Chapter 910

The Tongzhou Military Command headquarters of the Mongol campaign army.

This place was originally the Tongzhou Prefect’s office, located on a bustling stretch of eastern Tongzhou City, but had been requisitioned by the newly established Tongzhou Military Command during wartime, taking over most of the buildings for its headquarters.

Since Tongzhou lies behind the Three Northern Passes and far from the frontlines of active warfare, it had not yet been touched by battle, and though a few civilians had fled, the marketplace remained thronged with people.

As the sun neared its zenith and the street buzzed with activity, a flood of troops suddenly surged onto the road, sealing off every intersection and sending passersby into panic.

Many onlookers recognized these troops as the Tongzhou garrison, and some could even discern that the blocked intersections were key routes leading to the Military Command headquarters.

A soldier on a fast horse rode toward them but was immediately stopped and detained by the guards, for someone recognized him as a personal guard of the Deputy Regional Commander.

Large numbers of Embroidered Uniform Guard personal troops poured in from every entrance, racing toward the Tongzhou Military Command headquarters, and within moments had surrounded the compound completely.

The guards at the gate drew their swords and shouted to block them, but could not halt the Embroidered Uniform Guards’ relentless advance—the situation teetered on the brink of open combat.

From the crowd stepped an Embroidered Uniform Guard officer, holding up an imperial edict and barking: “I am Xu Kun, Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, here by imperial decree to summon Chen Yi. Do you dare rebel?!”

Upon hearing the words “imperial edict,” the gate guards all grew uneasy, their confidence instantly shrunk—they remained loyal to Chen Yi, but would not risk rebellion for him.

Xu Kun roared: “The imperial edict is before you—as if His Majesty himself were here! Order Chen Yi to receive it! Any disrespect shall be punished! Lay down your weapons and step back, or be executed on the spot!”

These gate guards were Chen Yi’s trusted men, elite soldiers selected from a hundred, and to drop their weapons was tantamount to surrendering their lives—they exchanged uneasy glances, hesitating.

At that moment, synchronized footsteps echoed from the intersection; the Embroidered Uniform Guards parted to let in a wave of arquebusiers, who swiftly formed ranks and raised their guns at the gate.

Guo Zhi’s expression turned grim as he barked: “Triple volleys! Form line! Prepare to fire!”

Facing a wall of gun barrels, the gate guards paled—they were not Mongol remnants who doubted firearms’ power; they knew full well their lethal might.

The Divine Engine Corps’ arquebuses were nothing like swords or spears—once the triple volley formation fired, they would have no chance to resist, and would be cut down instantly, with no hope of survival.

At that moment, hurried footsteps came from within the command office—Chen Yi and Assistant Regional Commander Xu Liangxiong rushed out, shouting: “Stop! Everyone, stop!”

…

Xu Kun sneered: “Commander Chen, you wield great authority. Before the imperial edict, your guards draw swords—what are you trying to do? Are you plotting rebellion?!”

Chen Yi’s heart lurched; his face turned ashen. When the Embroidered Uniform Guards came calling, disaster followed. His sudden removal from the frontlines had indeed been a trap.

He shouted to his guards: “You insolent fools! Lay down your weapons!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than the taut bowstring snapped—guards immediately dropped their blades, one after another, the clatter of metal hitting ground echoing like a sigh of relief.

Instantly, a large contingent of Embroidered Uniform Guards moved forward to detain the two hundred guards—the situation was now under control. Guo Zhi ordered the arquebusiers to stand down, forming ranks in place as sentries.

Chen Yi said: “I was unaware His Majesty had issued an edict. My guards acted rashly and offended—what is the imperial decree? I humbly receive it.”

Xu Kun unfurled the yellow silk edict and barked: “Chen Yi, receive the edict!” Outside the gate, all Embroidered Uniform Guards and arquebusiers knelt to listen, save Chen Yi and his guards.

By the grace of Heaven, the Emperor decrees:

After investigation by the Ministry of Justice, it is confirmed that Chen Ruichang, a noble of the Qi State and a military officer in charge of military farmland under the Five Armies Command, conspired with Mongol spy Duan Chunjiang to leak critical northern military secrets.

This caused the Donggang Garrison to be raided, triggering the fall of Xuanfu Garrison, resulting in the deaths of over forty thousand soldiers and civilians. Evidence is complete, confessions are full—Chen Ruichang is the principal culprit of the military leak.

His crimes poison the state, betray the sovereign. The law is stern. His crime merits death. The Qi State Duke’s house, for generations blessed by imperial grace, a lineage of meritorious service and noble wealth, has long enjoyed imperial favor.

Yet he has failed to repay it, sabotaging state affairs, deeply disappointing His Majesty. Duke Chen Yi, as head of the household, failed to discipline his family, allowed its morals to decay, permitted his descendants to act with cruelty and corruption, and bears undeniable responsibility.

Chen Yi’s virtue has collapsed, his upbringing nurtured treachery—he is unfit to hold such a high office. To continue serving as Regional Commander violates both state law and public order. He is hereby dismissed, escorted under Embroidered Uniform Guard guard, and ordered to return to the capital to await further decree.

The post of Deputy Regional Commander of the Mongol Campaign Army is hereby conferred upon Marquis Jia Cong. So decreed.

…

Chen Yi had fought countless battles, weathered countless storms—he was no coward. Yet after hearing Xu Kun read the edict, he stood as if facing death, trembling slightly.

He had never imagined the raid on the northern garrisons, this colossal war between the two nations, had been sparked by his second grandson, Chen Ruichang—unthinkable, a thunderclap from a clear sky.

He finally understood the full chain of events: Liang Chengzong had arrived at the Three Northern Passes, seized command instantly, and moved him to Tongzhou with lightning speed.

He had also restructured Tongzhou’s garrison beforehand, trapping Chen Yi there. Though a battlefield strategist, Chen Yi had never cared for court intrigue—he must have been ordered to do so.

Only someone in the imperial palace could command the Regional Commander of the Mongol campaign army. Such ruthless precision, such deep, calculating strategy—this was unmistakably the Emperor’s hand.

The Emperor had learned the Qi State Duke’s house was the source of the disaster—his fury and murderous intent must have burned fiercely. Had he not held back, the Chen family would already be annihilated.

This disaster caused by his grandson Chen Ruichang had plunged the Chen family into an abyss. Even if the Emperor, out of caution for the old merit families, had not yet destroyed them outright,

the Qi State Duke’s house would never recover—it was certain. Could the power and glory accumulated over generations of founding wars and ancestral service now vanish into nothing?

As for the fate of his grandson Chen Ruichang, Chen Yi had already unconsciously dismissed it—his mind, in chaos and terror, could not spare a thought for this degenerate son—he was dead, without question.

Now Chen Yi considered only himself and the future of the Qi State Duke’s house—how to survive this cataclysm, how to find even a breath of respite…

…

Four li north of Yaoshan Relay Station lay an open wasteland, flanked by towering mountains, with withered trees and withered grass stretching endlessly under the sky.

Over a hundred thousand troops from Great Zhou and the Mongol remnants had set up camps, stretching nearly ten li—like two great dragons, their might stretching north and south, facing each other in silent confrontation.

Before the two armies, thousands of soldiers clashed in furious charge—horses galloped, men roared, blades flashed, flesh flew, slaughter spreading across heaven and earth.

This scene occurred daily. Great Zhou and the Mongol remnants faced off at Yaoshan Relay Station, both sides straining to break the other’s line and win a decisive victory.

Their ten-li-long camps blocked each other’s path—the defenders fought for every inch of land; the invaders charged fiercely southward, locked in unyielding opposition.

Both flanks of the armies bore daily assaults. Soldiers from both nations slept with weapons in hand, ready to plunge into seas of blood and mountains of blades, their lives as worthless as grass.

Before the Mongol camp’s main gate, Anda Khan, surrounded by hundreds of personal guards, stood with the leaders of the three Mongol tribes and their generals, watching the battle in silence.

Noyan wore full armor, a golden helmet, a curved sword at his waist, radiating martial vigor. His steed, a yellow grass-hued treasure horse, stirred with the battle’s intensity, neighing softly as if eager to charge.

He silently watched the opposing charges, his handsome face expressionless, yet his clear eyes gleamed with intensity, revealing unusual gravity and concern.

He took out his brass telescope and gazed toward the Great Zhou army’s lines. Opposite, a group of Zhou generals also watched, their banners fluttering behind them.

Noyan studied them carefully, as if noticing something—his expression flickered slightly, his eyes filled with confusion. He quietly put away the telescope and said nothing.

…

Aletang, beside Anda Khan, also used his telescope to observe the Great Zhou army. After a brief study, he said: “Great Khan, the Zhou army’s formation has changed.

I’ve watched closely these past days—the Zhou army’s frontline commander, Deputy Regional Commander Duke Chen Yi, has vanished. For the last three days, his command banner has not appeared.

Duke Chen Yi is a veteran of Great Zhou, the Deputy Regional Commander. Even the Regional Commander Liang Chengzong is present observing the battle, yet the Deputy Regional Commander is absent—this defies logic.

The only possibility is he has been removed from the frontlines. But with war raging, how could Chen Yi, as Deputy Regional Commander, leave the front at this moment?

These past days I’ve observed the smoke from Zhou campfires. Several tents on their right flank have ceased producing smoke—these tents likely housed over ten thousand men.

And the moment the smoke vanished from those tents, Duke Chen Yi’s command banner disappeared—almost simultaneously. This must be due to troop movement. Chen Yi is the one who moved them!”

Noyan, listening nearby, frowned slightly. Aletang was truly cunning and sinister—such a subtle flaw had already been detected by him.

…

Anda Khan took the telescope from Aletang, studied it for a moment, then said: “With battle raging, this could only mean reinforcements.

Yet Zhou is withdrawing troops—and led by Deputy Commander Chen Yi. Could it be that the Mongol Prince’s surprise force has broken through, leaving Zhou caught between two fires, forcing them to redeploy?”

Aletang smiled: “Great Khan, you’re right. It must be the Second Prince’s surprise advance. Zhou has few horses—their troops from the four provinces around the capital have been moved out. They cannot muster more than twenty thousand cavalry.”