Chapter 216: The Child of Jiangzhou

The Sword Madman used the annihilation of a major sect as his calling card, stirring up winds and clouds across the land.

But in this vast world, few masters could recognize such sword intent—indeed, they were exceedingly rare—until Li Guanyi's Fire Qilin Army began swallowing the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect; only then, with Yao Guang's power confirming no threat, did those martial artists who had been given travel funds finally cross mountains and rivers.

They arrived in this world and carried word of the Fire Qilin Army's crushing of the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect into the Jianghu.

And so, winds rose and clouds surged!

Among the seventy-two linked fortresses along the Dajiang's banks.

Earlier, the Furious Scaled Dragon King had gripped the incoming intelligence with both hands, his body frozen stiff; cold sweat poured down his brow—this rough, bold warlord had once been the naval general of the Chen state, later defecting into the Jianghu.

So he understood—

【Total Annihilation】 campaign.

A fifteen-year-old national general.

What did it signify?

He had left the battlefield long ago, but whenever he recalled the slaughter there, the shriek of swords and blades would jolt him awake in dreams, drenched in cold sweat, only calming when he gripped his sword or blade.

He asked the captured Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect disciple: "How many were there?"

The warrior replied: "I—I don't know. I only saw the banner ahead, crimson red, flying in the sky. Looking outward, the iron cavalry lined up before the sect's gate—I couldn't count them."

"It felt like… thousands upon thousands."

"And there were ten thousand armored infantry!"

The Furious Scaled Dragon King roared in fury, kicking the man over, his rage exploding:

"To hell with your ten thousand armored infantry!"

"Ten thousand armored infantry, plus thousands more in logistics—you're saying Li Guanyi commands nearly twenty thousand men?!"

He then calmed, realizing these Jianghu folk had no concept of armies.

And a disciplined army, armored and standing in formation, its spearheads like a forest of blades—

Coupled with the martial killing-qi arrays, ordinary people could never accurately gauge such a force's size.

The Furious Scaled Dragon King sat there, his throat rising and falling, cold sweat streaming down his brow: "Divine General List #83: The Chaos Qilin, Li Guanyi; #97: Fifth among Cavalry Generals, the Dragon of Yue's Army, Generals Ling Pingyang; #87: The Immovable Bright King of the Yuwen Clan, General Yuwen Tianxian."

"At least several thousand armored heavy infantry, over five hundred frontline heavy cavalry."

"A Jianghu swordsman whose title no one dares utter."

The Furious Scaled Dragon King sat rigid, overwhelmed by shock and bewilderment.

What struck even his bold nature with dread was the personality revealed by this act—

Li Guanyi was this vengeful?

After the Hunting Qilin Gathering, he immediately mobilized heavy armor, left Zhenbei Pass without pause, neither seeking office in the Ying state nor marching north like the Yue Army.

The damn fool charged seven hundred li straight through the forests.

Then wiped out the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect!

That was a sect whose origins stretched back to the time of Chen Baxian, five hundred years of lineage, with over ten thousand qi cultivators and branches across the land—yet its Grand Elder was split open, elders, the sect master, branch leaders, and all elders were publicly beheaded.

Horse trampled Jianghu.

Smashed mountains, shattered temples.

What a ferocious man!

The Furious Scaled Dragon King fell silent.

His seventy-two linked fortresses held thirty thousand warriors, all expert in water combat—but among them, only a little over ten thousand had qi, scattered across seventy-two forts; if the enemy came in heavy armor, surrounded the forts, unleashed siege crossbows, and crushed them with cavalry—

The Furious Scaled Dragon King's scalp prickled.

Then he gritted his teeth: No, no, Li Guanyi had drunk with me there.

No, no, I hadn't fully turned against him.

He wouldn't turn his blades toward me—he wouldn't come here to ravage…

【Hunting Qilin Gathering】.

Those four characters pierced his mind.

In the Jianghu, they were already enemies.

At this moment, he pressed the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect disciple further on Li Guanyi's forces; the warrior recounted all he'd seen: no looting, no killing innocents; many beautiful women stood at the sect gate, yet none were touched as soldiers often did.

They trained daily, unconcerned by onlookers; many, he heard, were ex-bandits—said by a warrior whose expression and bearing were fiercely resolute: they would be given land and fields in the Eighteen Provinces of Jiangnan.

The boss said he'd take them home.

The Furious Scaled Dragon King fell silent for a long while, then sat back, closed his eyes, thought deeply, and stepped outside. The villagers here were all fishermen; he'd once discovered his military merits were stolen and his rations halved for five months—so in rage, he drowned the supervising officer in a pig cage.

Then he took all blame upon himself and fled with a band of brothers in disgrace.

Finally, he established himself along the banks of the Dajiang.

Since ancient times, fishermen's lives were wretched—worse than farmers'; they ate fish-rice, lived on boats, and some who'd spent their whole lives on water grew dizzy upon stepping ashore.

After hard-won catches, local noble families seized their fish and bought them at rock-bottom prices.

Their lives had few options: husbands went fishing, returned to roast fish on small stoves, while wives and daughters sold their bodies on the boat—a common fate. The Furious Scaled Dragon King had once, in fury, slain a noble's son, then raised his banner.

Otherwise, how could seventy-two linked fortresses, over thirty thousand fighting men, plus their families—

Why follow a rebel band of river pirates?

The Furious Scaled Dragon King sat atop the fortress, watching distant shimmering waters, boats lined up and lashed together, people moving back and forth; men drank, cooked porridge from moss and seaflowers, and various fish.

All were trash fish—the good ones were sold.

They felt they didn't deserve to eat them.

Both men and women drank; the water's chill was heavy, and the saying went: "No fish basket, no illness"—they couldn't endure without alcohol; drinking only eased their suffering, for their bones were ruined. The Furious Scaled Dragon King's gaze softened—he drank coarse liquor, nothing like the wine of his general days.

But he found it deeply satisfying.

He was old now; while alive, others avoided fighting this village—but he would grow older, die; after he died, these people would return to their former lives as lowly fishermen.

The Wrath-Scaled Dragon King clapped his hands and sang a fisherman's ballad; in the distance, the waves shimmered. With his back to his subordinates, he said:

"Wearing Heavy Gear Li Guanyi, Fire Qilin Army—so what? This is the Dajiang River basin, stretching thousands of li, with roaring waves and waters as vast as the sea. Heavy cavalry, heavy infantry—they're useless on water."

"Select elite naval troops—all insiders—and hone their water combat skills."

"Train them well."

His subordinate asked: "Three thousand?"

The Wrath-Scaled Dragon King fell silent, then replied: "Three thousand… no."

He exhaled, then said: "Five thousand!"

"Choose strong men aged twenty to thirty—not overly muscular—but skilled in swimming, adept at floating and holding their breath."

"Build warships. Each must be prepared to military standards, capable of carrying a thousand men."

"Prepare crossbows and bows!"

His subordinate pondered, then suddenly understood: "Ah! So these five thousand are to resist the Fire Qilin Army! Though powerful, they wear Heavy Gear and can't fight on water—if they come here, we'll gather our elite and fight them to the death—"

The Wrath-Scaled Dragon King slapped him hard and roared: "Fight to the death, what nonsense!"

"A band of men in cloth robes, wielding short knives, swimming to drill holes in ships, fighting hand-to-hand with boarding blades—how will your short knives pierce their thick iron armor?"

"That spear formation just thrusts forward—you'll be pierced through with holes. Then they pull back—you're a bloody pulp on the deck."

"It's a gift! Do you understand? A gift!"

His subordinate stared, dumbfounded: "Wait, boss…"

The bold Wrath-Scaled Dragon King now looked like a fox.

Where's your rage?

The rugged hero's eyes gleamed: "We've held this region, still within Chen's borders. Li Guanyi may never come here—if he doesn't, fine. But if he truly leads an army here, these five thousand—"

His subordinate said: "These five thousand—"

The Wrath-Scaled Dragon King felt a piercing pain in his heart, yet as he gazed at the river, he suddenly laughed aloud, clenched his fist, and behind him, the coiling dragon phantom murmured low as he declared with full relief: "Let them join!"

"A blood oath!"

"Oh, a blood oath? Boss, why didn't you say so earlier…? Wait—what kind of oath?!"

The subordinate's face turned as if he'd seen a ghost.

The Wrath-Scaled Dragon King lifted a wine jar, drank deeply, and pointed outside, his voice low:

"The world is changing rapidly. Heroes rise. The Regent's army is invincible; the Yue Army has shattered two nations and marched north. This is the dawn of chaos. Why did we join that damned 【Hunting Qilin Assembly】? Only to pledge allegiance to the Yuwen Clan."

"In this chaos, we fight to earn our brothers a title, a respectable status."

"Do we really want to spend generations as water bandits on these rivers and lakes? When the world eventually unifies, our thirty thousand will be slaughtered. We're still alive only because the world's tigers are too busy staring at their rivals."

"We rob the rich to help the poor—to save a shred of dignity."

"Our fierce actions and loud words are meant to scare off real bandits—but how long can we last?"

His subordinate hesitated: "But on the battlefield, won't we die?"

"The battlefield is brutal."

The Wrath-Scaled Dragon King replied: "But as water bandits, we live by the edge of the blade—and die. On the world's battlefield, we still live by the edge of the blade—and die."

"Either way, we die! A true man must die with great renown!"

Slightly drunk, the Wrath-Scaled Dragon King bared his chest and said:

"Spread my order: from today on, no Xue family caravan shall be touched. All shall be trained under our naval methods. My men—watch Li Guanyi. Is he a fleeting bloom, or a true Fire Qilin? If he's the real thing, if he can win our loyalty, then this is when our brothers find a way to live."

He whispered: "Fire Qilin, Fire Qilin—I wait for the day you emerge from those mountains. Ying and Chen look down on my poor brothers—but you won't abandon five thousand elite naval troops, will you?"

"You took those mountain bandits with you—will you take these?"

The Dragon King watched the barefoot children running on the boats, still carefree. He drank, turned, his spine still straight, his hair half-white, and spoke, for once, with rare refinement:

"You say, this title of 'Fire Qilin in Chaos'—isn't it good? They say the Qilin is an omen of fortune."

"The world is nothing but a gamble!"

"I'm betting it all!"

………………

Meanwhile, the Motian Sect and Kunlun Sword Sect also received similar reports. Those thousands who witnessed the Fire Qilin Army's conduct naturally spread the word. At the same time, the Fire Qilin Army's brutal killings and its reputation for benevolence and strict discipline spread together.

The Motian Sect's leader remained silent.

A disciple suggested preparing a batch of assets as an apology to gift Li Guanyi.

Though he had joined the 【Hunting Qilin Assembly】, he had not openly broken with Li Guanyi—this could bury the matter.

The old patriarch, a lifelong hero who had built Motian Sect's vast holdings, pondered for days.

In the end, he could not bear to give up the empire he had carved out, bit by bit, over sixty years. He muttered to himself:

"I am a great sect. My disciples, followers, and martial halls span the northern realm. Even if Li Guanyi is as arrogant as ever, he is merely a fugitive, a lone force deep in enemy territory—what can he do? Even if he escapes from two nations—"

"But our great sect lies in northern Chen. To reach us, he must cross Chen's territory. A general with a strong army? He'd be declaring war on Chen. A few thousand iron-clad troops? In this great nation, they're ants."

"But if he comes alone, without an army—this old man has a hundred years of cultivation."

"And I hold a divine weapon."

"A mere youth—what fear do I have?!"

"I will not retreat!"

At Kunlun Sword Sect, the Furious Sword Immortal fell silent for a long while, then left the sect entirely.

He was one of the rare few whose realm, though not the absolute pinnacle, had sensed the terrifying sword intent that had surged into the sky that day. He told his sect master: "This trouble I stirred in the Jianghu—I'll handle it myself."

"The 【Hunting Qilin Assembly】 was aimed at Li Guanyi. If he comes for revenge, it's natural. I was raised by this sect—I won't drag it down. I'll go alone."

"A swordsman who dies beneath that elder's blade—"

"Has no regrets in this life."

Then he would drag his sword around alone, and the sect master and the other three sect leaders would immediately knock him out and drag him back; otherwise, he might go off to die on his own. After much pleading, the Furious Immortal fell silent, deciding it was better to wait until that elder came to them.

He thought for a moment, recalling Li Guanyi's mention of Yan Daiqing, and passed him one sword.

This warrior, whose mind was as straight as his blade, suddenly understood, chose to leave the sect, arrived at Jiangzhou City in the Chen state, and met Yan Daiqing, who was practicing swordplay alone—facing this peerless swordsman of the realm.

Yan Daiqing asked in confusion, "Elder, why have you come seeking me?"

The Furious Immortal said, "Someone asked me to pass you one sword."

Yan Daiqing was deeply puzzled—he had been a trusted retainer of the former Crown Prince Chen Wenmian, and his family had raised him to be their future chancellor, but by accident, they had bred in him an unbending nature. When Chen Wenmian departed, Yan Daiqing's father was stripped of all rank by Chen Dingye.

His family soon declined.

Yet while those former disciples of Chen Wenmian's clan slandered him as heartless and ungrateful, Yan Daiqing sneered, finished his wine, and said, "A ruler must be a ruler, a minister a minister; a father a father, a son a son. If the ruler is not a ruler, then the minister is not a minister."

"If the father is not a father, then the son is not a son."

"The ruler is the model for the minister; if the ruler is unjust, the minister may serve another state."

"The father is the model for the son; if the father is unkind, the son may flee to another land."

"What Chen Wenmian has done conforms entirely to Confucian principles—what fault is there in it?"

Yan Daiqing sneered, "It is you all who once fawned upon Chen Wenmian, and now that he is gone, you slander him behind his back. If you merely wish to preserve your families and sever ties, fine—but why the sudden shift from obsequiousness to contempt?!"

"It's laughable!"

The young Confucian threw his cup down and walked away.

The next day, these words were reported, Yan Daiqing's position was revoked, and he became a commoner. His former friends never came to see him again; his door grew silent as a graveyard. Though he pretended contentment, as a youth he could not help feeling bitter and oppressed.

Now, somehow, a friend had sent such a sect leader to teach him martial arts.

Yan Daiqing whispered, "Who is it?"

The Furious Immortal said, "Li Guanyi."

Yan Daiqing, abandoned by all, stood frozen for a long while, unable to speak.

The Furious Immortal thought for a moment and said, "He said you are his friend."

"Thank you for the sword you gave him."

He looked around—none of his former friends were there.

Yan Daiqing opened his mouth, then burst into loud laughter.

………………

Those who claim fame, even if they do not act in the world, still stir the four corners.

Across the realm, all things change; the Imperial Academy stands outside the whirlwind, at the highest peak of Zhongzhou, where there lies a special courtyard, accessible only to the most outstanding young talents of each sect.

A young man was laughing as he spoke: "The world is changing drastically. The Regent Prince's army is like a blade—Tangxiang cannot stand against him; he will be swallowed soon. And once the Regent Prince absorbs the Western Regions and fully recovers, he will become the Great Ying's greatest enemy."

"So, if it were me, the Great Ying would strike to contain him just as he swallows half the Western Regions…"

"And this duty would inevitably fall upon the Duke's Mansion of the Great Ying."

"Thus, the Li family will surely face the Regent Prince in battle. The timing depends on how fast he swallows Tangxiang—two years at most, half a year at least. When that comes, I suspect we too must enter the world. Where will each of you go?"

This question seemed to hold magic; those playing chess, those playing the qin, all fell still.

A gentle young man murmured, "As for me, I will go to the Great Ying."

"I am a scion of a Great Ying family, and besides, the Great Ying Emperor dominates the Central Plains with the ambition to swallow the world—he is a true lord of the realm. Why not join me?"

As he spoke, his tone was calm and serene, his sleeves carrying a faint fragrance.

Beside him, a boy inhaled deeply and said, "Brother Lingjun, you smell so good."

Wen Lingjun shook his head, said nothing, and stepped back half a pace.

The boy looked sickly, reeked of alcohol, leaned against a pillar, clutched a wine jug, belched, and said, "You're good at grand strategy. Me? Wherever you go, I go."

A plain-faced young man said coolly, "Stop drinking."

"If you keep this up, you'll die before us."

The drunken boy laughed loudly, "What's the harm? If I can die drunk, that's glorious. But, Wen He, where are you going?"

The young man with a ruthless, treacherous chess style replied, "I will go to the Regent Prince."

He frowned:

"I was born in the Western Regions. With such a hegemon present, returning to aid him is only natural. Moreover, with Chen as this rotten meat in the middle, if the Regent Prince can withstand the Great Ying's first blockade, he will grow unstoppable—and have a chance to swallow the realm."

The drunken boy said, "Then Pinglu will be unhappy."

The handsome young man playing the qin said calmly, "I—my family has been ministerial for generations; I cannot leave Jiangnan."

The chess-playing young man, Wen He, said flatly, "The Zhou family has been noble for generations—they cannot abandon Chen. But the current ruler of Jiangnan lacks the merit. When you return, be careful—you'll be eliminated. Best leave yourself an escape route."

He turned to the wandering swordsman in simple robes and asked, "Yuan Zhi, what about you?"

"Huh? Me?"

The swordsman bit a blade of grass, scratched his head, and said, "I have no ambitions. I killed someone back home and ran off—then Gongyang Su Wang dragged me back. Now I have to return home to find my mother."

"Oh well, if any of you become high officials, don't forget me."

Wen He replied, "You've mastered the military array of the School of Warfare. As long as your Eight Gates Golden Lock Array never appears on the battlefield, I'll make sure you have a place."

They were the first among the Academy's younger generation to realize the world was about to change drastically, the first to decide they must enter the world. They spoke of heroes and sovereigns, confirming their futures.

Some would return to Chen for their families.

Others would return to the Western Regions to serve the Regent Prince.

Some planned to directly join the Great Ying Emperor. As they discussed these potential rulers of the realm, footsteps approached—the courtyard gate opened, and a gentle young man strode in and said, "Gentlemen, listen to me."

The wandering swordsman burst out laughing, "Ah, it's Fang Ziqiao!"

"Did you three come back with Master Wang Tong?"

Wen Lingjun asked, "Who, Brother Fang, are you speaking of?"

Fang Ziqiao smiled faintly, facing the Academy's outstanding generation, and said calmly:

"Ladies and gentlemen."

"Have you heard of the Fire Qilin of Jiangzhou?"