Chapter 689: The Pillar of the State

Night is as black as ink, the gale howls, whipping the coarse sand and stones unique to the Gobi, beating hard on the thick felt of the Qi army camp's main tent, producing a dull, urgent sound, as if countless wronged souls were screaming in the dark night.

Outside the main tent, several campfires are tossed by the wind, flickering on and off, casting the shadows of the patrolling soldiers into twisted, snarling shapes.

"Bring the person up!"

At Chen Yan's command, the heavy curtain is ripped aside by two bodyguards, and a cold wind mixed with the smell of blood, sweat and burnt flesh rushes in, causing the massive Herd of Cattle oil candle, as thick as an arm, to sway; its mottled light and shadow fall on everyone's faces.

Dozens of rag‑clad, hunch‑backed figures are carefully led by the Left Martial Guard soldiers to the open space in front of the tent.

This hardly looks like a group of living people.

It is clearly a horde of demons just crawled out of a hellish oil‑pot.

At the front walks a one‑armed man, his left sleeve hanging empty in the wind, the torn end merely bound with coarse cloth, already oozing dark‑purple blood, yet his right hand still clenches a curved, chipped kitchen knife, knuckles white, his gaze wary like a wounded lone wolf.

Right beside him is a half‑grown boy, his face black‑gray, features indistinct, only his clear white eyes showing terror.

He clutches a broken spear shaft in his arms, the shaft still bearing someone's shredded flesh; he trembles as if that half‑piece of wood is his only support in this world.

Behind are a few women with disheveled hair buns, their faces smeared with thick pot‑bottom ash, eyes hollow and numb, until they see Chen Yan in Xuan Tie Heavy Armor at the center of the tent, then a faint spark of life returns—both reverence for the strong and a yearning to survive.

These are the last survivors of Gancao City.

It is the fire that Wang Xiong protected with his last drop of blood, shielded from the Qi army's slaughter knives.

When their eyes fell upon Wang Xiong, kneeling at one side of the tent, his body wrapped in blood‑soaked bandages, the dead‑silent crowd seemed to have a massive stone thrown into it.

"Lord Sima!"

The one‑armed man's kitchen knife clanged to the ground, his knees gave way, and he knelt heavily onto the hard frozen earth, his head thudding loudly, his hoarse voice sounding as if choking on sand: "You… you're still alive! Heaven has eyes!"

"Lord, we… we have not disgraced you…"

Dozens of survivors burst into tears; their wailing held no joy of surviving disaster, only long‑suppressed grievance and sorrow.

Chen Yan rose abruptly.

He strode out of the command table with a galloping step, showing no trace of the airs of a Duke, a commander of the three armies.

His war‑clothes rustled in the wind, yet he seemed unfazed by the cold, walking straight to these filthy survivors.

He extended his hand, intending to help the one‑armed man up.

The man trembled in fright, instinctively trying to shrink back, fearing his filth would soil the noble's hand: "Noble… I'm filthy…"

Chen Yan's hand did not pause; he firmly supported the man's elbow, a surge of great strength flowing, forcibly pulling the man upright.

"Filthy?" Chen Yan's gaze swept over the crowd, his voice low and powerful, "Being drenched in blood and grime is for defending the homeland; there is nothing cleaner in this world!"

He whirled around, eyes sharp as a hawk, passing over the generals, straight at the logistics officer.

"Zhao Ji!"

"I am here, my lord!" a slightly plump logistics officer hurried forward, a cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"Immediately inventory the supplies seized today from the Qi army camp—whether Provisions, cloth, or gold and silver—and present them to this Duke!" Chen Yan's voice echoed in the night wind, carrying an undeniable, lethal authority.

Logistics officer Zhao Ji was startled, instinctively glanced at the mountain of loot piled around, swallowed, and cautiously asked, "Pillar of the State, are these… to be entered into the treasury records, or…"

According to the rules set by the Pillar of the State, thirty percent of the loot goes to the Duke, seventy percent to the troops.

This is a sum large enough to make anyone's heart race.

"Make what records?"

Chen Yan sneered, the smile never reaching his eyes, instead radiating a chilling ruthlessness and resolve, "Allocate half! Now, immediately, distribute all to these Gancao City surviving soldiers and civilians!"

"H‑half?!" Zhao Ji's eyes widened, doubting his ears, his voice changed pitch.

The Left Martial Guard soldiers, who had been standing solemn, stirred; many exchanged looks, their eyes full of shock.

"What? My words are hard to understand?"

Chen Yan's complexion darkened abruptly; the pressure that burst forth made Zhao Ji's legs go weak, nearly causing him to kneel on the spot.

Chen Yan surveyed the surroundings, his gaze sweeping each shocked face, his voice suddenly rose, each word like iron: "The slaughter of Gancao City is a shame of Great Zhou! These civilians— they suffered for the Court, they shielded our soldiers! Without their steadfast defense, the Qi army would have surged straight in, and Xiazhou would already be a wasteland of living souls!"

Pointing at the trembling survivors, his tone icy: "Tell them this is what Great Zhou owes them! This is my first compensation! The rest will come when I flatten Lingzhou, behead Ku Di Gan's dog head, and double the restitution!"

These words thundered like a blast, making every ear drum buzz.

The Left Martial Guard soldiers first startled, then their shock swiftly turned into a fervent worship.

In this chaotic age that treats lives like weeds, where generals only chase promotion and wealth, a commander actually spits out the fatty meat he could have kept, giving it to these lowly civilians?

That is a true great man!

That is why they would sell their lives to his lord!

"Thank you, Pillar of the State, for your great grace! Thank you, Pillar of the State!"

Those survivors clutched the heavy Provisions, meat, gold and silver, crying inconsolably, all kneeling before Chen Yan.

The one‑armed man even battered his own forehead, blood mixing with mud, babbling incoherently, "Living Bodhisattva… this is a Living Bodhisattva descended to the world…"

Chen Yan did not accept the tribute, merely waved his hand, ordering his bodyguards to take them down for proper settlement, and to send the best Physician of the army over.

After the survivors withdrew, the curtain fell again, sealing out the wind and cries outside.

Inside the tent, the candle flame still flickered, stretching the shadows of the crowd long and short.

Facing the generals' admiring gazes and Chen Yan's earth‑shattering reward, Wang Xiong remained unusually silent.

He lowered his head, staring hard at his own tattered armor, almost unrecognizable from its original form, his body trembling slightly.

"Pillar of the State, all generals… please cease the praise."

Wang Xiong's voice was hoarsely terrifying, as if a scorching ember had been lodged in his throat, "This… this is not Subordinate General's merit!"

He slowly lifted his head; on his blood‑stained, unrecognizable face now showed a bottomless pain.

In his mind, uncontrollably, the scene resurfaced—

When the city fell, countless Qi army surged onto the walls, plunging into street fighting

Hong Xi gave his life to protect him.

"Prince, run quickly! Keep alive… to avenge the brothers!"

Fresh blood spurted, staining Wang Xiong's eyes red, and staining the dreams of his remaining life.

"That was forged by Hong Xi brothers with their lives… and by thousands of brothers piled layer upon layer with their corpses!" Wang Xiong slammed a fist into the ground, cracking his finger bones, blood gushing, "If they hadn't stood in front, I would already be a dry bone gnawed by wild dogs! This merit… was bought with their flesh and blood, I… I feel ashamed to receive it! It's a hot potato for me!"

Two streams of murky tears slid down his soot‑streaked cheek, washing out two pale, tragic marks.

The interior of the tent instantly fell into dead silence.

Only Wang Xiong's suppressed, beast‑like, wounded breathing could be heard clearly.

Feng Muye turned his head away, unable to watch any longer.

Wang Zheng's eyes reddened even more, wanting to step forward and lift his son, yet he forcibly halted his steps.

Chen Yan quietly watched Wang Xiong.

He looked at this iron‑blooded man who, even in a hopeless situation, never bowed his head—who would bite off a piece of the enemy even with a blade at his throat—yet now, out of guilt toward Pao Ze, had bent his hardest backbone.

Chen Yan's expression grew unusually solemn; at that moment, he set aside all scheming and calculations, and only pure respect remained in his eyes.

He slowly walked up to Wang Xiong, did not help him, but raised his hand and gave Wang Xiong's uninjured shoulder a heavy pat. The force was great, as if conveying a silent power.

"Wang Xiong, you are wrong."

Chen Yan's voice was not loud, yet carried a penetrating power that echoed through the spacious big tent, "You live not merely to get by, but to pass on!"

He turned, faced all the generals inside the tent, his eyes like lightning, and spoke each word deliberately: "In Gancao City, anyone who fought hard to hold the line and ultimately survived, the Duke will personally petition the Court for merit, granting promotions and titles! This is not a reward; it is the honor you deserve!"

"It is also the best accounting for the fallen brothers—because you carry their share and have lived up to it!"

Saying this, Chen Yan inhaled deeply, and the aura around him suddenly shifted.

He uttered a sentence that made everyone's scalp tingle, even causing them to doubt what they heard:

"As for those heroic martyrs who died in battle, like Hong Xi, and those over a thousand brothers whose faces are long gone and whose names may not even be preserved…"

Chen Yan's voice rose sharply, bearing a resolute, domineering aura that seemed to look down on the world:

"When the war ends, after Lingzhou is pacified......."

"The Duke will, beneath Gancao City, build a grand Lieshi Lingyuan for them!"

"Erect monuments! Inscribe names! Let their names not merely be a tick on the book of life and death, but be carved into stone, enduring wind and rain for a thousand years!"

Everyone inside the tent was shaken.

Yet the shock was far from over.

Chen Yan looked around, his gaze finally landing on Wang Xiong's stunned, dazed face, and said firmly:

"Then……"

"The Duke will personally carry the coffins of the fallen heroic martyrs!"

"Bury them to rest in peace!"

"Let them receive incense for ten thousand generations, enjoying the honors of Great Zhou's national scholars!"