Chapter 527: The Legend of Martial Dao, the Resolve of Vengeance

After Chen Ding withdrew his troops from the rear of Zhenbeixiongcheng and established camp in a small city a hundred li away, Li Guanyi learned of this without surprise or hesitation, and did not rush there immediately.

He was no longer a man easily stirred by external events.

He still issued orders to handle the numerous aftermath matters of the Turkic steppe.

He ensured that the vast grasslands would not face new problems after his departure, then buried Chen Tianqi with proper rites beside the Broken Enemy Stele, erecting a new stele in its place.

The stele bore script in Central Plains characters.

It read: “In the eighteenth year of Tianqi, the Prince of Qin broke the enemy’s formation here against the Turks.”

Li Guanyi, clad in armor, placed his palm upon the stele, his hand brushing the coarse green stone as he gazed at the inscriptions—no more war would come to this land, and the stele’s material and craftsmanship surpassed all previous ones.

Perhaps, a thousand years hence, descendants riding horses across this land would still see this stele, see the marks carved by those of a millennium past, and know the achievements and grandeur of that bygone age.

To feel the past and be moved—this sentiment is one and the same.

Li Guanyi planted Chen Tianqi’s battle spear here, letting the long winds of the grasslands sweep past it, parting left and right.

Li Guanyi gazed at the grasslands and the distant sky, then turned and said with ease:

“Let’s go!”

Yue Qianfeng and Chen Wenmian fell silent, withdrew their gazes, turned to see the Prince of Qin riding his divine steed away with calm dignity, then each tugged their reins, cried “Giddyah!” and spurred their mounts to follow the Prince, with a thousand cavalry and ten thousand infantry trailing behind.

The thunder of hooves, once terrifying, now carried a third of bold grandeur.

The Turks—the ancient enemy of the Central Plains, who turned horseback into farmland and swords into plows—had, through this event, definitively exited the stage of history; the first generation of Turkic settlers in the Central Plains still harbored resentment.

But they faced the founding ministers and generals forged in the chaos of war, and after one generation, all had been absorbed into the Central Plains; Li Guanyi and Chen Wenmian returned to the rear.

Along the way, Chen Wenmian’s expression remained taut.

Chen Ding had left with only ten thousand men—this act was less a struggle than a suicide; upon reaching the rear, they met Generals Ye Chongdao and Zhou Xian.

They had already learned of events in the rear through letters.

Zhou Xian and Ye Chongdao, their expressions complex, bowed before the Prince of Qin, who sat upright and regarded two letters on the table: “Generals, since you have drunk that cup of poison, you are already dead, having given your lives in loyalty to Chen Guo.”

“The empire’s great tide: long unity breeds division, long division breeds unity.”

“Three hundred years of chaos must now reunify. Chen Guo is past. Generals, remain here in Zhenbeixiongcheng and rest.”

The two generals, their expressions complex, bowed and withdrew.

Po Jun watched their retreating backs, glanced at the letters on the table, and muttered: “My Lord, these two letters are less written by Chen Ding to Generals Ye and Zhou, and more written directly to you.”

Li Guanyi said: “Po Jun, your insight remains as sharp as ever.”

Po Jun’s lips curled slightly.

He paused, then said: “But, My Lord, why did you not burn these letters before their eyes? After all, such secret correspondence is a stain upon them—burning them would at least soothe their hearts.”

Li Guanyi replied: “Burning these letters will not soothe their hearts.”

“These two generals were forged in the chaos of war—their resolve is iron. Burning the letters is merely a show, meant to win favor—but if you do it, their true legacy will vanish forever.”

“In the end, it’s only harming others to benefit oneself, merely to craft one’s own reputation.”

“Future generations will never know how they fought to the death for the Central Plains, how they refused to disrupt the Qilin Army’s order, how they refused to betray their homeland, choosing poison over dishonor—this is the ultimate steadfastness of a true man in chaotic times.”

The Prince of Qin murmured: “To preserve my own reputation as a lord, I would erase the eternal fame of these two generals? That is no deal. How could I claim to have truly considered them?”

Po Jun froze, his lips still curled, gazing at the monarch who now towered over him.

Yet he still felt: he was still the boy who, under nightfall, would rush into the Ghost Market to save strangers he’d never met.

He suddenly thought: in the great battle eight hundred years ago that decided the world’s fate—

The first Po Jun must have envied me.

The Prince before him was precisely the sovereign the first Po Jun had dreamed of.

Benevolent, yet not weak; mighty, yet not cruel.

Po Jun’s lips curled.

Hmph. Hahahaha!

How, how, generation after generation of Po Jun, you old fools—did any of you ever have a lord like this?!

Did any of you ever have a lord like this?!

No, you didn’t!

This is my lord.

Po Jun suddenly felt a pang of regret.

He regretted that Xue Shen’s method of preserving his shadow through the Yao Guang Secret Realm was so rare and so difficult—otherwise, he wished every generation of Po Jun could have remained.

Then I could show you my lord.

And see the envious, twisted expressions on your faces!

Po Jun’s lips curled, unable to suppress them.

The Prince of Qin did not burn the two letters—these letters preserved the posthumous reputations of Generals Ye Chongdao and Zhou Xian; future historians, through these letters, would finally know what Ye and Zhou held fast to in the final days of chaos.

Historians wrote: “Lu You was solemn, Ye Chongdao was silent, Zhou Xian was bold and valiant, Wang Yunqi was Commander of the Golden Guard, and together with the last ruler of Chen Guo, they fought to the end. Though their natures differed, all were loyal generals of state and family.”

Thus, these four were selected and compiled into a single biography.

Titled: “Chen History: Biographies of Lu, Ye, Zhou, and Wang.”

………………

With foreign enemies subdued, the Divine General of Ying Guo, Jiang Su, reined in his military might and restrained further conflict.

The world had subtly split into two halves.

The Prince of Qin’s power surged, yet his foundation remained shallow, newly risen.

Ying Guo’s foundation was vast, yet its territory could not rival Qilin’s; all wise men in the land sensed that war between Qilin and Ying Guo could not be far off.

If conflict erupted now, Qilin’s army would be at a disadvantage.

But as time passed, its vast territory, abundant population, and the newly implemented policies of the Tiance Prefecture would elevate its foundation at a terrifying pace.

The longer the delay, the worse Ying Guo’s position became.

Thus, this decisive battle for the world’s future could not be delayed much longer.

The old era could not wait—and would not wait.

The Azure Dragon was old.

The Qilin was still young.

The Qilin was fierce—how could it be allowed to grow to its peak?

Yet though the world surged inevitably toward the coming war, though the entire realm remained shrouded in a heavy, silent tension before the battle’s final settling—

For ordinary soldiers and common folk living across the land—

This peace was still peace.

After all, peace was peace.

Yet after the Prince of Qin personally led the Qilin Army back from the deep frontier of the grasslands, he ordered the several major armies that had conquered the Turkic steppe to select their elite troops, leaving the wounded behind to recover.

Then he turned their blades anew.

From multiple directions, they encircled the small city held by Chen Ding.

Leading the assault was Fan Qing.

Though he lacked martial talent, his gifts in battlefield tactics and strategy were rare indeed—a general of exceptional caliber; alongside Yuan Zhi, he laid down a brand-new Eight Gates Golden Lock Array outside Chen Ding’s city.

Though they had encircled the city, they did not launch a direct assault—only waited for the Prince of Qin’s personal arrival.

Before setting out, Li Guanyi went to find Chen Wenmian.

Sensing Chen Wenmian’s aura faintly, he walked leisurely toward him, and at a cold lake outside Zhenbeixiongcheng, sensed his presence—eighty to a hundred paces from the lake, Xiao Wu Liang sat quietly with closed eyes.

This Divine General had witnessed Chen Guo’s rise from its peak to its fall—he knew Chen Guo would soon collapse, and no matter what, a chill lingered in his heart.

My Lord, did you foresee this?

Or even you, could not have seen this possibility?

“General Xiao Wu Liang?”

A voice suddenly reached his ear—he startled, snapped open his eyes, and saw before him a youth in plain robes; he froze, then rose and bowed solemnly: “Your Majesty, the Prince of Qin.”

“You’ve come.”

Li Guanyi said: “Yes, I’ve come to see Wenmian.”

Xiao Wu Liang suppressed his inner shock, his face unchanged: “The General is strolling within. If Your Majesty seeks him, walk straight in.”

Li Guanyi gazed ahead at the desolate cold lake; he no longer needed the Nine Tripods’ aid—only his own realm and soul-spirit, his eyes sweeping over, saw the piercing chill rising skyward, where a silent azure wolf lay hidden—Chen Wenmian’s aura.

He nodded: “Hmm… I’ll go speak with Wenmian. Thank you, General, for guarding here.”

Xiao Wu Liang said: “It is my duty.”

He had just bowed when something flew toward him—he instinctively raised his hand and caught it: an apple, large, its fragrance bursting forth. He frowned, then saw the Prince of Qin walking away, back turned, waving his hand: “That Qilin brat insists on eating fruit.”

“Bought a whole basket, but only picked the best few, left the rest.”

“I thought these were ripe enough—wasting them would be a shame. Try one, General. Taste is still good. That kid’s just too picky.”

“One day he eats a charred baked bun—he’ll settle down, ha!”

Li Guanyi chuckled softly, shook his head, and stepped forward into the lake’s depths. Xiao Wu Liang held the fruit, looked up at Li Guanyi’s retreating back, his eyes stirred—

He could not sense the Emperor’s aura.

As a general who rose to fame young and climbed to his current stature, his talent was no small thing.

With eyes closed, the world before him seemed only nature—no difference at all—until the moment the Emperor spoke, his aura merged with heaven and earth, and only then did Xiao Wu Liang sense the Prince’s presence, snapping his eyes open.

Before him, no heaven or earth—only the Prince of Qin!

That vast, blazing bloodline and mighty soul-spirit, utterly unhidden, already surpassed the late Divine Martial King Chen Chengbi from their final battle four years prior—making Xiao Wu Liang’s heart tremble.

He turned his head, watching the Prince’s back, whispering inwardly:

His Majesty is only twenty-two this year...

So formidable.

When his eyes are closed, he sees heaven and earth, but not the Prince of Qin.

When his eyes open, he sees the Prince of Qin, but not heaven and earth.

Is this the Prince’s Martial Dao Legend?

He still faintly remembered the boy, ten years ago, just before Chen Guo’s Grand Sacrifice, fleeing in disgrace beside the Qilin—yet after ten years of chaos, had he truly grown this strong?

In his youth, Xiao Wuliang was considered a fierce general equal to Yue Pengwu.

But later, Yue Pengwu campaigned across the land, while Xiao Wuliang, due to Chen Wenmian’s orders, was forced to garrison in Jiangzhou City—their paths and lives diverged.

Now, Yue Pengwu ranks among the top ten, even top five, generals of the realm.

Xiao Wuliang, once ranked fifteenth among the realm’s generals a decade ago, now barely scrapes into the top ten—and is even weaker than Yue Qianfeng, who has reached the Eighth Heaven.

That brute Yue Qianfeng, through these ten years of chaos, kept losing, kept getting beaten until he spat blood and flew backward—yet each defeat, each bloody retreat, though appearing near-fatal and utterly ruined, he still struggled back to his feet.

He kept growing stronger.

After countless battles, he now ranks among the realm’s top ten.

He was growing at breakneck speed.

Xiao Wuliang sighed heavily: “In this chaotic age, to compete... don’t even speak of standing still.”

“Even if your pace of advancement falls behind others...”

“It’s the same as falling behind.”

He looked at the fruit. The famed general sat there, cradling his spear, bringing the fruit to his lips and biting down hard—the fruit was sweet, and his breath curled into a white mist, as if mixed with the winter frost, swallowed whole.

Xiao Wuliang let out a soft laugh.

“Hah, the fruit really is delicious.”

“That Qilin really knows how to pick.”

The general chewed the fruit, his expression loosening—even the famed conqueror, the general burdened with the fate of nation and home, at this moment set aside the weight of destiny.

He simply sat there, gazing at the vastness of heaven and earth.

Li Guanyi stepped forward, his pace slow, natural, effortless—as if he had merged with this land and sky.

He was a Grand Master of Martial Dao; strictly speaking, he was still at the Ninth Heaven.

But if he truly unleashed his power—

Even a Ninth Heaven Grand Master like the Supreme Elder of the Yin-Yang Wheel Sect, who had reached his realm through decades of grinding endurance, couldn’t survive a single strike from him.

He’d be pinned to the mountain wall by the tip of his Jiuli Divine Weapon.

Who says a Ninth Heaven Grand Master, wielding a Divine Weapon of the Weapon Lord’s tier and commanding a million troops, standing half a step from the Martial Dao Legend—

Isn’t truly a Ninth Heaven?

Once a Second Heaven leader of a wandering band, now he is the Prince of Qin, Ninth Heaven Grand Master.

Naturally.

In Tianqi Year 15, when Li Guanyi faced off against the Great Khan on the steppe, he had already taken a great leap forward in his Martial Dao Legend. Now, having defeated the Great Khan and seized half the steppe, he had fully reclaimed Chen Guo.

His aura blazed; every gesture carried the grandeur and composure of a founding emperor. Five Dharma Phantoms had begun to coalesce, and he remained only half a step from the Martial Dao Legend beyond the Ninth Heaven.

His accumulation had changed utterly since three years ago.

Yet this threshold—

Still felt to him exactly as it had three years ago: thin as a thread, seemingly easy to step across, yet as if separated by mountains and seas, utterly beyond reach.

After failing to break through, Li Guanyi simply stopped trying.

Now, he had calmed his mind, accepted it all.

Let it be.

Whatever.

Break through or not—let it go.

Walking down this narrow path, Li Guanyi could still gaze calmly at the scenery on either side, until he reached the Cold Lake and saw Chen Wenmian—sitting cross-legged, the Divine Weapon Canglang Blade planted beside him, holding a green bamboo rod, fishing.

A hole had been torn in the ice by the force of Chen Guo’s ultimate technique; the line dangled into the water, trembling slightly with the wind, ripples spreading across the surface.

Li Guanyi glanced at the fish basket, then asked knowingly with a smile:

“Catch anything?”

Chen Wenmian lowered his gaze. “Not yet.”

“Big brother, you’re here.”

Li Guanyi grunted, tossing the fruit the Qilin had chosen over. Its fragrance filled the air. Chen Wenmian froze. Li Guanyi winked, grinning slyly: “Eat well—this is the king of fruits, picked by the Qilin from among many fine ones.”

“I know you’re feeling low, so I borrowed it from him, just for you.”

Chen Wenmian laughed, pinching the fruit between his fingers. “This Qilin... is really pitiful.”

Li Guanyi snorted. “That thing’s gotten too picky. He’s got piles of these fruits. Back then he stole them from Lei Laomeng; now I take them from him—it’s only fair.”

Chen Wenmian smiled. “When he goes back and finds them gone, he’ll be miserable for a while.”

“Better take them back to him.”

Li Guanyi sighed. “Enough, enough. He picked these specifically for you—he just didn’t want to bring them himself. Rarely does he give up a fruit already in his mouth. Don’t refuse.”

Li Guanyi sighed, “Alright, alright—He specifically picked this for you. He’s just too shy to hand it to you himself, so he made me bring it out. Rarely does this guy give up a good fruit he’s already got in his mouth—don’t refuse it.”

Li Guanyi stared at the lake. “Don’t underestimate the Qilin. He’s a blessed omen—different from Elder Chi Long. Omen beings are born of primordial lightness and spirit, and can sense the emotional fluctuations of living beings.”

“He considers you a friend. He sensed your mood isn’t good.”

“When he’s down, he likes to eat good fruit.”

“So he found the very best fruit he could, and sent me to bring it to you. As for why he didn’t come himself...”

Li Guanyi smiled. “He knows Chen Baxian. Deep down, he still sees himself as an elder of your Chen bloodline. He wants to care for you—but as an elder, using fruit to comfort a younger one? He’s too embarrassed to show it.”

Li Guanyi smiled, “He knows Chen Baxian too. Deep down, he still sees himself as an elder of your Chen bloodline. He wants to care for you, but feels embarrassed that an elder would use a good fruit to show concern for a junior.”

Chen Wenmian laughed. “Ah, that’s so him.”

“Then since it’s an elder’s gift, I won’t refuse.” He took a bite, smiling. “Fragrant, sweet—truly an excellent fruit. No wonder it’s from him.”

Li Guanyi smiled. “The Qilin’s just a glutton. Back in the Western Regions, Master Xu Tiange tried grafting Central Plains fruit trees with Western varieties—cared for them more than his own child.”

“He recorded every watering, every fertilizing. After years, seven fruits finally bore. He named each one, talked to them daily, treasured them deeply.”

Li Guanyi chuckled, “Qilin are greedy eaters. Back in the Western Regions, Master Xu Tiange of the Agrarian School tried grafting Central Plains fruit trees with local Western varieties—he cared for them more than his own children.”

“The Qilin sneaked over, bit one, and ran off—hah... you weren’t there to see Xu Tiange’s furious face. He was usually so gentle, just loved farming.”

“That day, he chased the Qilin for dozens of miles, hoe in hand, eyes red.”

“He wanted to bury the Qilin in the soil and turn him into a tree. Now it’s one of the legends of Anxi Protectorate.”

Chen Wenmian smiled faintly. “Master Xu Tiange was gentle and kind. I heard he was a rare friend of Master Wen Qingyu. I’ve always wondered what he looked like when angry.”

Li Guanyi picked up a stone and tossed it casually into the Cold Lake. Though cold, spring had come—the ice was no longer thick, cracking in layers. The two fell silent for a long while, wind brushing past.

The grimness of chaos faded. Both knew what the other was thinking, yet neither spoke—only the wind whispered.

Li Guanyi picked up a stone and tossed it casually into the cold lake. Though the temperature remained chilly, spring had arrived—the ice was no longer thick, cracking into layered patterns. The two fell silent for a long while, the wind brushing past them.

Li Guanyi gazed into the distance. “Fan Qing and the others have surrounded Chen Dingye’s city. Even with advantage, they won’t rush an attack. By now, the city’s supply lines must be nearly exhausted.”

“Ten thousand men inside, against a hundred thousand outside—logistics failing, morale crumbling. Now is the time to storm the walls.”

Li Guanyi gazed into the distance and said, “Fan Qing and the others have surrounded Chen Dingye’s city. Even with the advantage, they won’t launch a rash attack. By now, after so much time, the city’s food supplies and logistics must be nearly exhausted.”

“Ten thousand inside against a hundred thousand outside, with inadequate logistics and morale crumbling—this is the time to storm the city.”

Li Guanyi said: “A parent’s vengeance demands a sword. Chen Dingye made his own choices. So did I. I respect the courage and tactics he showed at the end—but one thing is one thing.”

“At this point, calling his death ‘dying for his country’ won’t make it right. I won’t accept that.”

Li Guanyi said, “A parent’s vengeance demands drawing the sword. Chen Dingye made his own choice, and so did I. I acknowledge the boldness and skill he showed at the end—but one thing is one thing.”

Li Guanyi looked at Chen Wenmian, this gentle gentleman of chaos. The other looked puzzled. Li Guanyi fell silent for a long while, then rose and finally asked:

“Will you kill Chen Dingye yourself?”

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"Do you want to kill Chen Dingye yourself?"

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