Chapter 168

The laughter rang out wild and unrestrained, bolstered by torrents of internal qi, rolling like tidal waves across the entire palace, and combined with the Crimson Dragon manifestation, its impact on the palace guards' morale was unparalleled.

The crimson dragon manifestation commanded all the flames and fire within the palace, its aura far greater than ever before; General Yue Qianfeng, clad in black armor and crimson battle robes, held two hand jǐ, his eyes blazing like lightning—he had clearly just shaved his beard, yet it had already grown back.

Li Guanyi suddenly felt at ease.

General Yue Qianfeng glanced at Yan Xuanji, who gave a slight nod.

The former banner-bearer and greatest warrior now felt a pang of emotion.

This general of the new generation had already subtly surpassed him, surpassed one of the Twenty-Four Warriors of the previous era; in this turbulent age, age never guaranteed superiority over the young—our generation marches forward, one after another, making the world so brilliantly vibrant.

General Yue Qianfeng looked at Li Guanyi and smiled faintly; the Crimson Dragon manifestation, transformed from a vast destructive technique, grew increasingly refined, almost real, appearing behind him like a celestial deity overlooking the battlefield below—and at this moment, Li Guanyi truly understood why the realm of famed generals was called the Divine General List.

Yet, the eyes of General Yue Qianfeng, who had just made his bold declaration, were not as carefree as his demeanor suggested; he merely growled:

"Go!"

"Big Brother Yue…"

Li Guanyi hesitated.

General Yue Qianfeng turned, gripping his dark weapon, the Crimson Dragon manifestation let out a long roar as it surged toward the sky; he stamped the earth, both hand jǐ swirling with majestic qi currents, charging forward without regard for anything, his momentum astonishing—Yan Xuanji seized Li Guanyi and spun away, sprinting in the opposite direction.

Li Guanyi turned to look back.

Amidst a deafening roar, palace guards clad in heavy armor were flung into the air; the Crimson Dragon charged forward with wild abandon, nearly piercing through the Chen Dynasty's imperial hall—when suddenly, another immense force appeared, halting General Yue Qianfeng's advance with a single blow.

Two colossal forces collided.

Heavenly thunder crashed down!

Visible ripples spread outward, cracking the earth, howling winds raging.

Even Li Guanyi, carried far away by Yan Xuanji, felt the terrifying force radiating—his hair instantly flew wild, his fingertips tingled numb, the tips of his strands slightly bristled; his pupils contracted as he saw storm clouds churning, another manifestation slowly stepping forth from between heaven and earth.

The heavens suddenly slammed downward, gales howled, thunder rumbled, and lightning struck from the sky!

Kui Niu!

【In the Eastern Sea lies Liubo Mountain, seven thousand li beneath the waves. Upon it dwells a beast, shaped like an ox, with a dark body and no horns, one leg; when it enters or exits water, storms and rain follow; its light shines like sun and moon, its voice roars like thunder—its name is Kui.】

The one approaching was—

A terrifying wind pressure erupted, carrying the roar of thunder; within the whirlwind, a massive hammer struck—General Yue Qianfeng crossed his arms, his two hand halberds interlocked, blocking the blow outright; thunder and flame entwined, dimming the heavens, a colossal tornado forming right there.

Crimson flame and blue-purple thunder clashed within the vortex and exploded.

Purple lightning spread across the sky, surging in all directions, stirring up violent winds.

General Yue Qianfeng's gaze was piercing; he held firm against the blow, the special stone tiles beneath his feet instantly shattered.

General Yue Qianfeng said:

"So you've finally used your divine weapon?"

"Xiao Wuliang!"

Amidst the thunderous roar, the Divine General, wielding twin hammers and wearing three golden cones at his waist, stepped forward; behind him loomed the colossal Kui Niu, summoning thunder—though it seemed evenly matched, this Divine General, barely past thirty, had used only one hammer just now.

Fifteenth on the Divine General Rankings.

Xiao Wuliang!

"I spared you twice before, remembering your loyalty and bravery; this time, Yue Qianfeng—"

"I won't hold back."

General Yue Qianfeng roared with laughter, the Crimson Dragon's cry erupting as he charged forward with his twin jǐ; Xiao Wuliang gripped his immense, heavy Hunyuan Hammer, unleashing the divine weapon's power, and clashed with General Yue Qianfeng.

The entire palace trembled violently beneath the collision of these two Divine Generals.

Yan Xuanji carried Li Guanyi away swiftly; Li Guanyi asked: "Can Big Brother Yue hold on?"

Yan Xuanji remained silent, then said: "Three incense sticks."

"What?"

"Without an army's momentum, without a strategist's aid, without a tactician's formation—this is pure combat: martial skill, strength, willpower—no room for retreat. Yue Qianfeng ranks thirty-fourth, but the top thirty, top ten, top five—they're entirely different worlds."

"With the flames aiding him now, his battle spirit is unmatched—he can hold the fifteenth-ranked Divine General for three incense sticks. During that time, he won't die outright—and our plan was always to sacrifice our strongest attacker, him, against Xiao Wuliang, our strongest opponent."

"We seek Yue Pengwu, free him; with Pengwu's martial skill and strategy surpassing Xiao Wuliang's, when he joins Yue Qianfeng, we can break the deadlock and fight our way out—but…"

Yan Xuanji looked at Li Guanyi, a flicker of struggle in his eyes.

Li Guanyi said: "Then what are we waiting for?"

Yan Xuanji froze.

He watched the boy smile, his hair slightly lifted—he seemed unaware of how dire the situation was, merely saying:

"Go find Marshal Yue."

The boy gripped Han Shuang Ji, his eyes reflecting the dragonfire of General Yue Qianfeng, blazing like firelight—and Yan Xuanji had once seen such fire in another's eyes; he heard Li Guanyi say:

"Ten years ago, my father died this way."

"Exactly like this—during a grand sacrifice, on a night of flames."

"Are you asking me to turn away now, to let Big Brother Yue die so I can escape alive? Don't joke—Li Guanyi isn't that kind of man."

"A true man dies as he must!"

"Besides, I too have my 【One Sword】—it has never failed."

Yan Xuanji looked at Li Guanyi; the monk who had renounced the world suddenly burst into loud laughter—laughing, yet tears streamed down his face; he gripped his mixed-gold black-iron staff, and the coarse banner swayed, charging once more toward the direction where Yue Pengwu would be.

His heart pounded wildly, the banner fluttering in the wind.

General Yue Qianfeng's roars, the clash of jǐ, echoed beside him—he shattered arrows, crossbow bolts, qi blades, and sword flashes with his weapon, flinging enemies aside, knocking them down, his blood surging, his mind focused to its peak.

The scent of sparks from clashing weapons, the taste of blood.

Every second was a gamble with life, every breath the same—ultimately, Divine Generals and valiant warriors rode upon great or small battlefields, all to fulfill the strategist's plan, to seize the commander's objective.

For the realm!

He turned back, watching the boy grip the battle jǐ, his brow echoing the likeness of an old friend.

Yan Xuanji laughed bitterly in his heart.

Lord.

You have a fine son.

His hand clenched the weapon in his grip.

This banner will not fall!

……………………

The horizon lit up.

Po Jun lifted his gaze; the sound of flutes and strings filled his ears. This was the imperial family's suburban palace. The Emperor had decreed that during the great sacrifice, the palace must remain pure, free from the luxurious indulgence of music—such things were disrespectful to the ancestors.

So the Chen Emperor chose to host these men at the suburban palace.

After being brought here, Po Jun had tried several times to slip away—all failed.

His temple throbbed; he realized the Emperor had reached his final move.

Once the Emperor's calm shattered, consumed by rage and humiliation, he would invoke his ultimate privilege: overturn the table entirely. Even if he could not outwit these men, he would imprison them all together!

Damn it, he's no better than a street thug.

Po Jun laughed bitterly.

Fortunately, he had left another backup.

When the young strategist circled the area and failed to spot the aged, decaying former Chancellor, Wen Zheng Marquis Dantai Xianming, he furrowed his brow, let his fingers drop to calculate, and his pupils contracted sharply.

'…Is he outside?'

'That old devil used this opportunity to escape the Emperor's trap.'

Po Jun's mind swiftly ran through the situation; his gaze darkened. As he feigned indifference and prepared to leave, he was still blocked—then came Mu Zi Yi's laughter, leisurely saying, "Sir, don't think of going back."

"The main hall is about to put on a grand show. I've heard there's a formation left behind by the greatest madman under heaven. Clearly, we're meant to see nothing of it here—our eyes are to be blinded, our ears plugged."

Po Jun smiled, raised his gaze slowly, and looked at the handsome young man—Mu Zi Yi.

"So you're Prince Jiang Yuan of the Second Son."

"Hahahaha! Don't call me Prince Jiang Yuan—just call me Jiang Yuan!"

The Second Imperial Prince of Ying dropped his bow and leapt down from the tree, his smile warm and unrestrained:

"Sir, you're the most trusted strategist of the Seventh Prince, Ashina. When the Seventh Prince heads to the Central Plains to marry my sister, we'll be traveling together for a stretch—let's get to know each other well then."

Po Jun smiled in agreement, his gaze lowering.

At the doorway, he saw the calm, smiling eyes of the Crown Prince of Ying, Jiang Gao.

He was surrounded.

Po Jun's gaze swept the scene—he saw neither the Fifth Divine General of the World, Yuwen Lie, nor Xue Lao of the Xue Clan, nor many other skilled warriors. The situation had shifted exactly as he had foreseen: full of surprises, full of change.

No one can predict everything.

The clash of heroes, the duel of strategists.

This corner of the turbulent world was settled within the Chen Emperor's banquet.

Po Jun's smile was serene; his eyes lowered slightly, a faint, eerie purple glint within. His expression calm, he stepped toward the circle of the two Ying princes, smiling gently.

Lord.

I hope the opportunity I left for you proves useful.

My strategies always have three plans—but until now, I've only spoken of two.

That's why I never told you the third: if nothing happens, move the Fire Qilin; if great change comes, fake death and escape; but if the great change is tied to your origins—no matter what I say, you will never turn back, will you?

There are only two kinds of heroes in the world!

Only these two!

Those who hold to their ideals, dying rather than yielding; and those who endure humiliation, enduring any degradation to struggle on living—but both share one thing: they will never betray the path they've chosen.

Since ancient times, heroes have always been stubborn.

Po Jun closed his eyes, as if sighing helplessly, yet beneath it lay a hidden, almost imperceptible pride and satisfaction.

What can I do?

What choice do I have?!

I've been saddled with a lord like you.

Full of feeling and righteousness, lawless and boundless.

I can only lay another path ahead for you.

The young strategist's eyes glowed with eerie purple light as he stepped forward. He was held here, effectively tying down the two Ying princes, preventing them from entering the other scene—while he himself had already placed his pieces.

When lord and minister understand and harmonize, that is the greatest path to survival amid ten thousand dangers.

Hold on tight, Lord.

This side—I'll handle.

…………

Within the suburban palace, chaos and clamor—flutes, songs, dancing beauties with slender waists.

Within the main palace, bold passion and fervor—warriors sacrificing their lives, swords and blades stained with blood.

While dealing with the two princes, Po Jun silently used the power of the Star Observation lineage to send messages outward—but this method of transmitting intelligence through celestial patterns could only be completed by Po Jun's own branch of the Star Observation sect.

The young strategist had laid his plans across all directions, yet one thorn remained in his heart—he had been thinking of Dantai Xianming these past days. For a man of Po Jun's talent and pride, to acknowledge this old man was no small thing.

This green-haired Emperor sent his childhood sweetheart to the Regent's bed.

This was no simple decision—it must have been agonizingly deliberated. Could Dantai Xianming, with his brilliance, have failed to notice the changes in Chen Dingye, then still young and naive? Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

He saw it clearly—and still did it.

Riding the current?

If this grand sacrifice is the final move on the chessboard.

Let my daughter bear the Regent Prince's son…

Bu Jun's movements froze, then his pupils contracted sharply.

The genius strategist realized in an instant another thing that sent chills down his scalp.

Is the Regent Prince still alive?!

No, this is impossible!

But… but what if he is still alive?

A purple gleam of excitement flickered in Bu Jun's eyes; he licked his lips.

That old crippled man who tore apart the world, like the ambitious Yu Langwang… still alive…

This great upheaval in the realm—removing the Chancellor, replacing top officials across countless departments of Chen State, whose bureaucracy is already bloated—means this great nation is now at its weakest. That is to say, the Regent Prince will surely return…

But what advantage does this give him?

Though the Regent Prince and Tai Ping Gong are enemies, they are as close as brothers.

Tan Tai Xianming is clearly a top-tier strategist—how could he not see this?

And this old bastard—is he extreme?

Where is he extreme?

Are those old men just growing weak and conservative with age?

Clever he is, calm he is—but Bu Jun could not see where Tan Tai Xianming's extremism lay.

He pondered long, but could not understand.

So he sent word to the distant Shiwaisan Sect, to that peculiar old man of Bu Jun's lineage—who guards only the Juan Sect archives and does nothing else—and asked if the old man still remembered a man named Tan Tai Xianming. Soon, the old man sent back a message.

Bu Jun's pupils contracted sharply.

Many years ago, the distant Bu Jun lineage reopened, entering the mortal world to seek its next successor. Their strategy was extreme: to aid a hegemon, crush the realm, and establish unparalleled achievements. On that day, a poor but clean young scholar arrived there.

The scholar revealed his stratagems, but his ideas silenced the elder members of Bu Jun's lineage. The young scholar, wolfing down steamed buns, said: "This humble student believes your strategies are excellent, the grand trend is sound—but you are too rigid."

"Rigid?"

"Yes. The great tide of the realm has raged for over two hundred years, nearly three hundred. Why? Because two powerful states are evenly matched. Heroes like you, strategists like you, have all flocked to these two states, fighting back and forth."

"Today you seize ten of my cities; tomorrow I seize twelve of yours. Meanwhile, barbarian tribes watch hungrily. How can peace ever come?"

The elder members of Bu Jun's lineage said then: "That is why we seek a hegemon."

The young scholar Tan Tai Xianming shook his head and replied while eating:

"Is a hegemon so easy to find?"

Someone scoffed: "Then what do you propose?"

The scholar, having devoured five buns, licked the crumbs from his fingers and said:

"Making one state strong enough to swallow another is hard. The world's great generals find it difficult to kill each other—they crave war after war. Each great victory enhances their fame. They compete for glory. This is the age of warriors."

"But what of the dead civilians? The piled white bones?"

"But weakening another state? That is simple."

"Your thinking is wrong."

The scholar rose, composed and calm, and said: "In my view—"

"Break the Western Regions, destabilize the Tujue, weaken one state, strengthen another, to invigorate the realm."

"Transform the two hundred eighty-year struggle of competing dragons into a tiger devouring a wolf."

"Then, with the swiftest speed, unify the realm."

"Only then can the people rest and recover."

"If a man has a wound, you must cut out the pus—wait for it to heal naturally. Waiting passively is just waiting to die! If we continue like this, the realm will be chaotic for another five hundred years. But if we follow my way—weaken one state while scattering the barbarian tribes, and strengthen another—"

"The realm will be unified within a single generation!"

"Only then can the people know true peace."

When the young scholar spoke these words, the elders of Bu Jun's lineage turned pale. One shouted: "Absurd! To play the traitor—who will bear the eternal infamy?!"

"Eternal infamy? For two hundred years, these two states have slaughtered each other—hasn't more died already? Traitor? Hmph. What you seek is not for the realm or the future—only for your own names in history, isn't it?"

"Are the Bu Jun lineage merely chasing fame in the annals? If you won't bear the eternal infamy—"

"I will."

This extreme obsession nearly led the then-star-sect elders to beat the young scholar to death. In the end, they threw him out. Tan Tai Xianming lay in the rain, struggling to crawl into a temple, laughing wildly, his hand covering his face.

'I am still alive.'

'Hahaha, I am still alive, Mother, Father—I am still alive!'

Then he met Xue Dao Yong, returning from the Western Regions. The collision of legends began here. The scholar, lying in the rain, finished his buns, his face bruised and swollen, his left eye blackened, his entire family dead—he, once meant to be the finest farmer, now a strategist, pointed to the sky and said:

'One day, I will shake the realm with my name.'

'When that day comes, if we face each other in battle, this bun will save your life!'

Then Xue Dao Yong blackened his other eye.

Bu Jun's expression froze. He suddenly understood Tan Tai Xianming's every motive—and precisely because of that motive, this supreme strategist and great Confucian of the last age filled this young, arrogant newcomer with an indescribable chill. He gritted his teeth and said:

'A mad genius.'

'An extreme, insane fool!'

………………

The candle flame flickered as Tan Tai Xianming, clad in white robes, carried a food box and walked through the underground palace. He gazed at the dark pool ahead, filled with poison, and said softly:

'Yue Pengwu.'

'I've come to see you.'