Chapter 349: Beneath the Surge of Destiny, the Faces of All Beings

Endless yellow sands stretched under the vast sky; Khan Qibili dismounted, tapped his armor with a finger, and thought: the weaponry and armor-crafting techniques of the Central Plains far surpassed those of the Western Regions and the steppes—the artisans of the Mohists and the Military School truly understood the art of steel.

"Excellent armor."

A faint smile broke across Khan Qibili's solemn face.

Over these past years, he had rebuilt the Nine Tiele Clans from nothing; after centuries of decline, the once-mighty tribe now numbered few and lived in poverty—even the light armor and golden curved swords of their cavalry had been painstakingly forged, piece by piece.

Later, after Li Guanyi seized Anxi City, he tightened his belt and provided them with better armor—but how could the armor of a single Western city compare to the top-tier standard armor of the Central Plains' frontier dukes?

"As for the curved swords, no need—they've been passed down through our ancestors, meticulously maintained, forged during the peak of our clan's glory; each is a peerless blade, wrapped in oilcloth and preserved within the clan, tended through generations—even in our most desperate hours, we never abandoned these weapons."

"It is time to let them reappear upon this world."

Fan Qing's four thousand men were all clad in heavy armor.

Three thousand sets of full horse-and-rider armor had been provided; they could not rival the finest armor of the empire's elite armies, but for Fan Qing at this moment, they were more than enough.

He reached out, his palm brushing the forged steel of the heavy armor.

A faint smile appeared on the face of this gentle warrior.

Ten thousand troops were transferred; the men originally from Xiyicheng under Changsun Wu'chou had mostly come from the great frontier fortresses, and they had already looked down slightly on men like Fan Qing—especially when they saw these men's armor was inferior to their own.

But when the ten thousand donned their armor, not a single sound was made.

They began to sense something was wrong.

Silence. Stillness. Deadly menace.

Tens of thousands stood motionless, wordless, changing armor.

A vast, dark sea of men.

No whispered laughter. No quiet exchanges.

Only the faint, crisp clinking of armor scales—a cold, lethal sound—that deepened the oppressive atmosphere, culminating in a continuous, delicate series of clicks as the final pieces locked into place.

Fan Qing tightened his waist guard, the arm guards encasing his body, extended his hand, gripped the heavy shield and the long-hafted battle blade, and lifted his gaze.

The faint clinking of armor scales vanished instantly.

Only the quiet rhythm of breathing and the weight of stares remained—a deadly aura surged skyward; Meng Le's officers felt their hearts lurch, their scalps prickling; Fan Qing smiled, clenched his fist, and said: "General Changsun, fine armor."

"Gentlemen, mount your horses."

Ten thousand riders split into two major groups.

Khan Qibili led six thousand light cavalry: three thousand Golden Curved Sword cavalry, three thousand Tiele Curved Sword cavalry—all his own men.

Fan Qing commanded his own heavy infantry, this general born of peasant stock, who, with his ordinary Fourth Heaven realm, now led four thousand men.

Three thousand were heavy armored shock cavalry.

One thousand were heavy shield, spear, and crossbow cavalry.

A chilling, lethal aura surged skyward—yet not a sound was made; precisely because of the silence, the martial force of the formation grew even more overwhelming; Meng Le's officers turned pale; Fan Qing, seated on his horse, said: "The armor of the Central Plains."

"Back to the battlefield again, General Changsun."

He raised his hand and tossed something—a silk pouch.

Fan Qing said gravely: "If we return victorious, I shall thank you then." Though his personal command ability was weaker than Khan Qibili's, he carried an aura of mountain-like solemnity—a true general's bearing.

Ten thousand cavalry, abandoning supply lines and grain, mounted only the finest steeds, slipped soundlessly toward the enemy's main camp under the power of their formation.

They would reach their battle positions in one hour.

Li Guanyi did not waste time idly; he personally visited Yemeng Pass to inspect the garrison—and at a single glance, he saw something amiss: the soldiers' armor was inconsistent.

After careful inquiry, he learned that among the seventy thousand troops, a significant portion were former defenders of the forty captured cities—each possessed inner qi, yet Li Duke had counted even their passive, garrison-style qi as combat-ready.

Li Guanyi looked out at the army and felt a flicker of irritation.

Li Duke appeared magnanimous, saying we would unite and surely prevail—but his words were laced with hidden traps.

Was he telling the truth?

Yes, he was.

But was he telling the whole truth?

That was doubtful.

His tactics were far more refined than Li Jianwen's; had Li Guanyi not been experienced, he might have fallen into the trap—the Western Alliance might have been far larger, but after seizing the forty cities, each had left behind one or two thousand troops to garrison.

Then, instead of killing the original defenders, they forced them to merge with the Xiyicheng allied army as broken troops—a tactic favored by the Western Regions and the Turkic steppes: wolves chasing sheep, draining their strength.

Just as Li Guanyi's reason for charging.

Numbers can be a crushing burden.

Broken troops devastate morale.

Feigned retreat is a supremely sophisticated tactic—only generals of a certain caliber can execute it.

Rather, the fact that these broken troops had not yet become outright rabble was astonishing.

Li Duke's maneuver was extraordinary.

Yemeng Pass was a fortress city—its grain could not possibly feed so many.

The enemy numbered one hundred thousand—but these were the absolute elite, stripped of garrison duties after capturing cities; here, the seven thousand were a merged force of scattered defenders—seven thousand broken troops with unstable morale.

Li Guanyi almost laughed in anger.

Language truly is a great art.

Li Duke is a magnificent politician, a cunning old fox; had I been just an ordinary young warrior, I'd have been blinded by the illusion of seventy thousand against one hundred thousand, the promise of reinforcements, the feints, the illusion of advantage.

Li Zhaowen had gone to assist the Duke Manor troops.

Li Guanyi gazed at the endless Western formations in the distance—

The 【Shatuo】 tribe stood at the center.

Within Li Guanyi, a surge of primordial energy flowed through the Nine Cauldrons, like twin flames in his eyes; the martial aura of the military formation appeared as tangible entities—each of the hundred thousand troops manifested as a monstrous spirit-beast of war.

The 【Shatuo】 were the strongest, and faintly exerted control over the other formations; Li Guanyi stared at the densest aura of the 【Shatuo】 tribe and murmured: "The commander's tent lies there."

A muffled sound came from Li Guanyi's arms; he looked down and a cat emerged.

"Phew, I was suffocating!"

This charge carried life-or-death risk, so Li Guanyi brought the Fire Qilin.

During the charge, the Fire Qilin hid within his armor, spewing flames that melted every arrow shot at him; to the skilled cavalry of Dayuan, it was like a nightmare—arrows all avoided him.

The Fire Qilin chewed once, then spat out a lump of iron.

It had swallowed the arrow meant for Li Guanyi, chewing it like a candy pill.

The Fire Qilin sighed: "This stuff… has no flavor at all…"

Li Guanyi patted the Qilin's head and smiled: "What flavor do you want? Still expecting fruit? Still no flavor?"

The Fire Qilin wrestled with this for a long while, then finally blurted out: "Fruit… at least fruit is actually fruit."

"This city… really has nothing left."

"Fruit—even the tree bark was stripped away."

"Better to go back and eat fruit than chew arrows and iron pellets here!"

Li Guanyi smiled: "Then why not pull out a steamed bun…"

Li Guanyi's voice trailed off.

The Fire Qilin looked puzzled, licked its paw, and said: "What are you talking about?"

"Yao Guang isn't here."

Li Guanyi leaned against the city wall's battlement: "Yes… she's not beside me."

"If Yao Guang were here, she could give you a steamed bun to eat." The Fire Qilin also realized this—though the steamed bun was dry and boring to chew normally, now it felt nostalgic.

"Ah, just as long as she doesn't pour honey over the charred bun and give it to me."

"Steamed buns are actually pretty tasty."

Li Guanyi asked: "Which is tastier—this or the arrow?"

The Fire Qilin struggled for a moment, then said: "Then I'll stick with the arrow."

Li Guanyi really wanted Yao Guang to see the Fire Qilin's choice—she'd surely puff up in anger, jam a straight branch into a steamed bun, and tap the Qilin's head over and over, and the Qilin couldn't dodge, forced to endure it meekly.

Li Guanyi lowered his gaze; for over two years, Yao Guang had scarcely left his side.

This time, charging through ten thousand soldiers, he himself had the Immortal Life Body—he wasn't afraid—but Yao Guang wasn't like him. The incident with Xiao Yuxue weighed on his heart like a stone; he truly feared something would happen to Yao Guang.

This was the only psychological scar left by the Mo Sect's leader.

When he was young, the man had drained half of Yao Guang's blood and bone marrow to purify her lineage—the pain, Li Guanyi couldn't even bear to imagine.

That bastard truly deserved to die.

"This mission is to help Second Brother—we're comrades in hardship, brothers in life and death—but if helping Second Brother puts Yao Guang in danger, I can't do it."

"But Second Brother's father… his elder brother…"

Li Guanyi didn't know what to say.

With Li Zhaowen's character and intellect, had it not been for familial blinders, he would have seen through Li Jianwen and the Duke's plans long ago. In the end, Li Guanyi only said: "Forget it. Their family affairs—I hope I'm just imagining things."

Suddenly, a chorus of crying and shouting rose from below; Li Guanyi lifted his head and saw civilians and soldiers clashing. He frowned and tapped the Qilin.

The Qilin shrank and slipped into Li Guanyi's battle robe.

Li Guanyi pushed off the wall, flipping down; far off, he saw a group of civilians confronting soldiers, the civilians clutching the soldiers' sleeves and wailing: "General! General—are you leaving us?!"

"You've taken our houses apart for stones, taken our grain—you can't abandon us and leave!"

The corporal, angered, said: "When did we ever plan to leave alone?"

The old man replied: "I've seen you dismantling camp, preparing troops, lighting cooking fires—you're clearly preparing to reward the soldiers before the charge. You're treating us as expendable."

The corporal flew into a rage and shoved the old man to the ground.

His right hand fell on his saber hilt, drawing it an inch—behind him, all soldiers drew weapons at once; tension surged as they shouted: "Don't incite the people!"

But the old man only cried out: "I don't dare incite the people! But General—I enlisted at fifteen. Three brothers—I'm the only one left. I fought in over ten major battles, earned some military merit, then lost it all."

"When the Duke ordered civilians moved beyond the borders, I answered his call and settled here. Twenty years later, both my sons serve the state. You took our grain, our homes—I said nothing."

"But now you're leaving—and leaving us behind?!"

"General! General! That's not right! I demand to see the Duke!"

"Move aside!"

The corporal, alarmed by the rising fury, his face darkened, shouted: "Shut your mouth!" The old man, heartbroken, roared: "I fought beside the Duke forty years ago, crushing the Longmen rebellion—I was a foot soldier of Huo Huang Camp! And now you dare kill me?!"

The corporal gritted his teeth, drew his sword—when suddenly a voice said: "Stop."

The corporal froze. A battle general approached.

Dressed in black mountain-pattern armor, draped in a bloodstained brocade battle robe, his gaze calm. All soldiers stiffened, instinctively saluting: "General."

Li Guanyi walked forward: "What's happening?"

The corporal hesitated: "This… this old man suddenly started shouting, claiming we're abandoning them."

The old man's beard bristled, voice trembling with tears: "You've been silent, no word to the people, dismantling camp, preparing troops, lighting cooking fires—you're clearly rewarding soldiers before the charge. You're treating us as expendable."

"I know I'm too old to fight—but there are still many young men here who fought to open the frontier. Are you just leaving them behind? Give them swords, let them charge out too—give them a chance to live."

The corporal snarled: "Don't slander us!"

Li Guanyi looked around. The soldiers knew only that this man in black mountain-pattern armor was the warrior who had charged twice, like a god—none dared speak, only muttered. Li Guanyi looked at the old man: "…I would never do that."

The old man stared at Li Guanyi, then bowed deeply. All the civilians followed suit. Li Guanyi caught the old man's arm. The elder pulled open his tunic—his chest bore deep scars, weeping: "We old ones don't plan to live anymore—we've lived enough."

"In these chaotic times, surviving past forty-nine is already heaven's mercy. But these young men—I know the Duke's plan. When the army leaves, you'll charge out—but we stay. The Western armies, enraged, will plunder us."

"Are tens of thousands of civilians in this city to be abandoned?"

"You say you'll return with reinforcements—but once a city falls, it's like meat thrown onto the desert, drawing endless beasts. Can we survive? We'll be eaten clean—bones and all!"

Li Guanyi listened to the old man's lament, silent for a long while. The people's homes had been torn apart into boulders and logs; their grain seized. They knew it was for the city's safety, so they had obeyed without complaint.

Until now, seeing the army's tendency to withdraw, public sentiment finally spiraled completely out of control; the old man spoke, tears streaming down his face, and Li Guanyi looked at these people, knowing this was the rule of chaotic times.

History will record that the Li Duke's forces were surrounded, then broke out.

It will praise the soldiers' valor, the strategic importance of the battle—but never mention the people's suffering, their homes looted, abandoned, left behind. Li Guanyi exhaled, staring at these "expendables," then suddenly shouted:

"You won't be left behind."

The old man looked up at him. Li Guanyi rummaged in his chest, pulled out the Duke of Li's letter, and said seriously: "The Duke has given me all forty-two cities. I am now the Lord of Yemeng Pass. I say it—I will not abandon you."

The old man's eyes widened.

Li Guanyi said: "I said it—once spoken, even four horses cannot catch it."

"I will save every soul in this city."

"As for households, homes, grain, and supplies?" Li Guanyi turned to the squad leader and asked: "Where is the city's treasury?"

The squad leader stammered. Li Guanyi's brow lifted. The squad leader felt crushed by lethal aura, his face turning pale: "I-I-it's at the end of this road…" Li Guanyi led the crowd forward. The squad leader's heart lurched and he grabbed Li Guanyi's sleeve:

"General, General."

"Now, now is not convenient…"

Li Guanyi's mind flashed like lightning—he suddenly understood. He sneered:

"Not convenient?"

"I am now Lord of Yemeng Pass. What's not convenient?!"

"Let go!"

He whipped his sleeve—the squad leader flew backward. Li Guanyi marched forward with the people. Xuanjia soldiers spotted Li Guanyi and followed without hesitation. When they reached the treasury, as Li Guanyi had expected, the gates had already been opened.

Dozens of tough Manor soldiers, clad in armor clearly superior to ordinary troops, were hauling out gold, silver, and copper coins—especially jade artifacts piled together. Seeing Li Guanyi and the crowd arrive, they showed no fear, continuing to move the goods.

They tucked small, delicate items into their own robes.

Li Guanyi's eyes darkened with stormclouds. He strode forward—two servants with pale, unblemished skin, clearly untouched by battle, stepped in front of him: "General, this place is not convenient."

"What's not convenient?"

The servant sized Li Guanyi up, smiling: "I know you're the one who charged the line—earned merit. But don't you know my master's reputation?"

"Even with merit, you need connections. Isn't the city about to break out? These gold, silver, jade—if left here, they'll fall into the hands of western barbarians. My master cannot bear such waste. He sent me to take them away."

The old man no longer wished to speak.

He had fought for forty years—to protect people like this?

Grief surged within him. He burst into tears.

In battle, the people suffer; soldiers fight desperately.

Yet here, at this moment, men sneak into the city treasury, stealing gold and silver, laughing and chatting, calm and idle. Compared to the horrific situation, Li Guanyi felt rage surge up.

We've reached this point!

At this critical moment!

Are there still people like this? And dare they profit from it?!

After all, this was Er Lang's domain. Li Guanyi suppressed his rage, speaking slowly, each word deliberate:

"In the army, taking from the people—I intend to relieve the civilians."

"Moreover, this city now belongs to me. What are you doing here?"

"Put down what you've taken and leave now—then you may avoid punishment."

The servant laughed: "Punishment?"

"My Young Master, by blood, is a younger cousin of the Duke. His seniority is immense. Even Second Young Master himself must treat him as an uncle. You…"

He glanced at Li Guanyi, smiling faintly: "Merely a fierce general under Second Young Master. How dare you be so disrespectful? Given your merit, and your ignorance of the great Da Ying aristocratic houses, leave now…"

Li Guanyi's right hand dropped to his waist, gripping his sword.

The servant, accustomed to arrogance, said: "A mere warrior. Do you know the millennia-old aristocratic houses? These things—give them to these peasants? What are you thinking? What, do you dare draw your blade? Come—my neck is right here. If you have the courage, then—"

Before he finished speaking, a flash of blade—his head shot upward, spurting blood.

Li Guanyi's blade dripped blood. The surrounding soldiers froze. The stench of blood surged—Li Guanyi felt his spirit clear, all worries—the Duke's schemes, deep machinations, and warlord clans—vanished.

Piss the alliances! Piss their rhythm!

I didn't fight for the aristocrats!

Duke Li, old bastard—your tricks still think they can bind me?

Li Guanyi said: "Xuanjia soldiers."

"Seize these men!"

"Aye!"

The fierce soldiers immediately drew blades and subdued them. These men had high Wu Gong—but no matching battlefield merit; clearly, they were all troublemakers from the border garrisons. Border troops were synonymous with ferocity—and troublemakers.

These Xuanjia soldiers were troublemakers among troublemakers. They had long despised the aristocratic Manor troops. Li Guanyi's two charges to rescue lives had won their full loyalty. They moved instantly to subdue.

Li Guanyi turned to the squad leader: "Who is this Young Master?"

The squad leader turned ashen, trembling: "I-I-it's Young Master Li Xuanye…"

Li Guanyi nodded, knelt half-bent, and bound the wound on the old man's knee, gently saying: "Old man, wait a moment. I'll seek justice."

The old man gripped Li Guanyi's sleeve: "Enough… enough…"

Li Guanyi looked at him: "Not enough."

He rose. Suddenly, a voice called: "Where are you going, General?"

Li Guanyi said: "To seek justice. You stay here."

The man grinned—a man in his thirties, built like a iron tower, wielding a heavy horse spear, a border soldier of Five Heavy Heaven Realm.

He had been promoted to commander of a thousand men several times—each time demoted for quarreling with superiors. This was Wei Chi Xiong, bored out of his mind: "General, where to? I'll guard your rear."

Li Guanyi said: "Good!"

Only these two men seized the horses and charged straight to where the Duke and the clan were stationed; Yu Chi Xiong laughed loudly, swinging a heavy weapon like a wolf-tooth club to shove everyone aside, while Li Guanyi had already rushed toward this Li Xuanye.

Li Xuanye held a cup of grape wine, thinking that leaving with this city's gold and silver was no loss—after all, this city would surely be looted by the chaos of the Western Regions, and no one would ever know of these deeds.

There was also the merit of campaigning with the army and returning victorious; though he had suffered some hardship, it was still no loss.

As he was thinking, he heard commotion outside; before he could react, a fierce general in mountain-pattern armor galloped toward him. Li Xuanye was just about to greet him when the man raised his hand and thrust a spear—without hesitation—straight at him!

Li Xuanye tried to dodge, but where could he possibly escape?

He was already pierced through the throat, the spear driving into the wall behind him; the cup of grape wine and the luminous goblet crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces. Li Xuanye stared in disbelief, clawing frantically at the spear in his neck, feeling only trembling.

The commotion drew others outside; seeing the scene, all turned pale. Xia Hou Duan said: "What are you doing?!"

He, shrewd and deep, asked: "What crime has Li Xuanye committed?"

Li Guanyi kept pressing with his battle spear, nearly pinning Li Xuanye to the spot, saying: "He plundered the city's armory; during wartime, he privately seized gold, silver, and valuables; during wartime, he disrupted military morale."

Xia Hou Duan remained silent for a long while, then said: "If he disrupted military morale, he certainly deserved death—but what exactly did he do to disrupt morale?"

Li Guanyi understood.

The earlier charges were all accusations, but to those born of noble clans, none were truly serious offenses.

Li Xuanye seemed to spot the Duke's figure, reached out, blood gushing from his wound, mumbling: "Big brother, save me…"

If Big Brother comes, there are miraculous pills—he can still live!

He can live!

The Duke's thoughts—the conflict between the Western Regions and the Central Plains, the abandoned civilians and soldiers, the noble clan sons still thinking of looting gold and silver at a time like this—all these things burned like fire in Li Guanyi's chest.

Exploded.

Want to live?

Dream on!!!

Li Guanyi twisted his wrist.

The spear swept sideways, severing half his neck!

Blood splattered to the ground, crimson and horrific, freezing everyone in place. Li Guanyi turned, his black mountain-pattern armor gleaming, the spear's tip resting on the ground, gazing at the generals before him, eyes lowered: "What morale?"

"Not in accord with my will."

"How so?"

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