Chapter 51: The Death of Hu Chen

“Uncle Zhong, sit down and rest for a while—it’s still before noon; Lord Relying Sun won’t arrive until the afternoon.” Xiao Yu sheathed her sword, wiping sweat with a white towel as she urged him.

The Yunlai Inn was nearly empty; only the front courtyard and main hall held the two of them.

All passing merchants had been driven away by Hu Chen.

The inn’s staff were busy in the back kitchen, preparing drinks and meals for the honored guests of the Central Kingdom.

Hu Chen had taken all five hundred Shu cavalry to five li away.

As usual, Xiao Yu had eaten breakfast, donned her training robes, and gone out to practice swordplay.

Guan Zhong, with nothing to do, sat on a chair for a while, then hurried to his feet, rushed outside to gaze afar, returned slowly, barely finished a cup of tea, and grew restless again—finally squatting at the gate, staring blankly westward.

Xiao Yu wasn’t concerned about him.

It was his anxious, eager demeanor toward Hu Chen that made her, calmly practicing her sword, appear like an unfilial daughter who didn’t care for her father.

She had to show something too.

“The messenger said no later than afternoon—it doesn’t mean we must wait until then,” Guan Zhong said with experience.

Xiao Yu walked to the gate, tiptoeing to look westward.

The yellow earth road was covered with fresh soil, dampened to prevent dust from rising.

The weeds along both sides had been cleared, making the road look especially clean and open.

The weather was fine today: clear sky, gentle breeze, and the sweet fragrance of ripe peaches drifting down from the northern slope.

“Uncle Zhong, why don’t we walk two li forward and climb a hill? We should be able to see Father ahead.”

“No!” Guan Zhong shook his head vigorously. “Military discipline is strict—scouts are posted ahead, behind, and on all sides to watch for threats. If anyone is suspected of secretly observing troop movements, it’s a capital offense.”

“Even if we aren’t actually sentenced to death, it would still bring shame upon Old Master.”

Xiao Yu fell silent, returned to the main hall, brought two stools to the gate—one for Guan Zhong, one for herself.

Guan Zhong continued staring blankly westward.

On the surface, she looked just like him, eyes fixed ahead—but inwardly, she silently recited the Dao De Jing, while her consciousness sank into her purple palace, practicing the Tiger Soul Seven Killings with divided focus.

At noon, as Xiao Yu was eating rice from a bowl, a soldier from Xisha Garrison burst into the inn, shouting: “Lord Relying Sun has arrived! Lord Relying Sun is here! Bring clean water in silver basins, prepare fine cotton silk towels, tea, fruits, and snacks—nothing can be missing, not a single item can go wrong...”

The soldier rattled off a long list, sending the hundred or so inn staff scurrying in all directions.

Guan Zhong and Xiao Yu forgot their meals.

“Where are they? Where’s the army?” Guan Zhong asked urgently.

“After meeting Lord Relying Sun’s Fire Crow Army, I turned back immediately—I don’t know where the main force is now,” the soldier said, drenched in sweat, face flushed, eyes alight with excitement.

Xiao Yu had been calm, still silently reciting the Dao De Jing—but with everyone around her frantic and shouting, the atmosphere infected her, and a trace of tension appeared in her gaze toward the west.

Lord Relying Sun was young, yet a seasoned, capable veteran soldier.

Hu Chen and his men had not delayed his journey at all; less than a quarter-hour later, a column of carriages and horses appeared in Xiao Yu’s sight.

“Here he comes! Lord Relying Sun is here! Oh my heavens, is this really a general of the Central Kingdom? So—so—so mighty and majestic!” The inn staff beside her gaped, dumbfounded.

Xiao Yu softly gasped, “So tall! So fierce!”

At the front of the column were not Hu Chen’s Shu cavalry, but four “Vanguard Pioneers,” each standing one zhang five chi tall—five to six meters high, like giants.

Two of the giant pioneers carried the Fire Crow banner.

The enormous spread-winged Fire Crow was wider than a double bedsheet.

The two central giants lagged half a step behind, clad entirely in steel armor, wielding steel spears as thick as a bowl’s mouth—like living gods descending from temple altars.

Behind these four giants stood more formidable warriors, none shorter than three meters.

While a few “giants” walked, most rode “giant beasts” or stood atop war chariots pulled by them.

The Fire Crow Army’s Qin Juhan attire instantly reminded Xiao Yu of the Terracotta Warriors.

Not just their armor and dress—their faces, expressions, and aura also resembled them: ancient, sturdy, and imposing.

As they approached from afar, there was no noise, no speech—only footsteps, the clatter of armor and weapons, and the rumble of carriages.

Their formation was orderly, as if one single entity.

Though terrifyingly formidable, making the western Shu people stand in awe, their numbers were few—fewer than a hundred—while the rest were ordinary cavalry like the Shu troops.

Hmm—besides Lord Relying Sun’s Fire Crow banner, the rear of the column bore other banners: Giant Elephant, Blood Scythe, Precious Boat, Star and Moon.

Clearly, like Hu Chen, they were western generals who had pledged allegiance to Lord Relying Sun.

Lord Relying Sun’s entire party numbered over two thousand—all elite, battle-hardened warriors—marching in perfect order, like an iron flood surging forward.

Though the force was diverse, the demeanor of the western soldiers and the Qin Fire Crow Army was sharply distinct—obvious even to ordinary eyes.

Xiao Yu felt a small disappointment—she hadn’t seen Lord Relying Sun.

Lord Relying Sun did not ride a horse—he sat inside a black iron war chariot pulled by eight fire-maned steeds.

Red silk curtains hung on all sides of the chariot to block dust; faintly visible was a mighty man reclining on a couch, his face obscured.

“Uncle Zhong, are all people from the Central Kingdom this tall?”

Lord Relying Sun’s force settled into the camp Hu Chen had prepared in advance; Xiao Yu and Guan Zhong watched from outside, whispering.

Not just them—idle staff, passing travelers, soldiers from the opposite Hualong Pass, and nearby villagers all rushed over to gaze upon the splendor of the Central Kingdom’s figures, their faces filled with awe and longing.

“As the saying goes: the land shapes its people.”

“The Central Kingdom is the most refined and fertile land under heaven—its soil nurtures heroes who are naturally more powerful and robust.”

“But not everyone from the Central Kingdom is a giant—many are the same size as us... In fact, many of our Shu nobility are descendants of Central Plains people who migrated from the Celestial Court long ago.”

“They’re merely eight chi tall.”

“Moreover, among these generals from the Central Kingdom, they aren’t even the tallest.”

“When you return to Yingxiang Mansion, you’ll see all kinds of people in Tianmen Town.”

“There are the Jingren of the Dwarf Kingdom, averaging only seven or eight cun tall; there are the Giants of the Longren Kingdom, standing twenty zhang high!”

Hearing this, Xiao Yu felt both longing and regret.

This mythic world truly lived up to its name—and she had wasted ten precious years in this barbarian land!

Having seen the outside world, she now felt the desert sands were crude, and herself even more rustic and unsophisticated!

Lord Relying Sun decided to rest half a day at Feixian Ferry, then depart again at dawn tomorrow.

Two days earlier, Hu Chen had led his Shu cavalry to set up the camp.

Upon arrival, Lord Relying Sun entered the largest central command tent—and never showed his face again.

The Fire Crow Army’s “giants” guarded the outermost perimeter fence around the tent.

Hu Chen’s Shu cavalry and other western generals were stationed around the four sides, surrounding the “Fire Crow Camp.”

Then, the Yunlai Inn staff began bringing trays of food in a steady stream to the camp gate, where soldiers transferred them inside.

“Uncle Zhong, as the family of a Shu cavalry Commandant, should I pay my respects to Lord Relying Sun?”

Xiao Yu, like the western Shu commoners, watched the spectacle from outside the camp.

“Why would you go? Without Lord Relying Sun’s summons, no one may enter the central camp—not even half a step. Violators are executed,” Guan Zhong said sternly.

“I’m not trying to meet Lord Relying Sun—he’s the one looking at me...”

Xiao Yu fell silent, pulled Guan Zhong back a few steps, out of sight of the Fire Crow soldiers, and whispered: “Didn’t you notice? That general with the big ears keeps staring at me—he probably knows me.”

Guan Zhong was confused, peered toward the central camp, and asked, “Which general with big ears?”

“The shortest one outside Lord Relying Sun’s command tent—he seems very high-ranking. He spoke with Father before—and Father’s attitude toward him—” Xiao Yu’s heart tightened, her eyes lowering slightly.

The crowd parted—the Qin general with big ears stepped out, seemingly heading toward her.

Guan Zhong noticed too, his mind filled with unease.

The general with big ears was neither tall nor imposing—he was short and stout.

Yet his plump face did nothing to diminish his regal, commanding stride.

“Your Excellency!” Guan Zhong immediately dropped to his knees in full prostration.

Before kneeling, he lightly touched Xiao Yu’s arm.

Xiao Yu knelt and said, “Your Excellency, may you live ten thousand years.”

“You are Lady Guan Yu?” The general with big ears smiled warmly, studying her from head to toe before saying, “Rise. I’m just here for a casual look.”

Then he turned, hands behind his back, and walked away.

Guan Zhong rose, his mind in chaos, yet kept a stern expression, saying nothing—he grabbed Xiao Yu’s arm and pulled her backward.

Xiao Yu suddenly halted, whispering, “Uncle Zhong, Master Qingsong has arrived.”

“Master Qingsong...” Guan Zhong followed her gaze and saw him indeed: his star-shaped Daoist cap gleaming, black hair wild, feather robe adorned with embroidered sashes, cloud shoes with yellow-brown tassels, his bearing like a celestial immortal walking lightly upon the yellow earth road.

“Hail Master Qingsong!”

“Hail Elder Qingsong!”

Guan Zhong and Xiao Yu hurried forward to greet him.

Qingsong gave a slight nod, stopped, and pointed eastward toward the blue sky, smiling: “Better late than never—you see, the Ninefold Bone Transformation Pill has arrived!”

Xiao Yu widened her eyes, squinting—she faintly saw a brilliant emerald light streaking across the sky at incredible speed.

Had it not been for its shimmering brilliance, it would have been nearly invisible against the clear blue.

It was rapidly approaching their direction.

Soon, the emerald light halted above the camp, its radiance dispersing to reveal a pair of emerald wings.

It was a magnificent, elegant, enormous “Green Bird.”

“What divine bird is that?” Xiao Yu exclaimed.

She didn’t know its name—but from its appearance and aura alone, she knew it was no ordinary bird.

“It’s the divine phoenix raised in Afang Palace...”

Master Qingsong smiled, but in his eyes flickered a momentary hint of confusion.

It’s just delivering a pill—why send a Qingluan envoy?

“Boom!” A muffled explosion suddenly erupted from the central command tent.

The sound was loud, like thunder, yet muffled, as if a massive palm had shattered a huge, thick wooden table.

The chatter of the Shu civilians outside the camp fell silent all at once; the atmosphere grew still and oppressive.

“Guan Huchen, how dare you have such audacity!” Another furious roar followed.

“Master...” Guan Zhong’s face turned ashen; his body and voice trembled uncontrollably.

“What did your master do? I’ve never seen the Yangming Marquis lose control like this, so furious.” The Qingsong Daoist Acolyte chuckled.

He laughed with malicious glee, yet deep in his eyes lay profound confusion.

In his memory, the Yangming Marquis had always been quiet and emotionally detached, rarely showing any feeling even when alone.

Especially now, with thousands present, yet he showed not the slightest restraint.

“Clang clang~~”

The Qingluan let out a clear, piercing cry and dove straight into the Yangming Marquis’s command tent.

Then, as if heaven and earth had hit pause, the Yangming Marquis fell silent; everyone froze, breath held, not daring to move or speak.

The camp soldiers all pretended to be dead, eyes straight ahead, standing firm at their posts.

Even the Qingsong Daoist Acolyte halted his steps, neither advancing nor speaking to Xiao Yu or Guan Zhong.

“No, impossible!” It was the Yangming Marquis who broke the silence—this time, his roar held only one part anger, nine parts shock... and terror.

Yes, terror and dread!

“Auuu~ Aoowww~~~” Amid a dragon-like howl, a crimson fire pillar as thick as a bathtub burst through the curtain and fence, erupting from the Yangming Marquis’s tent and carving a thirty-meter-long charred trench into the ground.

At the end of the trench lay a twisted, deformed iron-clad body, engulfed in flames.

“Ah, Master~~~~” Guan Zhong’s knees buckled; he collapsed to the ground, wailing in despair.