Chapter 471: Rescue, Reunion, Background, Turning the Tide

Chu Qingwu is dead!

Everyone looked up at the sky, causing the brutal battlefield below to pause for a moment; their expressions varied, but the shock and trembling in their pupils were nearly identical.

Could it be that Chu Qingwu, the direct grandson of Chu Tianxu, Governor of Yanling County, commander of Luhe Camp, and fourth-generation scion of the Chu lineage of Cang Prefecture, was just killed like this?

“Yushan Branch Army arrives to reinforce Hekou!”

“Baiyang Branch Army arrives to reinforce!”

“Shuhe Branch Army arrives to reinforce…”

………………

Leaving aside the shock now gripping everyone’s hearts, as successive shouts came from the southern direction, both sides—having briefly halted combat—turned their attention back to the battlefield and instantly changed expression.

From the south, over ten thousand troops were charging toward them, more than two thousand armored, all with green hemp cloth tied around their left arms.

“The eight southern villages have risen in rebellion—these are reinforcements! Our reinforcements have arrived!”

“Hahaha, brothers! Chu Qingwu is dead, reinforcements have come—we’ve won, we’ve won! Kill!”

“Attack from both sides—annihilate the Cang official army!”

………………

Chu Qingwu’s death had already given the rebel forces a powerful boost; the timing of the eight southern villages’ reinforcements arriving was perfect. The rebels, now reduced to just over twenty thousand, instantly surged like men injected with stimulants, roaring wildly as their morale surged once more.

They roared furiously and charged again at the central army with reckless abandon. Worse still, the twenty-thousand-strong remnants held the north, while over ten thousand reinforcements arrived from the south—encircling the Cang army from both ends.

“What are you panicking for? These are rabble—no matter how many come, it’s useless! Rear troops, turn and draw bows—shoot down the southern rebels! Zijian, lead the front troops to crush the remnants!”

The Cang official army was divided into two groups: one was the Luhe Camp’s county guard force, originally numbering about four thousand; after prolonged fighting, their losses were negligible, and they now numbered over three thousand three hundred. The other group consisted of the officers and loyalists from Hekou Village, originally numbering just over three thousand; they suffered heavier losses and now numbered barely over two thousand.

Regular troops clearly surpassed ordinary men in combat strength, fighting spirit, and battlefield discipline—their negligible losses were clear proof.

Now, facing the death of their commander and being encircled from north and south, while the two thousand men from Hekou Village looked panicked and disorganized, the regular troops’ panic lasted less than a dozen breaths; after a middle-aged man’s roar from above, they instantly regained composure.

Immediately following his orders, over a thousand archers in the rear turned their bows southward to suppress the rebels; the front-line troops, over two thousand strong, attacked even more ferociously than before, their human-powered war carts charging recklessly into the rebel ranks.

In an instant, the army’s killing efficiency rose by two or three tenths compared to before Chu Qingwu’s death.

Swords slashed, spears thrust, axes chopped, hammers struck, sickles cut—even when weapons were lost, they fought with fists and feet; when limbs shattered, they bit with teeth. Both sides spared no effort to kill, and the battlefield became utterly blood-soaked and horrific.

Blood sprayed everywhere, corpses piled higher and higher, brutal combat and desperate life-or-death struggles, screams of agony filling the entire sky and earth—all testified to one ironclad truth:

Rebellion is not about drinking water or eating rice; it is not child's play. The military governor system has endured for nearly three centuries without collapsing for a reason.

To pit peasants against regular troops is not even like an egg striking a stone—it’s far worse.

Thus, Chu Qingwu’s death and the arrival of ten thousand reinforcements did not reverse the battlefield’s tide; no matter how fierce the rebels’ morale or how intense their emotion, they remained the ones being slaughtered.

But a few sharp minds among those present—whether still fighting or not—unanimously diverted some attention to the sky.

Precisely, to the three figures in the sky.

The first was the Green-Faced Heavenly King of Shuangjin Society; the second, the mysterious man wearing a red mask, clad in green hemp, wielding a black staff who had slain Chu Qingwu; the third, the middle-aged man in green brocade robes, wielding a long sword, who had appeared immediately after Chu Qingwu’s death and roared to rally the official army.

Clearly, Luhe Camp did not station only Chu Qingwu as a Xianyang-level cultivator.

Yet for some reason, during the long duel between Chu Qingwu and the Green-Faced Heavenly King, this green-robed man had never appeared.

Actually, just by looking closely at the green-robed man’s appearance, the reason was easy to guess.

His green brocade robe was torn in several places, his breathing slightly labored, his long sword still stained with blood.

Clearly, he had just withdrawn from battle.

And judging by his condition, the fight he’d been in was no less intense than this one.

“Twelve Heavenly Kings from Yanling’s main headquarters came down—two weren’t enough, so they even sent a top expert. But why doesn’t this man wear the Green-Faced Demon Mask? And his strength…?”

Chen Yuanyan glanced once at the Green-Faced Heavenly King, then immediately shifted his gaze to the man ahead—his expression darkened instantly. It wasn’t because the man’s staff still pierced Chu Qingwu’s corpse; it was because he couldn’t fathom this man’s true strength.

Luhe Camp housed over five thousand troops total. Sixteen villages each maintained a hundred-man garrison, so the camp normally held only about four thousand soldiers.

Command of Luhe Valley’s defense fell to Commander Chu Qingwu and Deputy Commander Chu Qingkai; the army was naturally under their command. Chen Yuanyan was the Camp’s Chief Military Officer, primarily responsible for logistics and overseeing all sixteen subordinate districts within Luhe Valley.

When news of the Hekou Village grain collection mutiny reached the camp, Chu Qingwu didn’t notify Chen Yuanyan first—he immediately mobilized troops and departed. Only when Chen Yuanyan sensed something wrong from the main tower and prepared to move out was he ambushed by a Green-Faced Heavenly King hidden within the camp, barely escaping death.

Had Chu Qingkai not sensed it in time and joined forces to drive the attacker off, the outcome might have been unthinkable.

“If even the commander is dead, I’m no match for this man. Sending Qingkai to seek reinforcements elsewhere was correct. Now we can only rely on the army. Reinforcements from nearby regions won’t arrive quickly, but any commander or Xianyang-level expert can reach us within fifteen minutes at fastest—we can hold out!”

Boom…

As Chen Yuanyan pondered above the army, three or four hundred meters away in the sky, Xia Hong drew his staff, flung Chu Qingwu’s corpse aside, then turned to face the Green-Faced Heavenly King behind him, his eyes filled with scrutiny.

“Thank you…”

The Green-Faced Heavenly King looked at him; though gratitude lingered in his gaze, disbelief dominated. He raised his fists to speak, but barely had he uttered “thank you” when Xia Hong subtly changed—his pupils beneath the mask contracted sharply, his body jolted violently.

Had anyone removed his mask, they’d have seen his face flushed with ecstatic joy—he immediately bowed deeply to Xia Hong, voice trembling with excitement: “I pay homage… my lord!”

“You’ve been sold out. Do you know that?”

The Green-Faced man froze, then glanced toward Chen Yuanyan above the opposing army—immediately understanding. His eyes filled with fury, and he clenched his fists, bowing:

“My lord, I am Hai Zi-Xing. Deputy Commander Chu Qingkai is not in camp. I made a pact with You Zi-Xing Heavenly King—he was to assassinate Chen Yuanyan, while I assisted the rebels against Chu Qingwu. That bastard must’ve seen things turning bad and fled on his own.”

Hai Zi-Xing, You Zi-Xing—these were divisions based on the Twelve Earthly Branches, so Shuangjin Society had twelve Heavenly Kings.

Xia Hong instantly understood and shook his head: “Your intelligence was flawed. There was another Xianyang-level cultivator at 9 Jun strength in the camp—also 9 Jun. He failed his assassination and fled immediately, never even glancing at this battlefield.”

Xia Hong had observed the camp’s situation clearly from the shadows—he’d come to the battlefield the moment the assassin failed and fled.

He didn’t yet ponder the man’s true identity; instead, he mentally reviewed the relationship between Great Xia and Shuangjin Society, then turned and asked gravely: “Is your young dragon chief Ji Hong?”

Having long operated in Cang’s Yanling County with considerable influence, knowing the situation so well, and yet able to summon Xianyang-level reinforcements from Great Xia—he could think of no one else but Ji Hong.

The Green-Faced Heavenly King nodded firmly. With dense bone energy filling the air around them, speaking safely from eavesdropping, he paused, then removed his mask, revealing a moderately handsome middle-aged face, and bowed deeply to Xia Hong: “I am Jiang Xinfan. I pay homage to my lord!”

Jiang Xinfan!

Xia Hong’s expression froze. To be blunt, upon seeing the Featherlight Sword Art and sensing the Great Xia Sacred Pattern aura emanating from him, his mind had flooded with countless guesses.

Yet among all those guesses, Jiang Xinfan was the one he never considered.

Jiang Xia Town Chief—Jiang Xinfan!

No way. In just three years since I left, could there be such a surprise?

Realizing Jiang Xinfan had just called him “lord,” Xia Hong’s brow furrowed slightly, then his eyes widened with astonishment and delight.

No, no—this was not the time to resolve mysteries!

Xia Hong swiftly pushed aside his thoughts and looked up: “You collaborated with Shuangjin Society to incite this rebellion—what’s your goal?”

Jiang Xinfan paused, startled, but as a former town chief, his reaction was swift—he instantly understood why Xia Hong asked this, and his face filled with admiration.

“My lord likely just escaped from the Blood Miasma Plain and stumbled upon this rebellion by accident. Yet you immediately saw through our ulterior motives. No wonder, after three years of silence, the Deputy Minister, the Chief Minister, and all of Great Xia still remain so devoted—you are truly my lord…”

Though inwardly awed, Jiang Xinfan knew the situation was dire and quickly bowed to explain: “My lord’s insight is unmatched. This rebellion was ordered by Shuangjin Society’s main headquarters for Ji Hong. According to their message, a small faction among Cang’s high officials seeks to emulate Wei Bo’s reforms: they’re urging the Prefect to lower requirements for civilian registration, reduce tax burdens on slave-villages, and eventually cut the number of slave-villages across Cang by half.”

The main headquarters unanimously deemed this a move to cut the roots of the tree—if Cang succeeds, Shuangjin Society’s foundation will be severely damaged. Thus, they jointly assigned this rebellion task to the young dragon chief…”

Someone who had served as town chief was indeed different—he explained the rebellion’s motive and goal in just a few sentences.

After listening, Xia Hong pondered only a few breaths and instantly understood—his expression turned extraordinarily complex.

He didn’t know what “emulating Wei Bo’s reforms” meant, but the specific measures Jiang Xinfan mentioned—he understood them immediately and realized they would not only benefit Cang’s future development but also severely undermine Shuangjin Society’s survival space.

Truly a brilliant move—cutting the roots to kill the tree, killing two birds with one stone!

But such reforms would face enormous resistance.

Slave-villages were Cang’s assets—precious resources that continuously generated wealth. The high officials relied on them for sustenance; the four classes—nobility, aristocracy, military, and commoners—all benefited from slave-village labor.

Reduce taxes for so many slaves, and who bears the fiscal deficit? Cut slave-villages in half, and slave prices will skyrocket overnight—many will no longer afford their former lives of servants and retinues…

Throughout history, reform always infringes on vested interests—resistance is inevitable, no matter the place.

The reason for Xia Hong’s complex expression was that he now confirmed: Shuangjin Society must have high-ranking Cang officials involved—most likely the other Prefect lineage, the Chen family.

Otherwise, where did their intelligence come from? Jiang Xinfan made it clear: only a small faction wanted reform and was persuading the Prefect. Obviously, that faction was the innermost core.

Even if the leak didn’t come from them, it came from someone extremely close.

“So Shuangjin Society’s rebellion in Luhe Valley aims to make Cang’s Prefect and high officials see—indirectly adding resistance to reform!”

Reform was merely a small faction’s idea—perhaps not even formally proposed, or just barely raised, but already fiercely debated.

At this critical moment, slave-villages rebelled, causing such a massive uproar—what chain reaction would it trigger?

Think about it: the conservatives would seize this opportunity to denounce the slaves as ungrateful traitors—reducing their taxes and freeing them won’t stabilize town rule; once they grow stronger, they’ll cause even greater trouble.

So forget reform!

Not only will reform be abandoned, but repression and exploitation of slave-villages will likely intensify to prevent future uprisings.

“You’ve got guts—daring to meddle in something this big. What if Cang discovers it and traces it all the way back to Great Xia?”

Xia Hong’s tone held no reproach—only neutral inquiry—so Jiang Xinfan wasn’t alarmed, only sneered: “My lord doesn’t know: Cang isn’t any better. Since early last year, they’ve sent numerous Xianyang-level infiltrators into Beishuo. Yang Zun, backed by them, has defied alliance orders and repeatedly clashed with Great Xia. Now they’re inciting the Nine Towns to break from the alliance. If they come to our Nine Towns to stir chaos, we can certainly come to theirs to bring rain.”

Not only had Jiangxia been absorbed into Great Xia—the Nine Towns Alliance was now formed!

Extracting another key detail from Jiang Xinfan’s words, Xia Hong’s heart surged with excitement—but he suppressed his many questions and looked down at the battlefield: “And Shuangjin Society is really stingy—such a massive rebellion, and they sent only one Xianyang-level, plus those bodyguards?”

Actually two—but Xia Hong had instinctively excluded Jiang Xinfan.

Jiang Xinfan’s expression suddenly turned peculiar—as if he bore no resentment toward the Xianyang-level who betrayed him. After thinking for over a dozen breaths, he spoke: “My lord, Shuangjin Society never expected this rebellion to succeed. Their goal was simply to create enough commotion to draw the town’s attention—preferably the Prefect’s.”

“But the commotion you’ve made now… still seems insufficient?”

“Indeed. The main headquarters’ intelligence was flawed. The original plan was for You Zi-Xing’s Green-Faced Heavenly King to assassinate Chen Yuanyan, then join me to fight Chu Qingwu. If we held out until all branch reinforcements arrived, even Luhe Camp’s thousands of troops would be useless. But now…”

Jiang Xinfan looked at Chu Qingwu’s corpse on the ground, his expression odd.

The original plan was now impossible—but they weren’t defeated either. Chen Yuanyan lived, but the strongest opponent, Chu Qingwu, was dead.

Though You Zi-Xing’s Green-Faced Heavenly King fled, Xia Hong was here!

With my lord’s strength…

“Another Xianyang-level went to seek reinforcements. The rebels have little time. I estimate Xianyang-levels will arrive within fifteen minutes at fastest. Since I’m here, I’ll help you—want to make some commotion, right?”

Xia Hong looked down at the lopsided battlefield, took a deep breath, lightly shook his coiled-dragon staff, then turned to Jiang Xinfan with a smile: “Do you have any extra masks?”

Jiang Xinfan instantly understood, reached into his robe, and pulled out a green-faced, fanged demon mask—identical to the one he wore.

"The Frost Ash Society's benefits are decent—this mask can block even the perception of a Cultivation of the Demise Realm; its cost must be high. They gave me an extra one as backup, and now it’s perfectly useful..."

Although Xia Hong changed his mask quickly, Jiang Xinfan still caught a glimpse of his face during the brief interval, and his heart finally settled completely.

He had confirmed Xia Hong’s identity through the Sacred Pattern Ancestor aura Xia Hong had just released, but since he had only recently officially joined Great Xia, his understanding of bloodlines was still shallow, and he feared he might be mistaken.

"Lord, I’ll hold off Chen Yuanyan—the army—"

"No!"

Xia Hong did not move immediately; after a moment’s thought, he asked: "Among the Cold-Resisting-level guardians wearing red masks, are there any of our own?"

When Xia Hong said "our own," he meant Great Xia’s people—Jiang Xinfan knew this well, and immediately bowed and replied: "Yes. Of the 53 Cold-Resisting-level guardians involved in this uprising, eight are ours: five were recruited by Ji Hong in Cang, the rest were sent by the Frost Ash Society’s Yanling Headquarters."

"Go now and deliver orders to all sixteen branch leaders: have them immediately disband their men. Those confident they won’t be exposed by Yanling County should return to their original villages; those unsure should flee at once—time is short. Also, have the Cold-Resisting-level guardians take their trusted subordinates and scatter along the eastern perimeter of Su Tian, all ready—"

As Xia Hong spoke calmly, Jiang Xinfan’s expression alternated between shock and confusion. Once Xia Hong finished, he could not help asking: "Lord, with over three thousand county guard troops and two thousand district officials, and Chen Yuanyan’s strength not weak—can you handle it alone...?"

"Enough! Do as I ordered, quickly!"

Xia Hong did not wait to hear him out; his body shot upward in an instant, flying straight to the sky above the army.

Jiang Xinfan stared at Xia Hong hovering in midair, his face filled with hesitation—then he remembered something, lowered his gaze, and searched through the rebel ranks until he spotted several guardians wearing red masks with fanged demon faces. He immediately flew down.

Of the 51 Cold-Resisting-level guardians and 16 branch leaders, more than half were on the battlefield below. Since Xia Hong had told him to notify these people, Jiang Xinfan naturally went to them first.

Besides, while delivering the orders, he could keep an eye on the Lord—if any sudden situation arose, he could intervene promptly.

"Lady sent me to Cang in March. Assisting Ji Hong was secondary; my main mission was to find the Lord. Now that I’ve finally found him, I can’t let anything go wrong again."

Jiang Xinfan quickly located the Cold-Resisting-level guardians below and began relaying Xia Hong’s orders. At the same time, he did not stop watching Xia Hong’s position.

"If we had more troops—or some other tactic—I might struggle to sway the battle’s outcome. But three thousand men..."

Xia Hong looked down at the army below, a look of pride on his face. He knew exactly what Jiang Xinfan was worried about: that he, alone, could not reverse the current battle.