Chapter 662: Declare the Lord's Will from the Golden Platform, Raise the Jade Dragon to Die for You!

These four characters thundered in everyone's mind like a sudden bolt of lightning; the provincial soldiers who had been murmuring fell silent at once, and all eyes swarmed toward the entrance of the Gaotai.

The 23,000 figures simultaneously straightened their backs, puffed out their chests, gripped their weapons tighter, their faces full of solemnity and reverence, even their breathing became cautious.

Then a heroic, upright figure, clad in armor with a jade belt at the waist, walked slowly onto the Gaotai.

It was Chen Yan.

On either side of Chen Yan stood several generals also clad in armor, exuding impressive presence.

On the left, a man with a stern face and sharp eyes, General of Left Martial Guard Dong Xuqing.

On the right, a towering figure, General of Left Martial Guard Feng Muye.

Behind them, Middle Colonel Peng Chong and others followed step for step, each with solemn expression and composed bearing.

When Chen Yan reached the main seat on the Gaotai and stood firm, the 23,000 provincial soldiers on the Xiaochang all raised their right fists to their chests, performed the marching salute respectfully, their voices unified like a mountain roar and sea tide, shaking the ground slightly: "Salute Chen Zhuguo!"

The voice was loud and devout, full of admiration and affection for Chen Yan.

Many provincial soldiers, looking at the young yet upright figure on the Gaotai, eyes filled with anticipation and impatience, thought in unison: "Chen Zhuguo has finally arrived!"

"Chen Zhuguo finally came!"

They had waited for this moment, for this war‑godlike commander, waiting for him to lead them into the battlefield to achieve glory.

Chen Yan stood atop the Gaotai, his gaze like a torch, slowly sweeping over the densely packed provincial soldiers' formation below.

The 23,000 figures stood in orderly rows, like a forest forged of steel; the solemnity and vigor made a hint of approval flash in his eyes.

He raised the simple megaphone he had prepared, lifted his hand, and his steady, powerful voice rang through the Xiaochang via the device: "No salute!"

"Thank you, Chen Zhuguo!" the provincial soldiers replied in unison.

Then they all straightened simultaneously, their movements clean and crisp, without a hint of lag.

Chen Yan looked at the faces below, each full of expectation and fighting spirit, offered no idle chatter and got straight to the point: "Soldiers, you must already know who our enemy is, right?"

"Know! Know! Know!"

The 23,000 provincial soldiers answered in unison, their deafening voices filled with unstoppable courage and resolve.

Chen Yan's torch‑like gaze swept over the faces below, brimming with fighting spirit, his voice through the megaphone booming across the Xiaochang like thunder:

"Soldiers! The Qi State has launched an undeclared war, allying with the Rouran to attack Great Zhou, invading our lands, killing our people, looting our women and children, seizing our wealth, and destroying our fields!"

"Can a Great Zhou man endure this insult?"

Before the words finished, the 23,000 voices erupted at once, like a breached mountain flood, shaking the Xiaochang's floor slightly: "Cannot! Cannot! Cannot!"

The roar pierced the heavens, startling the roosting birds on the edge of the Xiaochang's locust trees; their fluttering wings vanished in an instant, swallowed by even louder shouts.

Within the formation, many provincial soldiers clenched their ring‑pommel swords, knuckles whitening from the strain, their lowered voices unable to hide their fury: "If we endure this, what kind of men would we be?"

"Is there any blood in our veins?"

"Perhaps they'll only stop after trampling us like dogs, the Qi dogs and Rouran barbarians, and seizing Chang'an!"

"Our Great Zhou lands cannot tolerate foreign marauders!"

Chen Yan's mouth curled into a sharp grin, fire burning in his eyes, and he raised his voice again, the anger and battle spirit nearly spilling over: "If the Qi army and Rouran ride atop us and defecate, what shall we do?"

"Damned be them!"

"May those Qi dogs die!"

"Slaughter those Rouran barbarians, cut off their heads and use them as urinals!"

"Drive them out of Great Zhou, burn their camps, and reclaim our people and wealth!"

The provincial soldiers waved their fists, some even drawing half‑drawn ring‑pommel swords, the blade flashes flickering in the morning light, angry roars rising and falling.

Though the originally orderly formation quivered slightly with excitement, they still kept discipline, no one stepping out of the ranks.

That bravery emanating from their bones, like a wildfire, instantly swept the entire Xiaochang.

Chen Yan thrust his hand up, the megaphone's voice again drowning out all noise, with undeniable certainty: "Right! That's exactly what we must damn!"

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping each youthful or weathered face, all etched with battle intent, his voice suddenly rose, booming with deafening power: "Will you follow this Duke and go to drive these bandits out beyond the nation's gates?"

"Willing to follow Chen Zhuguo! Willing to follow Chen Zhuguo! Willing to follow Chen Zhuguo!"

The 23,000 roars rang in unison, like heavy hammers striking a drum, one after another, rattling eardrums and stirring blood to surge in the heart.

It was absolute trust in Chen Yan, sincere devotion to the nation, a yearning for glory, and a deep‑seated hatred of the invaders.

The generals below the Gaotai also straightened their backs; Dong Xuqing, Feng Muye, Peng Chong and others had approving looks, echoing the soldiers' roars.

Amid the mountain‑roar, sea‑tide shouts, a louder, authoritative proclamation came from the east side of the Gaotai, cutting through all sound: "Grand Preceptor has arrived—!"

That shout instantly silenced the Xiaochang, even the breathing became gentle.

The provincial soldiers turned their heads and saw a contingent of Tian Guan Fu officials surrounding a figure, who walked slowly onto the Gaotai.

It was the reigning Grand Preceptor, Grand Chamberlain Yuwen Hu.

His steps were steady, each footfall firm; the hem of his python robe brushed the Gaotai floor with a faint rustle, and the officials behind him followed in step, solemn, daring not a hint of slack.

Seeing this, Chen Yan stepped forward, bowed and saluted, his voice steady and respectful: "Salute the Grand Preceptor!"

"Salute the Grand Preceptor!"

The 23,000 provincial soldiers all placed their right hands on their chests, the salute performed in perfect unison, without a single sound.

Yuwen Hu raised his hand; though his voice was not loud, it carried an awe‑inspiring authority, clearly echoing across the Xiaochang: "No salute!"

"Thank you, Grand Preceptor!" the provincial soldiers replied in unison, standing up in perfect order, backs still straight, eyes fixed on Yuwen Hu atop the Gaotai.

Yuwen Hu took the megaphone handed to him by the officials behind, his gaze first scanning the provincial soldiers' formation below, noting the young, resolute faces, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes; then he turned to Chen Yan, his voice through the megaphone gentle yet dignified: "The campaign is imminent; I have come to see you off."

That brief sentence instantly sparked an uncontrollable excitement across the Xiaochang, the soldiers' faces glowing with honor, low murmurs full of exhilaration:

"The Grand Preceptor personally sees us off—what an honor!"

"In this lifetime, to be escorted by the Grand Preceptor, even dying on the battlefield would be worth it!"

"Follow Chen Zhuguo; with the Grand Preceptor backing us, this battle will be victorious!"

Chen Yan looked at Yuwen Hu, his eyes showing no fear, only steadfast resolve to die and patriotic sincerity; he stepped forward, clasped his fist to Yuwen Hu, and loudly declared: "Grand Preceptor, I have but one word for this battle!"

Yuwen Hu felt a slight stir in his heart, a trace of curiosity flashing in his eyes; looking at his beloved son before him, he slowly opened his mouth: "Oh? What is it?"

Chen Yan inhaled deeply, his chest lifting slightly, his armor gleaming a cold light in the morning sun, his gaze like a torch, fixed on Yuwen Hu, each word measured, his voice resonant and powerful, like metal striking stone, piercing the entire Xiaochang:

"Report the lord's will from the Golden Terrace, to lift the Jade Dragon and die for you!"

These simple two lines of verse expressed the soldiers' wholehearted devotion to the nation, fighting to the death without retreat.

The moment the words fell, the officials of the Tian Guan Fu on the Gaotai were startled, turning their heads toward Chen Yan, their eyes filled with shock.

Yuwen Hu's pupils also narrowed slightly, then his eyes burst with intense approval and satisfaction; he nodded repeatedly, stroked his long beard, and loudly praised, "Excellent! What a 'lift the Jade Dragon and die for you'!"

He stepped forward, patted Chen Yan's shoulder—his palm broad and strong—his eyes full of expectation and trust, gazing at Chen Yan, his voice booming, "Chen Zhuguo, I, the king, am in Chang'an, awaiting your swift report!"

"Yes!" Chen Yan clasped his fists, bowed, his voice firm as iron, without any hesitation, "I will not disgrace the mission, will not break the Qi‑Ruo Allied Forces, and swear not to return to court!"

Straightening, Chen Yan turned, his gaze sweeping again over the twenty‑three thousand provincial soldiers below, raising his megaphone high, his voice like a thunderclap, echoing through the entire Left Martial Guard Xiaochang, bearing undeniable authority and forward‑marching battle spirit:

"Soldiers! Form up!"

"March out—!"

"March out! March out! March out!"

The provincial soldiers shouted in unison, their roar deafening, like ten thousand horses galloping, soaring straight into the clouds.

The Formation instantly sprang to life.

Commanders of all ranks shouted orders, the soldiers gripped their weapons, marching in uniform steps, like a steel torrent surging toward the Xiaochang's great gate.