Chapter 319

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer sensed a trace of qi connected to itself, and using its divine beast's unique spiritual essence to investigate, it discovered the form of Li Guanyi—the young man riding a swift steed, behind him thousands of cattle, sheep, and horses, and over a thousand Western Regions people.

This already counted as a fairly sizable nomadic tribe.

Moreover, these Western Regions people held a sense of admiration and inexplicable identification toward the young man from the Central Plains, and this inexplicable force was faintly linked to itself.

"... Who is he?"

"In such a short time, he's already achieved this?"

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer had just emerged from combat with the Ancient Crimson Dragon and was in quiet recuperation; the Ancient Crimson Dragon was the strongest, oldest, and most tyrannical among all ancient divine beasts.

In ancient legends, it bore the title "Lord of the Crimson Flame That Wraps the Heavens, Celestial Sovereign Who Swallows the Sun."

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer was different—its legends were mostly tied to calming sandstorms and curing poison to save lives.

Eight hundred years ago, that Fire Qilin died.

In the struggle between the Red Emperor and the Overlord, even Bai Hu perished.

Now is the age of men and heroes; many divine beasts have gradually vanished. When the Ancient Crimson Dragon encountered the Nine-Colored Sacred Deer, it engaged in a thoroughly satisfying "sparring match" before letting out a long roar and departing.

Before leaving, it had said that the young Qilin born from the Fire Qilin's rebirth had grown and arrived here, and if the Nine-Colored Sacred Deer had leisure, it should go and watch over it.

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer asked how the Fire Qilin had died in its prime.

The Ancient Crimson Dragon fell silent for a long while, then answered:

"It encountered something it could not avoid 'challenging,' and without hesitation 'swallowed' that 'extremely dangerous thing.' After struggling, it left behind 'advice' for its future self, writing down its views on death."

"It died with calmness."

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer exclaimed in astonishment: "So fearless of death, yet still able to record its sensations?"

"Indeed, solemn and valiant—worthy of its title."

The Ancient Crimson Dragon smiled, saying nothing.

It had nothing more to say.

Now that the Nine-Colored Sacred Deer sensed this person's qi, it recalled—the young Qilin had seemed to be with this man. But who was he? Why had he gathered the Western Regions people? And what did he intend to do?

At that moment, this thread of connection slowly faded.

Though it faded.

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer lost all sleepiness.

It did not enter the long slumber of divine beasts, measured in years or even decades, but merely lifted its head to gaze at the distant sky, suddenly remembering the absurd dream the Central Plains man had discussed with it atop the Crimson Dragon's head.

The Nine-Colored Sacred Deer remained silent for a long while, then finally returned to the Sacred Mountain.

"Just one encounter—nothing can be discerned..."

"After all, he is the one the Ancient Crimson Dragon brought. My Sacred Mountain was also pierced by his predecessor's arrow."

Meanwhile, Li Guanyi sensed the misty qi rising from the Nine Cauldrons.

"Too faint..."

On the Nine Cauldrons, the one-ninth portion representing the Western Regions glowed with a faint golden radiance, yet its coverage remained weak—this was the qi of the myriad people. Li Guanyi turned his gaze and saw the Western Regions folk following him.

They often clenched their lips, faces taut; in their eyes lay confusion about the future, and beneath that confusion, trust in Li Guanyi. This spirit and vitality coalesced into a thread of qi from the myriad people within the Nine Cauldrons.

But this force was unstable.

Based on his experience in Jiangnan, he needed the momentum of mountains and rivers.

He needed a 【territory】, with the people settled, and enough metal from the four directions to cast a cauldron.

Though it would be small.

Yet when the Nine Cauldrons were cast in Jiangnan, the divine aura of the Ancient Crimson Dragon was present.

Back then, the Ancient Crimson Dragon had appeared to help guide and gather the qi of mountains, rivers, and the people. This time, though the Nine Cauldrons' own divine aura had gathered only a small portion, there was still a thread of the Nine-Colored Sacred Deer's divine light.

Would the casting of the cauldron directly draw the Nine-Colored Sacred Deer's attention?

Li Guanyi fell into thought.

He promptly cast the thought aside.

The Nine Cauldrons must be cast—whether to protect this group of Western Regions people, to stabilize his 【territory】, or even apart from both, simply to destroy the Mo Sect, shatter its great array, and refine the qi it had gathered, these Nine Cauldrons must be forged.

As for the 【momentum of mountains and rivers】.

Li Guanyi gazed into the distance and touched the land deed given to him by Young Lady Xue Shuangtao.

Young Lady, ten thousand years!

Though many in this vast group were merely thirteen or fourteen years old, children of the desert lived on horseback; even if not master riders, they could certainly ride and keep pace with the caravan.

Over the next seven or eight days, more tribes kept converging.

The entire group had swelled to over three thousand people, with three thousand or more cattle, sheep, and horses driven together—a vast, sprawling procession, already of medium size among nomadic tribes.

Fan Qing conversed and bonded with people from different tribes, resolving their conflicts; beneath the radiance of 【Tanger】, the accumulated grievances between these tribes slowly faded.

At least they no longer drew blades and slashed each other at the slightest disagreement.

Their conflicts originated perhaps from water rights, or perhaps from the distribution of game.

Moreover, mixed cavalry patrols from different tribes had begun forming, patrolling around the growing caravan, and secret fistfights had erupted over the proportional representation of each tribe's members in these patrols—Fan Qing discovered and punished them.

They all respected Fan Qing.

And Fan Qing's method of subduing these Western Regions men was simple.

Archery, fistfighting, horsemanship, wrestling.

Fan Qing defeated them one by one; the warriors of these small tribes revered such bold courage and bowed their heads to follow his commands, while Shi Dalin, the eldest of the Seven Old Ghosts under the Qilin, treated the wounded in the caravan and studied Western Regions medicine.

He successfully trained a group of Western Regions physicians.

Modeled after the Central Plains' barefoot Physician training system.

They may not have understood the principles, but they knew how to save lives.

Medicines, techniques—crude and brutal, accompanied by intense pain and side effects, but generally life-saving; the Seven Old Ghosts of the Qilin Army, infamous for their ferocity, had here become divine healers.

It's because these people used to have no choice but to wait for death when sick.

Now that they have a chance to live, they will grasp it with everything they have.

Shi Dalin shook his head and said, "It's not so much resilience."

"It's just that they had no way to survive before."

Meanwhile, simple rules were established: drinking water directly was forbidden; food preservation techniques were rapidly disseminated, and the entire large group's spirit transformed quickly.

Thousands of cattle and sheep trudged forward; this was neither desert nor oasis, but land covered in dry, dusty gray grass, like the people of the Western Regions themselves, who drove carts laden with goods.

Mounted scouts, composed of riders from different tribes, patrolled around the entire column, occasionally bringing back hunted game.

On horseback, burly Han men sliced black, dried meat with curved sabers, shoved it into their mouths, chewed, their jaws rising and falling, swallowing it down with cold water—all eating done in silence.

But their eyes held light.

Fan Qing said, "Your servant has figured out these tribes."

Li Guanyi was feeding a flying hawk.

Lei Laomeng reused his old trick—he had successfully tamed this desert hawk, and now the hawk perched calmly on Li Guanyi's arm; beside him, five invisible Dharma Phantoms all gazed down with lowered eyes at the defiant hawk.

The desert's divine messenger, its head bowed, suddenly grew awkward on the boy's arm; the mounted scouts, unaware of such divine Dharma Phantoms, now looked at the boy with growing reverence.

Li Guanyi knew that, by leveraging the Dharma Phantoms' aura of dread over living beings, he had finally subdued this hawk; as he gently stroked the hawk's feathers, he turned to Fan Qing and tossed him a handful of roasted millet beans from his lap. "Tell me."

The warlord of the Fire Qilin Army rode his warhorse, expression solemn and calm: "Most adult males in these tribes possess skilled horsemanship and archery; women process the hides and furs of hunted game into clothing; children tend the herds."

"These nomadic tribes have passed down, orally, some methods of body tempering—but such methods rarely progress beyond Reached Entry, never reaching the Second Heaven."

"By this standard, they're merely equivalent to third-line armies of the Central Plains—garrison troops of individual cities, utterly incapable of matching second-line standing border forces, first-line frontline troops, or the empire's top-tier battle formations."

Fan Qing paused, then said:

"But they all know horsemanship and archery."

"Archery itself is extremely difficult; even among Central Plains cavalry, those proficient in mounted archery are elite. Perhaps because, in the Central Plains, learning mounted archery is like learning spear techniques or internal Qi."

"You master it perfectly—or you fail, and it's merely a pity."

"But in the Western Regions, mounted archery is survival."

"The people of the Western Regions know no Wu Gong; their discipline, battle formations, and coordination cannot be compared to even second-line Central Plains troops, let alone third-line garrison forces."

"Yet since childhood, they've fought for survival in this harsh land, honing extraordinary mounted archery—they can hit six out of ten arrows at leaping antelope while riding at full speed; that's deadly on the battlefield."

Fan Qing gave an example: "Though Reached Entry cultivators can coat their weapons with internal Qi, and those of the Second Heaven can project Qi outside their bodies, granting them armor-like strength and defense, second-line Central Plains troops—all trained in Wu Gong—have only squad leaders at Reached Entry."

"Yet the arrows fired by Western Regions mounted scouts can kill Wu Gong cultivators who lack protection."

"This allows them to stand equal to second-line troops, each of whom possesses internal Qi; even against first-line battle formations, whose individual strength rests on Reached Entry warriors, they can use mounted archery for long-range harassment tactics."

"They are a unique troop type."

"Their past experiences have granted them the power to protect themselves in this chaotic age."

"But, Lord."

After listing all these advantages, Fan Qing finally showed a hint of headache: "We have no mounted archery general."

Li Guanyi: "…………"

Fan Qing grinned wryly: "Or rather, our Fire Qilin Army was trained along General Yuwen Tianxian's path—skilled in heavy armor, shield infantry, fully armored cavalry, and Mojia mechanical coordination—but utterly unskilled in mounted archery harassment tactics."

"Even General Ling Pingyang."

"Yuwen Hua, that show-off."

"He excels only in fully armored heavy cavalry wielding long lances, striking key flanks to cut through enemy formations, preventing them from forming ranks, seizing battlefield dominance, then harvesting the enemy from rear and flank under absolute superiority."

"Mounted archery? He truly isn't skilled."

"Without a mounted archery general, even if these Western Regions scouts are unique, we cannot unleash their true power—they'll remain scattered, unruly troops, unable to protect their families."

Li Guanyi reached out and stroked the hawk's feathers.

"A mounted archery general…"

He thought of the top mounted archery commander of the Tai Ping Army.

The Divine Archer, Tai Ping Gong's cavalry commander, Wang Shunchen.

A supreme mounted archer who, when defending a city alone, fired over three thousand arrows to suppress the Qiang army's assault front; after Li Guanyi's father died over a decade ago, he lost his will, came alone to the Western Regions' Great Flag Village, and drowned himself in wine and beauty.

Li Guanyi said: "First, teach them some basic internal Qi body tempering techniques."

"Then train their synergy using the basic battle formation method, Unified Qi Training. Master Yuwen Tianxian taught us combined arms coordination—including archers. Though I'm only barely competent as a commander, it's not impossible."

Fan Qing nodded.

Changsun Wuchou hesitated: "Lord, if we teach them Central Plains internal Qi, aren't you worried they'll desert?"

Li Guanyi smiled calmly: "No need to worry."

Changsun Wuchou was startled.

Li Guanyi replied: "You think their reason for fleeing would be to escape us, seek safety, or defect to city nobles? Don't worry—they won't risk it. If they want to leave with this little internal Qi, let them go."

"As for defecting to city nobles…"

Changsun Wuchou saw the young lord smile—but his face held no warmth.

He rose; the hawk on his arm spread its wings—wider than an ordinary man's armspan, blotting out the sky behind the young lord. Li Guanyi answered:

"Even if they leave me, they can never integrate into the Western Regions' native nobility—because between them lies 【class conflict】, something no individual will can ever change."

"The Western Regions nobility oppresses them, feeding on their blood and flesh; they are oppressed to the point of unable survival—this is raw, brutally sharp, and cannot be altered by one or two people."

Changsun Wuchou stared into those eyes; this single sentence seemed to have summarized three centuries of ceaseless strife and turbulent grandeur in the Western Regions. His heart surged with emotion; after a long silence, he slowly said:

"... Yes."

The vast column continued toward its predetermined destination.

During this journey, the problems resolved by Hou Zhongyu's Corpse-Dissolving Powder were finally noticed—not because the powder was ineffective, but precisely because it was too effective.

It caused the supply column led by Hu Yan Yinshi to vanish entirely, leaving both Hu Yan Yinshi's father and the frontline forces unable to locate their troops, exchanging hawk-borne messages of furious curses.

Huoyan Yinsi's father grew suspicious, sending continuous letters to the cities along the route, only to discover that his son had never reached the second city—he vanished without a trace, and then he found that the tribe which had traditionally lived along this road, following the water, had also disappeared.

Only then did he realize in shock, dispatching teams with scent-sensitive hunting dogs to search back and forth, finally locating the place—but after digging extremely deep across the vast area, they found nothing—

Not even clothing, not a single bone, only soil darkened crimson by spilled blood.

As if they had evaporated into thin air.

They said the land had turned red.

But on every inch of this western land, which patch had not long ago been soaked in the blood of the people, long since turned black-red?

Eventually, the frontline of the Huoyan clan was shattered by the Yu Langwang's forces, and the Huoyan clan's general still shouted: "Huoyan Yinsi has ruined our supplies and shaken our morale! Had it not been for this, we would never have suffered such a catastrophic defeat!"

The Young Wolf Wang Chen Wenmian interrogated the situation and learned of this.

He was always meticulous, and he murmured to his strategist beside him: "I've heard that under Qin Wu Hou Li Guanyi, there is a technique said to be derived from Hou Zhongyu, the former chief sorcerer of the Chen court, capable of turning corpses into blood—could it be that he has come?"

Yet after deep thought, he found it impossible.

After all—

"I've heard that those people didn't just kill Huoyan Yinsi's party—they also looted all the supplies, grain, and silver, as if they were desert bandits, not central plains lords."

"The world has been in chaos for over three hundred years."

"How could there be a lord so desperately poor and greedy?"

Chen Wenmian, born of the imperial clan, had never seen a lord who did not enjoy the utmost power and wealth—he immediately dismissed the suspicion, and with a single spear thrust, stabbed the Huoyan general dead: "Besides, only half a month ago did we hear that Li Guanyi was casting weapons."

"Standardizing measurements, unifying cart tracks, unifying writing."

"Uniting the eighteen states of Jiangnan into one, called Jiangnan Shenzhou."

"And yet he recklessly dismantled the rain-praying ceremony, abolished all sacrifices for a year—how could he possibly have crossed twenty thousand li of territory in merely half a month, arrived in the west, and accomplished such a feat?"

Chen Wenmian shook his head and said: "But if Li Guanyi is not here, it may still be a general of the Tiance Prefecture or the Fire Qilin Army—send scouts to investigate."

"Li Guanyi will surely come to the west one day; sending scouts ahead is only natural."

"As for him coming personally—that is unlikely."

He held his dark weapon, heavy spear, and spoke to his strategist beside him:

"Qin Wu Hou is also an old acquaintance of mine. Two years ago, I tried to recruit him—he feigned ignorance and refused. At that time, I was in Chen's Jiangzhou city, where I saw him, young and victorious, in the once-in-a-decade grand sacrifice martial contest, radiating heroic spirit."

"Back then, I was Crown Prince—I could not take the field to fight, I could only watch him in such glory."

"If this Qin Wu Hou comes—"

"I would very much like to test myself against this world-renowned general, the foremost youth of his generation—even if I lose, it would bring me great joy."

His voice paused as he stroked the long spear in his hand:

"Besides, he is in Jiangnan, I am in the west."

"We both ride the world."

"I, too, may not lose."

At this moment, Huoyan Chengji, lord of the Huoyan clan, learned of his frontline's collapse and his son's death—his fury was overwhelming. He had long dispatched scouts, and after several days, they finally uncovered the truth—

Although Li Guanyi's group was cautious, their combined force of thousands of people, thousands of cattle, sheep, and horses moving across the west was an unmistakable sight.

Moreover, the members of this tribe were precisely those who had annually come to trade at Huoyan City but had not appeared this year—putting these two facts together, Huoyan Chengji no longer cared whether they were the true killers of his son.

Whether they were or not—

He needed slaughter to vent his rage.

He needed slaughter to reassert his authority as lord of the city!

Whether for emotional release or political purpose, launching a military hunt was necessary—and this nomadic tribe's wealth was sufficient to justify such a hunt.

Thus, Huoyan Chengji assembled his troops, preparing to encircle and utterly massacre them.

Tens of thousands of cavalry, all elite, most clad in leather armor, yet each a professional soldier who ate meat daily and trained in martial arts—Huoyan Chengji's weapons for defending his city's dignity—now surged forth like tigers leaping from their cages, plunging the surrounding lands into chaos.

Such a force could never be resisted by a mere thousand mounted archers.

Yet several days prior—

The city where the Tiele tribe resided received a special guest.

At the time, Khan Qibili was training, when he heard a report that a man outside shouted, "Do you still remember the Jiangzhou pact from two years ago?" His expression changed instantly; he rushed out—and saw a woman wearing a hood.

Khan Qibili shouted: "Who are you?!"

The woman said: "I am the one sent by the man you bowed to in Jiangzhou two years ago!"

Khan Qibili hurriedly led her inside. Nangong Wumeng remained tense, her hand resting on the weapon at her waist—she carried a divine weapon and possessed the fourth-tier martial arts of the Jianghu; escaping was not impossible.

But after Khan Qibili confirmed the letter written in Li Guanyi's own hand, his expression shifted violently: "Lord—finally, a letter has come!"

At this moment, Nangong Wumeng studied the man—he was young, barely past thirty, with a beard, his brow firm, resembling a somewhat simple tribal chieftain.

This tribe appeared poor, destitute—why did Li Guanyi believe it possessed a powerful enough force as reinforcement?

Khan Qibili invited Nangong Wumeng to rest, then shouted: "Mr.!"

"Mr.!"

"Mr. Po Jun!"

He laughed and ran to a courtyard, shouting: "Just as you predicted, Lord has sent word! Look, look!"

Nangong Wumeng blinked—this name sounded familiar—and followed. Inside the courtyard, a young man sat calmly playing the qin, composed and serene, his eyes a deep purple, exquisitely beautiful:

"All has been within our calculations."

"General Qibili, do not be so agitated. Arrange your troops for immediate deployment. This lady is none other than Nangong Wumeng, chief scout of the Tiance Prefecture, is she not?"

The handsome strategist bowed with a gentle smile, refined: "I am Po Jun."

Nangong Wumeng returned the bow: "Mr. Po Jun—I remember you."

"Oh?"

"The general often speaks of you."

It seemed like Nangong Wumeng's illusion.

After she finished speaking, the handsome young strategist's lips slightly curled, then pressed down, then seemed unable to resist curling again—this happened several times—before he clenched his fist against his lips, coughed once, and said calmly, "Lord still remembers me."

Nangong Wumeng pondered, then nodded and said:

"Yes, he often speaks of you, always saying you are his chief strategist."

Po Jun's lips curled, and he nodded, his hanging fingers pinching his arm.

Restrain yourself, must restrain yourself!

Lips pressed down.

Heart delighted.

Hahaha, did you hear that, Yao Guang?

Lord thinks of me constantly—what can you possibly win against me!

Po Jun remained composed, asked casually about the situation for a moment, and as if idly curious, said, "By the way, I heard there's still a stargazing sorcerer in the Fire Qilin Army—do you know of her, Miss Nangong?"

Nangong Wumeng held her tea and said, "Miss Yao Guang? I know her."

She took a sip of tea: "She should be with General Li Guanyi right now."

"Riding one horse."

"Waiting for us to come?"

Po Jun said, "Oh, I see…"

His voice paused.

Then, the elegant, calm, seemingly all-controlling young strategist's smile slowly froze:

"Huh???"

?? Please vote for monthly tickets, friends…

? Once again, peacefully lying dead