Chapter 23: First Secure the Interior, Then the Empty Bright Fist

You learned from Wang Yang the court’s intentions, and upon reexamining him, you saw clearly that he too had made up his mind to die.

He had placed life and death beyond concern; his heart held but one thought: if the city stands, so do its people; if the city falls, they perish with it.

In your father’s eyes, those weathered eyes, you saw the same gleam—the love for home and country.

You made your decision: for your father, you would hold Hulao Pass at all costs.

If you merely held firm without imperial reinforcements, the outcome was obvious—no force of defenders alone could withstand the assault.

Only by striking first could there be a glimmer of hope.

In open battle, you must face the Iron Cavalry head-on; without a sound strategy to break them, defeat was certain.

Thus, under the strategy you had previously written, the Lu Family Army cut the horses’ legs, broke formation, selected elite soldiers… and began targeted training to counter the Iron Cavalry.

The Lu Family Army’s four thousand troops were still insufficient, so you decided to recruit civilian militia.

Your father transferred over two thousand men from Wang Yang’s garrison and borrowed several hundred more from familiar rebel bands.

Thus, the Lu Family Army’s strength finally expanded to six thousand.

Leaders of various rebel bands came to the banquet; you surveyed them all and, through your innate gift for discerning character, sensed that each harbored hidden motives.

Clearly, the rebel forces were not united.

Among them, Zhao Pu, leader of the southern Zhao clan, stood out—his behavior struck you as strangely odd.

You reviewed his life history and realized Zhao Pu’s intentions were unpredictable; he might defect.

Half a month later, the siege was imminent—a sword hanging over their heads.

If you allowed Zhao Pu, a man with treacherous intent, to remain unchecked, the city would surely fall.

So you summoned your father and Lu Yu to discuss a strategy.

Faced with this dire situation, you chose…

1. Let Zhao Pu go free and let him develop unchecked.

2. Act decisively—kill Zhao Pu and eliminate the threat.

3. Participate personally. (1/3)

Yu Ke chose option 2 without hesitation.

With battle imminent, this time bomb could not be left alive.

First secure the interior, then repel the exterior.

Upon hearing your decision, your father hesitated, urging you to reconsider, fearing Zhao Pu’s death might spark unrest within the rebel ranks.

After all, Zhao Pu commanded five thousand troops—mostly scattered, undisciplined fighters, a rare force among the rebels.

Lu Yu fully trusted your judgment: Zhao Pu had long oppressed the people, his name infamous; this act was justice.

So you decided…

1. Persuade your father to reach consensus.

2. Pretend to agree, secretly plan.

3. Participate personally. (1/3)

Yu Ke was no fool.

In times of chaos and crisis, decisive action admitted no softness.

He knew Lu Jiaxuan was a scholar-general, steeped in clan dignity and righteous principle.

He would never kill a rebel leader over mere suspicion.

Could one suspicion justify the murder of a future pillar?

But if hearts were treacherous and betrayal came later, it would be annihilation.

Then so be it!

Yu Ke chose option 2: Pretend to agree, secretly plan.

Lu Jiaxuan was the face of the Lu Family Army; he would be its shadow.

The face of the Lu Family Army must not be stained with blood.

You acceded to your father’s wishes; he was pleased.

At night, you found Lu Yu to plan Zhao Pu’s assassination together.

Zhao Pu was a formidable martial artist, his hardened body exceptional, protected by many guards.

Killing him would not be easy.

Lu Yu smiled faintly, a confident glint in his eyes: “I can handle this alone tonight.”

Only then did you realize Lu Yu’s Primordial Qi Art had reached the seventh level—and he had broken through again on the battlefield.

You knew your own martial skill was ordinary, so you did not boast—only warned Lu Yu to be careful.

You also wanted to see what the seventh level of Primordial Qi Art truly was.

You watched from the side.

Lu Yu leapt lightly, soaring over a zhang, then descended like a feather, silent as shadow, landing at the Southern Gate camp.

Finding Zhao Pu’s quarters, he kicked open the door and stormed in.

After stepping in a few paces, a black-faced giant on the bed awoke like thunder—his massive frame like a mountain of flesh, his pea-sized eyes blazing with malice.

On the bed, the red-clad woman, startled by the sudden intruder, scrambled behind Zhao Pu in panic.

“Who are you?”

Zhao Pu growled, summoning his guards, his gaze fixed on Lu Yu like a burning torch.

Lu Yu let out a low laugh, thick with arrogance: “A dead man has no need to know my name.”

The guards surged forward, dozens wielding blades, surrounding Lu Yu completely.

You wondered inwardly—is this assassination?

Lu Yu had prepared: his face covered in black cloth, his posture subtly altered—anyone unfamiliar could not recognize him.

In an instant, Lu Yu closed the distance to Zhao Pu, assuming a simple fist stance—you recognized it at once: the Empty Bright Fist of the Three Truth Sect.

You knew this fist art too, but Lu Yu’s execution was different.

The Empty Bright Fist emphasizes intent, not form.

As Lu Yu assumed the stance, an invisible fist intent enveloped the entire tent, pressing upon all with an indescribable weight.

You couldn’t help but feel exasperated—this Three Truth Sect fist art was far too recognizable.

Even Zhao Pu muttered, “Three Truth Sect?”

In your view, little brother was a bit reckless.

But the outcome was inevitable—the guards were no match for Lu Yu even one-on-one.

A minor complication arose.

Zhao Pu had perfected the Golden Buddha Immortal Body, rising to the rank of top-tier martial artist.

This technique, akin to Golden Bell Cover and Iron Shirt, rendered him impervious to blades and arrows, his strength like an ox.

Zhao Pu laughed triumphantly: “I’ve long been invulnerable to blades and spears—do you think you can kill me? Boy, your punches are weak, like a woman’s.”

The outcome, of course, was no surprise.

After a dozen exchanges, Lu Yu struck Zhao Pu into the wall with one punch, then drove another straight through his heart.

Zhao Pu’s final gaze held disbelief.

The boy before him was a Grandmaster of the martial world.

You saw the truth: Lu Yu had unleashed the Primordial Qi of the Primordial Qi Art—unmatched in power.

Lu Yu glanced at the red-clad woman on the bed; as he hesitated, she wept, kneeling: “Thank you, savior, for avenging me.”

Lu Yu did not kill her—only cast her a cool glance, then vanished into the night with a few leaps over the eaves.

Outside the courtyard, over a hundred guards rushed in, surrounding the compound—only to see the bloody corpse on the wall and the red-clad woman, weeping or laughing, no one could tell.

“Assassin! Zhao the Heavenly King is dead!”

Zhao the Heavenly King is dead!

Instantly, Zhao’s Southern Gate camp plunged into chaos—flames roared, men shouted, horses neighed, all in uproar.

You met up with Lu Yu.

You asked about his current martial realm.

Lu Yu stood with hands behind his back, a master’s bearing, dismissive: “Just ordinary—Grandmaster level in the martial world.”

You were astonished: in the Great Qing martial world, only eight Grandmasters existed—all venerable elders, forty or fifty years old.

Lu Yu was only twenty.

(End of Chapter)