Chapter 353

Before Li Guanyi entered the city, the townsfolk had heard only the continuous cries of battle from outside, then sudden silence fell; they had already resigned themselves to death, and his words caused their emotions to surge and plummet.

Countless people, overwhelmed by this emotional turmoil, wept uncontrollably and screamed aloud.

Li Guanyi rose to his feet, and the old man trembled as he said: "General, is it truly…?"

Li Guanyi said: "The enemy commander has been slain by me."

"Additional prisoners and grain supplies will be transported here soon; old sir, please assist me in calming the people—food will be distributed to them afterward."

"As long as I am here, this city will be safe."

These final words fell softly, yet carried the weight of mountains.

The old man Niu Shishi, his emotions surging, looked up and saw the general's armor riddled with sword marks, his back bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun, as if draped in a cloak of blood—he could not help but cry: "General Tianwei!"

The city gates were opened, and the Anxi Protectorate's army entered, bringing wounded soldiers and prisoners alike.

Unlike the troops of Xiyicheng.

They did not seize civilians' homes, nor occupy the courtyards of officials.

All rested only upon the main roads.

Discipline was strict, no harm came to the people; the first act after entering was to immediately light cooking fires—every fifty paces, a field stove was set up, using gathered dried rations, grain, and the meat of horses slain on the battlefield.

All boiled together into meat porridge.

These warhorses had muscular flesh, tough to chew; if improperly prepared, their meat often carried unpleasant off-flavors—but the townsfolk had been barely surviving, starving for nearly a month, and had not smelled meat in ages.

Fan Qing was born into poverty.

He knew that at such a time, greasy food was the worst thing to consume.

After prolonged starvation, eating too much greasy food at once could choke the heart, triggering illness and even sudden death.

Yet due to extreme weakness, their bodies still needed nourishment.

So he ordered the army's strongest warriors to finely chop the horse meat into mince, skim off the fat to store as battlefield oil, preserve the hides for tanning into leather for armor, and extract the tendons for use in bows and mechanisms.

This was the nature of the Tiance Prefecture Fire Qilin troops.

Due to their lord's influence.

War spoils could not be wasted in the slightest.

Fan Qing also crushed the hard, arrow-resistant dried breads common in the Western Regions and frontier areas into pieces, boiled them together, then sprinkled in salt to restore the people's strength and spirit.

The food bubbled and steamed, its aroma intensely rich and irresistible.

Fan Qing repeatedly issued orders explaining the city's new rules.

Then he had the civilians line up first to receive the meat porridge.

Only after them came the soldiers.

The people, seeing this army's solemn discipline, its refusal to harm them, its expulsion of invaders, and most notably, the visible improvement in their lives since arrival, felt joy and awe—and secretly called them the Heavenly Army.

The Zhu Xie chieftain, a fierce general of the Shatuo tribe, held his clay bowl, staring at the meat broth and dried bread—identical to what the civilians and even the Anxi troops received—and furrowed his brow. He took a sip: in this era, food with salt, grain, and meat could greatly restore spirit and strength.

Around him, the noise was loud and chaotic.

Perhaps realizing Li Guanyi had no intention of using their skulls to build a trophy mound, the Western Region prisoners began to relax; once fear faded, the pent-up rage surged violently.

The ten thousand-plus prisoners left from the Western Alliance were all elite warriors.

These were the soldiers, captains, and fierce commanders who had survived the chaos of battle—through the slaughter of a battlefield with over a hundred thousand combatants, they had emerged as absolute veterans.

If these men formed a single army, they would pose a greater threat than the entire hundred-thousand-strong alliance.

The latter, though numerous, were disunited, with orders delayed and command sluggish—more liability than asset. These ten thousand, however, were peerless in ferocity and martial skill; if led by a single mighty commander, they would be truly dangerous.

These warriors, hailing from different tribes, each proud of their Wu Gong, resented their capture and cursed their own commanders—Helian Jieshan and others—in their native tongues.

What a fool to fall for such a trap!

One incompetent general dooms three armies!

You've dragged me to this—now I must eat horse meat! When did a man of the Western Desert ever eat his own mount…?

Ah, but this seems to be Dawa horse meat.

Tough as leather—wears out the jaws.

Then it's fine.

Just a pity.

Dawa horses were excellent.

The Zhu Xie chieftain sneered, lowered his head to eat the porridge, felt warmth spreading through his body, and slowly regained some strength—when suddenly, the surrounding noise fell utterly silent.

He looked up, instinctively gripping his bowl, body stiffening: the armored general in mountain-pattern armor had returned. Li Guanyi sat casually on a rock, holding a bowl, his sword resting beside him, the armor plates clinking with a chilling sound.

In an instant, the prisoners' area became deathly quiet.

Only the sound of eating porridge remained—and even that was hushed, barely audible.

Everyone feared that slurping too loudly might draw the gaze of that man over there.

Li Guanyi raised an eyebrow: "Why aren't you speaking?"

No one dared open their mouth.

The atmosphere grew even more Solemn.

Only Zhu Xie rose, glanced over, saw that Li Guanyi's bowl was no different from his own, and, overcome with curiosity, finally spoke in halting Central Plains speech: "Why don't you eat better?"

"If we had won, we could have enjoyed finer things."

"Roasted whole lamb, beauties, fine wine."

Li Guanyi replied succinctly: "Poor."

Zhu Xie choked, the breath caught in his throat.

Li Guanyi laughed: "Just a joke. We still have money for food—but grain is scarce now; soldiers and civilians alike must share equally. Besides…"

He held the porridge bowl, paused, then smiled with quiet reflection:

The things I want to eat are usually common, always by my side.

But now they're gone.

Not beside me.

Zhu Xie looked at him, not understanding what he meant.

Li Guanyi said: "By the way, what's your name?"

The fierce general set his bowl aside, knelt halfway, and replied:

"I am a noble of the Shatuo Kingdom, a son of the Zhu Xie clan, named Zhu Xie Kedi. For my ferocity and unmatched horsemanship and archery, my comrades call me 'Flying Tiger.' Now defeated by you, I submit heart and soul—kill me or flay me, do as you please."

"If you wish to enroll me in your cavalry, as long as you don't strike my Zhu Xie clan, even if you fight the Shatuo tribe, I will not betray you."

In the Western Regions, the people are fierce; even within the same tribe, uncles, nephews, and fathers will lead their own bands to kill each other for the position of Khan or Chanyu—the loser is either killed or made a horse slave.

Li Guanyi said: "Flying Tiger?"

He smiled: "I've been called 'Little Cat' before."

Zhu Xie Kedi bowed his head respectfully: "You are the heavenly deity who subdued the Flying Tiger."

Li Guanyi said: "Do the deserts and steppes of the Western Regions also have the concept of the Eternal Heaven?"

Zhu Xie Kedi nodded.

Li Guanyi said: "Then I shall be your Eternal Heaven."

Zhu Xie Kedi's expression changed. Ten thousand men around them all had Wu Gong, yet none dared speak, none dared refute Li Guanyi's blasphemous words in the desert and steppes.

Li Guanyi rose and said with a smile: "Whether you can serve me, I will consider later. Don't worry—even if I don't let you go, I won't take your lives."

"These ten thousand strong men can till the land just as well."

"Killing them would be a waste."

Zhu Xie Kedi opened his mouth.

But he saw Li Guanyi rise and walk far away.

The surrounding Western Region warrior Captains bowed their heads in silent farewell, none daring to look up—such was the aura of a single battle. Zhu Xie Kedi knew that even if all these men were released and returned home, restored to their former valor,

they might still wield weapons and ride across the desert and steppes, still fight and kill—but even if given horses, armor, and spears again, they would never dare face this young Central Plains general again.

Their courage had been shattered.

Yet conversely,

if this group gathered under the command of this Central Plains general, their morale would remain perpetually at an extreme height—even in utter despair, as long as the general stood, they would never lose hope of survival or victory.

Even if only a dozen riders remained, they would still charge with courage against ten thousand enemies.

Such a general—throughout history,

he is the second.

Zhu Xie Kedi looked around and saw the expressions in the eyes of those once defiant, arrogant, Mu Zi Yi Western warriors. He recalled his father's words about the Bingjiage Sect, particularly the doctrine of military posture: when both friend and foe fear you as they fear a god.

Where the general's order reaches, none dare disobey!

Zhu Xie Kedi clenched his fist and could not help but speak the Central Plains phrase:

"A true man must be like this!"

He had always thought this phrase overly flowery.

Now, for the first time, he felt the heroism within these characters.

………………

After the great battle, all tribes were held, except the Dayuan tribe—fast horses, repeatedly charged, still managed to regroup their remnants, gathering over three thousand men. Relying on swift horses and powerful bows, they surged wildly forward; the Central Plains generals strained every ounce of effort yet could only chase after them—and they escaped.

The commander of the Dayuan tribe, Mei Cai, gasped for breath.

The Dayuan tribe loved horses; they gathered their herds—over three thousand men, leading more than ten thousand horses. Their leader's mount was crimson as fire, its mane flaring like burning flame. After a swift gallop, the horse sweated, its sweat like blood.

Day and night, it could cover three thousand li.

It was the highest-blooded Longma.

Mei Cai said: "We've finally broken out!"

He pressed his hand to his chest, still trembling—time and again, the enemy had targeted his Dayuan tribe, charging until his vision swam with stars. From over ten thousand, only these three thousand remained, their morale shattered.

Dayuan has always produced fine horses; his steed, Chi Xue Hu, was one of them.

Dayuan's mounted archers were famed across the world—swift, powerful, with hard bows and heavy arrows.

But when assaulting cities, their high-speed battlefield mobility was useless. When the Xuanjia charged, when the Anxi city's Lion crushed them, then came the Golden Curved Sword cavalry—

They were shattered outright.

He had never seen such ruthless heavy cavalry.

Mei Cai thought of those strange cavalrymen led by the lion-like general—he almost gnashed his teeth. The Golden Curved Sword cavalry sliced, the fully armored cavalry charged, then came an unknown, bizarre troop.

Clad in full armor, right hand holding an arm shield to guard vital points.

Logically, such a shield formation could not attack.

Not infantry combat. In infantry combat, when Central Plains heavy shield infantry formed a shield wall, another group of fierce soldiers would coordinate, thrusting long spears through gaps to pierce out—one defense, one offense, viciously effective.

The shield wall held the enemy, then the killing move: four-sided shield walls trapped the foe, and from every gap, hundreds of spears stabbed wildly. When the shields withdrew, only blood and pulped flesh remained.

But such a steady, grim formation only appeared in infantry combat. In cavalry, without attacking troops to coordinate, the shield wall was just a stone lump.

Just as Mei Cai thought this—

Those thousand heavy-shield cavalrymen pulled strange devices from behind their waists.

They were bizarrely shaped crossbows.

Capable of continuous firing of powerful bolts.

On the battlefield, these shield cavalrymen used their shields for cover, thrusting out their crossbows, advancing with the force of a mountain collapsing. The heavy shields blocked Dayuan arrows, ignoring everything, charging forward with brute force.

Coupled with the continuous bolts, powerful enough to pierce through stone and rock.

The highly mobile, horse-archer-specialized Da Wan light cavalry was completely suppressed.

The powerful crossbows could not pierce the battle formation, yet the Golden Curved Blade cavalry excelled at slicing through formations; their coordination nearly broke the enemy into utter chaos.

No—they were already in utter chaos.

Mei Cai stared at his mount, the Dragon Horse—while walking, it defecated continuously; he didn't know who had poisoned it. Just moments ago, during battle, it had held back, but now that it had fled the formation and the threat of death was gone, the herd's spirits slackened, as if drenched in super-strong laxatives, defecating as they moved, legs trembling and weak.

Mei Cai was heartbroken, stroking the scaled armor on the horse's back, and roared in fury:

"Who did this?!"

"Who poisoned them?!"

"If I find out, I'll bind you up!"

"I'll burn you to ashes and dust!!!"

The deputy general, Chan Feng, asked: "My lord, which way do we go? Should we take the main road?"

Mei Cai steadied himself and snapped: "Are you mad? We are a defeated army now—soldiers exhausted, after repeated battles, arrows nearly spent, muscles and bones weak—we have almost no strength left to fight, yet we're dragging along so many top-tier warhorses."

"The whole world knows the Da Wan tribe is the home of the finest Dragon Ma Pi. The Celestial Ma Pi beneath us can breed with ordinary wild horses to produce vast numbers of fine steeds. Add to that the ten thousand elite warhorses we've brought along, and we'll be targeted by everyone."

"In the Western Regions, a horse is as vital as a sword."

"The Central Plains have an old saying: a three-year-old child carrying a thousand gold pieces through a bustling market. Follow my orders: avoid the road we came by, close off the main highways, take only difficult backpaths. Do not let the horses gather together, lest they be stolen."

Mei Cai was a seasoned veteran of the Da Wan tribe.

He possessed the command capacity for over ten thousand men, was skilled in archery and horsemanship, unmatched in shooting, and even after this devastating defeat, he still retained his judgment.

No one disobeyed his orders.

Three thousand men retreated, dragging along ten thousand elite warhorses.

He could already be called a capable general.

Though this final allied force suffered a crushing defeat, only those who had grown up as prodigies in their tribes, who had dominated every minor battle around them, had the qualification to step onto a battlefield of over one hundred thousand troops.

But once you step onto this battlefield, there is victory and defeat.

Heroes always meet greater heroes.

Capable generals meet the world's famed generals—even divine generals who will be recorded in history.

Blame no one.

Mei Cai's emotions had swung violently: at first, when hundreds of enemy troops had charged and broken through his lines, this forty-something capable general had doubted whether he truly understood warfare—how could he not even hold back such a small force?

Then he saw the ferocious General Tianwei ride alone into the formation and cut down Helian Jieshan, ranked seventy-three on the General's List, right in the midst of battle.

Mei Cai's mood shifted instantly.

It's not that I don't understand warfare—it's that the bastard is too bizarre.

To face a warrior who slew a supreme commander and not be shattered—we are already a famed army of capable generals.

When I return, I now have a reason to explain this crushing defeat: say the general was terrifying, that Helian Jieshan was defeated too, and that our ability to regroup the remnants was already extraordinary—plus, we still have all these warhorses. The king will surely be satisfied.

Yet as Mei Cai was calculating this in his mind, suddenly a thunderous rumble came from ahead—a sound erupted, and troops emerged from both front and rear. Mei Cai's face turned pale, yanking the reins tight, and saw bows drawn ahead, a general stepping forward—thirty-something, handsome and cunning—who bowed and said:

"Anxi Protectorate, under General Tiange."

"Changsun Wuchou, here on the orders of the city lord and Mr. Guan Yicheng, has been waiting for you all this long!"

As his words ended, the twang of drawn bowstrings never ceased.

Mei Cai and Chan Feng's faces turned ashen.

Upon hearing that name, their will to fight vanished; all accumulated fear and exhaustion erupted at once. Changsun Wuchou had not even expended much effort—he had already subdued this group, whose men were merely the supply troops from Xiyicheng, transporting grain and armor.

Changsun Wuchou secured these thousands, looked at the silk pouch Fan Qing had given him, which read: "Wait on the backpaths—Da Wan horses are fast, the allied army lacks unity; this unit will surely break free in part. Changsun, work hard—leave these Da Wan cavalry behind."

"Our warhorse improvements owe their success to this."

"If successful, I shall petition the lord to record your merit!"

Changsun Wuchou bound these men. The original few thousand from Xiyicheng did not return to Xiyicheng; instead, he sent a group ahead with rations and supplies to Li Guanyi, then personally led this group, escorting the horses back to Anxi City.

News of this great battle had not yet spread widely, but before the battle even began, the news of reinforcements dispatched from Xiyicheng and Anxi City—flags stretching for dozens of miles, drums and gongs sounding day and night—had already swept across the land.

Li Guanyi and his men had been in the Western Regions for months, seizing vast territory; the entire former homeland of Aqi Ni was under his control, and surrounding city-states had been beaten by Fan Qing's forces more than once.

Yet the nobles of these city-states still harbored resentment; once they learned Li Guanyi had taken his troops away, they believed their chance had come, and gathered over ten thousand allied troops, along with auxiliaries, logistics, and ordinary Western Region horse archers.

They marched in grand force, claiming fifty thousand soldiers.

Heading straight for the "empty city" of Anxi.

When they reached the city's gates, they saw a scholar seated calmly atop the wall, playing a lute with serene composure—the melody flowing gently. To his left, a Western Region girl held a fly whisk; to his right, a Central Plains youth cradled an incense burner.

The lute's melody was truly majestic.

But the lords of the Western Region city-states did not understand the subtlety of this calm demeanor; they shouted insults: "You Han bastard, what are you playing the lute for? Are you welcoming your old man?!"

"Hahaha, fine lute music!"

The scholar's forehead veins bulged.

"Barbarians don't understand Central Plains elegance!"

Sa Atandi, holding the fly whisk, hurriedly said: "Mr. Guan Yicheng, didn't you say you wanted to draw attention? Don't get angry, sir."

The youth beside him had been dragged along as a decoy—he was a Wu Gong expert from Changfeng Lady disguised as such. He smirked, gripping his short sword, ready to protect this Mr. Guan Yicheng who insisted on putting on a show.

Mr. Guan Yicheng sneered: "Let me teach you a lesson."

"Playing the lute amid ten thousand troops—that's called composure. It draws attention. But there's another way…"

The handsome scholar rose, lifted the wooden lute, and hoisted it over his shoulder.

With a snarl, he hurled the lute into the air, raised his middle finger, and roared with overwhelming fury:

"Your father is right here!!!"

Then, from beneath the table, he whipped out the Fish-and-Water Sword Li Guanyi had given him, and lunged to leap off the wall and hack them down.

Sa Atandi grabbed Mr. Guan Yicheng—this man, calm and dignified, knew everything: astronomy, geography, myths, music, weapons, archery—nothing escaped him.

But for some reason, he had an inexplicable love for hand-to-hand combat.

The qin fell, yet failed to reach the barbarian general's front.

The people of the Western Regions burst into laughter; the corner of Pojun's mouth curled up as Sa Atandi held him back.

The wooden qin smashed to the ground, exploding into a cloud of mist—prearranged mechanisms had already released powdered medicine, which the wind scattered, blinding those ahead; suddenly, the twang of bowstrings rang continuously, and behind newly built parapets on the wall, ten thousand dismounted archer-cavalry drew their bows.

Wang Shunchen personally led the volleys.

A single hail of arrows caused the Western Regions troops, who had lowered their guard due to Pojun, to scream in agony.

Pojun, who had seemed furious moments before, now lounged lazily, ceasing his struggle as the girl gripped his arm, saying: "General Wang Shunchen, I leave this to you. Ah, these people are truly foolish—if they were generals from the Central Plains, they'd have known about the ambush long ago."

Wang Shunchen nodded, drew three arrows, pointed at the seven Captains ahead, and declared loudly: "Today, let these three men—who mocked Mr. —have flowers bloom on their faces."

He loosed the three arrows at once; the three Captains were pierced through their faces and collapsed to the ground. The Western Regions troops retreated; four other Captains spurred their horses to turn—only to be struck simultaneously in the back, arrows piercing through their chests, toppling them over.

Wang Shunchen, relying on the city defenses, displayed divine might.

Ten thousand archer-cavalry, combined with a top-tier general, backed by a city repaired by the Mo and Gongsun families, and built with Li Guanyi's fortune—this Anxi City was now the foremost fortress within a thousand li.

Arrows fell like rain; crossbow bolts flew.

Li Guanyi had procured five hundred thousand wolf-toothed barbed arrows, now en route.

Thus, Wang Shunchen no longer conserved his arrows.

He alone could fire thousands of arrows.

It was utterly satisfying.

It was a great victory!

The Western Regions forces suffered a heavy defeat and withdrew to regroup.

Yet when Pojun prepared to deploy his many stratagems, the Western Regions troops who had come while Li Guanyi was away received some news—in their camp that day, cries and wails echoed; in the candlelight, shadows of blades and axes danced across the tents.

On the third day's daylight, Pojun saw that the so-called tens of thousands of troops had retreated thirty li away, still puzzled.

Dozens of riders rode forward themselves, throwing away their weapons from afar, arms spread wide to show they came not to fight; after advancing several dozen steps, they placed several unwilling heads on the ground.

They bowed deeply to the ground, kowtowing:

"We did not know this was General Tianwei's city. We were misled by these people and offended you. We have already killed the ringleaders and offer gold, arrows, and heads as tribute to atone."

"Please do not blame us."

Pojun, who had prepared a chain of brilliant stratagems, and Wang Shunchen, who had planned to unleash his full might, both felt a breath caught in their throats.

Wait—I hadn't even used my strategy yet?

How did you surrender already?

This doesn't make sense!

This confusion lasted until the Westerners withdrew and word reached them.

Pojun had his suspicions and smiled at Wang Shunchen: "It seems the battlefield achievements of our lord have surpassed even my expectations—these Westerners are terrified to this degree."

Pojun opened the intelligence report and glanced casually at its entries.

【Ten thousand troops from the Seven Western Tribes besieged Yemeng Pass】

【Anxi City's Tian格尔 personally charged the enemy ranks, beheading the commander amid ten thousand troops】

【The siege was lifted】

Pojun's ever-calm, masterfully composed expression froze.

"？？？？"

Beheaded a commander amid ten thousand troops?

Who?

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