Chapter 222: Rumors Spread Across the Realm: The Dragon King Comes to Submit!

When the Angry-Scale Dragon King heard the report on the Fire Qilin, he remained calm and said, "You brats, not even a hair grown, still smelling of milk, rushing about like this—what kind of nonsense is this? I knew he'd surely…"

The Angry-Scale Dragon King read the record in the intelligence.

"Li Guanyi, the Fire Qilin, entered the borderlands of the Eighteen Southern Provinces, just as the Chen army besieged Dongdu City with over ten thousand troops, boasting thirty thousand, vast and imposing."

"He shattered them."

"Their commander died; the bulk of the troops were captured."

The Angry-Scale Dragon King drew a deep breath, his skull humming—he held himself back from roaring like his own men, then suddenly froze and said, "How could the Fire Qilin Army, after crossing twenty thousand li, annihilate thirty thousand troops with just over a thousand men?"

"How many did they have?"

His excited subordinates froze, then checked again and replied:

"Li Guanyi's Fire Qilin Army had seven to eight thousand frontline soldiers, and roughly the same number in logistics."

The Angry-Scale Dragon King drew a deep breath:

"Ten thousand troops, large-scale command, sixteen years old."

Any one of these three words, in today's chaotic world, wasn't especially remarkable—but together, anyone with even a passing understanding of the realm's situation knew what it meant: sixteen years old, raising a ten-thousand-man army, and winning a major battle.

"Damn it, where did this monster come from!"

"He'll be one of the greatest generals of the age!"

The Angry-Scale Dragon King's adjutant said, "Boss, we…"

The Angry-Scale Dragon King drew a deep breath and said, "Muster the troops!"

"Such a Fire Qilin must be met with all our strength!"

The adjutant nodded, pressing his chest, feeling his heart pound fiercely—here, five thousand men had trained for over nine months; they were naturally skilled in water combat, and after full-time training, they had become elite in these nine months of brutal drills.

They had exhausted the entire resources of the Seventy-Two Linked Forts to build five warships.

These warships were hidden in the waters between the Seventy-Two Linked Forts.

One 【Da Yi】-class warship.

One zhang five chi two cun wide, twelve zhang long.

Over forty meters long, slender, with many oarsmen, a prow shaped to cut through wind and waves.

A high-speed breakthrough vessel for naval forces.

Two 【Zha】-class escort vessels.

Double-planked decks top and bottom, slow speed, but extremely strong defense.

One 【Chi Ma】-class assault vessel.

Fast as a galloping horse, capable of breakthroughs and reconnaissance.

One 【Meng Chong】-class main battle vessel.

Three decks high, capable of carrying two thousand soldiers, designed to ram enemy ships and conduct boarding actions.

Total capacity over six thousand men. The Angry-Scale Dragon King told his adjutant, "This intelligence is enough for us to risk everything. Today, I lead five thousand men, and you stay here."

The adjutant's face turned pale. "Boss, what do you mean?!"

The Angry-Scale Dragon King said, "I said I'd bet—but I can't risk the entire Seventy-Two Linked Forts, thirty thousand souls. If I lose this bet and get liquidated, you can cut ties with me and survive."

Just as he prepared to lead his men downstream.

Outside, another man suddenly burst in, his face pale with panic—the Angry-Scale Dragon King kicked him and cursed, "Can you even serve as a naval scout acting like this?!"

The young man rolled and grabbed his leg. "Old man, something's wrong, old man!"

He screamed, but his voice was full of excitement.

The young man, around twenty to thirty, muscular, could hold his breath underwater for half an hour, swim like a dragon. As a child, he protected his sister from noble thugs who beat him with sticks—his back was covered in scars. The Angry-Scale Dragon King admired his talent and Wu Gong, and had a silk-like pattern tattooed across his back.

Now grown, he was an expert in water combat, yet still hot-tempered, and said:

"No, old man, look—once you see this, you'll scream louder than me."

He held up the intelligence report.

The Angry-Scale Dragon King took it, his face instantly changed: "What?!!!"

The adjutant nearly had his scalp go numb from the shout, but saw the Angry-Scale Dragon King's eyes shift, his face twisting in struggle—he finally asked, "Boss, what's wrong?!"

The Angry-Scale Dragon King said nothing.

He simply handed the report to the adjutant.

The adjutant looked—and his face changed instantly: "The Fire Qilin Army crossed the river, fought their way through, and seized two river-port cities under Chen's control, now holding the southern waterways."

The Angry-Scale Dragon King suddenly halted his departure, ordering his men to stand down.

The next day, updated intelligence arrived.

"The Fire Qilin Army has cleared all river-port cities under Ying's control."

"Over the past month, every critical river-port and waterway in the Eighteen Southern Provinces now lies in the hands of the Fire Qilin Army."

The former naval commander, the Angry-Scale Dragon King, fell silent for a long while, then said, "The Fire Qilin Army now has a top-tier strategist. Controlling all waterways of the Eighteen Southern Provinces means they can hold this ground even with fewer troops."

The adjutant said, "So if we go, we still have a chance."

The Angry-Scale Dragon King stared at the intelligence and the waterway map, exhaled, and chuckled: "That depends—whether it's a great general and top strategist… or a true overlord, and the pinnacle of the realm."

The adjutant said, "You mean…"

The Angry-Scale Dragon King said, "If it's only a great general and top strategist, they'll hold this position."

"But if it's a true overlord, he'll tear apart the entire realm and swallow the entire southern region whole. Right now, Ying's target is Chen, and Chen is plagued by rebellion in its western heartland—neither side can move their elite troops or divine generals here."

"See if he has the audacity to swallow this land whole."

"This time, you all stay!"

The adjutant and the young man with the silk-like tattoo, Gan Xianglong, both paled.

"Big Brother!"

"Dad! What are you doing!"

The scaly dragon king, his temples gray but still towering in strength, said: "If we lead our troops away, even if it's surrender, isn't it still an act of leveraging our own prestige to seize advantage? Yet such a lord of grand spirit cannot be treated with such petty calculations."

"Ruling the south of the river, the tiger holds its claws."

"At my age, I still get to meet someone like this."

"I will go myself. Prepare. Bring out our last thing."

The adjutant and the young officer both paled instantly. They stared fixedly at that towering back. The Scaly Dragon King exhaled, offering no reply. Their gazes shifted, settling on the very center of the Seventy-Two Linked Forts' main fortress.

Ropes stretched down from a tall pole, pulling outward in all directions; smaller boats were tied to these ropes, until ships linked to ships, sampans connected to sampans, forming an environment like a forested fortress.

That was the heart of the Seventy-Two Linked Forts.

The Scaly Dragon King strode forward, walking across these boats, treading over the water, until beneath the curious eyes of men, women, and children, he reached the object at the core of the Seventy-Two Linked Forts — a colossal thing, covered by a vast patchwork of cloth made from different fabrics, to shield it from direct sunlight and baking heat.

The Scaly Dragon King was growing old.

He had slipped from his peak, yet standing here, he clearly felt the blood in his chest. With eyes closed, he could still hear the roars, still hear the booming drums carried on the wind.

He reached out, pressing his hand to his chest.

His heart beat fiercely — this blood had not yet cooled.

For decades, the drums that haunted him were his own heartbeat.

He reached out, stroking the enormous cloth stitched together from scraps of cloth from thirty thousand poor households, whispering: "Sorry, old friend. I've made you sleep so long. Look — I've grown this old. But—"

"Let us return to the battlefield. Before I die, I still wish to ride you, charging through the waters of this world."

"The world is changing!"

"Are you still ready to fight?!"

He gripped that silk-like thing and yanked it downward with all his strength.

Boom!!!

The sunlight seemed blocked. The cloth, stitched by thirty thousand impoverished fishermen, became a sheath, sealing away this thing — yet now, beneath the Fire Qilin's roar, its blade emerged once more from its sheath.

As the cloth slid away,

towering masts rose up, like dragons lifting their heads, baring their fangs.

Nine great masts — the number of utmost yang.

Twelve great sails — the Twelve Earthly Branches.

Massive stern oars flanked both sides and the rear, like the claws of a great dragon.

Five stories high, each level surrounded by three-foot-tall parapets, arrow slits, and wooden fighting platforms made of hard wood — warriors within were shielded as if behind giant walls, all sides wrapped in leather to deflect arrows.

The heavy cloth slowly fell, like a curtain being drawn open.

The violent commotion seemed to stir the thing itself — the water roared, crashing against the edge of the fortress's core, exploding layer upon layer of waves. The young man in brocade-patterned robes stood dumbfounded — such a roar was like hearing a dragon bellow.

Finally, the cloth slipped entirely into the water.

At the very top stood a fearsome dragon sculpture, gazing toward the heavens.

Wind and waves rose; his white hair stirred slightly.

Gan Xianglong stared at his father's back, standing before that beast-like warship, feeling an inexplicable strangeness — this was not the furious killer-bandit of old, nor the roving outlaw who maintained the forts through wide connections.

He suddenly felt a surge of killing intent.

It was not aimed at him — yet this killing intent was like a sleeping tiger in the valley, awakening again amid thunder. He spun around and saw the adjutant, his beard and hair faintly gray, spine rigid, gaze solemn, eyes filled with nostalgia.

Yet that surging aura of malice seemed to paralyze Gan Xianglong, leaving him speechless.

The usually gentle adjutant whispered:

"The Crimson Emperor's realm — the supreme warship: the Azure Dragon Fleet's core."

"Forty-four zhang long, eighteen zhang wide, carrying seven thousand eight hundred soldiers."

Gan Xianglong's scalp prickled.

Fuck!

Nearly ten thousand troops' transport capacity?!

He saw the father who used to laugh loudly while playing with children turn toward him — his gaze solemn and calm, something Gan Xianglong had never seen before — he strode forward: "All units, raise anchor, stand by. I will go meet the Fire Qilin first. You follow after."

The flame, on the verge of extinguishing in this chaotic age, rekindled in the Fire Qilin's world-shaking battle. The aged Azure Dragon, gritting his teeth, staked everything — the old dragon king would ride forth with his final blood and fire, with his long-silent brother, toward his destiny.

The only place in the world that might truly welcome this bandit.

Not just survival — but a true life, with these people, a normal existence, no longer living in fear.

The adjutant replied calmly: "Yes, General!"

Gan Xianglong stared at the massive warship, too awestruck to speak.

"Are we betting everything?"

He asked.

The adjutant gripped his sword: "No."

"This time, the boss has staked everything more precious than his own life."

"This warship, without the boss — a Grandmaster-level martial artist — cannot be defended by us alone. The boss has decided: when he dies, he will take the Azure Dragon with him. For naval commanders, dying alongside one's ship is the highest honor."

"A single fire, and they depart together."

"But now, the General seems to see a possibility — that the Azure Dragon can still charge across the waters."

"A masterpiece of Mo Family machinery — one of only two remaining Sovereign-Level warships."

"Eastern Azure Dragon."

The adjutant whispered: "They say heroes rise everywhere — yet some people seem to draw heroes to them. But it's not that they attract heroes — it's that we, already in despair, are gambling once more."

"We simply lack the courage and ability to raise our arms and call out."

…………………………

The Zhongzhou Academy.

After learning of the troubles in Jiangnan, these young men immediately realized the terrifying power of the Fire Qilin Army. Feng Xiao, holding a jar of wine, murmured: "That doesn't make sense, that doesn't make sense—just over a thousand soldiers, plus the former Yuwen family prisoners, barely four thousand."

"How did it become over ten thousand?"

"A thousand frontline troops turned into seven or eight thousand?"

"No, there's something wrong with the Fire Qilin Army—where did all these men come from?"

"Did the soldiers and armor just pop out of mountain gullies?"

The young man stared blankly for a long while, then took a gulp of wine and slapped his thigh: "That doesn't make sense!"

"We said two layers of loss—he tripled it?!"

Wen Lingjun's voice was calm and gentle: "Most likely, he recruited refugees from the mountains as soldiers, and swept up scattered troops—this is the benevolent way of governance. But no one expected it to appear in a teenage general."

Feng Xiao shook his head: "This is absurd. In this chaotic world, heroes rise from nowhere."

Wen Lingjun said: "How many heroes are there in the world? I once studied the Yin-Yang School's art of observing qi, and saw that the Central Plains were vast, everywhere brimming with heroic qi—stronger than in any of the past centuries."

"A great transformation of the world is coming."

"But observing Li Guanyi's sudden shift in strategy, his military tactics have changed completely—pushing speed to its absolute limit. This style—can you think of anyone?"

Feng Xiao said: "Who else?"

"In all military arts under heaven, swift as the wind, unfathomable as shadow—only Yuan Zhi has mastered these two."

"But in strategy and formation, he is the best among us."

"He lacks ruthlessness, his tactics lack surprise, and his grasp of the grand picture is slightly inferior to yours."

"Pity he never met that guy."

Feng Xiao drank and sighed: "It's not that the strongest and second strongest matter much—normally, the best is the strongest. But in this world, there is one such man whose grasp of the grand picture is slightly inferior to yours, and whose battlefield skill is slightly inferior to Yuan Zhi's."

"Ruthlessness, adaptability, surprise tactics, military strategy—anyone stronger than him can be found in the Academy."

Wen Lingjun said solemnly: "But all these qualities are concentrated in one person."

"The effect he produces is absolutely different."

Feng Xiao grimaced, looking almost tearful: "So he's a monster."

"Others say someone excels in battle formations—say, a hundred points—he scores ninety-five, which isn't remarkable. But this man scores ninety-five in every single category. I just hope I never face him again, or I'll have to surrender."

"Still, this man is headed to the grasslands after his encounter with the Seven Turkic Kings in the Ying capital."

"We won't cross paths."

"Ah, now that I think about it, it's a pity."

"In this glorious age, not being able to clash with him is a great regret."

Wen Lingjun shook his head, rubbed his forehead, remembering how that man, after losing a Dao debate to him, grabbed a nearby straight wooden stick and knocked him out. Helplessly, he said: "Don't speak nonsense. Words spoken after drinking often come true."

Feng Xiao was startled.

At that moment, a boy entered and announced a visitor. Wen Lingjun straightened his robes and went to meet him—a gentle young man, mild and smiling, impeccably composed: Fang Ziqiao, the eldest disciple of Master Wang Tong, the Academy's top administrator.

Fang Ziqiao nodded gently. After some casual conversation, he suddenly said:

"You've heard about my younger brother's affairs, haven't you?"

Wen Lingjun replied gently: "Yes."

"The Fire Qilin—deservedly famed. Roaming freely, manipulating the world, he now holds the momentum to dominate Jiangnan. Master Wang Tong's disciple is formidable."

Fang Ziqiao nodded with a smile and handed Wen Lingjun a gift. Wen Lingjun passed it to Feng Xiao, who opened it and found incense from the southwest—not wine—and sighed deeply in disappointment. Fang Ziqiao smiled: "But this elder brother has one favor to ask of Brother Wen."

"As you know, I'm not skilled in battle formations or grand strategy. My younger brother is simply a troublemaker. Could you give me a strategy? I'll deliver it to him—it'll be my duty as an elder brother to help him."

Fang Ziqiao smiled gently, his eyes narrowing as he smiled, handsome and refined, his expression tender.

Wen Lingjun sighed, looking at the incense he had long sought, and recalling how his friend had mentioned the Fire Qilin boy before—and now was asking again. He finally said: "... Alright."

He immediately ground ink, pondered, then wrote down the grand strategic vision he had discerned and handed it to Fang Ziqiao.

Fang Ziqiao chatted for a long while before departing leisurely.

The gentle gentleman smiled, lowering his gaze.

Second one, done.

Hmm…

He turned back, gazing at the villa, opened his eyes, and pinched the letter.

Three-tenths, done.

Just wait for you to come to the Academy.

…………………

Meanwhile, in Jiangnan, changes were numerous. In the Fire Qilin Army, a young man in blue robes drank tea, watching soldiers train with swords, lost in thought for a long while. Master Siming paid no attention, merely using chopsticks to pick up roasted meat and sip Jiangnan wine—delightful.

The ferry crossings and waters were all controlled by the Fire Qilin Army.

The Xue family's merchant caravan and Changsun Wucho's western merchant caravan could now move freely by boat.

Supply capacity was fully maximized.

Recently, Fire Qilin soldiers ate their fill, with meat every meal. Li Guanyi breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had finally fulfilled his first promise to his brothers: food, meat, shelter. Next, once stabilized, he would distribute land.

But both the Chen and Ying states were furious and sent large armies here.

According to information from Nangong Wumeng, the Ying state deployed fifty thousand troops and three renowned generals.

The Chen state deployed the same: fifty thousand troops and three renowned generals.

In the current state of the world, Jiangnan was not the top priority. They could not commit excessive forces here—the Regent, whose power had rapidly expanded in the west, was the Chen and Ying states' greatest headache.

That old madman's territory had surged forward.

He had been cooped up without war for over a decade, driven mad.

Of the fifty thousand troops the Chen and Ying states stationed in Jiangnan, a large portion were logistical support—because the supply lines were simply too long. Unlike Li Guanyi's band of roaming raiders, they required far more supplies.

But the pressure it brought to the Fire Qilin Army was immense.

Sword Mad sighed.

Master Siming seemed to know what the old man was about to say, and said:

"Stop, stop—you can't intervene. If you do, the problems here will become catastrophic. Never mind what the Fire Qilin Army might become—Li Guanyi's Fire Qilin Army and Sword Mad's Fire Qilin Army are perceived as different threats by the two nations."

"Do you believe that if you kill a general today, ten thousand troops and the top thirty generals of both nations will appear nearby tomorrow? Even if you can leave calmly, the Fire Qilin Army will be utterly annihilated—not a speck of dust left."

"Besides, how many more such brutal battles can your body endure?"

Master Siming lowered his gaze, sighed, and said: "Don't die so soon."

"I don't want to see another old friend I've known for so long die."

Sword Mad shrugged: "I won't die yet."

He drank and murmured: "On the day I leveled the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect, I sent farewell letters to all my old friends across the land. This final battle—past grudges erased—must include Guanyi."

Master Siming drank, troubled, and asked: "Where to?"

Sword Mad held his wine cup.

The silver-haired girl sat quietly between the two elders, then poured more wine for Sword Mad.

The blue-robed swordsman smiled warmly, nodded, and said: "The Academy."

"I've fought Gongyang Su Wang three times—it's time to settle who wins."

"After Guanyi's great victory, he needs rest. He'll come with me into the Jianghu."

Master Siming said nothing. Li Guanyi and Yuan Zhi were discussing current strategy, for the Fire Qilin Army had won continuously, its prestige soaring; villagers from every city came to join, and the troop strength for logistics had swelled from 13,500 to 18,000, with many young men joining as logistics soldiers.

Li Guanyi felt like he was going to vomit.

He had surpassed the command capacity that General Yuwen himself had claimed.

"No more, no more—too many mouths. We can't handle this."

"Tell Fan Qing and Yuwen Hua to shut up!"

"One more, and I'll hang myself right in front of them!"

"I—I—I—I'll hang myself!"

The young general gritted his teeth. Yuan Zhi laughed gently and said: "Both Chen and Ying have sent troops here. If not for the increase in manpower, our defenses would be under heavy pressure—but defense isn't a long-term solution. We must train a navy."

Li Guanyi said: "I have an appointment with someone, but this Jianghu hero isn't here right now..."

At that moment, Fan Qing called out from outside: "General! Mr.!"

"Someone's here!"

Outside, there was great commotion. When Li Guanyi and Yuan Zhi stepped out, the Fire Qilin soldiers all changed expression. Li Guanyi strode from the camp—and froze. A man in his fifties, rough and rugged, walked bare-chested, slowly.

Chains bound his body, dragging a boat behind him.

Though the boat moved on water, such strength still stunned all the officers.

It was the Furious Scale Dragon King!

The man walked barefoot, his back scarred. Seeing Li Guanyi, he stepped forward, knelt halfway, and said: "A man of the Jianghu, Kou Yulie. I didn't know your glory back then—I offended you. Today, I come to thank you and beg forgiveness!"

Li Guanyi and Yuan Zhi exchanged glances. The young general beamed and rushed forward to help the Furious Scale Dragon King to his feet.

"Old Master, please rise!"

The Furious Scale Dragon King said: "Back then, I made a pact with you about the navy—do you still need men?"

Li Guanyi said: "Now is exactly when I need them!"

"Old Master, how many?"

Kou Yulie held up three fingers. Li Guanyi exhaled. Yuan Zhi nodded.

Three thousand men—enough to ease the immediate crisis.

But the old man's reply froze Li Guanyi and Yuan Zhi.

Kou Yulie lifted his gaze. The fearsome Furious Scale Dragon King grinned, his brow blazing, and answered:

"Thirty thousand!"