Chapter 112: The Breaker of Armies Enters His Service

A golden imperial seal lay quietly on the blood-drawn map.

The seal’s handle was shaped like a tiger; though small, it emitted a faint yet pure aura of supreme dominion—this was the ancient royal seal of Tuyuhun, the greatest hero of the Western Regions for three centuries, who conquered the four directions, subdued thirty-six tribes, and leveled Buddhist kingdoms.

He slew the lords of each tribe and forged this object in a grand sacrifice where blood served as the furnace.

Po Jun slowly extended his hand, enveloping the royal seal, then lifted it gently, closing his eyes for a long while; around him, starlight qi seemed to swirl. Then he opened his eyes and said, “The aura of royal dominion has dissipated, but the residual traces are flawless.”

“It seems Tuyuhun’s fall is tied to you.”

Po Jun set down the seal and closed his eyes.

He pushed the seal back and said, “It’s a final, lethal trump card—but you know as well as I do, using it now would be a terrible waste. For a master of the Western Regions, whether or not one holds this seal makes no difference.”

“This seal is merely an ornament to his dominion.”

“But if an ordinary man possessed it, it would be his death warrant. The warlords and powers of the Western Regions have a thousand and one ways to make him vanish without a trace.”

“Only when one possesses strength yet lacks great renown does this seal hold immense power.”

Li Guan said, “My added value is that I possess this object.”

Po Jun laughed. “Indeed, my lord, you’ve startled me. I have no idea how many more trump cards you hold. But please safeguard this well—the forces of the Western Regions, the Tanguts and the Buddhist kingdoms, are all here. If they learn you hold the royal seal, they will spare no cost to seize it.”

“And those who seek it include Yuwen Lie of Ying Guo and Dantai Xianming of Chen Guo—even the Seven Kings of the Turks, who each seized a portion of Tuyuhun’s land and crave the legitimacy this seal represents.”

“Still, it’s fortunate—you won’t lack buyers.”

“In a crisis, if you give me the seal, I can exchange it for eight hundred elite troops, and guarantee the seal returns to you in the end. But if you have the resolve to sacrifice it outright, I can secure you three thousand fully armored elite soldiers.”

Three thousand fully armored elite soldiers—if they are at the frontier army level, fully equipped, imply six thousand logistical personnel, totaling over ten thousand troops.

At least one martial cultivator of the Third Heaven Realm would command them.

Thirty captains of the Second Heaven Realm.

Over six hundred martial cultivators who have entered the realm, all clad in armor, wielding long weapons and crossbows. To Chen Guo or Ying Guo—vast powers with famed generals and divine generals—this force might seem insignificant. But here, in the Western Regions and beyond the passes, this is a warlord’s army.

Po Jun added, “Yet such an army consumes food and fodder, and in wartime chaos, grain, steel, and medicine are far harder to obtain than gold or silver.”

“Of course, if Xue Laoyezi were here, he could sustain not just three thousand, but thirty thousand troops. As long as he held one city, he could be self-sufficient.”

Li Guan suddenly recalled the carefree young man who carried a donkey and traveled ten thousand li.

The youth shook his head softly. “It’s still too early to speak of this.”

Po Jun burst into laughter. “Yes, it is indeed too early. Though the world is in chaos, it has not yet collapsed.” He grew enthusiastic, noticing the blood had dried, so he bit his finger and resumed drawing. “Yet every nation under heaven has its flaws.”

“The steppe suffers from its vastness. The eighteen steppe tribes each have their own pastures, clans, histories, and mutual hatreds. Only a true overlord could bind them into one force. The current Turkic Khan has ambition, but his sons have grown.”

“When sons grow, they always seek to challenge their father’s authority.”

“Thus, steppe custom differs from the Central Plains: they send their eldest sons farthest away, granting them pastures and herds to avoid fratricide, while giving their youngest son all their love and possessions.”

“A vast land with a weak ruler—that is the steppe’s flaw.”

“The Emperor of Chen Guo seized power illegitimately. His dynasty was founded three centuries ago when Duke Chen, relying on martial prowess, overthrew the Liang monarch. In recent decades, first the Regent, then the Duke of Taiping, were divine generals who dominated the court.”

“What the Chen Emperor sees are fierce generals acting with unchecked arrogance, while the emperor’s dignity crumbles.”

“Thus, everyone will restrict martial men.”

“I’ll humbly sketch the world as he sees it.”

Po Jun’s face showed utter disdain:

“In his eyes, Chen Guo holds the southwest, with ample grain. Now General Liu Zhong has seized three hundred li of Western Regions territory for pastures; he has allied with the Tanguts and joined the Turks, secured the southern river defenses, and stands opposed to Ying Guo.”

“It’s a perfect strategy—like a colossal divine giant. Yet those defiant martial men are the rotting flesh on this giant’s body. If you keep fighting, this rot will only grow larger. So he intends to cut it off first.”

“First, secure the interior—that is Chen Guo’s state policy.”

“Yet the finest warriors leave no glorious exploits. Chen Guo’s current situation is indeed strong, capable of balancing Ying Guo. But the Chen Emperor has overlooked one thing…”

Po Jun said, “It’s only because, over the past decades, four supreme generals—Regent, Xiao Wuliang, Duke of Taiping, Yue Pengwu—have held the situation together. Liu Zhong is talented, but his caliber barely rivals your Yue brother.”

“He is a fierce general, a capable commander—but not a strategist who can pacify the realm.”

“These divine generals stabilize the court and expand territory; court officials praise them.”

“Yet the emperor believes these achievements are his own, creating disunity between civil and military, discord between scholar and warrior—this is Chen Guo’s first flaw. The emperor has likely forgotten that today’s strategic doctrine was left behind during the era of the Regent and Duke of Taiping, the Twin Jewels of the Empire.”

“The ruler neglects civil-military balance and kills famed generals to consolidate his own power.”

“Though this emperor plans to blame the civil officials and aristocratic clans for the murders.”

“Still, it chills the hearts of martial men.”

“This is Chen Guo’s second flaw.”

“Bureaucratic bloat, court extravagance, even human trafficking and oppressive taxation; the court has opened the Western Garden—this is Chen Guo’s third flaw.”

“The crown prince has been named, yet the emperor favors only his imperial consort’s relatives. The consort’s clan and other aristocratic families vie for the succession—this is Chen Guo’s fourth flaw.”

“Once the crown prince is established, the victor will purge the loser; the defeated will seek to flee for survival—this is Chen Guo’s fifth flaw. Any one of these five can weaken a great state. With all five present, Chen Guo will inevitably decline within twenty years.”

“Either martial men will seize power by force, or aristocrats will control the court.”

“Within fifty years, unless a sage or virtuous ruler arises to reverse the tide, Chen Guo will surely perish.”

Po Jun took a sip of wine, his expression turning grave. “As for Ying Guo, it has a wise monarch. The Turks fear it. Of the ten greatest generals in the world, five are stationed there: one guards the frontier, one is the Turkic Khan himself, and three more reside within Ying Guo.”

Li Guan said, “Three…”

“How can Chen Guo possibly win?”

Po Jun sighed. “Because one of them is already ancient.”

“That’s why, during Chen Guo’s peak years, the Regent with Xiao Wuliang and the Duke of Taiping with Yue Pengwu could only match Ying Guo in stalemate, with alternating victories. That was also the zenith of Central Plains’ power—I remember it well.”

“During those years, whether in the Western Regions, the Turks, or beyond the passes—”

“Whoever dared show their face in the Central Plains was beaten down.”

“When the Central Plains’ divine generals exhausted their wealth and population in battle, they would retreat and sweep through the Western Regions and Turks. Though the Western Regions had their own divine generals, they could only fume in silence. Alas, only those years lasted.”

Li Guan asked, “What is the greatest divine general in the world?”

Po Jun’s expression turned to reverence and awe.

“He mastered every battle tactic, ruthless yet able to discern true heroes.”

“On foot against foot, he defeated the heroes of the frontier.”

“On horseback against horseback, he defeated the Turkic Khan.”

“In naval warfare, he defeated Chen Guo.”

“He won seventy-three major battles with fewer troops.”

“And he had only one draw.”

Pojun whispered, “The opponent was the Regent Prince, the Prince of Taiping—that era before Xiao Wuliang and Yue Pengwu rose to power. In that battle, the Turkic Khan led the Tie Futu, waiting on the steppe for the wind to rise; even the Tuyuhun had withdrawn their troops, and they did so so abruptly for one reason alone.”

Po Jun whispered, “His opponent was the Regent and the Duke of Taiping—when Xiao Wuliang and Yue Pengwu had not yet risen. In that battle, the Turkic Khan led the Iron Cavalry, waiting on the steppe for the wind to rise. Even Tuyuhun withdrew. Why? Because…”

“The greatest divine general led his troops on a flanking march, descending from the thousand-li cliffs dividing north and south, advancing alone, nearly capturing Jiangzhou City, forcing the Regent and Duke of Taiping to unite in desperate battle. Only when the steppe forces crossed into Ying Guo’s territory did he withdraw.”

“So calmly—his invasion like fire, his departure like wind.”

“He held the Duke of Taiping and the Regent at bay with his spear, promising the two young men: ‘Grow strong. Then come challenge me on the battlefield for the world.’”

“That was the battle that truly made the Duke of Taiping and the Regent famous.”

“And their fame came only because they managed to stand against the greatest divine general’s lone advance.”

Li Guan shuddered.

Po Jun said, “According to my lineage’s records:”

“After the battle, the Duke of Taiping cleaned up the wreckage, preventing fleeing soldiers from harming civilians.”

“The Regent returned in fury, demanding why his brother’s reinforcements arrived so late—only to find the emperor waiting to greet him, smiling warmly, clasping his hands, saying he had fasted for thirty days, bathed daily, burned incense, and made his concubines pray to the Buddhas.”

“He said the Buddhas had blessed them with peace.”

“Then he pressed an incense stick into the Regent’s hand.”

Po Jun recounted the records of the Eastern Continent’s star-reading disciples.

As he spoke calmly, Li Guan felt transported back to that time.

The Regent had just used those hands to kill enemies; the greatest divine general’s spear had numbed his wrists. He pressed his fallen comrades’ eyelids shut, but they wouldn’t close—they were brothers who had fought beside him since age sixteen, now dead.

Their bodies had not yet been buried!

He came to demand answers—and found the imperial clan cheering.

Then he was handed incense, pulled by his gentle elder brother to worship Buddha.

The Regent raised his head, staring at the towering golden Buddha statue, into his brother’s eyes. He nearly crushed the incense—but didn’t. It was sandalwood, threaded with gold silk, each strand worth more than a bundle of wolf-tooth arrows. He couldn’t bear to waste it.

He wanted to weep, to scream, to rage. Instead, he quietly inserted the incense into the censer. The smoke rose thick, the music and dance continued.

The blood in his scabbard still reeked.

Historical records note the Chen Emperor’s reaction to the battle report:

In this battle, Li Wanli, an outsider to the imperial clan, was exceptionally granted the title Prince of Taiping, while the Emperor’s younger brother was enfeoffed as Prince of Puyang; the Emperor relocated the Prince of Taiping to the Western Regions, while Puyang lay in the Central Plains, near Ying State—both directions far removed from Jiangzhou, the capital.

In that battle, Li Wanli, a commoner, was granted the title Duke of Taiping by imperial decree. The emperor’s younger brother was made Prince of Puyang. The emperor relocated the Duke of Taiping to the Western Regions, while Prince Puyang was stationed in the Central Plains, near Ying Guo—both far from Jiangzhou, the capital.

From then on, these two generals, sworn brothers who had once fought side by side and met at the pinnacle of the world, were separated.

Except thirteen years ago, they have never met again in this life.

Po Jun spoke of the past, then added, “Don’t think the Duke of Taiping was blindly loyal. Don’t forget: from the Regent’s rebellion until he imprisoned two emperors, the Duke of Taiping never returned. Yet…”

He fell silent, his expression one a young man could not understand. He whispered:

“Yet later… even Prince Puyang changed.”

“The hero who once saved the world from chaos became the most tyrannical ruler.”

“The Duke of Taiping suffered the most.”

“He spent his life Benbo , only to find even his closest comrades and brothers had turned to enemies—become the very monarchs he once swore to overthrow. His path was now one of betrayal and ruin.”

“Yet he still fought for the peace of all living beings. If he did not fight, this world, this Chen Guo, would become nothing but a chessboard for warlords—with no one to speak for the people.”

And in the end, he picked up his blade and fought for the path of his wife and children.

He himself died from exhaustion.

This was the last lingering threat of Chen Guo.

Po Jun looked at Li Guanyi, and spoke slowly, word by word:

“That greatest general of the realm is merely old, not dead.”

“And the Regent Prince is still alive.”

“That one-legged old Wolf King still lurks within this era.”

“His best brother, friend, enemy—Lord Taiping—is dead. The Regent Prince will not sit idle. Such a man of genius—cruel, ferocious, heroic, loyal to bonds—will die only upon the grandest battlefield, with the heroes of the realm as guests to his funeral, never quietly on a bed.”

“And they will all be your enemies.”

Li Guanyi lowered his gaze, thinking of his father and mother. At last, he gripped the Autumn Water Sword and asked again: “If I choose to live in peace, will they spare me?”

Po Jun answered: “No.”

“Lord Taiping bears the great name of the realm.”

“Let me put it this way: the southwest of the empire is stable. But if you rise in the western frontier and become one of the realm’s great warlords, and then reveal yourself as Lord Taiping’s son, at least one-third of the southwest will rally to you at once.”

“At least one-third.”

“Among the armies you fight, soldiers from the southwest will desert to your side, unafraid you will kill them.”

The young man gazed at the boy before him, yet seemed to see beyond him—as if he beheld the mighty hero of old—and whispered:

“This is the final power your father left you.”

“Son of Lord Taiping, seek peace!”

“The warlords of the realm do not recognize this slogan.”

“But the people of the realm recognize this banner!”

“And the suffering masses know this hero!”

“So how could the Emperor let you live? Whether you have the will to seize the realm matters little; as long as you hold the potential to throw the realm into chaos, you cannot be allowed to live.”

The boy gently touched his chest, lowering his gaze.

His mother gave up a third of her soul and nascent spirit for him. His father held the rear, carved a path open, and died fighting the elite of the Guardian Mountain Villa and the imperial court so he might live. Should he now take up his parents’ flame and continue the path left unfinished?

Li Guanyi did not know—such grand ideals were too distant from him.

But he understood one thing.

How cruel this realm is—it is a whirlpool, dragging all into its vortex, pushing them toward mutual slaughter. He answered: “Then let us fight. Such blood feuds. Such fate.”

“They never spared me.”

“Nor do I intend to spare them.”

Li Guanyi clasped his hands and bowed low.

It was the ancient rite of a sovereign appointing generals and ministers. Po Jun did not evade it. He accepted the bow, then placed his right hand over his left and bowed in return.

The boy whispered: “I beg you, Master, aid me.”

Po Jun said: “Agreed.”

Together we share the same foe.

Together we rise to act.

Together we march—life or death, we shall not betray!

Thus, the ancient pact was sealed.

And at that moment, from afar, the voice of the Imperial Palace Guards finally reached them.