Chapter 317: The Hero

The Tiance Prefecture contingent regarded the young lord with calm eyes; Li Guanyi said:

"Since you've agreed, then draw your blade, Shi Lao."

Shi Dalin replied: "Yes."

"Immediately distribute wound medicine and equip them with Fire Qilin Army's standard supplies, primarily Hou Zhongyu's corpse-disintegrating powder."

"Yes."

"Gongsun."

The white-haired Gongsun Huai straightened and replied: "Here."

Li Guanyi looked at the harmless old man and said: "Reassemble the mechanical crossbows and pivot mechanisms. Pan Wanxiu, Xu Tiange—you two assist Gongsun. Complete it within half an hour."

"Aye!"

Li Guanyi said: "Nangong."

Nangong Wumeng replied: "Here."

Li Guanyi gazed at her; she had expected him to assign her reconnaissance duties, but instead he said: "You depart immediately—go to the Tiele tribe and summon Tian Kehan Qibili to mobilize the Golden Crescent Blade Cavalry."

His expression was calm; though only two days had passed, the situation in the Western Regions was already starkly clear—many things had emerged in just two days, like layered mountains teeming with peril, their order piling one upon another.

Harsh, yet exquisitely precise.

Anyone who defied this regional order would trigger its monstrous backlash, a wave rolling layer upon layer until it crushed and shattered the violator.

In such a chaotic age, every action demands consideration of consequences.

Otherwise, saving lives is tantamount to killing them.

Only those who possess their own 【courage】 can undertake such deeds.

Li Guanyi naturally made his judgment: he knew today's act of rescue was merely a beginning; once this breach opened, it would be hard to close, demanding greater strength.

He must prepare for the crises two steps ahead.

The wind of the Western Regions swept across the vast land, carrying the scent of swords, blood, and fire; the boy's gaze fixed on the distance, his hand gripping the weapon at his waist—the peerless light cavalry sovereign who had ridden this land and roared through its history and legends.

The Golden Crescent Blade Cavalry, long faded to yellow in the annals.

They would return to this world once more.

And now, Li Guanyi would personally lift the desert sands from the memories of the Western Region's lords, reviving the hoofbeats and the sharp, slicing sound of curved blades cutting through the night that had settled in their ancestors' memories.

Li Guanyi paused, suddenly recalling two years ago, when he was still young, his experience in Jiangzhou's Ghost Market, his hand gripping the sword at his waist.

Xue Lao, have I grown too?

Nangong Wumeng hesitated, then said: "I must leave the front line…"

"Who will be the scout then?"

Li Guanyi pointed to the burly man over there: "Qi Laogui."

The all-capable Qi Laogui!

Worse at commanding troops than Fan Qing, inferior in medicine to Seven Old Ghost, half-trained in mechanical arts, barely adequate as a scout—but at least he can do anything.

Li Guanyi asked: "Can you bring the Tiele tribe's forces?"

"It will determine how far we can go."

"So I entrust it to you."

The young lord's temple hairs stirred slightly as he smiled gently:

"Tiance Prefecture's lucky star—bring us word of victory."

Nangong Wumeng's face flushed crimson: "Y-you—you…"

She gritted her teeth and said: "Fine! Fine! Just wait for this girl!"

She waved her hand and departed at once; Changsun Wuchou had already prepared everything needed for long-distance travel across the Western desert; Nangong Wumeng set out, and Li Guanyi ordered Changsun Wuchou to oversee logistics.

Li Guanyi's gaze settled on Fan Qing.

Fan Qing stood rigid, his demeanor calm and solemn.

"Fan Qing."

Li Guanyi said.

Fan Qing stepped forward half a pace: "Your servant is here."

Li Guanyi asked: "What do you think we should do?"

Fan Qing followed Li Guanyi's gaze toward the survivors of this tribe, his eyes steady.

He was a dull man, so he cherished this moment; he was the most relentless warrior in the Fire Qilin Army, learning military formations from General Yuwen and strategy from the Tiance Prefecture strategists, enduring pain so Seven Old Ghost could test drugs on him.

His home had been torn from him in this chaotic age.

He refused to ever witness such ruin again.

This was why he raised his sword and spear.

He said: "We can help them this time, but, my lord, if only we stand before them, nothing will change—they will merely have a new ruler above them."

These words struck straight to Li Guanyi's heart.

Among all the warlords, only Fan Qing's heart drew closest to his.

Li Guanyi whispered: "Fan Qing, ask these warriors—do they still wish to draw their blades? Do they still harbor martial spirit? Are they still afraid of death?"

Fan Qing went to ask.

Li Guanyi reached out, drew a long staff, and took out the horn-carved dagger Sa Atandi had given him, inserting it backward into the staff to form a crude, ancient spear. Batuer, eyes red, approached and said:

"You… what are you doing?"

Li Guanyi said: "To save lives. To seek vengeance."

Batuer's hands trembled: "They are lords above men."

Li Guanyi said: "Then I will say this—I am still the sovereign of the Central Plains."

Batuur swung his arm forcefully, his tone sharp: "Don't joke now!"

"In the Western Desert, people are divided into tiers. Today's nobles merely shot at us as they passed, but if we charge them, we can't defeat armored cavalry. Once they realize we're resisting, more will come to kill us."

"A thousand, two thousand—we'll all be killed."

"The uppermost tier is not like us."

Li Guanyi looked at the furious Western warrior; he knew Batuur's rage and anguish weren't aimed at him—Batuur wanted to dissuade this young Central Plains merchant, yet the merchant merely polished his simple long spear and said:

"We Central Plains people have an ancient saying."

"It goes: 'Are kings and generals born of noble blood?'"

"Do emperors and generals truly inherit their status by lineage?"

These words pierced Batuur's heart like blades. For centuries, the Western Desert's rules had been an invisible shackle hanging over every soul. He roared: "What do you know?! Don't we want to rise up?"

"But what of these old and weak?"

"I've seen those who resisted—hanged from ropes in the desert, dried into corpses. Their clans slaughtered, elders beheaded, girls taken away. We must obey this law."

A metallic chime—the crude long spear was pressed against Batuur's throat.

The cold touch of the weapon met the heat of his furious, defiant blood. That peculiar sensation made Batuur's body tremble. He followed the blade to the Central Plains man's eyes—calm as the starry sky above.

"Then resist now."

"I will help you."

The man spoke, and his words carried an inexplicable charm, as if his heart had quickened. Then he released his weapon.

"We will go."

"As for you—do as you please."

In Batuur's eyes, the young Central Plains man said:

"Sa Atandi called me Tian Ge'er."

"I know—that's the hero granted by heaven. But you've grown too familiar with the tale, forgetting Tian Ge'er was one of your own people. He climbed the Sacred Mountain alone, and only when he descended did he become a hero."

"You yourselves are your own Tian Ge'er."

"Not me."

The Central Plains youth released the weapon.

"Our people will depart at a set moment."

"You may stay, obeying the old ways—or settle your people, then join us."

"I will lead you to victory."

He walked past Batuur. The furious, wolf-like Western warrior breathed heavily, staring at the crude, ancient spear. One thought after another rose, struggled, shifted within him.

About a quarter-hour later, Li Guanyi was followed by one hundred thirteen mounted warriors, dressed in their tribe's garb, waistbands sheathed with curved sabers, hands gripping tightly the bows used to hunt game and feed their clans.

Li Guanyi studied the faces of these downtrodden Westerners, offering no stirring speech:

"I will go with you—to rescue Sa Atandi and the others."

"Lei Laomeng."

Lei Laomeng had already found the trail: "Don't worry. Their horses are far superior to Sa Atandi's, and they have carts—they won't move fast. I've nearly locked onto their direction."

"Lady Gongsun and the others stay here, using the mechanical carts to protect these people."

Batuur still asked: "Why are you doing this for us?"

Li Guanyi answered, half-joking:

"Because I came down from the heavens."

"You once cheered for me as—"

"Tian Ge'er."

On the road, they encountered another tribe of over five hundred people, their faces filled with sorrow, helpless despair. When they asked, the tribe said they too had been plundered by roaming nobles.

Along this path, such people were many.

It was no coincidence. Each spring, when the Divine Eagle once again circled the land, when snow on the snowy peaks melted and rivers began to flow, these nomadic tribes would follow the rivers, chasing water toward the cities.

To trade that year's harvest for the resources needed to sustain their clans.

Just as in the Central Plains, the warmth of spring rivers was common knowledge, so too in the Western Desert was it known to every child taller than a cartwheel: each spring, tribes followed the rivers, as surely as swallows migrated north and south.

Lei Laomeng gave them some of the hemostatic medicine.

Batuur gripped his weapon and asked: "Brothers of the desert, you look so sorrowful—where are you going?"

The tribe members replied: "Brothers beneath the sky, we've lost our sisters. We wander here. Our hunted game has no buyer; our needles and thread have no one to give them to. But you—holding blades and spears, mounted on horses—where are you going?"

Batuur fell silent, then answered: "To seek vengeance."

"To rescue our sisters."

The tribe's warriors stared in shock, turning to the Central Plains man leading the way: "Are you following him? Who is he?"

Batuur fell silent again. Only now did he realize he didn't know the name of the young man riding ahead. He almost blurted "I don't know," but glanced around at the lips pressed tight of his brothers.

He pulled his wind-and-sand veil tighter and answered:

"Tian Ge'er."

The tribe's chieftain gasped: "Tian Ge'er? That Tian Ge'er?"

The sound of hooves striking earth rang clear. Wind swept dust. Weapons clinked against scabbards—like the clearest camel bells of the Western Desert, like the opening chant of a legend, like the prologue of an epic.

Batuur answered: "Yes."

"The hero granted by heaven to the earth."

"The greatest hero recorded in the oldest epics."

"Tian Ge'er."

Under the gaze of over four hundred from that tribe, the mounted raiders swelled to two hundred and pressed onward.

The woolly sheepskin coat blended with the dark-blue hunting attire, and then they encountered new tribes, each seeing several warriors from different tribes following one man.

Their hatred ignited, and ultimately merged into it as well.

At the front marched a young Han man dressed as a traveling merchant, gripping a long spear.

Lei Laomeng watched the procession swelling along the road and murmured:

"This scene… I feel I've seen it before."

"Hasn't it happened many times already?"

Fan Qing answered: "Because he is the Lord."

…………………

Sa Atandi opened her eyes.

She saw around her people like herself—children from different tribes, their hands bound, some with bruised faces; their eyes, unlike hers, had already dimmed.

This "noble hunting" party had marched from the city outward, capturing not only women but children too, binding their arms with ropes and dumping them into this camp, as one detachment after another brought more.

Sa Atandi saw at least two or three thousand people here.

No old or young— even the cooks were strong men; many wore armor; at the center, a man in lavish robes drank wine—precious liquor shipped from the Central Plains, worth its weight in gold.

Sa Atandi gently leaned her shoulder against a woman beside her, about seventeen or eighteen, strikingly beautiful, yet her eyes were dull, lifeless. "Sister," she whispered, "are you well?"

The woman glanced at the little girl struggling to twist her wrists and said:

"Don't waste your strength."

"You won't escape."

"There are nearly a thousand warriors here who can ride and shoot arrows, plus over a thousand more with swords and shields—more than twice the size of our tribe. Even if you broke free, where would you run?"

"One arrow could kill you. One blade could cut off your legs."

"I've seen it happen."

Sa Atandi paused. Her eyes held the last glimmer of light as she replied stubbornly: "But we are daughters of the Sacred Mountain and the Lake. Even if I am shot dead, I should die on the steppe, on the earth, beneath the sky."

The beautiful girl said nothing, only stared at her in astonishment.

Suddenly, another voice came: "Another dozen captured—how many now?"

"About five or six hundred, we've taken all the nearby tribes."

One guard, dissatisfied, muttered:

"Damn it, now our city's reputation for safety among these tribes is ruined! We've grabbed plenty of young women and children this time, but next year, many tribes won't come to our city."

"No tribes coming means no enough dried meat, game, or medicine."

"We'll earn less."

"I wonder what the Lord is thinking."

Another guard quickly pulled him aside: "Are you trying to get killed? Whispering like that about the Lord—you'll get eight hundred lashes, beaten to pulp and thrown out to the wolves." His voice paused, then he added cautiously:

"As for what's really going on… I've heard something."

"Oh? Tell me."

"They say the front lines are crumbling—the Tangut Lord has called all thirty-six tribes for reinforcements, but our men were slaughtered, morale is shattered, and the nobles and cavalry are furious."

"By custom, we must send female slaves up there."

"We need servants, and serfs to clean weapons and armor."

"So we're harvesting these lowborns—taking women to send."

Sa Atandi's face turned ashen; she bit her lip.

The earlier guard spoke again: "But strange—why should the Tangut Lord care about us? When the Tuyuhun fell, they seized the largest lands, vast oases far from here."

"Besides, most of the Tangut lands have been taken by that Yu Langwang—he'll be destroyed any day now. Why would we send troops?"

"He doesn't even hold the 【Tuyuhun Golden King Seal】."

Sa Atandi remembered this object—the legendary seal forged by the great hero Tuyuhun, once a monk's slave, who rose to unify the Western Regions, melting the seals of the thirty-six tribal lords into one.

It was said that whoever held this seal could command the entire Western Regions.

No one knew why, but even Han heroes prized it deeply; since the fall of Tuyuhun over two years ago, countless battles had erupted over the search for this Golden Tiger Seal.

Even Sa Atandi had heard of it.

He who possesses the seal shall be the Lord of the Western Regions!

But the sages said: Only he who protects the seal is the true Lord of the Western Regions.

Another guard lowered his voice: "Listen—I won't tell anyone else—but I heard the Tangut Lord issued the legendary decree, calling all thirty-six tribes to unite and defeat the Han Yu Langwang."

"All the heroes of the tribes have already set out, aiming to reunite into an alliance, to hold a contest or something, to choose a leader to command the champions."

The first guard exclaimed: "So big a matter?"

"But these khans, lords, and kings—"

"They're gathering."

"Who, then, would be the leader greater than them all?"

The question was so sharp it left the well-informed guard stunned; he hesitated: "The Tian Kehan of Khans, the Hero of Heroes… surely, there must be a greatest title for him."

"How could we know such a thing?"

"Now the front is collapsing under the Yu Langwang's son—morale is low, so we're forced to send supplies, and also female slaves, horse slaves… now I understand the Lord's thinking."

"If we succeed in this great endeavor, and follow the Tian Kehan of Khans, our lands won't remain this small patch—we won't care whether these lowborns come to pay tribute again."

"But if we fail—"

"When the Yu Langwang's army arrives, we won't hold this place either."

"For some reason, the Yu Langwang hates the city's upper and middle classes—he once sacked two upper-class cities, slaughtering until blood ran in rivers. Our city may not match those two, but it's no slum."

"When that day comes, the Lord's wealth will vanish—who will care about these lowborns then?"

Sa Atandi heard the two men leave, then exhaled sharply, continuing to struggle fiercely; her wrists were raw with bloody abrasions, yet she wrenched hard and snapped the ropes—she bit her lip, a glimmer of light igniting in her eyes.

Blood dripped down; she quietly loosened her grip, intending to untie the ropes around the woman beside her. The woman beside her asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm untying your bindings."

"You're so foolish. If I'm taken away, I might barely survive—but if I run, I'll definitely die."

The beautiful girl whispered, "I—I'd rather live."

"That's just fate."

Sa Atandi widened her eyes, unable to believe such words. After thinking, she said, "Then I'd rather die."

"If this is fate, and they say we can only live fifty-five times the moment an eagle flies over the earth, then I'll live to fifty-six. If fate says I'm to be taken to the front as a female slave, then I'll die right here."

A smile appeared on her less-pale face as she patted the beautiful girl.

"Then live."

"I'll die."

She knew she couldn't escape, yet still struggled to run—but after slipping away for only a short while, someone suddenly shouted, "Someone's fleeing!" Sa Atandi froze, turned back, and saw the captives, bound and bowed, countless of them.

Sa Atandi couldn't tell where the voice came from.

The warriors here were startled, all drawing their swords and staring at her.

The girl pressed her lips together, then drew a deep breath. Seeing a man approaching with a sword, Sa Atandi smiled—as if an eagle circled the sky, about to land for the fifty-fifth time—and sang a song loudly to spur herself on, charging toward him.

Boom!!!

Hooves suddenly clattered, then screams erupted. The western warriors hesitated, turning their heads—voices cried out in alarm: "Someone—someone's come for revenge?!"

Sa Atandi froze, watching the western cavalry charge forward, then collide with something and halt. Then sounds rose from both sides, chaotic, filled only with the thunder of galloping horses.

It seemed enemies were on the left too. It seemed enemies were on the right too.

Amid the chaos, a figure suddenly appeared atop a hill to one side, riding a horse. Sa Atandi saw his merchant's attire, his flying black hair, then watched him raise the spear in his hand.

Sa Atandi's eyes widened, her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Then the girl saw the man lower his spear and charge down the gentle slope. The western warriors shouted: "A Central Plains man… Hahaha, just one…"

Then they stopped laughing.

Behind the charging Central Plains man, it seemed as if the sky itself draped his back—beneath the vast sky, western warriors clad in the garb of different minor tribes, wielding different weapons, surged after him—one, two, three…

Two hundred, three hundred, five hundred…

Countless warriors, from all corners of the western lands, struggling to survive, raised their weapons and followed this ordinary Central Plains man, launching this furious charge against the whip-wielding nobles.

Later historians did not know how these sheep, enslaved for centuries and beaten with whips yet never daring to resist, had suddenly become herds of tigers.

But in this battle, they forgot their fear.

Central Plains military tactics sought harmony of qi, instantaneous unity and coordination—but this force came from different tribes, spoke different dialects and languages; these humble people knew none of the nobles' tongues.

Yet there was one phrase, the most humble on this earth, that anyone could shout: beneath the vast sky like a battle cloak, the foremost Central Plains hero raised his spear and halberd, and beneath his cloak's protection, warriors of different tribes widened their eyes and roared together—

"Tian Ge'er!!!!"

Spears leveled.

"CHARGE!!!"

?? Please vote for monthly tickets, everyone…

? Today is another peaceful day of lying flat.