Chapter 525: The Momentum of a Realm Divided in Two

The slaughter had reached this point: the Great Khan of the grasslands had fallen in battle. With this, the Western Regions and the Southwest had all been gathered beneath the Fire Qilin's banner, and the Tujue—who for eight hundred years had been the Central Plains' greatest threat—had either surrendered, died in battle, or split apart, no longer possessing the strength to pose any danger to the Central Plains.

In the very instant this greatest of foreign foes fell, the suppressed hostility between the divine generals of the Central Plains, who had been allied with one another, rose once more.

Without the slightest hesitation.

Li Guanyi drew out the Jiuli Bingzhu, the divine weapon of the Nine Li, and swept it to the side in a parry.

The Divine Spear Jue Mie swept across, cleaving through the Great Khan's body, then whipped viciously toward Li Guanyi, colliding with the war halberd in his hand. In that instant, the shockwave of primordial energy rippled outward like surging waves, scouring the four directions.

The sound was like peals of muffled thunder.

It shattered the brief, peaceful atmosphere that had settled over the battlefield after the Great Khan was slain. Two surges of fighting spirit rose up, churning the clouds of the heavens, and a wave of air instantly radiated outward from the point where the two clashed, sweeping violently toward all four directions.

Weapons and grass and trees were all torn up; the blood pooled on the ground became rain.

The collision of force sent out bursts of brilliance like lightning. The soldiers of the Qilin Army and the soldiers of the Kingdom of Ying had only just heaved a sigh of relief, still dazed, thinking that at last the eight-hundred-year grudge had been settled, the Tujue and the grasslands defeated.

That they themselves had taken part in a battle worthy of being recorded in the annals of history.

As generals and soldiers, they had fought for the Central Plains, ridden ten thousand li beyond its borders, punished the foreign races, destroyed the Tujue, and lived through this expedition. Each had gained some share of merit. For them, this was the kind of thing they could, decades later, when their hair had all turned white, boast about over drinks with their grandsons.

But then the shriek of weapons utterly shattered that small, weary fantasy that came in the wake of the great battle.

The roar of the fierce general rang out once more: "Form up!"

Yue Qianfeng had already taken up his weapon and moved to the front.

The Tiger Barbarian Cavalry of the Kingdom of Ying and the Qilin Guard of the Kingdom of Qin raised their weapons at the same instant. In that moment, as the weapons were lifted and struck together, they gave forth a sound grim and biting. The two sides, who moments ago had been comrades-in-arms and allies, now leveled their weapons at their former brothers-in-arms.

The grim, helpless cruelty of these chaotic times was laid bare in all its nakedness in this single instant.

Li Guanyi's war halberd and Jiang Su's divine spear pressed against each other, but Jiang Su sensed that the young man before him now possessed a force even more surging than before. Vaguely, he could see behind the Qin Wang the five Dharma Aspects gradually taking on the posture of merging into one.

Becoming that single, pure 【Dragon】 that the Great Khan had seen in his final charge.

Will unified as one…

The Martial Dao Legend.

Has he already walked himself to this step?

After clashing with Li Guanyi for several exchanges, Jiang Su suddenly withdrew his weapon's edge. The Yin-Yang twin currents of force were wielded by the Divine Spear Jue Mie to their utmost; what had been a technique relying on an unmatched, overpowering assault was, in a single instant, reined in, transformed into a subtle and yielding force.

Then, taking advantage of the momentum, he retreated—lifting a heavy matter as though it were light, withdrawing from the battlefield with effortless ease.

Li Guanyi held the divine weapon, its blade raised, pointing forward.

The Fire Qilin on his shoulder bared its fangs and brandished its claws, its pupils already turned a gold-red.

Just waiting for Jiang Su to come within reach, and it would give him a taste of something he'd never forget!

Jiang Su looked at the Qin Wang before him, gripping his war halberd, and at the great army behind him. His eyes narrowed slightly. Three years had passed since the last great battle. In that time, the Qin Wang had broken the Kingdom of Chen, conquered Jiangzhou, and waged war against the Tujue.

Surge after surge of momentum, like a rainbow.

In that battle before the Qin Wang was ennobled as king, he had already been half a step into the Martial Dao Legend. In the fifteenth year of Tianqi, when Li Guanyi fought the Great Khan of the Tujue on the grasslands, he had unleashed both his own Martial Dao Legend aura and Yu Langwang's Martial Dao Legend aura at the same time.

Under the immense pressure brought by the Great Khan.

Like superior gold and steel being hammered on a heavy forge, his control over the Martial Dao Legend aura grew ever more composed and effortless. In the two years after, campaigning east and west, rarely lingering at home, that blazing grand momentum, that kingly spirit of a founding emperor in his breast, was nurtured ever fuller. Today, after the defeat of the Great Khan—

This magnanimous, upright aura of a Central Plains founding sovereign had already become almost tangible.

At the very least.

Chen Wu Di of the Kingdom of Chen, the founding sovereign of the Great Kingdom of Ying, the Western Regions hero Tugu Hun—

None of them could match him.

Whether in Wu Gong, in dominion, or in this magnanimous, upright spirit to sweep the world clean—in truth, the sole such man in several hundred years.

Jiang Su looked at Li Guanyi, his heart stirred to fight with reckless valor, but Yue Pengwu still garrisoned the heartland of the Kingdom of Chen. He knew that a battle here could only vent his frustration; it could not settle the realm.

How could a mere duel between two warriors determine the fate of the realm? Bring peace to Li Min?

"A pity, a pity. Now is ultimately not the time to decide who lives and who dies."

"My forces are insufficient. I can defeat you, but it would be hard to kill you."

A note of regret colored Jiang Su's voice.

What he regretted even more was that, by his estimate, the troops now at hand could not kill the Qin Wang leading his army here. On the contrary, there was a greater possibility that, under the crushing pressure, they would let the Qin Wang truly step across that barrier—thin yet arduous—and truly become a Martial Dao Legend.

It would be a battle where the losses outweighed the gains.

Li Guanyi felt the same.

"A pity, a pity."

Jiang Su rested his weapon casually on his warhorse, his hostility and killing intent gone. He said, "Since it serves no purpose, then let the battle between you and me be set aside for now. The battle that will decide the future course of the realm is no longer a mere brawl between two martial artists."

"It is a war between two great nations. A war of kingdoms."

"What is tested is national strength and foundation. The battlefield here cannot sway the greater situation."

"Qin Wang, this great battle was, in its way, exhilarating. When we meet again another day, we shall decide life and death. If we were to settle who is superior here, it would be nothing more than a brawl between two common warriors. Forgive me—it would not be worthy of the ending of this magnificent realm."

Li Guanyi looked at the God of War Jiang Su before him. The hand gripping the war halberd instinctively tightened. The divine weapon hummed faintly in the wind, giving forth a grim, low keen.

He too had sensed Jiang Su's transformation and advancement.

Jiang Su's Dharma Aspect had originally been nothing more than a single-armored divine general.

It would not have had the Azure Dragon aura coiling about him. Undoubtedly, Jiang Wanxiang, who was old and failing, clinging to life and refusing to die, had spent these two years transferring the Kingdom of Ying's destiny to Jiang Su.

This foremost divine general under heaven was, in the truest sense, also undergoing transformation, also advancing.

The Jiang Su of this moment had already surpassed the Jiang Su of the past three hundred years.

Before this final battle for the realm, he had stepped past the barrier and risen once more.

In this age of heroes, amid the surging currents of great events, there are always flood dragons that ride the wind and clouds, soaring to the heavens, transforming into divine dragons. The opportunities are boundless, and those one faces in the end are all the outstanding champions of their time. How could it be that only oneself advances while the foe stands still?

All advance, all kill, all fight.

The Qin Wang gripped his war halberd, looked at Jiang Su, and said calmly:

"When that day comes, I shall take your head."

Jiang Su looked at Li Guanyi, and before his eyes seemed to appear the Qin Wang of the Western Regions campaign, barely more than ten years old; in the end he only said flatly, "If you've the skill to kill me, then after I'm dead, do with me as you will — I won't feel it anyway."

He paused, then said: "But Li Guanyi, these past few years you've been out campaigning on all four sides. It would be better, during this stretch of time, to spend more of it keeping your great-grandfather company."

Li Guanyi frowned: "What?!"

The War God Jiang Su had no more heart for slaughter. He pulled on the reins, lifted his gaze for a glance into the distance — the divine general Gao Xiang had already ridden far away. That top-tier divine-archer of a war general had, with that one arrow, shattered the union of fate and dharma-phase, announcing the failure of the Great Khan's counterattack.

Then, without a sound, he vanished, turning and departing.

Clearly, although Gao Xiang had taken the field because of the Central Plains' cause, owing to his old grudge with Jiang Wanxiang he still refused, at this moment, to involve himself in the conflict between Jiang Su and Li Guanyi. Compared to a war general, he was more like a wandering knight-errant.

One horse, one bow, one flask of wine.

Letting the steed run free — anywhere is the edge of the world.

Kings and swordsmen, beauties and feuds — the affairs of decades past, Jiang Su did not wish to judge who was right or wrong. He only felt a certain emotion in his heart: every generation's world is just so splendid and dazzling, and yet so impossible to fathom.

Jiang Su fell silent, drew back his gaze, and said concisely:

"The Lifespan-Extending Gu of the Wu Gu lineage, even if successfully cultivated, has a theoretical maximum lifespan extension of only seven years. And this kind of extension is merely a living-on that does not think, does not feel, does not move."

"The so-called limit is only an extension of life — an extension like that of grass, wood, or stone."

"The Master Jiankuang's temperament, you know better than I."

"Reckless and arrogant, sword in hand, roaming freely. Setting aside that the Martial Dao Legend itself consumes vitality far beyond an ordinary person's, even his way of living so freely — the Lifespan-Extending Gu is not something that can be drawn on without limit."

"An ordinary person, not thinking, not feeling, not stirring a thought, can extend their lifespan by seven years."

"The Master Jiankuang's free-and-easy nature, the drain of the Martial Dao Legend — I'm afraid even three years would be hard to say."

"From when you obtained the Lifespan-Extending Gu in the fifteenth year of Tianqi, almost three years have now passed. The Master Jiankuang's lifespan has its limit. He should have died back when he was at the Academy, but because of you, he has lingered in this world for an extra six years."

Li Guanyi thought of these past few years — most of his time had been spent campaigning abroad.

Gambling his own life into the whirlpool of this chaotic age.

The days his aunt had hoped for — him returning to Jiangnan, staying within the Murong household, watching the flowers bloom in spring, the leaves fall in autumn, brewing wine and watching the snow on a day of white, white snow — were, in the end, few.

It was precisely so that everyone could have such days.

And yet he himself could not enjoy them.

Galloping across the realm, in these years gathering little and parting much with his family, the Qin Wang fell silent; in his heart there was, of course, loneliness. There is no perfect answer in this world. He only said: "My great-grandfather is blessed with great fortune and long life — he is bound to outlive you."

Jiang Su said: "Then, before you die, spend more time with your family."

"Qin Wang."

Chen Tianqi merely shook his head. The long spear in his hand flicked casually, hooking up the wine gourd at Yue Qianfeng's waist; he plucked off the gourd's stopper with a casual motion, tilted his head back and drank. The wine wasn't anything fine—just harsh, scraping the throat like a knife.

They spoke no more to one another.

They only took leave of each other with their eyes. The Azure Dragon banners swayed, receding into the vastness of heaven and earth. Everyone knew that the next time they met again, it would be on the battlefield of the Central Plains.

At that time, they would no longer be comrades sharing the identity of the Central Plains, fighting side by side, but mortal enemies facing each other with blade and sword.

But at this moment, they could not even speak words of farewell.

That sense of regret — that is the chaotic age.

Jiang Su rode a dragon-steed of ink-black hue. He raised the divine spear Annihilation in his hand, then drew back his palm and struck it against his chest; the armor gave out a grim, killing sound that echoed across the battlefield, mingling with the sound of banners rolling in the wind. The aged War God suddenly spoke, loudly:

"How can we say we have no robes?"

Ying's war generals and warriors froze for a beat, then strode forward. Beneath the great Azure Dragon banner, they opened their mouths, and a desolate sound rose up.

"With you I share the robe. The king rises to raise an army. Mend our halberds and spears — with you I share the foe!"

Li Guanyi gripped his war-halberd. He pulled on the divine steed and wheeled about; the Qilin Army departed the place with the Qin Wang. He raised the war-halberd in his hand and only said:

"How can we say we have no robes?"

General Yue Qianfeng was silent, then gripped his weapon and spoke out loudly; his rough voice mingled with the voices of the Qilin Army's soldiers, deep and grim:

"With you I share the shirt. The king rises to raise an army. Mend our spears and halberds — with you I march together!"

The wind swept across the battlefield. The warriors of the Central Plains had fought shoulder to shoulder, yet now split apart. As the hanging portions of the banners swayed in the wind, they gave out a sound like surging tides. They turned their backs on each other, they strode away.

They lifted their weapons in unison and struck them against their chests; the sound from the armor was cold and sharp. In the wind, amid the sound of footsteps and armor, in accents from different places, not at all in tidy unison, they cried out loudly:

"How can we say we have no robes? With you I share the garment. The king rises to raise an army — mend our armor and weapons!"

"With you I march together!"

They sang of marching together.

And then, on the battlefield steeped in iron and blood, with their backs to each other, they went their utterly separate ways.

Awaiting the next great engagement, when blade and sword would face each other.

To kill the other.

The War God Jiang Su felt a sense of loneliness. He did not like the feeling, but only gripped his weapon, thinking of the day of great peace in the Great Ying, when there would be no more strife and no more war. He raised his hand and looked at the dragon-mark coiling in his palm.

The fortune of Ying's kingdom, bestowed upon this body.

"But, Your Majesty…"

"Such a matter."

……………………

Though the Turkic Great Khan was dead, scattered sparks of rebellion still remained across the land; both sides' forces still needed to continue quelling these small, small-scale disturbances.

General Yue Qianfeng was happily enjoying the feeling of crossing blades with ordinary war generals.

He finally did not have to spit blood.

Spitting blood was still spitting blood — it had merely been transferred.

This war general, accustomed to clashing with the top ten divine generals under heaven, only realized, when fighting ordinary generals, that he was actually very strong.

The remaining elites of Chen, under Chen Wenmian's command — or rather, swept along by the Qilin Army — during the quelling of rebellions on all sides, General Yue Qianfeng was quite eager to defeat Chen Tianqi.

He challenged him to battle many times.

After the Northern Border campaign, Chen Tianqi did not refuse.

This first war general of Chen from one hundred and eighty years ago had only used skill and technique to thoroughly defeat Yue Qianfeng. During their exchanges, he never used his ultimate killing move, nor did he fight for real, so although Yue Qianfeng lost many times, he never coughed up blood.

Not a single mouthful of blood!

On this day, Yue Qianfeng went to see Chen Tianqi again, laughing heartily:

"Old man, are you still around?"

"Hahahaha!"

He kicked open the military tent, did not see Chen Tianqi, raised an eyebrow, went out for a stroll, and only in front of a stone tablet did he see that white-haired old man. Yue Qianfeng laughed loudly: "Old man, what are you hiding here for?"

"Is it because you feel you're no match for me, so you've gone all timid and shrinking?"

Chen Tianqi stroked the stone tablet with his palm, and upon hearing this merely smiled arrogantly:

"Yue Qianfeng, with your paltry Wu Gong, you think you can talk about beating me?"

"If it weren't that this old man's lifespan has already passed its limit, and I've been in a state of not thinking, not willing, merely gathering my vitality atop the library pavilion, not making a move, only thus preserving my vitality—my qi and blood have decayed to the extreme."

"The very first time, I would've made you spit out every drop of blood in your body!"

"And you're still talking nonsense here?"

Yue Qianfeng neither agreed nor disagreed, merely curled his lip.

This old man had lived too long—over two hundred years. Before him, Yue Qianfeng was a junior among juniors; being lectured by such an old fellow cost him neither flesh nor face.

Moreover, Chen Tianqi's lifespan had long since reached its own limit; he had used special methods in advance to condense his vitality, saving up one last breath to use sparingly, so that when Chen was destroyed, he could still go to war.

But such a state was merely hanging on by a thread.

Able to fight, yet only able to fight.

If Chen Tianqi were still at his peak in strength when clashing with Yue Qianfeng—

Back then, as the eldest grandson of Chen Wu Di, truly the one who held Chen steady through the chaos and extended the dynasty's fate—wielding his long spear, sweeping all before him, bold and decisive, hailed as the unrivaled champion of his age—

The Yue Qianfeng of that time, who had not yet broken through to the Eighth Heaven, might truly have been grievously wounded and slain by him, coughing up every drop of blood in his body.

But time is the most heartless thing of all.

For a top-tier divine general, in the state of his last breath of vitality, to be able to don armor and ride to war, galloping across the land, could already be called the height of tenacity. Yet at such an advanced age, even straining with all his might, he could no longer catch up to the shadow of his former self.

Yue Qianfeng and Chen Tianqi had a fight.

Yue Qianfeng had been fully confident he could win, but in the end was flipped over by the old man again, ending up with a bruised nose and swollen face, arms spread wide, lying on the ground, gasping for breath, with no strength left.

Chen Tianqi nudged Yue Qianfeng with the tip of his foot.

Yue Qianfeng couldn't be bothered to respond.

Chen Tianqi merely shook his head. The long spear in his hand flicked casually, hooking up the wine gourd at Yue Qianfeng's waist; he plucked off the gourd's mouth随手, tilted his head back and drank. The wine wasn't anything fine—just harsh, scraping the throat like a knife.

Yet Chen Tianqi seemed even more able than Yue Qianfeng to take such liquor.

He drank the fierce wine deeply.

Yue Qianfeng gazed at the sky and suddenly said: "Old man, after this just stay with Your Majesty. Chen Dingye is your junior descendant, sure, but you're already over two hundred—doesn't mean you have any deep bond with him, right? And isn't Wu Wang the same?"

"They're blood brothers."

"So isn't Wenmian that boy also your junior?"

"Wenmian is a fine lad—good person, strong Wu Gong, refined and courteous, yet in battle fierce and brave. Far better than Chen Dingye!"

Chen Tianqi burst into laughter: "So that's it—you're trying to recruit me."

"No wonder you come every day to take a beating and still shamelessly show your face looking for a thrashing!"

Yue Qianfeng shook his head and said:

"Wrong, wrong. I only come here to cross swords with you. When I was young, I did spend a stretch as a less-than-competent bandit, but as a child, listening to storytellers tell your tales—those passages about the snow-riding cavalry charging, one man breaking the enemy formation—my blood boiled too."

Chen Tianqi merely drank. He looked at the stone tablet before him and said:

"Then do you know what this place is?"

Yue Qianfeng sat up and said: "Fifty years after Chen was founded, when the kingdom was at the height of its strength, and the rulers of the various states had not yet completely fallen out—that spring, you led the great army all the way to the Turkic grasslands, but because the supply lines couldn't keep up, you could only withdraw the troops."

"At that time you were all very unwilling. You struck the ground once with your long spear."

"You set up a stone tablet, telling the comrades who had followed you here that next time, you would definitely lead them to strike deeper."

Chen Tianqi laughed softly and said quietly: "Yes, but so many years have passed before I finally came back here." The aged general shook the gourd in his hand, then calmly upended it.

What was reflected in the wine seemed not to be this aged man.

But the general of those days, full of high spirits.

Behind him, banners snapped in the wind; behind him still stood his brothers and comrades.

And the friends beneath his command who were willing to entrust their lives to one another.

But the wine spilled, the dream woke, and those people—those who shared life and death, those who charged the enemy lines together—had long been left behind in the past.

The fierce wine spilled onto the stone tablet. The tablet had long been destroyed, leaving only the final base. Chen Tianqi poured out all the fierce wine in his hand, then gently stroked the cold broken edge of the stone tablet with his palm, and said softly:

"My lords, I have come late."

"Do not take offense."

Yue Qianfeng looked at Chen Tianqi and felt a sense of bleak desolation.

Yue Qianfeng said: "Old man, say something cheerful. After that great Khan of the Turks was defeated, I, Old Yue, can finally advance one step further."

"Now, I am already the tenth among the top ten generals under heaven!"

Yue Qianfeng was bold and proud.

"This time, it can be said that only by surpassing me can one count among the top ten under heaven!"

"Legitimate and proper!"

Chen Tianqi rose and said: "Wrong. It is the ninth among the top ten generals under heaven."

Yue Qianfeng was stunned: "What?"

"How is it the ninth? Who dropped out?"

"Yuwen Lie, or He Ruo Qinhu…"

Yue Qianfeng got no answer. His pupils suddenly contracted, as if he had thought of something, and he leapt to his feet, striding over. "Old man? Old man???"

Yue Qianfeng froze. Beside the stone stele, Chen Tianqi stood quietly, a wine pot in one hand and a war-spear in the other. He glanced at him and said, peeved:

"What are you hollering for? I'm not dead yet."

Yue Qianfeng let out a great sigh of relief. "You scared the hell out of me."

Chen Tianqi suddenly flicked his wrist and tossed the wine pot to him, a teasing, playful look in his eye, and grinned slyly:

"Now, it's time to die."

Yue Qianfeng was dumbfounded: "Huh?!"

He instinctively caught the gourd and watched Chen Tianqi step forward.

That single step seemed to span a hundred years. Chen Tianqi's last breath of life, after the grasslands were pacified, after he had toasted his old comrades with strong wine, slowly drifted away.

His gaze was calm and serene.

Chen Tianqi's end held no regret, just as he had once been willing to cling to life and become a weapon for the Chen Kingdom.

In the end, he was still grateful to that unfilial descendant of his.

This last breath of life could be spent on the battlefield of the grasslands.

To die in the great war that pacified the Turks, rather than in the internal strife of the Central Plains.

That too was…

A death well met.

"Thrilling, thrilling…"

Yue Qianfeng looked at the lifeless Chen Tianqi, and a complicated expression crossed his face.

Yet a faint smile lingered at the corner of Chen Tianqi's mouth.

In his final gaze, he looked out at the grasslands ahead, at what seemed to be one familiar face after another—his era, his past, his brothers and comrades-in-arms, watching him beneath the fluttering banners.

"Thank you all… for waiting so long."

"I."

"Have returned…"

The inscribed long spear crashed heavily to the ground.

Chen Tianqi—grandson of Chen Wu Di, the foremost divine general of the Chen Kingdom one hundred and eighty years ago, who had once galloped through the chaotic age, shouldered the Chen Kingdom, and was hailed as the unrivaled war general of his time, and who had also lingered on, broken his promise, and endured humiliation for over a hundred years.

After the great battle on the grasslands, he finally exhausted his life.

He died at the stele of the defeated enemy,

One step farther north!

When the news of Chen Tianqi's death arrived, Li Guanyi was quiet for a while. His palm brushed lightly over the weapon—the Nine Li divine weapon's gold-and-iron body was now essentially complete.

At the instant it pierced the Turkic Great Khan, those streams of fate converged and poured into the weapon—celestial stars, earthly fire, the arms of the mortal world—completing the final part of this divine armament.

The heart's blood of a king who had galloped across the battlefield and died in the end completed the tempering.

The rank of this divine weapon was destined to be extraordinary.

Li Guanyi casually swung the Nine Li divine weapon's gold-and-iron body, feeling the keening sound of the blade tearing the air. His palm gently stroked the edge as he gazed into the distant sky.

Chen Tianqi was dead; the grasslands were pacified.

The great war with the Ying Kingdom would still take time and require the full might of a nation.

Now, it was time to—

Destroy Chen.

Kill!

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