Chapter 839: Personally Arriving at the Xiaochang to Slay the Rebel, Iron‑Blooded Wrist Secures the Army

Chen Yan walked across the Xiaochang in only fifty steps, but those fifty steps were taken extremely slowly.

With each step of his boot sole, a deep imprint appeared on the Mudi, and beside each imprint one or two bowed Shuyi knelt with heads lowered.

The firelight stretched his shadow to great length, its edges covering the backs of those kneeling Shuyi, like an invisible palm pressing on their crowns.

He stopped in front of Zhao Tiezhu.

Zhao Tiezhu struggled to rise from the large stone; two Shuyi supporting him strained to lift him, but the wounds on his body split open in two cracks at the moment of exertion, and blood seeped out from beneath the bandaged strips.

Chen Yan reached out and pressed his shoulder.

"Sit."

Zhao Tiezhu's voice was hoarse, reduced to the sound of airflow rubbing his vocal cords.

"Sir, your subordinate has not disgraced the chest badge."

Chen Yan lowered his head, glanced at the Dark Red Chest Badge on his chest soaked in blood, and lightly tapped its edge with his finger.

"Not disgraceful."

His voice was not loud, yet everyone present heard it.

He withdrew his hand from Zhao Tiezhu's shoulder, turned, and walked toward Liu Biao, who was bound to the Mudi.

Liu Biao lay sprawled on the ground, face down, the hemp rope having left deep purple marks on his wrists and ankles, his mouth filled with half a mouthful of mud water and blood foam.

He heard footsteps.

He recognized the pair of black leather boots.

His body began to tremble violently when the boots stopped three feet before him, the shaking so great that the hemp ropes bound to him quivered as well.

"Sir! Sir, spare me!"

He strained to lift his head, the tendons on his neck stretching into several straight cords, his mud‑and‑blood‑foam‑covered face looking extremely ferocious in the firelight.

"Subordinate General was momentarily confused! Subordinate General knows the mistake! Subordinate General will never dare again!"

Chen Yan lowered his head and looked at him; his gaze held no anger, no disgust, nothing at all.

That having nothing felt more like being a dead person than having everything.

Chen Yan ignored him.

He turned, drew the silk cloth used for wiping the Horizontal Blade from his waist.

Then he tossed the silk cloth onto the ground.

He retrieved the Horse Whip from his saddlebag.

He handed the Horse Whip horizontally to Zhao Tiezhu.

"Your vengeance, you take yourself."

Zhao Tiezhu's hand trembled as they took the Horse Whip, not from pain but because those six words spoken by Chen Yan carried something that seemed to set his whole body ablaze.

"The Political Commissar's authority is established with his blood."

Chen Yan released his grip on the Horse Whip, stepped back two paces, and gave the entire Xiaochang to Zhao Tiezhu.

Zhao Tiezhu clenched the Horse Whip in his right hand.

He did not use the Horse Whip.

He tossed the Horse Whip onto the ground and drew the Horizontal Blade with his right hand from his waist.

The blade reflected the orange‑red firelight, and Zhao Tiezhu's pupils burned into two clumps of dark red fire in the reflection.

He walked step by step to Liu Biao's front.

Liu Biao's head knocked against the mud, thudding loudly, the skin on his forehead already split, blood mixing with sludge coating his face.

"Spare me! Spare me! I have distributed all the winter clothes! The pay as well! All given! Not a single coin left!"

Zhao Tiezhu lowered his head and looked at him, his hoarse voice souring the listener's teeth.

"You just asked me whether I admit fault."

Liu Biao's head knocked faster.

"I answer you with a sentence."

The Horizontal Blade was raised.

"Do not admit."

The blade fell.

The sound was brief and crisp, like a snapped piece of dry firewood.

The skull rolled down from Liu Biao's neck, spun twice on the mud, and settled face up directly beneath a torch; the firelight fell on the dead man's face still bearing a pleading expression, each wrinkle filled with mud and terror.

Fresh blood spurted from the severed neck, splashing onto Zhao Tiezhu's boot and onto the Dark Red Chest Badge on his chest.

The two crossed swords on the badge glimmered in the bloodlight with a dark red deeper than copper.

Zhao Tiezhu flicked the blood off the Horizontal Blade; his arm shivered twice as he lowered it, not from fatigue but because the oath he made beside the Jiangwu Tang bonfire had finally become reality this night.

Chen Yan stood five paces behind him, his gaze lingering a moment on that Human Head, then lifted, sweeping over every face reddened by the firelight on the Xiaochang.

"Did you see?"

His voice rose at that moment to a level that could be heard in every corner of the Military Camp.

"This is the fate of opposing the Political Commissar, this is the fate of seizing brothers' winter clothes, this is the fate of treating my soldiers as personal property!"

He took a step forward, the hem of his Great Cloak lifting a corner in the wind.

"The Political Commissar is my embodiment!"

His finger pointed at the blood‑soaked chest badge on Zhao Tiezhu's chest.

"Strike the Political Commissar and you strike my face; bully the Political Commissar and you bully my soldiers; anyone who thinks their blade is tougher than mine may test it at any time!"

The Xiaochang fell silent for three breaths.

Then a voice erupted from the front row.

"Long live the Pillar of the State!"

Wang Erniu.

Wang Erniu knelt on the Mudi, the Long Spear planted beside him, his voice rose thunderously, the thing rolling in his eye sockets flashed in the firelight.

The second voice followed.

"Long live the Pillar of the State!"

The third.

The fourth.

The tenth.

The fiftieth.

Hundreds of throats merged within ten breaths into a torrent, the sound wave surged out from the Xiaochang, rushed past the Military Camp's Camp Gate, rushed across the Wilderness beyond the camp wall, and surged into the deep night among the villages and fields still sleeping.

"Long live the One Heart Society!"

No one remembers who shouted those four words first, but when they were roared together by hundreds of throats, even the torches on the Xiaochang flickered three times.

Chen Yan stood within that mountain‑roaring, sea‑swell of sound, his Great Cloak flapping in the wind.

His gaze withdrew from those fanatical faces and fell on Wang Erniu.

He walked toward Wang Erniu.

Wang Erniu's knees were knelt too deep into the Mudi; when he tried to rise his legs went limp, and he steadied himself only after someone beside him gave him a supporting hand.

Chen Yan walked to him, reached out and pressed his shoulder.

"What is your name?"

Wang Erniu's voice carried a heavy sob, yet each word was enunciated clearly.

"Pillar of the State, Shuyi is called Wang Erniu, I joined the ranks last autumn."

Chen Yan's fingers patted his shoulder twice.

"From today, you are the commander of the Fifth Camp."

Wang Erniu's eyes bulged to the limit, his mouth opened into a circle.

Chen Yan withdrew his hand from his shoulder, his voice even but carrying a weight that made everyone feel as if something had struck their chests.

"The spear you blocked in front of the Political Commissar tonight is worth more than you killing ten enemies on the battlefield."

He turned his head and glanced at Gao Jiong.

Gao Jiong stepped out of the Beiwei Dead Guards formation, holding a Wooden Box; inside the box was lined with Red Silk, upon which lay a brand‑new Dark Red Chest Badge.

Chen Yan took the chest badge out of the Wooden Box, and with both hands pushed a pin through the fabric of Wang Erniu's uniform at his chest, fastening the dark‑red metal securely above his left breast.

"Preparatory Member of One Heart Society, counted from today."

Wang Erniu's knees bent again; this time Chen Yan did not support him, letting him kneel.

Wang Erniu's right fist struck the newly‑affixed chest badge on his chest, the dull thud louder than any oath.

"Shuyi, this life of mine is nailed to this chest badge!"

Another mountain‑roaring, sea‑swell of sound rose on the Xiaochang.

Chen Yan withdrew his gaze from Wang Erniu, turned and walked toward his black horse.

When he flipped onto the horse, he paused a beat on the saddle, turned back to glance at the Xiaochang where the ground was covered with kneeling militia and Zhao Tiezhu standing beside a great stone, bloodied yet with a straight back.

He said nothing further.

The reins twitched in his hand, the black horse let out a long neigh, its four hooves leapt, and it charged toward the Military Camp's Camp Gate.

Hongye followed close behind, the moon‑white sleeves billowing in the night wind like two flags.

Gu Yuci rode on a horse, the reins alongside Chen Yan's right side, his voice pressed down to a very low tone.

"Pillar of the State, when did you decide to act?"

Chen Yan's gaze fell on the distant Wilderness illuminated by moonlight, his voice carrying a calmness that even Gu Yuci rarely heard.

"When Zhao Tiezhu's neck was at the tip of the blade."

Gu Yuci's Adam's apple rolled.

"What if he didn't get the blow?"

Chen Yan's mouth corner twitched.

"Then the Duke would have to chop off two heads today."

A chill ran up Gu Yuci's spine after those words landed.

Chen Yan withdrew his gaze from the Wilderness, his voice lowered by half a tone.

"But he took it."

His finger traced an arc on the reins.

"This is the seed of Jiangwu Tang, a seed that cannot be burned."

The black horse ran on the official road for nearly a Half Hour Rest, and the outline of Tongwan City gradually became clear in the moonlight.

Chen Yan tightened the reins before the city gate, turned back to glance at the direction he came from, where the horizon already showed a faint fish‑belly white.

He flipped off the horse, his boot soles on the Shiban before the city gate, and strode toward Zongguan Fu.

Hongye followed half a step behind him.

"Hongye."

"Here."

Chen Yan's voice was so soft that only she could hear it.

"Write tonight's events verbatim into a battle report and send it to every camp of all twenty‑eight counties of the army."

His steps paused for a beat.

"Let everyone know what happened to the Fifth Camp, what Zhao Tiezhu did, what fate Liu Biao met, and what reward Wang Erniu received."

Hongye's voice was cold and brief.

"Understood."

Chen Yan kept walking forward, the sound of his boot soles on the Qingshi boards was especially clear in the morning light.

Three days later.

Zhang Wenqian stood inside the great door of the Main Hall of the General Office, holding a stack of receipts sent back from each camp, his expression so complicated that even he could not make sense of it.

"Lord, the stationed troops of all twenty‑eight counties have all received the battle reports."

He turned the receipt to the last page, his finger drew a line over the summarized numbers.

"Within three days after receiving the battle reports, the former senior captains of seven camps voluntarily handed over the seized supplies and silver, the former deputy commanders of four camps submitted resignation letters, and the rank‑and‑file soldiers of twelve camps jointly wrote petitions requesting the Lord to dispatch additional Political Commissars."

He folded the receipt, lifted his head and looked at Chen Yan behind the desk.

"Not a single camp dared to utter a single 'no' to the Political Commissar."

Chen Yan leaned against the chair back, his finger slowly tracing an arc on the rim of the tea cup.

"The military spirit is set."

Zhang Wenqian's Adam's apple rolled.

"Lord, Shuyi has followed you for four years, and today finally truly understands one thing."

Chen Yan lifted his eyelids slightly.

Zhang Wenqian's voice deepened, carrying a tremor he himself could not suppress.

"The Xiazhou Army, from today onward, is not anyone's private soldiers, not any family's sword, but the militia of the Xiazhou people."

His fingers clenched in front of him.

"This army, even without a general, will not disperse."

Chen Yan placed the tea cup on the table, the porcelain base emitting a faint crisp sound.

He did not respond to Zhang Wenqian.

His gaze passed over the threshold of the Zheng Hall, landing on the dark purple flag outside the door, fluttering in the morning wind.

A new pattern was embroidered on the flag.

Two crossed swords, two drooping bundles of wheat.

Exactly the same as the pattern on the one hundred and three dark red chest badges.

Chen Yan's finger lightly tapped the last point on the armrest.

"Issue a command to the whole army: the One Heart Society's first plenary meeting will be held three days later in the Jiangwu Tang."

He stood up, the lower edge of his Great Cloak lifted a corner in the wind.

"This Duke will preside personally."