Chapter 975: Decisive Battle!

The blood of five hundred thousand elite soldiers of Great Chu, into my inkstone, to moisten my brush.

Those words had not been rehearsed in advance, nor had Zheng Fan deliberately tried to elevate them into anything grand. It was simply that what the old man had said was too ridiculous, too absurd. Before watching the performance, Zheng Fan had never imagined the attempt to persuade him to surrender would be so painfully low-grade.

So his response had come just as casually, almost offhand.

The Blind Man formed seals with both hands and released a psychic storm. In an instant, the white mist around the old man dispersed, and he collapsed unconscious. The three bewildered traveling-song girls hurried over to care for him.

They were only mouthpieces. Even they had no idea what they had truly come here to do.

Zheng Fan sighed, looked at Siniang, and asked:

“By rights, I ought to be all fired up and heroic right now, but somehow it feels just a little forced.”

Siniang smiled seductively.

“Master should save words like that for tonight.”

Beside them, the Blind Man and A’Ming both turned their heads away almost instinctively, pretending they had heard nothing.

Some jokes could be joined freely.

Others absolutely could not.

Otherwise, Third Grade really would remain forever out of reach.

Facing his own wife, the Prince did not feel offended at all.

Instead, he said:

“There’s no helping it. Responsibility is like that. Even when you can’t perform, sometimes you still have to force yourself to shoulder it. It’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it?”

“My lord has worked so hard.”

“Hahahaha.”

That was the end of the teasing between husband and wife.

Zheng Fan rolled his neck and spread his arms.

“No armor. Bring me my princely robes.”

Under Yan custom, when a noble title was bestowed, the recipient was usually given the corresponding court dress as well: formal clothing for major rites and ceremonies. To an ordinary noble household, such a set of robes could become a sacred family heirloom.

Naturally, Zheng Fan possessed them too.

From the late Emperor’s first elevation of him to Count Pingye, then Marquis Pingxi, every investiture had come with ceremonial robes delivered by the eunuch bearing the imperial decree. A “set” did not mean one single garment, but several, suited to different seasons and occasions.

When Ji Old Sixth made him Regent Prince, he had the palace Embroidery Directorate design and produce another set especially for him.

But Zheng Fan had Siniang at his side and never lacked clothes. Moreover, the more exalted ceremonial robes became, the more they were burdened with symbolism and dignity, and the worse they generally were to wear.

That was why the various python robes Zheng Fan normally wore were all woven and embroidered by Siniang herself.

Close-fitting.

Comfortable.

Breathable.

And, of course, never lacking in dignity.

“I used to think ritual and etiquette were nothing but burdens, and that all these formal trappings were just dead weight. Looking back now, I was simply too young. Sometimes burdens are things you have to choose to carry yourself. That is what makes them difficult. All these years, all along this road, I’ve spouted too much nonsense, made too many grand promises, and fooled more than a few people. Enemies are one thing. But among my own people, quite a few of them were willing to be fooled. The rebellious bone at the back of my skull was practically sticking out in plain sight. During those first two years after I woke up, I thought my acting was excellent. In reality, it was raw as hell. The late Emperor once gave me a token and told me that when I had nothing better to do, I could go visit the Third Prince at the pavilion in the middle of the lake. The old Prince Zhenbei invited me to eat roast lamb leg in the imperial garden and asked me questions. I thought my answers were wonderfully clever. Yet right afterward he wanted to pull me back into the Zhenbei Army. Was that really just because I was from Beifeng Commandery and he happened to appreciate talent? Old Tian was deliberately grinding down my temperament from the very beginning too. Heh. They were all foxes who had lived a thousand years, while I dragged them around showing off and talking as if I were the one telling ghost stories. Only after sitting on a princely seat myself and looking back did I realize I was still a little green in those days. So I owe them thanks for not killing me back then. Today, I, Zheng Fan, will give the late Emperor some face. I’ll give the old Prince Zhenbei some face. I’ll give some face to all the sons of Yan who have followed me through life and death all these years. And I’ll give Great Yan... some face.”

Siniang brought over the Regent Prince’s formal robes and helped Zheng Fan change.

The robes of a Regent Prince had long since left the realm of an ordinary vassal prince’s python robe. Most of their design followed the conventions of Great Yan’s imperial dragon robes. Ji Old Sixth was willing to share the Dragon Throne with him; naturally, he would not begrudge Zheng Fan one set of clothing.

The main color was black, embroidered with golden dragons. Paired with the princely crown, the entire ensemble naturally carried an air of solemn majesty.

There was a saying that clothes made the man and saddles made the horse, but that referred to bright, elegant clothing. Python robes, princely robes, and dragon robes were different. Those garments required the wearer himself to possess enough presence to hold them up, or the effect became almost comical.

“How do I look?” Zheng Fan asked.

“Majestic and solemn,” Siniang answered seriously. “My husband is a true king in both name and substance.”

She stepped back two paces and carefully studied her man.

She still remembered that years ago, when she had wanted Zheng Fan to advance for the first time as quickly as possible, she had once helped stimulate him by hand.

Back then, he had still held deep caution and wariness toward the Demon Kings and toward this world itself. Much of his composure had been forced.

Now, her little man had reached middle age and finally completed his transformation and settling. Siniang felt an indescribable satisfaction.

It seemed as though everything had happened overnight.

And yet every tiny change over the years had been equally real.

She had never denied that romantic love between men and women meant little to her.

Even after giving birth to a son, she still found him troublesome at times.

But perhaps... this was what husband and wife truly meant.

To say only that two people accompanied one another into old age was too simple, too pale.

True harmony and lifelong companionship came more from the blending and adjustment of souls.

The Pixiu, which had been lying nearby, slowly raised its head when it saw Zheng Fan in his princely robes. Light seemed to appear in its large eyes.

“A’Ming. My saber.”

“Yes.”

A’Ming handed over Wuya.

With the Regent Prince’s robes on his body and a saber at his waist, the whole picture suddenly stood complete.

Outside, the Brocade-Clad personal guards were already prepared.

When Zheng Fan stepped out, Eunuch Huang, who had been waiting nearby, froze for a moment.

The sounds of killing and battle outside, together with the Yan army’s repeated retreats toward Zhennan Pass over the previous days, had left this army-supervising eunuch deeply uneasy.

He knew perfectly well that most of the time he was little more than a lucky mascot.

But even a mascot feared the day its luck stopped working.

Yet the instant he saw the Regent Prince emerge in full princely dress, the anxiety in Eunuch Huang’s heart seemed to settle.

Then, despite knowing the thought was taboo, he could not help murmuring inwardly:

Seeing the Regent Prince now felt just like seeing the late Emperor years ago.

No matter how dangerous the situation looked, somehow it no longer seemed like much of a problem.

The Pixiu followed out from behind. Its four hooves landed steadily on the blue bricks, and it did everything possible to make itself look more imposing.

Then its body shuddered.

From along its back, a layer of exquisite black-lustrous scales spread outward until its entire body was covered.

Two streams of hot breath blasted from its nostrils.

Its divine-beast presence was complete.

Zheng Fan walked toward it.

The Pixiu, still absorbed in showing itself off, felt its master’s gaze and silently bent its knees.

Zheng Fan braced one hand and swung into the saddle.

The Pixiu rose smoothly and released a low roar.

“ROAR!”

Its mane spread outward with the sound.

The Brocade-Clad personal guards mounted as one.

The Pixiu began walking and carried Zheng Fan out of the Grand Commander’s residence inside Zhennan Pass.

To ordinary people, a pure-blooded Pixiu naturally carried mystery and solemnity.

And the Prince seated on its back inspired even greater reverence and fanatic devotion.

Many laborers along both sides of the street stopped without thinking.

Wounded soldiers newly carried down from the front silently clenched their fists and pressed them against their chests.

The Prince did not stop to say anything to them.

At some point, he had stopped enjoying speeches and pre-battle exhortations.

In his memory, the last time he had given a proper pre-battle speech had been in Qian.

*Gentlemen, die for me.*

Then eight thousand iron cavalrymen had gone to their deaths to open a road.

That knot had remained tied inside Zheng Fan’s heart ever since.

The Zheng Fan of the past might have believed that as long as morale was raised before battle and the war was ultimately won, everything would have been worth it.

And he had always kept winning.

As long as victory came, every method could be justified.

That battle had been won too, in a sense.

After all, they had taken Shangjing.

But for that local battle itself, those soldiers who went knowingly to their deaths had not defeated the enemy before them.

They had not survived to celebrate when the alcohol ban was lifted, drinking, raising enemy helmets, singing and dancing after victory.

They had simply opened a road for him.

So that he could escape.

Of course, that was not the main reason.

Zheng Fan was a moral man, but much of the time his morality was only a quilt he threw over himself when he wanted to feel comfortable and warm.

When he did not need it, he could toss it straight onto the filthy ground without the slightest concern.

The reason he no longer delivered grand speeches before battle was much simpler.

He no longer needed to.

He still remembered following Tian Wujing on campaign, watching that gold-armored figure riding a Pixiu at the head of countless troops.

Not one word was necessary.

The moment Tian Wujing urged his mount forward into the charge, a hundred thousand iron cavalrymen behind him naturally followed, crushing every enemy before them.

At the time, Zheng Fan had believed the effect came from Old Tian himself being a peak Martial Artist, that he dared charge at the very front because he was personally so powerful.

Only later did Zheng Fan gradually understand.

It was not because Old Tian charged first.

In fact, whether he rode in the front, the center, or even remained behind made no real difference.

The soldiers needed only to know that he was there.

That Prince Jingnan was there.

That was enough.

They were willing to pay any price to smash the enemy before them so completely that their own Prince would never even need to draw his saber.

That was their faith.

And their fanaticism.

Liu Dahu raised one arm.

At the head of both sides of the Brocade-Clad formation, guards lifted their standards.

Great Yan’s Black Dragon Banner.

The eastern Jin army’s Double-Headed Eagle Banner.

And the great personal standard of the Regent Prince himself.

Liu Dahu drew his saber and held it horizontally.

Every other Brocade-Clad personal guard drew his weapon as well and held it beside his body.

The procession continued forward.

But a suffocating atmosphere had already descended over it, like the oppressive heat before a storm, the unbearable stillness that made people instinctively long for the thunder to break.

They drew closer and closer to the city wall where the fighting had been fiercest.

Around them were more auxiliaries, laborers, and soldiers waiting to rotate onto the front.

The latest Chu assault had just ended.

Many men were still catching their breath.

Then they saw their Prince riding at the head atop his Pixiu, with the Brocade-Clad personal guards following behind.

The soldiers pressed fists against the armor over their chests.

By eastern Jin and Great Yan military regulations, there was no need to perform elaborate ceremony during battle.

But many auxiliaries and laborers who lacked experience still followed instinct and dropped to their knees.

On the wall above, Xue San was sitting beside Fan Li and drinking water, his three legs dangling over the edge.

Third Master reached out and poked Fan Li’s arm.

“Have you noticed? Master really has become the Master.”

Fan Li glanced at Xue San and said nothing.

“He’s looking more and more like us,” Xue San continued. “A king. A Demon King.”

Fan Li rolled his eyes.

“He’s our dad.”

Your father looks like you?

Xue San frowned.

He could not argue with the logic.

In theory, Fan Li was entirely correct.

But Third Master immediately realized something else.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were capable of saying something like that.”

...

Below, A’Ming rode beside the Prince and looked upward.

Several hawks and falcons were circling overhead.

Pigeons were actually inefficient for military messaging, much slower than an eight-hundred-li urgent courier relay. Trained hawks were somewhat better, but still had limited use.

Their ideal role was rapidly carrying very simple orders across a local battlefield where communication was difficult.

That described the present situation perfectly.

The Chu were attacking the city.

The military stockades on both wings of Zhennan Pass were still fighting.

The enormous Chu host had spread in a great half-circle, covering almost the entire battlefield.

Scouts and light cavalry from both sides were locked in bloody, constant fighting and attrition.

Under those circumstances, trained hawks were ideal for transmitting orders.

“Master, the Yan and Jin camps from Yingdu are in position.”

“The Yan and Jin camps from Litian are in position.”

“Quhe is in position.”

“The Capital Imperial Guards are in position.”

The court had dispatched two hundred and thirty thousand troops this time.

And that was only the first wave entering eastern Jin, not the full amount.

The original strategic plan had assumed a prolonged war.

More reinforcements and far more laborers would have followed later.

Thirty thousand Imperial Guards had come from the capital itself.

They were Ji Old Sixth’s own elite foundation.

The capital’s Imperial Guards had only truly been retrained over these past few years and did not yet possess deep military roots, but even so, Ji Old Sixth had been generous in sending them.

The remaining two hundred thousand were regular Yan and Jin troops organized from three major regions of Jin.

They were fully equipped proper soldiers, and more than half were veterans of the previous Yan-Chu national war.

War destroyed armies.

But war also tempered them.

Veterans were one of the clearest guarantees of an army’s combat power.

A’Ming was a vampire, and his eyesight was excellent.

He continued searching the sky.

Soon, he spoke again.

“Li Chenghui is in position.”

“Jin Shuke is in position.”

The true main strength of eastern Jin had arrived.

And these armies had actually been hidden east, west, and north of Zhennan Pass for quite some time already.

They had eaten well.

Drunk well.

Rested fully.

Every blade had been sharpened.

More than that... they were desperate to fight.

They were like a pack of wolfhounds with prey directly in front of them, chained down and thrashing madly, roaring until drool ran from their mouths.

If all that saliva could truly pool on the ground, it would have formed a lake.

But the man holding the chain was Great Yan’s Regent Prince.

They could not act rashly.

They did not dare.

There would be no reckless advance born from impatience for merit.

In eastern Jin—

No.

Across the entire military establishment of Great Yan—no one dared disobey an order from the Regent Prince.

That was status.

That was authority.

Keeping several hundred thousand ordinary people under control was already a terrifying organizational task.

Keeping several hundred thousand battle-hardened soldiers under control was even harder.

That was why Qian had suffered so badly after losing the Tattooed-Face Commander and then Old Commander Zhong. Even if Qian could gather a vast army, no one remained who could truly command it properly.

That was why Chu had become so constrained after losing one Pillar of State and great general after another.

Court titles, noble ranks, imperial swords of authority—none of those could instantly produce genuine command.

Men who lived every day with their heads tied to their belts could, once their blood ran hot, stop recognizing even the Son of Heaven.

That was why a military god was so important to a state.

More precious than treasure.

Zheng Fan pointed forward.

“Open the gate.”

“The Prince commands: open the gate!”

“Pass the Prince’s order! Open the gate!”

“Princely command! Open the gate!”

The gates of Zhennan Pass opened.

The Chu army, which had just ended another failed assault and was withdrawing to prepare for the next, looked on in confusion.

Earlier, when the Chu attacked the walls, it had been understandable for Yan troops to sortie and counterattack.

But now?

What were the Yan doing?

Farther away, Xiong Tingshan stood upon his field command platform overseeing the battle.

The instant he saw the gates opening, the stump of his severed arm suddenly began aching again.

Unease.

Dread.

An ominous feeling settled over him.

Then Yan defenders began marching out through the gates.

Infantry.

Cavalry.

Unit after unit.

They formed ranks outside the pass.

The Chu soldiers, who had just been trying to catch their breath, began reforming under the orders of their officers.

As the attacking side, they had suffered enough from Zhennan Pass’s tall walls, thick defenses, and abundant siege weapons.

Unless their superiors ordered otherwise, they were more than happy to see the defenders come outside on their own.

Zheng Fan rode his Pixiu through the city gate.

The cold wind howled through the thousands upon thousands of troops.

Yet around him, it seemed to become gentle.

The sleeves of his black princely robes, heavy with dignity, did not even stir.

Zheng Fan looked at the endless Chu army ahead.

Then, suddenly... the phantom of a Fire Phoenix seemed to spread its wings before him and release a piercing cry.

Qi Refiners, when reduced to their essence, could never escape one old saying:

Believe, and it exists.

Do not believe, and it does not.

Yet anything that had endured for so long usually possessed some sliver of reason beneath it.

Like the Fire Phoenix now appearing in Zheng Fan’s vision.

It might not exist.

And it might.

Perhaps it was nothing more than a projection inside his own mind... the incarnation of Great Chu’s national fortune.

It screamed.

It roared.

Endless flame poured down from its body.

If someone had been standing before the Prince and turned to look back at him, perhaps they might have seen the reflected blaze in his eyes.

Even the Pixiu beneath him abandoned its usual frivolous manner.

As though facing a natural enemy, it bared a fierce light in its eyes.

“Come on. Hurry. Weren’t you going to sever this dragon vein? Cut it for Us. We’re waiting to watch.”

“Our family foundation is thin. There is only one lamb leg and it is not enough to fill anyone’s stomach. What is the point of fighting over it?”

“In this Prince’s eyes, the cavalry beneath Heaven falls into two kinds. One is the iron cavalry of Great Yan. The other is not worth mentioning.”

“Brother Zheng, your elder brother really enjoyed killing this time!”

“You bastard Zheng, get over here. Come sit on this Dragon Throne with me.”

...

“Heh.”

Zheng Fan closed his eyes.

Then slowly opened them.

Wuya slid inch by inch from its sheath.

Then, he slashed forward.

In that instant, a soundless scream seemed to ring across half the vault of Heaven.

The flames reflected in the Prince’s eyes vanished with it.

The next moment, rhythmic thunder began rolling in from every direction.

Black storm clouds surged forward... and swallowed everything in sight.

[End of Chapter 975]