Chapter 749: with translation of chapter title

Xi Leng's advice to his nephew encountered a setback.

He was full of confidence and eager, but Zhang Lao gave him a harsh rebuff, shutting the door in his face.

Shi Er would rather whisper sweet nothings to a Warhorse than collude with Xi Leng.

Xi Leng held a jug of wine, leaning outside Shi Er's cage, he sighed to the heavens and took a sip, saying, "Shi Er, throughout history, victorious kings and defeated bandits are too many to count; even Da Yu had many instances of lying on firewood and tasting gall, enduring humiliation and bearing the weight—why must you be so obstinate?"

Shi Er lunged like a wild beast, gripping the wooden fence with both hands, his reddened eyes blazing, he shouted hoarsely, "Uncle, you call this enduring humiliation and bearing the weight? If our clan is annihilated, do just the two of us still have a chance to rise? I'm no longer a three‑year‑old, uncle—I understand these principles!"

"Uncle, I am deeply disappointed in you; you are a sinner of the Canlang tribe, you have betrayed our people, betrayed our ancestors—heaven will surely punish you!"

Facing Shi Er's mockery, Xi Leng remained calm, as if those words were merely a breeze blowing past his eyes, and said, "Shi Er, let me ask you this: do you think we can win this battle?"

"How could we not win? With three hundred thousand troops, how could Chen Wuji possibly defeat them?!" Shi Er roared.

Xi Leng raised his hand and pointed around, saying, "Here we have Chen Wuji's eighty‑thousand‑strong army, also to the south, and Hezhou still has a garrison—how many troops do you think he has? The intelligence we previously received was completely wrong!"

"Chen Wuji's total forces have already approached two hundred thousand, yet we have been treating him as if he had only a hundred thousand! Moreover, Chen Wuji always fights the many with the few, the weak against the strong. How many troops did the Langdu bring when they marched into Dingzhou? They were utterly routed!"

"After careful thought these past few days, I suddenly realized something terrifying. This battle seems to be the only time Chen Wuji has fought with superior numbers, deploying all his elite forces."

Xi Leng seemed not to expect Shi Er to answer, and leisurely spoke his own story and speculation: "We have continually underestimated this Lord of Nan Jun; his wings are already full, his strength has risen to stand equal with the various Qiang tribes—not just our Canlang tribe."

"That figure of three hundred thousand is indeed huge, but you surely know in your heart what their real strength is. What kind of troops did Yu Ren bring? Heh heh, merely a rabble."

"If you insist on your own view, then insist. But we truly ought to consider another path to survival, for Chen Wuji has already ordered the entire army to invade the Qiang Land, level the chariot wheels, spare neither men nor women, massacre them all, and exterminate our lineage!"

"Do you understand what this order means? He wants to dig up our roots and erase us completely from that grassland. But as long as any of us remain alive—even if we stand in Chen Wuji's shadow—as long as we live, our people will not perish."

"Whether you think I'm weak‑spined or base, as long as I stay alive here, the Canlang Qiang will not be destroyed!"

Shi Er suddenly froze.

He glared furiously at Xi Leng, his eyes widening with rage, those bloodshot eyes seeming ready to burst from their sockets, and he shouted, "Uncle, you—don't—again—give me—bullshit!"

Xi Leng tipped his head back and took a sip of wine, saying, "I've said all I wanted to say; you decide for yourself, Great Linglu. Since you became Great Linglu, my words have no effect—listen or not, it's up to you."

"I don't want to blame you, but if it weren't for your stubbornness, we might not have suffered such a crushing defeat!"

After saying that, Xi Leng walked away from the cage with calm steps, sat down in the shade of a nearby tree, plucked a handful of green grass, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed slowly, treating the grass as his side dish with drink.

The bitter, odd‑tasting green grass not only tasted awful but also cut his mouth, yet he chewed it with relish, as if it were a delicacy from mountain and sea.

……

Chen Wuji's great army set out on the bright morning of the second day.

They marched at a leisurely pace for most of the day, reaching Zhuque City in the afternoon.

Zhuque City, one of the two major cities of Songzhou, was also the place Yu Ren had prepared to be the national capital.

However, this place had long since ceased to have any connection with Yu Ren.

Qian Fugui had already seized Zhuque City a month earlier and had carried out a thorough renovation, digging three feet deep.

Present‑day Zhuque City, though still appearing impoverished, already shows signs of revival.

The main streets now host more stalls, more vendors' cries, and most shops are open.

Chen Wuji ordered the central army and Qian Fugui's troops to garrison inside the city, while the remaining forces were stationed around Zhuque City.

If all tried to enter, the city could not accommodate that many troops.

Qian Fugui's officers were responsible for defending the walls, while the central army naturally stayed wherever Chen Wuji was—this being his core protective force, which could not stray far from him.

Upon taking control of Zhuque City, Chen Wuji moved into Yu Ren's palace.

This bastard is clearly a distant branch of the imperial clan—merely having his name in the genealogy, with no title whatsoever.

Yet the mansion he built for himself is surprisingly called the Rui Wang Fu.

Truly, heaven is high and the Emperor far away; the prince decides as he pleases.

The residence is extravagant, nearly filling the entire northwest corner of Zhuque City.

With a hip‑and‑gable roof crowned by nine ridges and ten beasts, and a uniform deep‑green glazed tile.

A pedestal of white marble supports a five‑by‑three‑gate entrance, and on the Danbei stone clouds and dragons surge.

Although Chen Wuji is now the Lord of Nan Jun, to speak plainly, this is the most lavish residence he has ever seen, bar none.

Premise: having lived two lives.

In his previous life, he had viewed several famous gardens, but none reached the standard of a palace; compared to this, they were somewhat inferior.

Moreover, ancient buildings that have survived differ from a palace whose owner has just cleared the land.

"I, a Mud Leg, have at last seen the world and can finally dwell in a decent place." Chen Wuji said with a smile to his attendants.

He never concealed his origins in Xishan Village.

This is nothing shameful that needs to be hidden.

The vermilion lacquered door, studded with nine‑by‑nine giant nails, swung open slowly, and Chen Wuji stepped forward first.

Qian Fugui followed at his side, a faint smug smile on his face, and said to Chen Wuji, "I have kept everything inside this manor for my lord, untouched. Although Yu Ren is no paragon, in matters of pleasure he indulged in extravagance to the utmost."

"Wipe that smirk off your face—it makes me nauseous!" Chen Wuji laughed and scolded.

Qian Fugui instantly composed himself, saying, "My lord, it's been so long since I last saw you—I've missed you!"

"We just saw each other two days ago, didn't we?" Chen Wuji replied impatiently.

Qian Fugui shook his head. "Without a proper, heart‑to‑heart talk with my lord, it doesn't count as having truly seen him."

"Get lost, old man—don't give me this sissy act!" Chen Wuji got goosebumps from Qian Fugui's expression, and some long‑dead memories surged forth.