Chapter 299: Lady of a Turbulent Age

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Zhang Chun gave Yelu Yanxi a note with just three characters—Yuan Yang Le.

With the vast intelligence network Yelu Yanxi controlled, he easily recognized it as a place name: Anguli Nao, northwest of Zhangbei County, where the Khitan monarch held spring hunts and handled military and political affairs.

But Yelu Yanxi did not know what Zhang Chun meant by this place name.

Only when Yelu Yanxi received intelligence that Yelu Yanxi had vanished, and no one knew his whereabouts, did he understand.

Yelu Yanxi immediately thought of Yuan Yang Le.

So Yelu Yanxi gathered Zhang Jun, Zhang Shuye, Liu Fa, Li Miao, and others, and laid a net across Yuan Yang Le, waiting for Yelu Yanxi’s party to walk into it.

Zhang Chun’s ability to predict outcomes was no secret in the Zhao Song court.

Of course, some suspected that Zhao Yu, besides the Imperial City Bureau, the Eastern Depot, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, had a fourth or even fifth intelligence system.

This suspicion was not only held by outsiders; even the three intelligence chiefs—Li Yan, Yang Jian, and Yelu Yanxi—doubted it.

Because many events, these three intelligence chiefs did not know, yet Zhao Yu and Zhang Chun did.

Though Li Yan, Yang Jian, and Yelu Yanxi never communicated with each other, they all suspected that one intelligence system was under Zhang Chun’s control; otherwise, Zhang Chun could not know so much.

Li Yan, Yang Jian, and Yelu Yanxi had considered investigating those one or two secret intelligence systems, but first, they could never trace their movements; second, all intelligence budgets came directly from Zhao Yu’s personal funds, with not a single coin from the court, leaving them no way to investigate.

Precisely because of this, combined with the Imperial City Bureau, Eastern Depot, and Embroidered Uniform Guard all planting spies and monitoring each other, Li Yan, Yang Jian, Yelu Yanxi, and all personnel within these agencies fell into a delicate balance—mutually wary, secretly competing—allowing Zhao Yu to clearly understand every aspect of the Zhao Song court, leaving nothing hidden from him.

In the eyes of these intelligence operatives, beneath the Zhao Song court, currents surged violently; everyone was both player and strategist, each move requiring careful thought lest the entire game be lost.

Zhang Chun had not acted for the first time; every critical moment, Zhang Chun acted—and whenever Zhang Chun acted, he rarely failed.

Thus, with Zhang Chun’s hint, under Yelu Yanxi’s direction, Zhang Jun, Zhang Shuye, Liu Fa, Li Miao, and others prepared thoroughly at Yuan Yang Le, vowing that if Yelu Yanxi’s party arrived, not even a fly could escape.

The outcome proved Zhang Chun right again: days later, Yelu Yanxi’s party indeed arrived at Yuan Yang Le.

Because the veteran general Liu Fa led them, the Song Army waited until Yelu Yanxi’s entire party had fully entered their trap before striking.

Just as Yelu Yanxi raised his precious bow to hunt swans, and Yelu Ao prepared to obey his order and kill himself, horns blared from all sides like thunder, shaking the vast expanse of Yuan Yang Le, and instantly Song troops emerged like ghosts from every direction.

Yelu Yanxi’s precious bow froze mid-draw, arrow still on the string, air thick with tension. He looked up in shock to see Song troops surrounding him like dark clouds blotting out the sun, banners obscuring the sky, encircling the sacred hunting ground completely.

Seeing this, Yelu Ao’s face turned as white as paper; his curved knife slipped unconsciously from his neck. He scanned the surroundings and saw Song troops like an iron wall, impenetrable, trapping them utterly—despair, like ice, slowly solidified in his heart.

The first thought that struck Yelu Yanxi was to flee—escape at all costs, never let anyone capture him.

But the situation before him was a cage of iron nets, leaving him immobile. The shouts and hoofbeats of the Song troops intertwined like a prelude to death, echoing across Yuan Yang Le.

Yelu Yanxi looked around and saw nothing but impenetrable Song troops; he realized then that he was utterly trapped.

The only two reasons Yelu Yanxi did not feel hopeless were: the encircling force was not the Jin Army but the Song Army, and the Song troops had merely surrounded them without attacking.

Yelu Yanxi hoped these Song troops merely sought plunder; if so, he could still save himself by paying a price.

Yelu Yanxi glanced at Xiao Fengxian, signaling him to step forward and negotiate—find out what kind of force this was, what their goal was, whether they might spare them.

Though Xiao Fengxian did not wish to risk himself, he knew their situation allowed no hesitation or retreat.

So Xiao Fengxian forced himself forward several steps and shouted: “I am Xiao Fengxian, Grand Secretary of the Liao Empire. Let your commander step forward to speak!”

Xiao Fengxian’s voice echoed across the empty steppe. Soon, a Song general rode forward to the front line.

This Song general stood tall and strong, broad-shouldered and imposing, radiating the martial vigor and authority of a seasoned warrior. His eyes were deep and sharp, revealing wisdom and resolve, as if he could perceive every shift in battle. His skin, darkened and roughened by years of campaigning, bore thick beard and hair; his demeanor was steady and unmistakably extraordinary.

He was Liu Fa, the famed general of the Zhao Song Dynasty. He spoke gravely: “I am Liu Fa, Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Auxiliary Army of Great Song, here by imperial decree to invite the Emperor of Liao to visit Bianjing.”

At Liu Fa’s words, whether Xiao Fengxian, Yelu Yanxi, or any other Liao man, all were stunned as if struck by lightning, their faces draining of color instantly.

Those who speak well are not as wise as those who listen well.

Liu Fa had made it clear: the notions of coincidence or plunder were mere delusions. From the start, the Song Army’s target was none other than Yelu Yanxi, Emperor of Liao.

‘This is no invitation—it’s a trap laid long ago, waiting to close!’ Xiao Fengxian opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked; no sound came out: “To ‘invite’ the Emperor to Bianjing? This is clearly an attempt to capture His Majesty and take him to Great Song!”

Yelu Yanxi clenched his precious bow, knuckles white with strain, the bowstring trembling under his grip. He stared fixedly at Liu Fa’s impassive face, a chill racing from his feet to his scalp.

‘Zhao Yu has finally moved against me!’

Yelu Yanxi muttered through gritted teeth. The iron net around him, Liu Fa’s words of “imperial decree”—all confirmed this was no accident, but a meticulously planned scheme by the Zhao Song court.

In truth, Yelu Yanxi had long sensed his greatest enemy was not the relentless Wanyan Aguda, who pursued him like a death spirit, but Zhao Yu—the man who appeared kind to him and to Liao, yet harbored boundless ambition.