Chapter 418: The North and South Pacified—Fleeting Lives, Born at Dawn, Dead by Dusk!

In the capital of Daqing, early spring.

Inside the tavern, a storyteller held a wooden clapper and gently tapped it upon the table.

"Pah—"

A crisp sound echoed through the hall.

Inside the tavern, instead of falling quiet, it erupted into lively chaos.

Upstairs, downstairs, even the stairs and thresholds, all crammed with crowds, heads bobbing, bustling beyond measure.

Last night!

News from the north, carried by the northern winds, reached this "Hongtian Tavern" first thing today.

The reason was simple: this tavern was the private property of the former Daqing Grand Secretary, Xie Chunan.

And this storyteller, it was said, had been specially invited as a renowned performer.

Specifically for this northern-southern war.

The storyteller wore a tall hat, his figure slightly hunched, yet exuding an air of distinction.

He bowed slightly, greeting the crowd:

"Your lordships' patronage moves this old man deeply!"

Inside the tavern, voices rose in a deafening din, the scene wildly vibrant.

Those around him shouted: "Old man, stop teasing—get on with it!"

"Tell us! Tell us!"

The man in the tall hat smiled faintly, raised a hand to quiet the clamor, and spoke slowly:

"Listen closely, friends—last time, we spoke of how Lu Shaobao set fire to Taicang, forcing Zhou Tiancheng to hastily retreat north."

"Lu Shaobao carved his deeds in stone; Tuoba Shu retreated to Yunshan."

As the old man spoke, the tavern's atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

The room fell utterly silent!

Everyone held their breath, afraid to miss a single detail.

That fire at Taicang!

It had sent shockwaves through every soul in this tavern, yet made the storyteller's tale all the more gripping—listeners were spellbound, palms sweating with tension!

The storyteller deliberately withheld details of the Yanbei army's plans.

All they heard was how Zhou Tiancheng led his troops into Taicang, where a roaring blaze erupted.

Someone cried out: "Disaster!"

Those were the Yanbei army's vital winter provisions!

Thinking of it!

A young man's eyes blazed with fury, fists clenched, as if he would avenge the Yanbei army himself.

In the tavern, some women bowed their heads, weeping, tears soaking their sleeves.

Others could not bear the tension and left the tavern, unwilling to hear what came next.

"How heartbroken Shaobao would be if he learned Taicang's grain had been reduced to ashes!"

An old man sighed, his eyes filled with worry.

Yet many elders still firmly believed the Yan Prince was invincible.

At that moment, the tale took a sudden turn.

The Yan Prince had abandoned those tens of thousands of shi of grain—not out of desperation, but to lure Zhou Tiancheng out of the city.

This stratagem was brilliantly cunning!

Within a single day, the Yan Prince shattered Yuanchong City and slaughtered nearly three hundred thousand enemies.

A glorious, decisive victory!

Upon hearing this news, the capital erupted—lights blazed all night.

Every household raised cups in celebration.

Some elderly residents of the capital, witnessing this, felt as if they had been transported back over twenty years—to the Battle of Hulao Pass that secured the north.

Recall those days!

The people of Daqing spontaneously poured into the streets; the young fourth prince, bare-chested, led the crowd in procession.

Nobles and aristocrats marched ahead, banners raised high, chanting in unison: "Lu Family Army shall prevail!"—their roar shaking the heavens.

Even brothels and taverns shut their doors.

Temples burned thick with incense.

All prayed to heaven for blessings.

Yet no divine savior existed in this world—only the young heroes who rose to defend their homeland.

The storyteller continued with the northern campaign.

"The Yan Prince outwitted He Sheng thrice, seizing Hezhou with ease."

"The Yan Prince devised a plan to capture Jingzhou; Wu Long crossed the Zhi River on horseback."

"The Yan Prince debated heroes over wine; Zhou Tiancheng took his own life in Pengcheng."

"The Yan Prince shattered Che Chi at Cangting; the Tuoba Crown Prince escaped once more."

"Crossing Pohu Lake, the Yan Prince composed poetry; the tiger-general of Ruizhou was first taken captive."

"The Yan Prince pressed three states and six prefectures, his horses trampling both banks of the Yellow River."

…

In merely three months!

The northern lands had been turned upside down—save for the capital Huanglong Mansion and Yunshan, all other regions now lay under the iron hooves of the Yanbei army.

Only one final battle remained to fully pacify the north and unify it.

In the tavern, listeners were stirred to the core, as if they had lived through those heart-stopping battles themselves.

Many drank heavily, one cup after another, trying to calm their racing hearts.

The storyteller paused slowly, pinched between two fingers a salted peanut, and chewed it thoughtfully.

Then he lifted his cup and drained it in one gulp, declaring with bold spirit:

"A great toast!"

"In my lifetime, I have watched the Yan Prince's journey—through countless battles, over a thousand engagements."

"He has never lost a fight, never failed to take what he sought."

"Three hundred and sixty days a year, he rides with spear in hand."

"At twenty-four, he turned the tide when all seemed lost, then abandoned high office and wealth to cultivate the Dao on Mount Zhongnan."

"When he emerged again, he rode alone into the north, forged the White Horse Oath, and brought peace to the realm."

"Next month, the northern war will reach its climax!"

The storyteller bowed to all directions.

"This old man thanks you all for your patronage!"

On the second floor of the tavern sat scions of Daqing's noble families or ladies of high-ranking officials, dressed in fine silks, leaning by the windows, listening to the storyteller below.

Hearing the storyteller's closing words, a wealthy young master tossed down a heavy sum of silver.

Next, the dancers would take the stage!

The storyteller slowly ascended to the second floor; guards at the doors and attendants in every private room opened their doors and bowed in respect.

"Your Excellency Xie!"

This storyteller, old man though he seemed, was none other than the retired Grand Secretary himself.

Xie Chunan!

He smiled, nodded to each in turn, then opened a door.

Inside the room sat his two children.

Xie Linghao and Xie Lingxuan.

But today, two others were present.

In the bright-lit, spacious room sat a refined middle-aged scholar and a young man with his head bowed.

They were Master Huang Dao and Xie Mu.

Huang Dao, seated in the main seat, glanced at Xie Lingxuan a moment longer, his eyes filled with rare surprise.

"A true child of destiny!"

Xie Lingxuan, having learned her younger brother Xie Mu had returned after twenty years away, hurried back from the Yan Prince's mansion.

Xie Mu, facing his family, was at a loss—only briefly mentioned his years spent "seeking a master and training."

Huang Dao was his master.

Now, having completed his training, he had finally returned home.

Xie Lingxuan's beautiful eyes, however, narrowed in suspicion at Huang Dao.

"Little brother—is this truly so?"

Hearing his elder sister's question, Xie Mu's gaze flickered away.

Xie Chunan entered the room. Seeing his father, long unseen, Xie Mu had felt awkward—but

When he saw his father's hair now white as snow, a wave of unbearable sorrow surged within him.

"Father!" Xie Mu choked out.

Xie Chunan halted his steps, stepped closer to Xie Mu, and gently patted his shoulder, soothing him with a gentle tone: "You're back—that's all that matters!"

Xie Mu was already weeping uncontrollably.

This time, he returned from Beifeng alongside Huang Dao, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

On the journey, Huang Dao looked at him and asked: "Do you want to go home?"

Xie Mu froze, his thoughts swirling.

For all these years, he and Huang Dao had roamed the Four Seas together, setting out from Mount Zhongnan; he had countless times yearned to flee. Later, he was hunted across the Jianghu, his reputation ruined.

Now, between them, they were both master and friend.

"You're not thinking of…"

Before Xie Mu could finish, Huang Dao smiled and cut in: "The time has come—I must leave."

"What if things turn dire—how will you handle it?"

Huang Dao merely smiled faintly and said:

"Mayflies live but a day—yet they dare defy heaven for life!"

"Yet I, Huang Dao, am no less than they!"

Today is a holiday, and I was rushing on the road—slightly late and short. I'll make up two chapters tomorrow!





(End of Chapter)