbons of azure force roared from them.

From another direction... a Sword Saint in white gathered sword qi at his fingertips.

A terrifying wave of sword intent tore forward.

At the center... stood Liang Cheng, foremost general of Prince Pingxi Residence.

He raised one hand.

Ordered the attack.

The Brocade-Clad personal guards charged the fort!

Ma Yang stood frozen.

This tiny military post.

This handful of old, weak, sick, and crippled men.

He himself... a petty Centurion of common birth who had just earned merit only to be pushed out here afterward.

What virtue had he accumulated?

What ability did he possess?

To deserve... this kind of battle formation?

Then... he saw something that made his eyes nearly split apart.

A man in silver-black armor appeared below.

He held a broken saber.

Behind him... someone carried the princely banner of Great Yan’s Prince Pingxi!

A thousand thoughts... ten thousand curses... collapsed inside Ma Yang’s mind into one desperate sentence:

“What sin did I commit?!”

This battle possessed no suspense whatsoever.

If it could even be called a battle.

More than half the Chu soldiers inside the fort were killed or wounded.

Everyone else immediately threw down their weapons and surrendered.

The commander abandoned resistance entirely.

His eyes went blank.

But even after entering the fort, the Brocade-Clad personal guards continued deliberately striking their blades together.

Clang.

Clang.

Every so often they shouted:

“Ha!”

“Hah!”

Doing their best... to preserve the atmosphere of a desperate battle.

This time...

Prince Pingxi was not the last man through the entrance.

He walked to the gate of the fort.

Behind him... the Emperor, wrapped in layer upon layer of armor and gripping a Yan military saber, struggled forward step by miserable step.

At last... he caught up.

Then summoned the final reserve of strength in his entire body.

Charged forward.

And kicked open the fort gate!

At the exact instant the Emperor’s foot broke it open... the Great Chu Fire Phoenix Banner flying above the fort was cut down by the Sword Saint.

Wei Zhonghe, filled with overwhelming excitement... raised Great Yan’s Black Dragon Banner in its place!

Far away... the court historian gripped his brush.

Then recorded with incomparable solemnity upon the draft annals:

“On the first day of the fourth month, in the first year of Ying’an, the Emperor’s Eastern Inspection reached the Wei River. At that moment, Chu slaves launched a massive invasion across the frontier. Military reports came like fire, and the situation hung by a thread. The Emperor donned armor, personally took up a naked blade, and led the charge at the very front. After battling through day and night... he drove back the Chu slaves... and breached a city!”

[End of Chapter 922]