Chapter 558: Yet It Was an Age of Heroes Contending, Dragons and Snakes Rising Together

Jiang Cai did not know how to comfort the brother before her.

She was truly Jiang Gao's strategist, and yet truly, she also harbored toward Jiang Gao a kind of regret, the kind felt toward one who fails to live up to his potential; a gentleman as open and magnanimous as the bright moon could serve as Jiang Wanxiang's successor, but could not be the pillar of a chaotic age.

Anyone in the world may do what they wish to do.

But Jiang Gao may not.

He is Jiang Wanxiang's son, the eldest son and Crown Prince, and also the heir of this nation; a sovereign must be bloodless and tearless, he must bear the great aspirations of sovereigns through the ages, bearing the final, sweeping storms of these several hundred years of turmoil.

Yet even so, using such means, calculating and pushing step by step to make Jiang Gao undergo his leopard's transformation, still left Jiang Cai's heart filled with complicated feelings; though complicated, it was still something that had to be done.

The Great Ying, the world, all hung upon this single thought.

In the Grand Tutor's eyes, there was no Jiang Gao, and no Jiang Yuan.

What he needed was only a sovereign of sufficient magnanimity; he had merely chosen to use Jiang Yuan as a whetstone, to make Jiang Gao transform and awaken; if so, then there could still be a national war, there could still be the Great Ying's realm and its final battle.

After Jiang Cai had finished hearing Jiang Su's plan.

She could not bear it in the end, and asked: "If Gao'er fails to break through this barrier of the heart? If he resists and is killed by Jiang Yuan instead? Grand Tutor, is this stratagem not too sinister?"

The Grand Tutor, already incomparably aged yet still like a mountain range, looked at her and replied: "To achieve the achievements of one who is no common man, one must pay the price of one who is no common man."

"If one does not endure an exceedingly bitter battle, does not expend heart and suffering, yet longs for smooth sailing and to obtain success with ease—such a notion is nothing but the fantasy of a fool."

"Cast aside the fantasies you learned in the Academy, Jiang Cai."

Jiang Cai looked at that solemn, towering old man, and still asked: "Then Jiang Gao's life—you do not care?"

Jiang Su responded coldly, without answering.

Jiang Cai simply took her leave; as she departed, she saw Jiang Su standing alone in the courtyard. The Grand Tutor at that moment was about to dispatch troops to intercept the Qin Huang, whose momentum was like a rainbow—it was a rare, brilliant sunny day.

Grand Tutor Jiang Su stood there, his tall frame draped in a great black cloak.

Like a solitary mountain peak.

Clearly at this moment, Jiang Su's authority and military might had reached their peak; surveying the world, few could be his match, and few could check him, as he lightly used two Imperial Princes as chess pieces to fight each other to the death.

The apex of a powerful minister, the supreme station of a military commander.

In the histories of later generations, one could say: power that tilted the court—not a Grand Tutor, but a Regent.

Yet beneath this somewhat cool and thin sunlight, Grand Tutor Jiang Su's back was so very lonely; Jiang Cai was suddenly dazed, and recalled that her teacher had not laughed in a very, very long time.

When the late Emperor was still alive.

This War God, even though he had already walked through endless battlefields, betrayals, slaughters, abandonments, his countenance cold as his heart, would still show a faint smile, would jest with Your Majesty.

But now, he would not.

Jiang Cai walked out of that cold imperial palace, out of the palace and the imperial city, through the streets, to the city's streets, to the outside; Jiang Gao's order had come down, those commoners were all released, and compensation was given.

The gate-guarding general who had reported Jiang Gao's matter sat hugging his spear on a stone beside the moat, staring blankly.

Jiang Cai called out to him several times.

The man did not respond.

Jiang Cai kicked him, and only then did the general come back to his senses; seeing the woman whose appearance was merely comely but whose bearing was especially otherworldly, he grinned and said: "So it's Miss Cai?"

Jiang Cai said: "Mm."

She paused, and said: "Have all the commoners been released?"

The gate guard grinned and said: "All sent back. Following your instructions, we prepared grain and a hundred or so copper coins in advance—not much, just treating it as compensation for them…"

He was a trusted confidante promoted by Jiang Yuan.

Yet at this moment, his manner was clearly that of Jiang Cai's side.

Jiang Cai practiced the School of Vertical and Horizontal; even though she still had to follow Grand Tutor Jiang Su's orders, she still could not bear to truly watch Jiang Yuan slaughter commoners, and was making efforts in her own way; yet at this moment, the former top disciple of the Academy's Hundred Philosophers was dazed.

She only sighed: "The School of Vertical and Horizontal is, after all, the art of borrowing momentum."

Even if she exerted her utmost, amid these surging great tides, she was still like a mantis trying to stop a chariot; perhaps she could protect some commoners, but that was only a portion—then what of those who died in corvée labor, those who were buried alive? What could she do about them?

She suddenly thought of her younger days.

Back then, she had early on read through all the arts of the School of Vertical and Horizontal, considered herself a peerless genius; those fellows at the Academy were no match for her, and even the teachers who instructed her could not defeat her in the classics of the School.

Then that fellow with a face full of arrogance arrived.

Jiang Cai was clever; she defeated the so-called person who would become the world's foremost strategist, and as always, waited for the loser to concede—when that fellow instead picked up a long staff.

She had won the debate; at the time she felt the other side could not accept losing.

But thinking of it now, was not that behavior also a form of debating the Dao? No matter how floridly the School of Vertical and Horizontal speaks, it is ultimately inferior to actual weapons; so-called opening and closing, maneuvering and alliance, are no match for a hegemon's wrath.

In the end, it is borrowing momentum to gallop forth.

In a world like the present, there is already, after all, little room to put it to use.

The gate guard said: "Still, it's good that His Highness finally made his choice."

Jiang Cai nodded, yet in her eyes there was only melancholy.

Is this what you were hoping for?

Grand Tutor.

She grew somewhat quiet; looking into the distance at she-knew-not-what, and the gate guard who had finally refrained from burying commoners alive also looked into the distance. After the stratagem succeeded, they ought to have been at ease.

Yet perhaps it was the oppression of these several years, or perhaps it was that after finally succeeding, the spirit relaxed in an instant, leaving them both sluggish, their reactions dulled and slowed.

Or perhaps it was that they had finally gained a sense of powerlessness.

Even someone like the commander of Ducheng's gates, the foremost of the present generation of the School of Vertical and Horizontal, in the world of this era was like a fallen leaf in a flood, a single piece on a chessboard—nothing more than a body like duckweed, drifting with the waves.

Life not one's own; the body, also not one's own.

For a moment, though one game had been won.

It was only melancholy and distraction.

Only thinking: is this what you longed for, Grand Tutor?

And Jiang Cai did not know that on that day, after she had asked her question and left without receiving an answer, the War God, standing like a solitary peak and mountain range, merely gazed into the distance, like a mechanism without sorrow or tears.

Only after a long while did he murmur to himself:

"If it fails…"

Jiang Su looked out at the world before her and said: "Then the Great Ying has no hope of victory. If we cannot triumph over all under heaven, Yuwen Lie will intervene and take the Crown Prince away, to vanish into obscurity—and I…"

Jiang Su reached out and gripped the divine spear Jìmie; this weapon among the greatest in the world let out a low, resonant hum. Jiang Su's gaze was calm: "I will lead the last of the Great Ying's armies into the heart of Qin, emulating the deeds of the Divine Martial King."

"If we cannot achieve great victory, then we ought not cling to life. At the very least, before departure, let us drink ourselves into oblivion with this world!"

"How could we of our kind die like flies crawling in filth?"

"Must only Chen Fubi possess such a heroic heart?"

He drew the divine spear Jìmie, shook it lightly, and the spearhead trembled with a low moan, surging with grim slaughter. A chilling frost clung to its tip as he walked calmly to the front lines, waiting—for the day of the Gentleman's Transformation.

If possible, the Great Ying still has a chance for one furious battle.

If not, then Grand Tutor Jiang Su will be fully "liberated."

The Grand Tutor, no longer bound by anything, with no regrets left, will die—and from the "corpse" of this ruthless Grand Tutor of the Great Ying, the Divine General will reappear, leading the last elite of Ying to turn the entire world upside down, heedless of so-called unification.

He is the last remnant of the previous age.

Our era, our bold ambition, our aspirations—once grand and magnificent, once proud and unrivaled, no less than the Qin Huang. Even if such aspirations are about to be extinguished, they should not end this way.

They should not vanish in silence after burning every last ounce of strength.

Our deaths must shake the world!

"Let me ride this final battlefield of the chaotic age."

"Let me shatter every hero's dream."

"Jiang Wanxiang—I will fight until my blood boils, until my life burns like wild grass to ash, scattering as white dust across this chaotic world."

The Grand Tutor of Ying advanced slowly, spear in hand, his great cloak billowing. His gaze was pale and calm, yet carried a vast grandeur: "Perhaps nothing suits the beginning of a peaceful age better than the unreserved battlefield and slaughter of a Divine General."

"If we of our kind cannot become heroes celebrated by future generations…"

"Then we shall surely become the most tyrannical of enemies."

Whether lucky or unlucky, no one knew.

The Gentleman's Transformation came: Jiang Gao slew Jiang Yuan, using the blood of kin to complete the emperor's coronation. And Jiang Su, who had coldly overlooked the world, returned to the position of Grand Tutor—without becoming the desperate, irreversible Divine General.

Jiang Gao ascended the throne and immediately reversed Jiang Yuan's policies. He issued a self-blame edict, declaring to the world that he would still send troops to suppress the "rebels," but ordered only that the people be persuaded to return to their fields.

………………

Empress He Ruo sat alone in the palace.

Her palms were cold. She sat quietly, the years as Empress having left her steps unsteady, as if floating in a dream. The Emperor treated her well—better than any ordinary concubine.

She had been calm at first.

He Ruo Qinhu doted on his youngest daughter, hiring the finest teachers for her martial arts and literature, personally instructing her in hunting, horsemanship, and spearcraft. At first, Empress He Ruo understood clearly that the Emperor's kindness was driven by interest.

The Emperor was not kind to her.

The Emperor was kind to He Ruo Qinhu behind her.

But all men harbor hope. All men deceive themselves.

In these years, the daughter of a martial house had slowly fallen. She deceived herself, repeating to herself one phrase—

She was different.

Especially during the southern tour: the Empress's barge was only slightly smaller than the Emperor's, and all other rites and protocols were identical. At that time, Jiang Yuan had taken her hand and said they, as husband and wife, ought to mirror the ancient Emperor and Empress—deeply devoted.

"You are different, Empress."

The Emperor smiled gently: "Whatever I have, half belongs to you."

And so she sank into the dream.

And so that dream was pierced by Jiang Gao's sword.

She had never seen the Emperor so frantic, nor had she ever seen Jiang Gao—always gentle as jade—transform into such a commanding, haughty figure. Even the corner of his gaze made her body tremble.

What a sovereign's aura.

Her dream ended. When she awoke, she was already here—days passed without anyone visiting her. Slowly, she grew calm. She knew her father still lived. She knew the tide of the world still needed He Ruo Qinhu, that divine general.

As long as her father still held such immense value,

she would not die.

Suddenly, Empress He Ruo shuddered. She heard footsteps. When she looked up, the calm dignity she once had while watching the haulers pull the great barge beside Emperor Jiang Yuan was gone—only panic remained.

The door to the cold palace opened. A lady-in-waiting stood outside.

Her features were delicate, her aura ethereal.

Jiang Cai.

Empress He Ruo's face changed. She instinctively stepped back. "Jiang Cai… what are you doing here?"

Jiang Cai's gaze fell on the food on the table—not a single chopstick had touched it. She folded her hands before her abdomen, her voice cool: "I heard Your Majesty has been in low spirits, eating sparingly. So I came to bring a cup of tea."

Empress He Ruo's expression trembled.

Her hair was disheveled. Her large, beautiful eyes now darted like a startled fawn. She watched the maid behind Jiang Cai, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, advancing slowly.

Empress He Ruo knew well the cruelty of the inner palace.

She knew well the brutality of imperial succession.

Her face quivered. She stepped back two paces, tripped over a stool, and fell to the ground. She pushed herself backward with her hands, her lips trembling like autumn leaves in the wind: "W-what are you going to do?!"

"I am the Empress!"

"The Empress, mother of all under heaven!"

Jiang Cai advanced calmly. The once radiant Empress now crawled backward, her voice shifting—trying to sound composed, yet trembling with unspoken panic. "My father is He Ruo Qinhu—the Divine General of the world!"

"He served the Great Emperor for sixty years, campaigning east and west, earning glorious victories."

"You cannot kill me!"

Suddenly inspired, she said: "Yes, it was you who wanted to strike hard, it was you who wanted to strike hard. His Highness Jiang Gao is benevolent at heart; he was coerced by you into laying hands on his own brother."

"But even if he caused His Majesty's death, he must surely feel guilt in his heart."

"He would never have wanted to harm his own sister-in-law. I—I still carry His Majesty's flesh and blood in my womb. Do you mean to harm the imperial house?! You—"

Jiang Cai said: "It was His Majesty Jiang Gao who gave the order in person."

A single calm sentence.

Yet it was like a sharp sword.

It severed Empress Heru's last shred of hope once more. She was silent for quite a while, then said as if in a dream: "What… did you say?!" Her gaze was blank, fixed on that bowl of medicinal soup.

Jiang Cai looked at Heru Empress and said: "Empress, if you please."

Attendants and strongmen stepped forward from either side.

Empress Heru's final hope had rested on Jiang Gao's mercy, but now that last glimmer too had vanished. She tried to dodge, but two sturdy maids seized her arms and poured that bowl of soup down her throat.

She felt pain in her belly, sank down in a daze, drifted, and was already lying on a bed, only to see her robes stained with blood.

The child she had carried for several months had been aborted.

Heru Empress's face went deathly pale; she could not accept it and began to wail. Jiang Cai stepped back, turned, and walked away. Once the foremost student of the Academy, she now felt herself nothing more than a single chess piece in these chaotic times.

A gentleman transforms like a leopard.

Jiang Gao understood a few things.

Sometimes, cruelty and directness are the best way to handle things. If Heru had been allowed to bear that child, in time it would surely have bred endless trouble. Party strife and politics have always been ruthless and merciless.

He only let Heru abort the child, yet spared her life.

In such cruel matters of imperial succession, this was already the utmost Jiang Gao could do. He could not, and could not possibly, allow his own weakness to bring about greater problems.

In the Heaven Prison—

Heru Qinhu was bound. Dark iron of a quality sufficient to forge divine weapons had been used to shackle this god-general's body, yet such a thing, though capable of restraining a Jianghu Sect master, could absolutely not hold a peerless god-general of the realm.

But Heru Qinhu merely sat there, beard and hair in disarray, as still as a sculpture.

What bound him was not these chains, but himself.

With a clatter of footsteps, an official of the Court of Judicial Review came in, hands trembling, produced a string of keys, opened the cell door, and said: "General Heru, His Majesty has come to see you."

Heru Qinhu sat upright here, like a crouching tiger.

Upon hearing these words, he opened his eyes, their divine light still piercing. He looked at the person approaching from the front—Jiang Gao entered this prison cell, upright and open, calm and serene.

He had come here alone.

Yuwen Lie had actually not followed.

Jiang Gao seemed to know what Heru Qinhu was thinking, and said: "Yuwen has gone to find General Qin Yulong. It was on my own initiative that I came to see General Heru."

Heru Qinhu finally spoke, his voice hoarse: "Does Your Highness not fear that this minister might seize the chance to spring up and take Your Highness captive?" He raised his arm; the fearsome chains forged of dark iron bound his wrists and body, and the other ends of the chains were connected directly to the very foundations.

Heru Qinhu shook his arm; the clinking sound was crisp.

Heru Qinhu said: "These things look fearsome, but they cannot stop this minister."

"If this minister wished to kill you, it would be no harder than killing a chicken."

Jiang Gao looked at him and said: "General Heru would not."

Heru Qinhu sat woodenly without answering. Jiang Gao calmly sat down before Heru Qinhu, waved his hand to have wine and meat brought. Heru Qinhu stayed silent, yet only reached out to tear off meat and eat, drinking with bold and unrestrained grandeur.

Jiang Gao said: "In the year when the General contended with my father for the realm, you once fell into a trap and were bound. General Gao Xiang went hungry for several days, and finally recovered the prey, yet could not light a fire for fear of alerting the enemy."

"General Gao Xiang felt it was too risky to take the chance, but my father insisted on lighting the fire to cook."

"General Heru had been gravely wounded before that. After waking and learning of their dispute, he said not a word, only cut raw meat with his blade and ate it, his bearing wild and bold."

Heru Qinhu said: "If Your Highness has something to say, speak plainly."

Jiang Gao waved his hand. From outside came the sound of heavy panting—no fewer than twenty strongmen carried in a single cavalry spear, propping it up with poles, ten strongmen on each side. From their appearance, there was not the slightest pretense.

Their bodies trembled, veins bulging.

One could see how heavy this weapon was; an ordinary person could not lift this divine weapon at all, let alone possess the stamina and composure to wield it on the battlefield, charging and fighting against fierce warriors of the same caliber.

Only a top god-general of the present age could possibly wield this cavalry spear in battle on the field.

This was precisely Heru Qinhu's divine weapon.

Heru Qinhu's eyes blazed bright as fire for an instant, then dimmed in a flash.

These twenty strongmen set the weapon down here; this divine weapon still emanated a deadly, piercing aura in this place, making one's body tremble, as if one had returned to that chaotic battlefield, the heart seized with dread.

Heru Qinhu looked at Jiang Gao. Jiang Gao said softly: "When you served under Jiang Yuan as emperor, you were unable to dissuade the sovereign—this was truly not your fault, but aiding him in his cruelty is ultimately a dereliction of duty you cannot shake off."

Heru Qinhu said, with a look of deadened heart and self-mockery:

"Does Your Highness mean to recruit me again?"

Jiang Gao gazed at him without answering, and only said softly:

"I had Heru Empress, my sister-in-law, drink the miscarriage draught. Yuan'er's bloodline has been severed. The General's descendants will not use this to bring chaos to the realm, nor will they have any further connection with Yuan'er, so as not to invite great disaster."

Heru Qinhu's expression shifted slightly.

Jiang Gao rose to his feet and said: "I will not say anything about demanding the General lay down his life. What was done wrong cannot be made up for. The common folk who died, the blood that was shed—such things will be branded upon the era. That is your fault, and mine as well."

"Let the annals of a thousand years have posterity condemn and spurn us."

"Whether it is you or me, neither can escape the judgment of history. Besides, General Heru need not feel any apology toward me. The one you have wronged is not me, but my father."

Jiang Gao said softly: "How could this final battle claim no dead?"

"If we do not pour out all the bold grandeur of this realm, how can we repay these eight hundred years of romance? If we do not display the ambitions in our breasts, how can we repay these three hundred years of chaos, when heroes rose in succession and champions surged forth?"

"If we do not act thus, how can we utterly break the seeds of weapons and chaos and bring peace under heaven? On the battlefield, the divide between victory and defeat, as things stand now, is no better than fifty-fifty. When that time comes, there will inevitably be casualties."

"The Grand Preceptor and I will assign you the most dangerous battlefield, General Heru."

Jiang Gao looked at Heru Qinhu, who sat cross-legged there, bound by chains.

Heru Qinhu raised his head. Because of the angle, and because Jiang Gao stood against the sunlight, Heru Qinhu could not make out Jiang Gao's face in his line of sight—only that the man's back was ramrod straight, not a gentleman's warm and refined bearing, but a quiet, steadfast resolve.

The gesture of reaching out a hand toward himself was all too familiar — so familiar that He Ruo Qinhu was dazed — and that address, that voice, that fierce, burning boldness, all made this renowned general unable to hold back the heartache, grief, and self-reproach, tears streaming down his face.

The sovereign's calm, resolute voice echoed through this heavenly prison.

"I grant you."

"The right to die on the battlefield."

He Ruo Qinhu's tears poured down his face.

The chains were snapped apart by this top-five-in-the-world divine general; not knowing whether it was toward Jiang Gao, or toward the figure that had long since walked away deep in his memories, he choked out a kowtow and said:

"How would I dare disobey."

"... Your Majesty!"

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