Chapter 320: Under Li Guanyi

Nangong Wumeng sensed Bojun's emotional fluctuation and frowned slightly.

Bojun calmly held his tea, gritting his teeth.

Damn it, I overlooked it!

The purple-eyed strategist clenched his teeth—never had he imagined that though he arrived in the Western Regions ahead of schedule, aligning with the grand strategic layout, that Bai Mao had come alongside the Lord himself.

Yao Guang, this generation's Yao Guang, is truly despicable.

Must I still lose in the generations-long struggle of the Observing Stars sect?

Bojun had already written letters to the old men of his lineage, boasting of his victory and begun celebrating with wine long ago—if he lost now, those old bastards would surely mock him mercilessly.

Wait…

What if, using my defeat as bait, I lure them out of the mountains?

Would that not also be a good thing?

Thus, though I lose to the despicable Bai Mao, I won't let those old bastards laugh at me—it's not a total defeat after all.

Hmm…?

Did I lose… or did I win?

Bojun pondered, sipped his tea, and his furrowed brows relaxed: "... If she is here, then the Lord's position is confirmed, and it benefits our journey there."

"Miss Nangong, please sit. Khan Qibili and his men need time to reorganize the troops."

Nangong Wumeng nodded.

She still worried about Li Guanyi's side.

After all, this was not Jiangnan—without a large army nearby, even a famed general could only exert personal valor, no different from a martial hero in the Jianghu, unable to display the might of swallowing ten thousand li like a tiger.

The Golden Curved Blade Cavalry…

I wonder how they rank against elite formations in the Central Plains.

Nangong Wumeng still carried some pride from the Central Plains and Tiance Prefecture.

She soon witnessed the speed at which the 【Golden Curved Blade Cavalry】 assembled—the sound of war drums came from outside, followed by the thunder of hooves and the clashing of blades, with no other noise, no voices of men speaking.

After thirty drumbeats, the tent flap was thrown open.

Into the desert wind stepped Khan Qibili, clad in Western Regions armor.

His armor was not like the heavy, grim iron plate of the Grassland Iron Futu, nor like the fully armored heavy cavalry of the Central Plains—it combined elegance with formidable defense.

It was light armor: plates one-third the thickness of heavy armor, combined with tanned leather, forming a simple yet effective suit that covered vital areas while minimizing impact on the horse's charge speed.

It included a cloak and hood, suited to the Western Regions' unique climate and terrain.

No shield, no lance, no bow—only a uniquely shaped, sharply curved, oversized saber, radiating a chilling, deadly aura. Nangong Wumeng, raised in the Jianghu, had experienced the full Jiangnan pacification campaign and multiple major battles afterward, and was well-versed in military formations.

Such weaponry, such style, exuded an indescribable danger.

Pulling back the sand-blocking curtain, she saw two thousand armored soldiers fully assembled.

Each member bore the aura of the Entry Level.

Each carried the chilling aura of habitual slaughter and a solemn, imposing presence. In the chaos of the Central Plains, strict standards existed for judging military units—common conscripts, laborers, and peasants, untrained in martial arts, were not even considered a military unit.

These were not warriors of war, merely expendable fodder.

Placed at the front to absorb arrows like rain, they served only to deplete the enemy's arrows and weapons. In this turbulent age, every nation could easily raise ten thousand—or more—such "armies."

Losing ten thousand of these would not make even the so-called warlords flinch.

Slightly better were the standing armies of individual cities.

Some had trained in martial arts, knew hunting techniques, and would not collapse at first contact; most were young and strong, qualifying as third-tier units. These formations were the foundation—many of their able-bodied soldiers, after training and accumulating merit, could absorb internal Qi and be transferred to stronger armies.

Losing ten thousand of these would make Chen Dingye wince.

But the empire would not suffer crippling damage.

Next came the border troops—like the deserters Li Guanyi had killed outside Yicheng, fierce and nearly all practicing internal arts, generating internal Qi; even squad leaders commanding five men were Entry Level martialists, their blades humming with internal Qi.

These were second-tier units. Losing ten thousand of these would force great nations like Chen or Ying to alter their strategic direction, choosing to lie low—as happened during the Jiangnan pacification.

This was still because Li Guanyi, following Wen Lingjun's strategy, released most captives, earning the world's benevolent reputation without truly bleeding the two nations dry.

What now stood before Nangong Wumeng surpassed even these—

A first-tier formation.

Each man was a fierce warrior, each possessed Entry Level Wu Gong, and all were led by a famed general. She gazed upon the solemn Golden Curved Blade Cavalry—

Each bore a chilling expression, clad in light armor of leather and metal, carrying unsheathed curved sabers at their waists, flanked by identical tall warhorses.

Within the entire Fire Qilin Army, only General Ling Pingyang's five hundred Yue Family Heavy Cavalry possessed such ferocity—these men were the absolute core of the world; a famed general commanded only hundreds. Once lost, even the greatest heroes of the age would be utterly shattered.

If such a top-tier formation lost over ten thousand, even great nations like Chen or Ying might consider relocating their capital; as for their sovereigns, they might as well choose an epithet like Ai or Yang for themselves.

The original three thousand disciples of past overlords were like this.

And now, here stood two thousand.

Khan Qibili stared at Nangong Wumeng and said: "We must leave a thousand behind to protect the tribe. The maximum we can deploy is these two thousand—this is the last glory of the Nine Clans of the Tiele, and my promise to the Lord."

He patted the strange beast beside him—a horse with dragon scales, sharp fangs, and breath that burned hot. Khan Qibili said: "The Golden Curved Blade Cavalry, long buried in time, last appeared in the era of the Tuyuhun King—only a fleeting flash of glory."

"Now, it is our time to wash away our shame."

He turned to face the two thousand Golden Curved Blade Cavalry, eyes blazing, and shouted:

"Comrades, over these two years, I have retrieved you from every corner."

"We have honed our bodies according to our ancestors' methods, slashed our sabers through sandstorms, trudged across the desert—our goal is not to sleep here. We will make the Western Regions sing again of our ancestors' names."

"We will make the blade-light of the Golden Curved Blade resound through heaven and earth once more!"

"Carry the glory of the Fire Qilin to every corner of the desert!"

He raised his chilling saber and solemnly roared: "Tiele, ten thousand victories!"

The Golden Curved Blade Cavalry roared back: "General, ten thousand victories!"

Khan Qibili mounted his horse again and shouted loudly:

"Fire Qilin Army, victory forever!!!"

This time, the sound of curved blades being raised accompanied it—grim and sharp—as if the great sun overhead and the desert below were both reflected on the blades' edges, like a brilliant sea of gold, and the warriors' shouts seemed ready to burst through the heavens:

"Wu Hou, victory forever!!!"

Grim and sharp, two thousand curved blades rose like a forest thrusting into the desert sky; the chilling aura struck their faces, making Nangong Wumeng's heart quicken slightly, his scalp prickling.

The intelligence was wrong!

Nangong Wumeng immediately sensed this fatal flaw—

In the intelligence networks of all nations, Qibili of the Tiele tribe was a brave warrior, but lacked sufficient command ability, lacked inspiring personal charisma, merely a valiant charger, unfit to be a grand commander.

Yet the morale of these Golden Curved Blade cavalry now burned like wildfire, proving that Qibili, from the Western Regions, was far more than what the intelligence suggested.

Was he… concealing his true strength?

Nangong Wumeng finally understood.

"The Golden Curved Blade cavalry was reassembled and trained only within the past two years—originally, they could never have developed such deadly aura. But the Western Regions' situation has worsened steadily over these two years: the old nobility, the Tangxi Kingdom, Lu Youxian of Chen, the Guo Gong family of Ying, and even the Yu Langwang."

"Even the Mo Sect and Buddhist sects—these forces have entangled in bloody struggle, everywhere there is conflict, everywhere there is slaughter. In the style of the Western desert, hiring tribal warriors to protect one's city-state is perfectly reasonable."

"Over these years, the Tiele's Golden Curved Blade cavalry has been forged in actual combat."

In a cool, calm voice, the armored strategist Po Jun also mounted his horse.

Nangong Wumeng saw the mighty Khan Qibili suddenly look anxious: "This—Mr. Po Jun, we can handle this. You should stay here and wait for us!"

Po Jun snapped: "Wait for what?!"

"Our lord is trapped in Bai Mao's treachery—how can I possibly wait?!"

The Golden Curved Blade cavalry stared at the strategist's outburst, silent. This Mr. Po Jun's Wu Gong was not weak—he possessed Second Heaven internal energy—but in battle, he was truly terrible.

Even a Golden Curved Blade corporal without Second Heaven energy could defeat him.

A seasoned ordinary Golden Curved Blade cavalryman could, relying on blade technique, horse, and training, defeat a strategist one Heaven higher.

Yet despite this, the strategist had a strange, unyielding passion for close combat, never seeming to tire.

The brave and fearless Khan Qibili found this most exasperating.

Finally, unable to refuse, they clad Po Jun in armor; Qibili instructed him to stay strictly within his unit, then ordered the troops forward. The Golden Curved Blade cavalry moved at astonishing speed—two thousand men, with four thousand horses, intending to constantly remount and maintain momentum.

Po Jun wrote a letter, instructing Nangong Wumeng, the martial wanderer, to deliver it ahead to their lord, while he himself rode with Qibili, leading the Golden Curved Blade cavalry through endless golden sands and boundless desert. Po Jun gazed far into the sky and exhaled.

"Another year, my lord—we shall finally reunite."

The young strategist's face broke into a smile.

He thought a moment, activated the techniques of the Li Xingyi lineage, and faintly, unmistakably, saw the scattered traces—left by Yao Guang—pointing toward the main force and Li Guanyi's direction.

A faint smile appeared on Po Jun's face.

"Of course."

"You guessed I'd come, didn't you, Yao Guang?"

"Among my lord's subordinates, only you are worthy to be my rival. This battle of the Li Xingyi lineage—hmm, you will lose!"

Po Jun clenched his fist with confidence.

………………

After more than ten days of arduous travel,

Li Guanyi's party had reached the territory of Young Lady Xue Shuangtao. Standing on a high ridge, they could see the small town—though called a town, in the vast, sparsely populated Western Regions, its area was modest.

The main force rested here, while Chang Sun Wuchou had taken the land deed into the town; such matters no longer required Li Guanyi's personal involvement. Besides, before joining the Fire Qilin Army, Chang Sun Wuchou had been a merchant, stirring up the storms of the Western Regions.

The eagle circled overhead, letting out piercing cries.

Pan Wanxiu was analyzing the town's structure.

"The walls are one zhang high, built of rammed earth and stone—not meant to repel attacks, but to block desert winds and wolf packs. The buildings inside are low, mostly single-story. The surrounding terrain is not sandy, but barren steppe."

"There is a river flowing through, and a modest oasis."

"They use this oasis to cultivate grain—growing Western wheat, abundant fruits and melons; livestock is average, population not large."

Gong Sun Huai zhi scratched his Bai Huahua hair and said: "The defenses are terrible—almost nonexistent. On such a low wall, there isn't even a rotating crossbow or repeating crossbow. This width of rammed earth wall can be pierced directly by siege crossbows."

"But unfortunately, that thing is too big."

"The Ancient Chi Long refuses to cooperate—we can't bring it along."

He still lamented the Ancient Chi Long's refusal to carry more siege machinery. Li Guanyi smiled, thinking about how to settle everyone in this town—a genuinely vexing problem—

Along the way, they had passed through many different cities.

Partly for supplies, partly for investigation.

He and Fan Qing entered different cities.

In this era's Western city-states, there was a peculiar 'feature,' utterly unlike the Central Plains, impossible to ignore—

The slave market.

People, clad only in tattered rags, huddled in iron cages for sale, beside cattle and sheep. Every time Fan Qing and Li Guanyi passed through a city, they brought out many people—from slums, from slave markets.

The military pay brought by Hu Yan Yinsi for the Hu Yan front.

Spent like flowing water.

Qin Wu Hou's financial state deteriorated daily.

By the time they reached the small town, the population exceeded ten thousand, with thousands of cattle and sheep.

Gold remained: three jin.

Yes—only the exquisitely carved golden curved blade from Hu Yan Yinsi remained.

Everything else was gone.

Li Guanyi gazed at the sky, speechless.

He very much wanted to grab the collar of the world's number one beauty, shake her hard, and demand—no, Nangong!

Are you serious?

Thirty years of fortune!

Li Guanyi pursed his lips, turned his head, and saw a dark-skinned man guarding him; when the man saw him look over, he offered a smile blending reverence and respect—

Perhaps the warlords of the Western Regions have all followed the Buddhist tide to fool the masses.

People of the Western Regions in this era are extremely superstitious.

Central Plains people believe in a general faith: in every household, Buddhist bodhisattvas and Daoist immortals are placed together, with the central figure being the 【Great Compassion, Great Mercy, Wealth God Who Saves from Suffering】.

Believe in a bit of everything.

Left eye twitching means wealth; ancestral law must not change—say you'll get rich, and you will.

Right eye twitching means disaster?

To hell with that.

The people of the Western Regions, long oppressed, enslaved, and indoctrinated, have legends of all gods and Buddhas; Li Guanyi, known as Tian Ge'er, is a legend even boys taller than a cartwheel tell their younger sisters.

And those elders of the Batuer tribe spread Jin Zhu's name far and wide.

Somehow, Li Guanyi acquired the strange title of Jin Zhu Bodhisattva; perhaps, in the eyes of those who live among cattle and sheep, the man who leads tens of thousands, owns vast herds, and rescues them, is Tian Ge'er himself.

These rescued slaves are fiercely loyal to Li Guanyi.

They voluntarily train with blades, guarding beside the Fire Qilin, becoming his bodyguards.

No one forced them.

Li Guanyi sighed, realizing that though he was poor, he had no regrets about what he'd done on this journey—yet he stared at Huyan Yingshi's exquisitely carved golden curved blade, wondering whether to melt it into a lump with the Fire Qilin's flame.

This blade is far too conspicuous.

Sell it outright, and you'd get an excellent price.

But any expert would instantly recognize its original owner; with a little deduction, they'd immediately guess Li Guanyi was the bandit who killed Huyan Yingshi and made his two-thousand-man escort vanish without a trace.

If melted into gold ingots, and the gemstones on the scabbard pried loose.

The value would drop sharply.

But at least you could sell it.

No choice, absolutely no choice—Huyan Yingshi's portion of military grain was rapidly consumed by men and horses during this time; even the gold nuggets Nangong Wumeng had picked up, Li Guanyi had already sold.

How did so many more people end up behind me, consuming nearly all the military supplies?

We're not an army!

Li Guanyi grumbled as a two-hundred-man cavalry patrol saluted him on horseback, then bowed deeply and respectfully; only after Li Guanyi nodded did they raise their heads and gallop off, bows and arrows in hand.

Li Guanyi sighed: "We're not an army."

"Just traders and migrating tribes."

"How did the supplies run out so fast?"

He stared at the ornate curved blade, pained and torn, when Lei Laomeng's voice rang out: "Lord! Lord! Something's happened!" Lei Laomeng's tone was far higher than usual; moments later, he galloped over on a camel.

This camel, of who knows what mixed bloodline, was extraordinarily tall.

When it charged, its momentum could kick a Western Region wolf to death—fiercely formidable. Lei Laomeng was delighted upon seeing it, spent considerable effort taming it, and now dismounted, saying: "Lord, enemy contact!"

"Fifty li from our camp, we spotted Huyan family scouts."

Lei Laomeng's face was filled with shame: "I'm truly bad at this. If Nangong were here, she might have spotted them much sooner. We clashed with them; two of them noticed something wrong and fled—we couldn't catch them."

Lei Laomeng was merely an outer-disciple of the Divine Beast Manor in the martial world.

His internal energy barely entered the realm back then; two years later, he'd only brushed the edge of the Second Heaven, barely breaking through—he'd never be fit for frontline combat; any soldier in a frontline unit was stronger than him.

Li Guanyi said: "Scouts… organized scouts? It must be about Huyan Yingshi's death. His father will come for revenge."

Lei Laomeng uttered a rare martial world saying: "Revenge begets revenge—when will it end?"

"Why must they come one by one?"

Fan Qing spoke calmly: "This isn't revenge—it's irreconcilable class conflict. Unlike the martial world, Lord, five scouts mean a ten-thousand-man force behind them. The Western Regions differ from the Central Plains—horses are plentiful. Of these ten thousand, perhaps eight thousand are combat troops, each with two spare warhorses—close to thirty thousand horses total."

"Though most are merely draft horses, and even the main battle mounts can't match the Fire Qilin Army's elite steeds, they still count as High Quality, and with their offensive supplies, metal, and arrows, Lord—we must devour them."

Batuer's eyelid twitched violently.

He stared at Fan Qing—the ever-calm, gentle, majestic general who seemed like a celestial king's emissary—with a look of disbelief, thinking the man had gone mad. They had ten thousand people too.

But about eight thousand of them had little combat ability.

Only two thousand or so were fit to fight.

Two thousand against Huyan Yingshi's father's ten thousand elite troops in his rage?

How was that possible?

He turned to Jin Zhu Tian Ge'er, hoping to persuade him.

But he saw Tian Ge'er nodding, saying: "It's not impossible."

"We're broke anyway. Perfect timing."

Lei Laomeng and Pan Wanshou agreed.

Batuer felt his head throbbing again. This warrior who had spent his life fighting in the desert couldn't keep up with the minds of these Central Plains traders—two thousand against ten thousand?

Li Guanyi looked toward the nearby town and said calmly:

"If you have ten times their force, surround them. If we can get inside this city, set up palisades and battle formations at the main gate, and place three revolving crossbow machines on either side of the gate, we can cover the enemy's cavalry entirely as their speed drops."

Li Guanyi sketched a simple terrain map with the golden curved blade.

Fan Qing, Lei Laomeng, Shi Dalin, Gongsun Huai Zhi, and Pan Wanshou refined it.

The final version perfectly matched the Fire Qilin Army's tactical style.

A composite warfare method incorporating Mozi mechanisms, Gongshu repeating crossbows, Hou Zhongyu's powders, and more.

Old Stone immediately began mixing the powder:

"This is Master Hou Zhongyu's 【Ten Aromatic Softening Powder】. It weakens tendons and bones—even a Fire Qilin isn't immune. Add it in, add it in!"

"This is Mr. Master Wen He's 【Ma Fei San】. A mere scholar, yet his compound formula surpasses all of ours—he's a genius. Add it in, add it in!"

"This is Lei Laomeng's 【Spring Drug】, used for breeding boars."

Lei Laomeng froze, face flushing red as he shouted: "When did you take it?!"

Shi Dalin said: "You just didn't notice. Never mind."

"This is the potent drug that once raised our piglets' birth rate to ninety-eight percent."

"Add it in, add it in."

In Batuer's eyes, Shi Dalin's face—the same gentle, reverent face that seemed like a celestial Bodhisattva of Medicine descending from heaven—now wore a devilish smile, and that gentle smile made Batuer's body stiffen.

Shi Dalin said proudly: "Mix these together, scatter them downwind, and they won't muster eight out of ten strengths."

"Rapid fire attacking the heart, tendons and bones weakened."

"The Central Plains' Iron Army has countermeasures for this. They don't."

"Oh, I really want to see what happens when enemies are hit by all these drugs at once—it's simply exquisite…"

Batuer's Dao heart trembled violently: "You—you are…"

The Fire Qilin troops froze.

Then, in perfect unison, they turned their heads, facing Batuer against the light.

In that instant, Batuer couldn't tell who the real ferocious ones were—were these really traders?

Were Central Plains traders really this terrifying?!

He recalled the legend of a man a hundred years ago—single-handedly, with three carts of arrows—who wiped out the desert bandits, allowing our small tribes to survive—and his mind had to shift.

Yes!

These are Central Plains traders!

Batuer's Dao heart trembled.

At that moment, he suddenly felt a warm pressure on his shoulder. He looked up to see General Fan Qing, calm and composed: "To friends and kin, be as warm as spring wind; to enemies, be as harsh as the east wind."

"This is what we must do."

Batuer said: "General…"

Batuer's Dao heart solidified again!

And grew stronger still.

Li Guanyi gazed at the distant town: "Let's see if Changsun can take it."

"We have the land deeds, but it's still uncertain…"

Meanwhile.

Changsun Wuchou stared at the Western Region noble before him, squinting:

"You said… what?"

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