Chapter 133

After bowing to Li Guanyi once more, Qibili spoke no further words, no longer spouting flowery, impassioned rhetoric like those Confucian scholars; he carefully stored the Jin Yin away, and Po Jun sighed, clasping his fists: "Tian Kehan, I apologize for my earlier rudeness."

"Please follow me here."

Po Jun replied, his expression calm and composed:

"I will give you the second strategy."

Strategists are not overlords; they possess cool-eyed judgment and the ability to assess circumstances, yet lack the audacity of a true overlord—thus, once their lord makes a decision, they must become the Bai Hu's wings, charging forward with vigor.

Teacher, have I, too, been drawn into this world's whirlpool alongside the overlord?

Po Jun lowered his gaze, his expression serene, no longer radiating the charismatic, wild and uninhibited energy of arms outstretched and smile on lips, as he had moments before.

Qibili nodded, and Po Jun led him aside, re-explaining the path of outer expansion; this time, Po Jun's demeanor was tranquil, drawing the topography of the Western Regions with nothing but a twig: "I said earlier that soldiers and civilians must be one, yet one point requires attention."

"Those aged fifteen to sixty are dings; they must be divided into two categories: the strong dings as regular troops, and the auxiliary troops; for every one regular soldier, there are three auxiliary troops, gathered in units called 'points,' assembling at the point during battle."

"In strategy, I have a method: initially, conceal it."

"Gain fame, yet avoid battle."

"Second phase: fight fiercely, yet suppress your renown."

"Third: nameless, warless, rest and nourish; as for terrain, listen as I detail the fourth step I have not yet spoken of—"

After elaborating the subsequent steps, Po Jun tapped his finger on the ground and said:

"【East to Dahe, west to Yumen, south to Chen Pass, north to the Great Desert】."

Po Jun sat quietly, his eyes nearly turned an eerie purple, tracing a circle over the entire Western Regions: "Lord, you must first go to the Jiangnan region under Elder Murong; I must go to Ying State; you must return to the Western Regions beyond Longxi; between us, we may not meet for years."

"This great tide, I must make clear."

"This territory: above lies the Turkic steppe, below the lands beyond Chen's passes; eastward lie Longxi and Ying State, and the great rivers flowing from the highest snowy peaks; westward lie the Tanguts and the fleeing Tuyuhun, nestled among mountains and rivers."

"This is the contested corridor, the battleground for four nations vying for supremacy."

"No matter what, General, spare no effort to seize this corridor of the world—it is the foundation of your overlordship."

Qibili committed all this to memory, then bowed again.

Earlier, Po Jun's words had charted a path for their clan's survival and prosperity; now, they reached farther still. Po Jun smiled: "In truth, I still do not trust you. I believe power is, for heroes, the richest wine—and the fiercest poison."

"Throughout history, how many heroes, when humble, roared like dragons and tigers—yet once atop their thrones, luxury and beauties melted their heroic bones, drained their heroic spirit? But my lord trusts you—and so I am willing to trust too."

"Yet, one thing—can you tell me?"

Po Jun said: "Your cultivation level."

Qibili fell silent, gazing at the young man before him, and replied:

"I have walked ten thousand li, seen the world, the common folk, good and evil—my heart has not changed."

"My spirit has been refined; I am one step short of the fourth level."

"I lack the accumulation."

Po Jun's eyes flickered with sharpness.

Fourth level—

Already worthy of the title General!

The benchmark: Gong Zhenyong.

Yet Qibili here is no more than twenty-seven.

Po Jun said: "With such Wu Gong, such foundation—if you had revealed it earlier, no nation would have let such a born cavalry commander slip away. In the cold, barren Western Regions, without resources, you still reached this level."

"With sufficient resources, you could become a famed general of the world within five years."

Qibili paused, gripping the wolf-tooth pendant he had removed, and said: "It was the elders of my tribe who told me."

The elder, who had fought in countless battles and witnessed the glory of this age's overlords and heroes, said: only when someone pledges to aid your tribe may you remove this ancestral treasure and reveal your martial power.

For this signifies that the one aiding you does so not for gain, but from sincere intent.

If they aid you only for your power, they will abandon your tribe when you lose it.

They will abandon you when a greater power emerges.

Those who lend aid only for martial prowess are unworthy of the Gray Wolf's strength.

What if he succeeded?

Qibili recalled his own question then.

If he succeeded… the elder paused, placed his hand on the Tian Kehan's head, and whispered: "Then give your life to him!"

Now, at twenty-seven, destined to become a famed general of the world, Qibili lifted his gaze: "All that is past. I must leave—I have lingered long enough. If I stay any longer, Chen's Emperor will use other means to keep me."

"I will follow your strategy—it will at least allow my tribe to survive this chaotic age."

"Your donkey is gone."

Qibili patted his chest and said:

"I still have my legs, and my Wu Gong."

"As long as my heart endures, the world is vast—there is no place I cannot reach."

The young Tian Kehan finally revealed the bearing of a hero in his words, yet Po Jun said: "But that is too slow. I will arrange horses and carts for you; you must go to Chen's Emperor, speak sweet words, and trick him into granting you rewards."

"If you cannot speak well, I will write it for you—you need only memorize it. Chen's Emperor cares for his dignity; he won't stop you from leaving, but even if displeased, he will give you ample gold, jewels, and silk."

"Along the way, you may trade them for more easily liquidated goods."

Qibili looked at the emaciated children and said: "Beneath the Son of Heaven's feet, even human trafficking occurs—yet he can still, though displeased, bestow upon me gold and gems. How can such absurdity coexist?"

Po Jun said: "Such is the chaotic age."

Qibili laughed loudly, waved his hand, and the children gathered before him; the Tian Kehan slipped away into the shadows, then went to bid farewell to the Emperor. He departed swiftly—the Emperor gifted him a thousand taels of gold, assorted jewels, and silk, requiring three carts to carry.

The officials seeing him off escorted him beyond the city gates; none knew he possessed martial cultivation nearing the fourth level, none knew he bore the Gray Wolf's spirit form. His ears were keen—he heard the officials whisper among themselves.

"Only giving him such trifles—the Emperor truly looks down on them."

"A few thousand households—this is more than enough. Less than a single town in our great nation."

Although he looked down on such a small tribe, he still gave a thousand taels of gold, dozens of carts of silk and jewels—this was already extravagant.

Indeed—how else could we display the grace of our Central Kingdom, the Sage Son of Heaven?

Qibili saw men in silk around him, saw the guesthouses hosting envoys from foreign lands still lavish, saw Buddhists, Daoists, musicians, tables piled with meat barely touched, common folk coming and going, their backs bent beneath the wind—and he laughed, a laugh that was bleak and sorrowful yet bold.

He made the children sit on the carts, tapped the golden rings on the reins of his warhorses with his curved blade, and sang aloud in a voice that was bleak and carried far:

"The Chile Plain, beneath the Yin Mountains. The sky is like a dome, covering all four directions."

"The sky is vast, the wilderness boundless."

"Where the wind blows, the grass dips low, revealing cattle and sheep!"

On the day Qibili chatted with Pojun, Qibili slipped away from the Xue family into the shadows, and Pojun also departed—his current status was advisor to the Seventh Prince. Though the Seventh Prince's desire to form a caravan alliance with the Xue family was known throughout Chen, it was still unwise to linger here too long.

Li Guanyi saw off everyone, stood quietly there, then shifted his gaze to the corner of the wall. The youth thought for a moment, walked over—beside the wall stood a willow tree, one side of which bordered a lotus pond. Li Guanyi frowned.

Strange…

He reached out, touched the ancestral gateway at his brow—his gateway was open, his spirit clear, capable of sensing deadly intent, rendering the secret arts of Yin-Yang scholars, Daoists, and Buddhists of the same realm useless. Yet now, his ancestral gateway showed no change—but he still felt as if someone stood before him.

The youth thought again, extended his finger forward.

Then his finger was pinched.

The empty air before him rippled, like a curtain being drawn aside—first appeared silver strands of hair, then a delicate, Bai Xi face, clear eyes, and a book pinching Li Guanyi's finger.

Yao Guang.

She understood arrays and star-reading, but her body was hardly stronger than an ordinary person's.

She had merely concealed herself with an array.

The girl looked at Li Guanyi; the youth crouched before her, his finger trapped in the scroll, smiling, and said: "It really is you."

The silver-haired girl's voice was unruffled: "You knew?"

"I guessed."

Li Guanyi answered with a smile.

After all, the only one who could appear here, besides that old man, is you.

He did not say this aloud—only smiled, reached out, plucked a willow leaf from her shoulder, stood up. Yao Guang looked up, watching sunlight filter through the willow branches. The youth stood there, one hand resting on his waist-sword, the other holding the willow leaf, expression calm and distant.

The hair at his temples stirred slightly; his eyes no longer held the unrestrained spirit of the youthful swordsman.

Yao Guang thought for a moment, her face expressionless, then rose.

She thought again, and acted according to the records in the Juan Sect.

Li Guanyi was thinking—before him, Pojun's strategy, the chaos of the realm, the warlords beyond the frontier and the fractured Turkic tribes, the eighteen southern prefectures, his father's vengeance, his mother's hatred, the struggle for heavenly mandate—all converged into a vortex. Then suddenly, someone took his hand.

Smooth and cool as jade—he looked down and saw the silver-haired girl quietly holding his hand, shaking it slightly—this was surely an attempt to mimic affection, or at least to follow the actions recorded in the Juan Sect.

Yet the girl's expression was calm and empty, her face without emotion.

She did not say, "No matter how you change, I will always be here."

Only shook Li Guanyi's hand, her voice quiet:

"I want to eat sweets."

"Huh?"

Li Guanyi paused—the aura dissolved. Yao Guang's expressionless imitation of affection made him burst into laughter—he chuckled, then laughed aloud, clear and bright. He reached out, letting the wind carry the willow leaf away, then placed his hand atop Yao Guang's head, his smile unrestrained, eyes alight, just as before:

"What do you want to eat?"

Yao Guang said: "Roasted mantou…"

"Stop!"

Li Guanyi seemed annoyed, laughing as he cut her off: "Roasted blackened mantou drenched in honey? That's an insult to farmers. Don't bring up your recipes again." The youth sounded almost exasperated, then hung his sword at his waist. He thought for a moment and said:

"Wait here!"

"I'll make it."

Li Guanyi was eager.

The silver-haired girl raised her hand, smoothed her hair, then watched the youth prepare the sweets. She sat on the green stone beneath the pond, thought for a moment, and decided the records of past generations of Yao Guang had been useful.

She gazed at her reflection in the pond, wished to smile—but only remained calm.

Yao Guang gave up.

She picked up a brush and drew on a blank sheet of paper—but somehow, lightly and effortlessly, she sketched the youth's likeness.

There were many painters of exceptional skill in this world; the arts of calligraphy and painting were vast and profound. In later ages, the scrolls of Yan Bi, son of the Junior Director of the Imperial Painting Bureau, would stand beside the annals of history—though this young man rose to the rank of chancellor, he was remembered for his paintings.

Renowned for administrative talent and mastery of painting, the court hailed him as the Divine Brush.

A masterpiece of his age.

Left Chancellor dominated the northern deserts; Right Chancellor earned fame through brush and ink.

This chancellor, gifted in both painting and statecraft, spent the greatest portion of his life painting portraits of the realm's heroes and meritorious ministers, and of every sovereign and warlord from ancient times to the present—hung on fine Xuan paper in the Octagonal Pavilion for all to behold.

People praised him—this single work made him a divine masterpiece in the annals of painting.

The collection was titled: "Portraits of Sovereigns, Emperors, and Warlords"—ranked first in history.

Yet when later painters studied them, they noticed one portrait out of place: among the solemn, bearded, jade-belted images of emperors and warlords, at the very front, hung a blank sheet of Xuan paper—on it, a sketch drawn with careless strokes.

With light, swift brushwork, the youth's fluttering robe swept across a broad patch of ink, as if merging with Shanhe.

It seemed to be spring in southern Jiangnan—the youth held a sword in one hand, a willow leaf in the other.

Sunlight fell upon his face; a faint smile touched his lips.

The youth, full of youthful vigor.

Here, amid the solemnity of warlords and emperors, a single spark of brightness—like the wind, never aging, never decaying.

People of the distant future would know: once there was such a man, full of youthful vigor, laughing unrestrainedly in the Jiangnan breeze, his brows alight.

The famed painter Yan Benli once saw this painting, sat in silence for a long while, then threw down his brush and sighed: "Such a painting cannot be recreated by technique alone. The painter's skill is inferior to mine—but her eyes never left that moment."

"It is not about technique, but about spirit."

"It is a realm beyond even the Divine Grade."

"Regrettable that I have never witnessed such elegance."

Li Guanyi made a dessert; in Jingcheng, ice-making technology existed, and he successfully created an ice cream, topping it with delicate little fruits as decoration, then pushed it toward Yao Guang, who took a small spoon, scooped up a bite, and put it in her mouth.

Then the silver-haired girl's eyes lit up.

Li Guanyi thought that if every person were an animal, the girl before him showed no expression yet was clever, aiding him at critical moments, drawing near then pulling away—like a proud, aloof cat.

Hmm, just a greedy appetite.

The girl placed the spoon in her mouth, paused, then said: "Star-Gazing Yao Guang lineage."

Li Guanyi smirked: "Always simple in dress and food."

The girl said nothing, merely savoring slowly; Li Guanyi held his sword, and after this, he still visited Zu Wenyuan, the old cultivator studying the Book of Imperial Supreme Cosmic Order, still learned the art of defeating ten thousand enemies from Master Wang Tong, and on this day he went again to the Daoist temple.

But when he arrived at the Daoist temple today, he noticed the atmosphere inside was strangely off.

Hummmmm!!!

Before he even drew near, the bronze cauldron had already begun roaring violently; after the Crimson Dragon Jade Elixir was exhausted, this bronze cauldron had begun drawing in jade elixir once more!

Li Guanyi raised his head and used the Art of Observing Qi—he saw seven-colored auroras.

He saw it: a Buddha?

Li Guanyi arrived at the Daoist temple; the young Daoist Priest who had once received him stared nervously inside; Li Guanyi tapped the boy on the shoulder, startling him—only when he recognized Li Guanyi did he sigh in relief; Li Guanyi asked what had happened.

The young Daoist Priest said: "Someone came to cause trouble."

Li Guanyi asked: "Who?"

The young Daoist Priest whispered cautiously:

"The West, the Living Buddha."